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ENCYCLOPEDIA BRITANNICA.
Ciicpclopactna JJntanmca:
OR, A
DICTIONARY
OF
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND MISCELLANEOUS
LITERATURE;
ENLARGED AND IMPROVED.
THE SIXTH EDITION.
SllustratO luttf) marip ssir IjunStfli ©ngialimgG.
VOL. IX.
INDOCTI DISCANT; AMENT MEMINISSE PERITI.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY;
AND HURST, ROBINSON, AND COMPANY, 90, CHEAPSIDE,
LONDON.
1823.
J V,I
r''
V<> r—j
, 15 APg
Encyclopedia Britannica.
FOR
Fordycc. T^ORDYCE, David, an elegant and learned wri-
—■< £ ter, was born at Aberdeen In the year 1711. Hav¬
ing received the early part of his education at the gram¬
mar school, at the age of 13 he was entered at the Greek
class in Marischal college, Aberdeen j in 1728 he took
the degree of A. M. and was afterwards, in 1742, ad¬
mitted professor of philosophy in the same college. He
was originally designed for the ministry j to prepare
himself for which was the whole object of his ambition,
and for a course of years the whole purpose of his stu¬
dies. How well he was qualified to appear in that cha¬
racter, appears from his “ Theodorus, a dialogue con¬
cerning the art of preaching.” Having finished this
work, he went abroad in 1750 on his travels, in order
to obtain fresh stores of knowledge : but after a success¬
ful tour through several parts of Europe, he was, on
his return home, unfortunately cast away in a storm on
the coast of Holland, in the 41st year of his age. Be¬
sides the above work, he wrote Dialogues on Educa¬
tion, 8vo, and a Treatise of Moral Philosophy, pub¬
lished in the Preceptor. The third edition of his
Theodorus was published in London, in 1751, after
his death, by his brother James, the subject of the fol¬
lowing article.
Fordyce, James, a Scotch divine, justly esteemed
for his piety and ingenuity, as well as for his pulpit
eloquence, was born at Aberdeen in the year 1720.
He received his classical education at the public gram¬
mar school, and went afterwards to the Marischal col¬
lege, where he went through the usual course of studies
necessary for a minister of the gospel. His natural abi¬
lities were excellent, and he improved to the utmost the
favourable opportunities he enjoyed at the university,
which made him be considered as well qualified for a
preacher of the gospel at an early period of life. His
first appointment was that of second minister in the
church of Brechin in the county of Angus, after which
he accepted of a call to Alloa near Stirling. The peo¬
ple of that parish were prepossessed in favour of another,
and prejudiced against Mr Fordyce, which could not
fail to be a most unpleasant circumstance ; yet by his
impressive delivery, and indefatigable attention to every
part of his ministerial duty, he soon changed their pre¬
judice into esteem, and their esteem into admiration.
During his residence at Alloa, he drew on him the
notice of the public by three excellent sermons ; the first
T1 e*0<luence of the pulpit, the second on the me-
thod of promoting edification by public institutions, and
Vol. IX. Part I. ’ +
FOR
the third on the delusive and bloody spirit of popery,
preached before the synod of Perth and Stirling. But
still greater wonder and astonishment were excited by
his inimitable sermon on the folly, infamy, and misery
of unlawful pleasure, preached before the general as¬
sembly of the church of Scotland in 1760. It contains
such masterly composition with respect to description,
spirit, and elegance, and was delivered with such un¬
common solemnity, animation, and pathos, that it filled
his learned fathers and brethren with astonishment, and
justly raised him to unrivalled eminence among his cle¬
rical cotemporaries. About this time he was compli¬
mented with a degree of doctor in divinity by the uni¬
versity of Glasgow, probably on account of the fame he
acquired by this extraordinary sermon.
The friends of Dr Fordyce being mostly in London,
he was invited to that metropolis to be the colleague of
Dr Lawrence, minister of a respectable congregation
in Monkwell-street, on whose death, which happened a
few months after, Dr Fordyce became once more fa¬
mous for his pulpit eloquence, always preaching to
overflowing audiences. This popularity he justly de¬
served, whether with respect to the elegance of his com¬
positions, or their happy tendency to impress the heart
with the love of virtue and religion. Yet even Dr For¬
dyce lived to see his popularity on the decline 5 for
such as attend a place of worship from mere motives
of curiosity must have fickle and unstable minds, chang¬
ing their preachers as they do their dress, loving to be
where others are, of doing what others do, and of ad¬
miring what others admire, for they have no taste of
their own.
His pews were thinned from another cause, which
was the failure of a younger brother, an extensive bank¬
er, which ruined many of the doctor’s constant hear¬
ers and most liberal supporters. Although the doctor
could not be reasonably blamed for the failure of his
brother, yet it is certain that it brought a degree of
odium on the whole family. Another cause of the di¬
minution of his hearers was an unhappy difference be¬
tween him and Mr I oiler his colleague, which hap¬
pened in the year 1755, and which ended in a division
of the congregation, many respectable families follow-
ing Mr Toiler to another place of worship. Soon af¬
ter this he declined officiating as a minister, the impair¬
ed state of his health rendering such a step necessary.
The best specimen of pulpit eloquence which perhaps
ever came from his pen, was delivered at the ordina-
A tion
Foidyce.
FOR [
tion of bis successor Mr James Lindsay, and higbiy me¬
riting the attentive perusal of every clergyman. Ihe
remainder of his valuable life he spent chiefly at a re¬
tirement in Hampshire in the vicinity ot the eatl of
Bute, with whom he lived in the greatest intimacy,
and to whose valuable library he had unlimited access.
He afterwards went to Bath, where he sufl'ered much
from an asthmatic affection, but bore it vyith the heroic
fortitude of a Christian, and expired without a groan
on the first of October 1796, in the 76th year ot his
The doctor’s writings discover much genius and ima¬
gination, a correct taste, extensive knowledge of the
world, and a happy method of engaging the attention j
full of ardent piety, and a zeal for the interests ot ge¬
nuine virtue. His religious sentiments were manly and
rational •, in private life he was highly amiable, and de¬
servedly beloved by all who knew him. He was au¬
thor of Sermons to Young Women, in two volumes
I 2mo, which have been translated into several Euro¬
pean languages j A Sermon on the Character and
Conduct of the Female Sex *, Addresses to Young Men,
in two volumes l2moj Addresses to the Deity j A vo¬
lume of Poems ; A discourse on Pain, and Additions
to his brother’s Temple of Virtue.
Fordyce, George, a writer and lecturer on medi¬
cine, was born in the year 1736, and studied at the
university of Aberdeen, where he obtained the literary
degree of M. A. at the early age of 14, perhaps not
altogether owing to the superior cast of his genius, or
the extent of his acquirements, which could not be ex¬
traordinary in a boy of his years. He became appien¬
tice to an uncle who practised surgery at Uppingham in
Rutlandshire, when he was only 15, and afterwards
went to the university of Edinburgh, where his dili¬
gence and progress attracted the attention of Dr Cullen,
at that time professor of chemistry, who very generously
promoted his improvement. He graduated in I75°»
when only 22 years of age j after which he resided one
winter at Leyden. The greater part of his patrimony
being spent on his education, he resolved to try his for¬
tune in London, where he settled in the year 1759.
He commenced 'ivith a course ol lectures on chemistry ;
and although his encouragement at first was by no means
flattering, yet he steadily and diligently persevered, not¬
withstanding such unfavourable appearances, til! his li¬
terary merit began gradually to be discovered and pro¬
perly appreciated. A number of young men who came
to study in London did not think that their medical
course was complete, without availing themselves of the
benefit of his course of lectures.
In the year 1768, he published his Elements 01 the
Practice of Physic, which formed the text book of his
medical course, and were much read as a valuable epi¬
tome of medicine. His private practice was very re¬
spectable } and in the year 1770 his medical reputation
was so great, that he was chosen physician to the hospi¬
tal of St Thomas, although he had to contend against
a gentleman with very powerful interest •, and his merit
as a man of science made him a member of the Royal
Society in 1776. Ele was chosen in 1787 a fellow of
the College of Physicians*, and his chemical knowledge
was of singular importance to that body for a new edi¬
tion of their Pharmacopoeia. By the influence ot his
connections, but probably more so by his literary repu-
2 ] FOR
tation, he was appointed to furnish the navy with sour- Fordyee
krout, which we believe he executed with advantage porej„n
both to himself and the public. v——yl-
His constitution discovered symptoms of premature
decay, yet he continued to discharge his professional du¬
ties till he fell a victim to an irregular gout, and a wa¬
ter in his chest, on the 25th of June 1802, in the 66tli^
year of his age. If his lectures wanted the charms of
an eloquent delivery, he made ample compensation by
the originality of his ideas and his scientific iniorma-
tion, and by a memory which was uncommonly reten¬
tive. His works are, Elements of Agriculture and
Vegetation j Of the Practice of Physic ; A Treatise on
the Digestion of Food ; and Four Dissertations on Fe¬
ver.
FORE, applied to a ship, denotes all that part of a
ship’s frame and machinery which lies near the stem.
Fore and aft, is used for the whole ship’s length, or
from end to end.
FORECASTLE of a Ship, that part where the
foremast stands. It is divided from the rest by a bulk¬
head.
FOREIGN, something extraneous, or that comes
from abroad. Hie word is formed from the Latin
fores, “ doors *,” or forts, “ out of doors 5” or forum,
“ market,” &c.
Foreign minister, foreign prince, foreign goods, &c.
are those belonging to other nations. See Minister,
&c.
Foreign to the purpose, signifies a thing remote or
impertinent.
Foreign, in the English Law, is used in various
significations. Thus,
"Foreign Attachment, is an attachment of the goods
of foreigners found within a city or liberty, for the sa¬
tisfaction of some citizen to whom the foreigner is in¬
debted *, or it signifies an attachment of a foreigner’s
money in the hands of another person.
Foreign Kingdom, a kingdom under the dominion
of a foreign prince.
At the instance of an ambassador or consul, any
offender against the laws here may be sent for hither
from a foreign kingdom to which he hath fleL And,
where a stranger "of Holland, or any foreign coun¬
try, buys goods at London, for instance, and there
gives a note under his hand for payment, and then
goes away privately into Holland j in that case, the
seller may have a certificate from the lord mayor, on
the proof of the sale and delivery of such goods, where¬
upon a process will be executed on the party in Hol¬
land.
Foreign Opposer, or Apposer, an officer in the ex¬
chequer that opposes or makes a charge on all sherifts,
&c. of their green wax •, that is to say, fines, issues,
amerciaments, recognizances, &c.
Foreign Plea, signifies an objection to the judge of
the court, by refusing him as incompetent, because the
matter in question is not within his jurisdiction.
Foreign Seamen, serving two years on board Bri¬
tish ships, whether of war, trade, or privateers, du¬
ring the time of war, shall be deemed natural-born
subjects.
FOREIGNER, the natural-born subject to some fo¬
reign prince.
Foreigners, though made denizens, or naturalized,
ier.
Foreigner
II
Fore-locks
I
FOR [3
are disabled to bear any office in government, to be of
the privy council, or members of parliament, &e.—-
This is by the acts of the settlement of the crown.—
Such persons as are not freemen of a city or corporation,
are also called foreigners, to distinguish them from the
members of the same.
IOREJUJDGER, in Law, signifies a judgment
whereby one is deprived or put by a thing in question.
To be forejudged the court, is where an officer or at¬
torney of any court is expelled the same for malprac¬
tice, or for not appearing to an action on a bill filed
against him, &c. And where an attorney of the com¬
mon-pleas is sued, the plaintiff’s attorney delivers the
bill to one of the criers of the court, who calls the at¬
torney defendant, and solemnly proclaims aloud, that,
if he does not appear thereto, he will be forejudged :
likewise a rule is given by the secondary for his appear¬
ance ; and if the attorney appears notin four days, then
the clerk of the warrants strikes such an attorney off the
roll of attorneys *, after which he becomes liable to be
arrested like any other person ; but where an attorney
is forejudged, he may be restored on clearing himself
from his contumacy, and making satisfaction to the
plaintiff, &c.
FORELAND, or Foreness, in Navigation, a point
of land jutting out into the sea.
North Fobeland, in the isle of Thanet, Kent, of
which it is the N. E. point, is the promontory ascer¬
tained by act of parliament to be the most southern
part of the port of London, which is thereby extended
N. in a right line to the point called the Nase on the-
coast of Essex, and forms what is properly called the
Mouth of the Thames. A sea-mark was erected here
by the Trinity-house corporation at the public expence,
which is a round brick tower, near 80 feet high. The
sea gains so much upon the land here by the winds at
S. W. that within the memory of some that are living
about 30 acres of land have been lost in one place. All
vessels that pass on the south side of this head-land are
said to enter the Channel, which is the name for the
narrow sea between England and France $ and all the
towns or harbours between London and this place, whe¬
ther on the Kentish or Essex shore, are called members
of the port of London.
South IORELAND, in Kent, a head-land forming the
east point of the Kentish shore; and called South, in
respect to its bearing from the other Foreland, which is
about six miles to the north. Its situation is of great
security to the Downs, the road between both, which
would be a very dangerous road for ships, did not this
point break the sea off, that would otherwise come
rolling up from the west to the Flats or banks of sand,
which for three leagues together, and at about a league
or a league and a half from the shore, run parallel with
it, and are dry at low water ; so that these two capes
breaking all the force of the sea on the S. E. and
S. W. make the Downs accounted a good road, except
when the wind blows excessively hard from S. E., E. by
N., or E. N. E., when ships in the Downs are driven
from their anchors, and often run ashore, or are
forced on the sands, or into Sandwich bay or Ramsgate
1 ORE-LOCKS, in the sea language, little flat
wedges made of iron, used at the end of bolts, to keep
them from flying out of their holes*
]
R
F O
FOREMAST of a Ship, a large round piece of Forrniatf
timber, placed in her fore part or fore-castle, and carry- J'or. >t. ‘
ing the fore-sail and fore-top-sail yards. Its length is ' v-~~
usually £ of the main mast, and the fore-top-gallant mast
is I- the length of the fore-top.
iOREMAST-Men, are those on board a ship that take
in the top-sails, sling the yards, furl the sails, bowse,
trice, and take their turn at the helm, &c.
I OREST, in Geography, a huge wood ; or, a large
extent of ground covered with trees. The word is form¬
ed of the Latin foresta, which first occurs in the capi¬
tulars of Charlemagne, and which itself is derived from
the German frost, signifying the same thing. Spelman
derives it from the Latin /orv.? restat, by reason forests
are out of towns. Others derive foresta from feris, q. d,
Forcsta, quod sit tuta statio ferarum, as being'a safe sta¬
tion or abode for wild beasts.
The Caledonian and Hercynian forests are famous
history. The first was a celebrated retreat of the
in
ancient Piets and Scots : the latter anciently occupied
the greatest part of Europe ; particularly Germany,
Poland, Hungary, &c. In Caesar’s time it extended
from the borders of Alsatia and Switzerland to Tran¬
sylvania ; and was computed 60 days journey long,
and 9 broad : some parts or cantons thereof are still
remaining.
The ancients adored forests, and imagined a great
part of their gods to reside therein : temples were fre¬
quently built in the thickest forests ; the gloom and
silence whereof naturally inspire sentiments of devotion,
and turn men’s thoughts within themselves.
For the like reason, the Druids made forests the place
of their residence, performed their sacrifices, instructed
their youth and gave laws therein.
I OREST, in Law, is defined, by Manwood, a certain
territory of woody grounds and fruitful pastures, pri¬
vileged for wild beasts and fowls of forest, chase, and
warren, to rest and abide under the protection of the
king, for his princely delight ; bounded with unremove¬
able marks and meres, either known by matter of record
or prescription; replenished with wild beasts of venery
or chase, with great coverts of vert for the said beasts’;
for preservation and continuance whereof, the vert and
venison, there are certain particular laws, privileges, and
officers. j*
Forests are of such antiquity in England, that, ex¬
cepting the New Forest in Hampshire, erected by Wil¬
liam the Conqueror, and Hampton Court, erected by
Henry VIII. it is said, that there is no record or hi¬
story which makes any certain mention of their erec¬
tion, though they are mentioned by several writers and
in several of our laws and statutes. Ancient historians
tell us, “ that New forest was raised by the destruction
of 22 parish churches, and many villages, chapels, and
manors, for the space of 30 miles together, which was
attended with divers judgments on the posterity of Wil¬
liam I. who erected it: for William Rufus was there
shot with an arrow, and before him Richard the bro¬
ther of Henry I. ; and Henry nephew to Robert, the
eldest son of the Conqueror, did hang by the hair of the
head in the boughs of the forest, like unto Absalom.”
Blount.
Resides the New forest, there are 68 other forests io
England, 13 chases, and more than 700 parks: the
four principal forests are New forest on the sea, Shire-
A 2 wood
Forest.
FOR [4
wood forest on tlie Trent, Bean forest on the Severn,
^ and Windsor forest on the Thames. .
A forest in the hands of a subject is properly the
same thing with a Chase ; being subject to the common
law, and not to the forest laws. But a chase differs
from a forest in that it is not enclosed : and likewise,
that a man may have a chase in another man s ground
as well as his own ; being indeed the liberty of keeping
beasts of chase, or royal game therein, protected even
from the owner of the land, with a power of hunting
them thereon. See Park. ^ .
The manner of erecting a forest is thus : Certain com¬
missioners are appointed under the great seal, who view
the ground intended for a forest, and fence it round j
this commission being returned into chancery, the king
causeth it to be proclaimed throughout the country
where the land lieth, that it is a forest j and prohibits
all persons from hunting there, without his leave.
Though the king may erect a forest on his own ground
and waste, he may not do it on the ground of other
persons without their consent; and agreements with
them for that purpose ought to be confirmed by par-
jUArrest, strictly taken, cannot be in the hands of
any but the king ; for no person but the king has power
to grant a commission to he justice in eyre of the forest:
yet, if he grants a forest to a subject, and that on request
made in the chancery, that subject and his heirs shall
have justices of the forest, in which case the subject has
a forest in law. .
A second property of a forest is, the courts thereof.
See Forest Courts, infra. .
A third property is the officers belonging to it, as
the iustices, warden, verderer, forester, agistor, regar-
der, keeper, bailiff, beadle, &c. See the articles Agi¬
stor, Bailiff, Forester, &c. <
By the laws of the forest, the receivers of trespasses
in hunting, or killing of the deer, if they know them
to be the king’s property, are principal trespassers.
Likewise, if a trespass he committed in a forest, and
the trespasser dies, after his death it may be punished
in the lifetime of the heir, contrary to common law.
Our Norman kings punished such as killed deer in any
of their forests with great severity *, also in various man¬
ners : as by hanging, loss of limbs, gelding, and putting
out eyes. By magna charta de forest a, it is ordain¬
ed, that no person shall lose life or member for killing
the king’s deer in forests, but shall be fined j th.e
offender has nothing to pay the fine, he shall be impri¬
soned a year and a day, and then be delivered, if he can
give security not to offend for the future, &c. 9 Hen.
11 Before this statute, it was felony to hunt the king’s
deer : and by a late act, persons armed and disguised,
appearing in any forest, &c. if they hunt, kill, or
steal any deer, &c. are guilty of felony. 9 Geo. I. c.
2>«
He who has any license to hunt in a forest or chase,
&c. is to take care that he does not exceed his autho¬
rity ; otherwise he shall he deemed a trespasser from the
beginning, and be punished for that fact, as if lie had
no license. See further, the articles Game, and Game-
^Beasts of the forest are, the hart, hind,, buck, doe,
boar, wolf, fox, hare, &c. The seasons for hunting
] FOR
whereof are as follow, viz. that of the hart and buck Fomt.
begins at the feast of St John Baptist, and ends at Holy- * “
rood day j of the hind and doe, begins at Holy rood,
and continues till Candlemas j of the boar, from Christ¬
mas to Candlemas •, of the fox, begins at Christmas, and
continues till Lady-day j of the hare at Michaelmas,
and lasts till Candlemas.
FoREST-courls, courts instituted for the government
of the king’s forests in different parts of the kingdom,
and for the punishment of all injuries done to the king’s
deer or venison, to the vert or greenswerd, and to the
covert in which such deer are lodged. Ihese are the
courts of Attachmekts, of Regard, of Sweik-
mote, and of Justice-seat. i. The court of attach¬
ments, woodmote, or forty days court, is to be held be¬
fore the verderers of the forest once in every forty days j
and is instituted to inquire into all offenders against vert
and venison : who may be attached by their bodies,
if taken with the mainour (or mainccuvre, o manuj that
is, in the very act of killing venison, or stealing wood,
or in the preparing so to do, or by fresh and immediate
pursuit after the act is done j else they must be attach-
ed by their goods. And in this forty-days court the
foresters or keepers are to bring in their attachments, or
presentments de viridi et venatione ; and the verderers
are to receive the same, and to enrol them, and^ to
certify them under their seals to the court of justice-
seat or sweinmote : for this court can only inquire of,
but not convict, offenders. 2. The court of regard,
or survey of dogs, is to be holden every third year for
the lawing or expeditation of mastiffs •, which is done
by cutting off the claws of the fore feet, to prevent
them from running after deer. No other dogs but
mastiffs are to be thus lawed or expeditated, for none
other were permitted to be kept within the precinct?
of the forest; it being supposed that the keeping of
these, and these only, was necessary for the defence of
a man’s house. 3. The court of sw-einmote is to be
holden before the verderers, as judges, by the steward
of the sweinmote, thrice in every year •, the swems or
freeholders within the forest composing the jury. Ihe
principal jurisdiction of this court is, first, to inquiie
into the oppressions and grievances committed by the
officers of the forest 5 “desuper-onerationeforestariorum,
et alioriim ministrorumforester; et de eorumoppressiom-
bus populo regis illatisand, secondly to receive and
try presentments certified from the court of attachments
against offences in vert and venison. And this court
may not only inquire, but convict also-, which con¬
viction shall be certified to the court of justice-seat un¬
der the seals of the jury, for this court cannot proceed
to judgment. But the principal court is, 4. 1 he court
of justice-seat, which is held before the chief justice in
eyre, or chief itinerant judge, capitalis justiciarius m
itinere, or his deputy ; to hear and determine all trespas¬
ses within the forest, and all claimes of franchises, liber¬
ties, and privileges, and all pleas and causes whatsoever
therein arising. It may also proceed to try present¬
ments in the inferior courts of the forests, and to give
judgment upon conviction of the sweinmote. And
the chief justice may therefore, after presentment
made or indictment found, but not before, issue ms
warrant to the officers of the forest to apprehend thte
offenders. It may be held every third year; and 40
days notice ought to be given of its sitting, xhis court
J may
YOU [
Forest, may fine an^ imprison for oft'ences within the forest, it
Fore-staff1, being a court of record : and therefore a writ of error
'“■"■■v ” lies from hence to the court of king’s bench, to rectify
and redress any mal-administrations of justice ; or the
chief justice in eyre may adjourn any matter of law in¬
to the court of king’s bench.
FoiiEST-Lawx, are peculiar laws, different from the
common law of England. Before the making of Charta
de Foresta, in the time of King John and his son Hen¬
ry HI. confirmed in parliament by 9 Henry III. of¬
fences committed therein were punished at the pleasure
of the king in the severest manner. By this charter,
many forests were disafforested and stripped of their
oppressive privileges, and regulations were made for
the government of those that remained j particularly,
killing the king’s deer was made no longer a capital
offence, but only punjshed by fine, imprisonment, or
abjuration of the realm : yet even in the charter there
were some grievous articles, which the clemency of
later princes has since by statute thought fit to alter
ptr assisasforestce. And to this day, in trespasses re¬
lating to the forest, voluntas reputabitur pro facto ; so
that if a man be taken hunting a deer, he may be ar¬
rested as if he had taken a deer.
Forest Towns, in Geographij, certain towns of
Suabia in Germany, lying along the Rhine, and the
confines of Switzerland, and subject to the house of
Austria. Their names are Rhinejield, Seckingcn, Lau-
fenburg, and Wuldshut.
EORE-staff, an instrument used at sea for taking
the altitudes of heavenly bodies. The fore-staff, called
nXso cross-staff, takes its denomination hence, that the
observer, in using it, turns his face towards the object;
in opposition to the back-staff, where he turns his back
to the object.
I he fore or cross-staff, consists of a straight square
staff, graduated like a line of tangents, and four crosses
or vanes, which slide on it. The first and shortest of
these vanes, is called the ten cross, or vane, and be¬
longs to that side of the instrument on which the divi¬
sions begin at three degrees and end at ten. The next
longer vane, is called the thirty cross, belonging to that
side of the staff in which the divisions begin at ten de¬
grees and end at thirty, called the thirty scale. The
next vane is called the siMty cross, and belongs to the
side where the divisions begin at twenty degrees and
end at sixty. J he last and longest, called the ninety
cross, belongs to the side where the divisions begin at
thirty degrees and end at ninety.
The use of this instrument is to take the height of
the sun and stars, or the distance of two stars : and the
ten, thirty, sixty, or ninety crosses, are to be used ac¬
cording as the altitude is greater or less ; that is, if
the altitude be less than ten degrees, the ten cross is to
be used ; if above ten, but less than thirty, the thirty
cross is to be used, &c. Note, For altitudes greater
than thirty degrees, this instrument is not so convenient
as a quadrant or semicircle.
To observe an Altitude by this instrument.—Apply
the flat end of the staff to your eye, and look at the
upper end of the cross for the centre of the sun or star,
and at the lower end for the horizon. If you see the sky
instead of the horizon, slide the cross a little nearer the
eye; and if you see the sea instead of the horizon, slide
the cross farther from the eye; and thus continue mo-
5 ] FOR
ving til] you see exactly the sun or star’s centre by the Fore-staff
top of the cross, and the horizon by the bottom thereof. ||
Then the degrees and minutes, cut by the inner edge of *'ori'ar-
the cross upon the side of the staff peculiar to the cross ' 
you use, give the altitude of the sun or star.
If it be the meridian altitude you want, continue
your observation as long as you find the altitude in¬
crease, still moving the-cross nearer to the eye. By
substracting the meridian altitude thus found from 90
degrees, you will have the zenith distance. To work
accurately, an allowance must be made for the height
of the eye above the surface of the sea, viz. for one
English foot, 1 minute ; for 5 feet, 2^ ; for 10 feet 3 J ;
for 20 feet, 5; for 40 feet, 7, &c. These minutes
subtracted from the altitude observed, and added to the
zenith distance observed, give the true altitude and ze¬
nith distance.
To observe the distance of two stars, or the moon's
distance from a star, by the fore-staff.—the in¬
strument to the eye, and looking to both ends of the
cross, move it nearer or farther from the eye till you see
the two stars, the one on the one end, and the other on
the other end of the cross; then the degrees and mi¬
nutes cut by the cross on the side proper to the vane in
use give the stars distance.
FORESTALLER, a person who is guilty of fore¬
stalling. See the next article.
FORESTALLING, in Law, buying or bargaining
for any corn, cattle, victuals, or merchandise, in the
way as they come to fairs or markets to be sold, before
they get thither, with an intent to sell the same again
at a higher price.
The punishment for this offence, upon conviction at
the quarter sessions by two or more witnesses, is, for
the-first time, two months imprisonment and the loss
of the goods, or the value; for the second offence the
offender shall be imprisoned six months, and lose double
the value of the goods: for the third offence he shall
suffer imprisonment during the king’s pleasure, forfeit
all his goods and chattels, and stand on the pillory : but
the statute does not extend to maltsters buying barley,
or to badgers licensed.
FORESTER, a sworn officer of the forest, appoint¬
ed by the king’s letters patent, to walk the forest at all
hours, and watch over the vert and venison ; also to
make attachments and true presentments of all trespas¬
ses committed within the forest.
If a man comes into a forest in the night, a forester
cannot lawfully beat him before he makes some resist¬
ance ; but in case such a person resists the forester, he
may justify a battery. And a forester shall not be
questioned for killing a trespasser that, after the peace
cried to him, will not surrender himself, if it be not
done on any former malice ; though, where trespassers
in a forest, &c. do kill a person that opposes them, it
is murder in all, because they were engaged in an un¬
lawful act, and therefore malice is implied to the per¬
son killed.
FORE THOUGHT felony, in Scots Law, signi¬
fies premeditated murder. See Murder.
I 0R1‘ AR, a town of Scotland, and capital of the
county of that name, situated in N< Lat. 56. 37.
W. Long. 2. 55. This town, with Dundee, Cupar,
Perth, and St Andrew’s, jointly send one member
to the British parliament. It stands in the great
valley
i
Forfar.
FOR • [ <J
valley of Strathmore that runs from Perth north-east
to the sea, almost In a straight line, about 50 miles
long and betwixt four and five miles broad, bounded
on the south side by gentle hills, and on the north by
the Grampian mountains.
Forfar is a very ancient town, and was once a royal
residence. Here Malcolm Canmore held his first par¬
liament in 1057. The ruins of his palace are still to
be seen on the top of an artificial mount of a circular
form, resting upon a base of about three acres of ground,
and rising 50 feet high above the plain. The lake of
Forfar, stretching two miles in length from east to west,
and half a mile in breadth, and covering the palace on
the north, afforded not only a plentiful supply of water
for every purpose, but also added to the strength of the
place. This lake, which abounds with trout, pike,
perch, and eel, has been greatly reduced by draining*,
and fine marl has been found in strata from two to six
•and eight feet deep, with moss below ten feet deep.
Within this lake were formerly two islands raised
by art, with buildings on each ; to which Margaret,
Malcolm Canmore’s queen, retired after the decease of
her husband. Part of the ruins of these edifices are
still to be seen.
Little is known of Forfar till the middle of the 17th
century, except an act passed in the 13th parliament of
James VI. 2ist July, 1593, in the following words,
which affords a specimen of the manners and language
of the times: “ Our soveraine Lorde, understanding
that be acte and ordinance maid anent observation
of the Sabbath dale within this realme, the mercatte-
daie of the burgh of Forfare, being the head burgh of
the schire, quhilk was Sundaie, is taken from them ;
and his hienesse not willing that they in onie waies
auld be prejudged hereby, therefore his hienesse, v.ith
advise of the estaites of tins present parliament, alteris
and changis their said mercatte-daie from Sundaie to
Fridaie, and willis the samen Fridaie oukly to be their
mercatte-daie to them in all times hereafter 5 and the
samin to stande with the like priveleges and freedomes
as the Sundaie did of before.” The market day has
been long held on Saturday.
During the usurpation of Oliver Cromwell, a de¬
tachment of his forces, after sacking Dundee, came to
Forfar and burnt all the public records of the place j
and the only charter the town now has is one granted
by Charles II. after his restoration, confirming all its
aixcient rights and privileges.
As an evidence of the ignorance and barbarity of
the times, it appears from the records of the trials kept
in the charter-chest of Forfar, that nine persons were
condemned and burnt here for witchcraft betwixt the
years 1650 and 1662. These innocent people were
"all tried by a special commission from the lords of the
privy council at Edinburgh ; and although the com¬
mission expressly discharged torturing them on purpose
to extort a confession of their guilt, yet, as it was
then thought meritorious to obtain confession of guilt
by whatever means, many inhuman cruelties were ex¬
ercised upon the unfortunate objects; particularly, an
iron boot was drawn upon one of their legs, and a
wedge driven with great force between it and the leg.
Another instrument, still carefully preserved here, was
likewise used, and is called the witch bridle. It is made
of iron in the shape of a dog’s collar, with two pikes
] FOR
on the inside, about four inches distant and two and a
half long. These pikes were put into the mouth, and
the collar afterwards buckled strait on the back of the
head, to which was affixed an iron chain, whereby the
condemned persons were led to the place of execution
called the Play field, about a quarter of a mile to the
northward of the town.
The streets of Forfar are rather irregular; but many
of the houses are neat and well built. Osnaburgs and
coarse linens are manufactured here ; and many of
the inhabitants are employed in making a coarse kind
of shoes. Population 5652 in 1811.
Forfar-Shire, a county of Scotland, of which For¬
far is the capital. Including Angus, Glenisla, Glenesk,
and Glenprossin, it extends between 40 and 50 miles
from east to west, and 16 where broadest, though in some
places the breadth does not exceed five miles. On the
north it is divided from the Brae of Mar by a ridge of
the Binchinnan mountains ; it is bounded on the south
by the frith of Tay and the British ocean, on the east
by Mearns, and on the west by Perthshire. Part of
the Grampian mountains runs through this county,
which is agreeably diversified with hill and dale. It
produces some lead and iron, together with freestone,
slate, and limestone. Coarse linens and sail cloth are
the chief manufactures of the county. It is well
watered with lakes, rivers, rivulets, and fountains,
shaded with large forests, roughened with brown moun¬
tains, and waved with green hills interspersed with fields
and meadows, and adorned with fine seats and planta¬
tions. Their heaths and woods abound with hart, hind,
roebuck, and moor game ; their streams are stocked
with trout and salmon. Their hills are covered with
flocks of sheep, and their fields afford plentiful harvests
of wheat and all sorts of grain. The mountains to the
west and north are inhabited by Highlanders : but the
Lowlanders possess the towns and champaign coun¬
try, and are remarkable for their politeness and hos¬
pitality.
The population of this county in 1811 amounted to
107,264. But in the following table is exhibited a view
of its population, at two diflerent periods.
. Population
Jl (ifishcSm jjj i755»
I Aberbrothwick 2098
Aberlemno 943
Airly 1013
Arbirlot 865
5 Auchterhouse 600
Barry 689
Brechin 31®1
Carmylie 745
Carraldstone 269
10 Cortachy 1233
Craig 935
Dun 657
Dundee 12,477
Dunnichen 653
15 Edzell 862
Essie and Nevay 500
Fearn 500
Fernell 799
Forfar 245°
20 Glammis 1780
Population in
i79o_I798.
4676
1033
865
1055
600
796
500°
700
260
1020
I3I4
500
23,500
872
963
630
490
620
4756
2040
Glenisla
FOR
Forfar¬
shire,
Forfeiture.
Parishes.
Glenisla
Guthrie
Innerarity
Inverkeilor
2J Kettins
Kingoldrum
Kinnell
Kinnettles
Kirkden
30 Kirrymuir
Jjentrathen
Lethnot
Liflt
Lochlee
35 Logie Pert
Liman
Mains
Maryton
Me nmuir
Moneikie
Monifeith
Montrose
Muirhouse
Nevvtyle
Oathlaw
Panbride
Rescobie
Ruthven
St Vigeans
50 Strathmartine
Strickathro
Tannadyce
53 Tealing
40
45
Population
in 17 5 5 ■
1852
58J.
996
1286
J475
780
761
616
585
3409
1165
63S
686
696
208
709
633
743
I345
1421
4I50
623
9X3
435
1259
798
280
J592
368
529
147°
755
68,297
[ 7
Population ia
1790—1798.
IOl8
571
929
J747
1100
600
830
621
727
4358
900
505
I79°
608
999
291
876
529
900
1278
1218
6i94
462
594
43°
1460
934
220
3336
340
672
147°
802
In 1801,
In 1811,
See Forfarshire, Supplement.
91,001
97.778
107,264
FORFEITURE, originally signifies a transgres¬
sion or offence against some penal law. The word is
formed of the base Latin forisfactui'a ; whence forfai-
tura nn&forfaictura, and the French forfait. Foris-
factura comes of forifacere; which, according to Isi¬
dore, signifies to “hurt ov oKon&” facere contra ra-
tionem ; and which is not improbably derived of foris,
“ out,” anUfacere, “ to do,” q. d.' an action out of
rule or contrary to the rules. Borel will have forfait
derived from the using of force or violence : Lobineau,
in his glossary, will have forisfacta properly to signify
a mulct or amend, not a forfeit; which latter he de¬
rives from the Bas-Bretonforfed, “ a penalty.”
But, with us, it is now more frequently used for the
effect of such transgression ; or the losing some right,
privilege, estate, honour, office, or effects, in conse¬
quence thereof; than for the transgression itself.
Forfeiture differs from confiscation, in that the former
is more general; while confiscation is particularly ap¬
plied to such things as become forfeited to the king’s
exchequer; and goods confiscated are said to be such
as nobody claims.
Forfeitures may be either in civil or criminal cases.
1. With respect to the first, a man that hath an
2
J for
estate for life or years, may forfeit it many ways, as
well as by reason of felony; such as alienation, claim- - ^
mg a greater estate than he hath, or affirming the re
version to be in a stranger, &c. When a tenant in
tail makes leases not warranted by the statute ; a copy-
holder commits waste, refuses to pay his rent, or dj
suit of court ; and where an estate is granted upon
condition, or non-performance thereof, &c. thev will
make a forfeiture.
Entry for a forfeiture ought to be by him who is
next in reversion, or remainder, after the estate for¬
feited. As if a tenant for life or years commits a for¬
feiture, he who has the immediate reversion or re¬
mainder ought to enter, though he has the fee, or only
an estate-tail. 7
II. Forfeiture in criminal cases is twofold ; of real
and personal estates. ’
I. As to real estates by Attainder in high trea¬
son, a man forfeits to the king all his lands and tene¬
ments of inheritance, whether fee-simple or fee-tail *
and all his rights of entry on lands and tenements!
which he had at the time of the offence committed, or
at any time afterwards, to be for ever vested in the
crown ; and also the profits of all lands and tenements
W'hich he had in his own right for life or years, so long
as such interest shall subsist. This forfeiture relates Blackat
backwards to the time of the treason committed ; so as Comment.
to avoid all intermediate sales and encumbrances, but
not those before the fact: and therefore a wife’s join¬
ture is not forfeitable for the treason of her husband *
because settled upon her previous to the treason com!
nutted. But her dower is forfeited, by the express
Provision of statute 5 and 6 Edw. VI. c. 11. And yet
the husband shall be tenant by courtesy of the wife’s
lands, if the wife be attainted of treason ; for that is
not prohibited by the statute. But, though after at¬
tainder the forfeiture relates back to the time of the
treason committed, yet it does not take effect unless an
attainder be had, of which it is one of the fruits ; and
therefore, if a traitor dies before judgment pronounced
or is. killed in open rebellion, or is hanged by martial
law, it works no forfeiture of his lands : for he never
was attainted of treason. But if the chief justice of the
king’s bench (the supreme coroner of all England) in
person upon the view of the body of him killed in open
rebellion, records it and returns the record into his own
court, both lands and goods shall be forfeited.
1 he natural justice of the forfeiture or confiscation of
property, for treason, is founded on this consideration :
.hat be who hath thus violated the fundamental prin¬
ciples of government, and broken his part of the ori¬
ginal contract between king and people, hath abandon¬
ed his connexions with society, and hath no longer
any right to those advantages which before belonged
to him purely as a member of the community ; among
which social advantages, the right of transferring or
transmitting property to others is one of the chief.
Such forfeitures, moreover, whereby his posterity must
sutler as well as himself, will help to restrain a man,
not only by the sense of his duty, and dread of personal
punishment, but also by his passions and natural affec¬
tions ; and will interest every dependent and relation
he has to keep him from offending : according to that
beautiful sentiment of Cicero, “ necverome fugit quam
sit acerbnm,parentum scelsrafiliorumpoznis lui; sed hoc
prccclare
FOR [8
Torhiiare.pt'tsc/are legibus comparatum est, ut cantus Ubcroiunt
<■ -'y—< amiciores parentes reipubhcce redderet.” And there¬
fore Aulus Cascellius, a Roman lawyer in the time of
the triumvirate, used to boast that he had two reasons
for despising the power of the tyrants, his old age and
his want of children; for children are pledges to the
prince of the father’s obedience. Yet many nations
have thought, that this posthumous punishment savours
of hardship to the innocent 5 especially for crimes that
do not strike at the very root and foundation of so¬
ciety, as treason against the government expressly does.
And therefore, though confiscations were very fre¬
quent in the times of the earlier emperors, yet Arca-
dius and Honorius, in every other instance but that or
treason, thought it more just, ibi essepcenam, ubi et noxa
est; and ordered, that “peccata suos teneant auctores, nee*
ulteriusprogrediatur metus, quam repenatur delictum;
and Justinian also made a law to restrain the punishment
of relations-, which directs the forfeiture to go, except
in the case of crimen majestatis, to the next of kin to the
delinquent. On the other hand, the Macedonian laws
extended even the capital punishment of treason, not
only to the children, but to all the relations of the de¬
linquent j and of course their estates must be also for¬
feited, as no man was left to inherit them. And in
Germany, by the famous golden bull (copied almost
verbatim from Justinian’s code), the lives of the sons 01
such as conspire to kill an elector are spared, as it is ex¬
pressed, by the emperor’s particular bounty. But they
are deprived of all their effects and rights of succession,
and are rendered incapable of any honour ecclesiastical
and civil: to the end, that being always poor and ne¬
cessitous, they may for ever be accompanied by the in¬
famy of their father; may languish in continual indi¬
gence ; and may find (says this merciless edict) their
punishment in living, and their relief in dying.”
In England, forfeiture of lands and tenements to
the crown for treason is by no means derived from the
feodal policy, but was antecedent t<^ the establishment
of that system in this island ; being transmitted from
our Saxon ancestors, and forming a part of the ancient
Scandinavian constitution. But in certain treasons re¬
lating to the coin (which seem rather a species of the
crimen falsi than the crimen lessee majestatis), it is pro¬
vided by some of the modern statutes which constitute
the offence, that it shall work no forfeiture of lands,
save only for the life of the offenders; and by all, that
it shall not deprive the wife of her dower. And, in
order to abolish such hereditary punishment entirely, it
\vas enacted by statute 7 Ann. c. 21. that, after the
decease of the late pretender, no attainder for treason
shall extend to the disinheriting of any heir, nor to
the prejudice of any person, other than the traitor him¬
self. By which the law of forfeitures for high trea¬
son would by this time have been at an end, had not a
subsequent statute intervened to give them a longer du¬
ration. The history of this matter is somewhat sin-
oular, and worthy of observation. At the time of the
union, the crime of treason in Scotland was, by the
Scots law, in many respects different from that of trea¬
son in England.; and particularly in its consequence
of forfeitures of entailed estates, which was more pe¬
culiarly English; yet it seemed necessary, that a crime
so nearly affecting government should, both in its es¬
sence and consequences, be put upon the same footing
] FOR
in both parts of the united kingdoms. In new mo- Forfeiture.
delling these laws, the Scots nation and the English '
house of commons struggled hard, partly to maintain,
and partly to acquire, a total immunity from forfeiture
and corruption of blood; which the house of lords as
firmly resisted. At length a compromise was agreed
to, which is established by this statute, viz. that the
same crimes, and no other, should be treason in Scot¬
land that are so in England; and that the English for¬
feitures and corruption of blood should take place m
Scotland till the death of the then pretender, and then
cease throughout the whole of Great Britain : the lords
artfully proposing this temporary dause, in hopes (it is
said) that the prudence of succeeding parliaments would
make it perpetual. This has partly been done by the
statute 17 Geo. II. c. 39. made in the year preceding
the late rebellion, the operation of these indemnifying
clauses being thereby still farther suspended till the
death of the sons of the pretender.
In petit treason and felony, the offender also for¬
feits all his chattel interests absolutely, and the profits
of all freehold estates during life; and after his death
all his lands and tenements in fee simple (but not those
in tail) to the crown, for a very short period of time :
for the king shall have them for a year and a day, and
may commit therein what waste he pleases; which i>
called the king’s year, day, and weiste. Formerly the
king had only a liberty of committing waste on the
lands of felons, by pulling down their houses, extir¬
pating their gardens, ploughing their meadows, and
cutting down their woods. And a punishment of a
similar spirit appears to have obtained in the oriental
countries, from the decrees of Nebuchadnezzar am.
Cyrus in the books of Daniel and Ezra; which, be¬
sides the pain of death inflicted on the delinquents
there specified, ordain, “ that their houses shall be made
a dunghill.” But this tending greatly to the prejudico
of the°public, it was agreed in the reign of Henry I.
of England, that the king should have the profits of
the land for one year and a day in lieu of the destruc¬
tion he was otherwise at liberty to commit: and there¬
fore magna charta provides, that the king shall only hold
such lands for a year and a day, and then restore them
to the lord of the fee, without any mention made of
waste. But the statute 17 Edward II. de prerogative!
regis, seems to suppose, that the king shall have his year,
day, and waste ; and not the year and day instead of
waste : which Sir Edward Coke (and the author of the
Mirror before him) very justly look upon as an en¬
croachment, though a very ancient one, of the royal
prerogative. This year, day, and waste, are now
usually compounded for; but otherwise they regulatiy
belong to the crown : and after their expiration the
land would naturally have, descended to the heir (as in
gavelkind tenure it still does) did not its feudal quality
intercept such descent, and give it by way of escheat
to the lord. These forfeitures for felony do also arise
only upon attainder; and therefore a jelo de se forfeits
no lands of inheritance or freehold, for he never is at¬
tainted as a felon. I hey likewise relate back to tlitt.
time the offence was committed as well as forfeitures
for treason, so as to avoid all intermediate charges and
conveyances. This may be hard upon such as have
unwarily engaged with the offender ; but the crue.ty
and reproach must lie on the part, not of the law, bu.
of
««,
FOR [
Forfeitnre of the criminal: who has thus knowingly and dishonest-
For»e ^ “lvo*ve<^ others in his own calamities.
i * The forfeiture of goods and chattels accrues in
every one of the high kinds of offence} in high treason,
or misprision thereof, petit treason, felonies of all sorts
whether clergyable or not, self murder or felony de se,
petty larceny, standing mute, &c. For flight, also, on
an accusation of treason, felony, or even petit larceny,
whether the party be found guilty or acquitted, if the’
jury find the flight, the party shall forfeit his goods
and chattels. for the very flight is an oflence, carrying
with it a strong presumption of guilt, and is at least an
endeavour to elude and to stifle the course of justice
prescribed by the law. But the jury very seldom find
the flight: forfeiture being looked upon, since the vast
increase of personal property of late years, as too large
a penalty for an offence to which a man is prompted
by the natural love of liberty.
There is a remarkable difference between the
forfeiture of lands and of goods and chattels, (i.)
Lands are forfeited upon attainder, and not before}
goods and chattels are forfeited by conviction. Be¬
cause in many of the cases where goods are forfeited,
there is never any attainder} which happens only where
judgment of death or outlawry is given : therefore, in
those cases, the forfeiture must be upon conviction or
not at all} and, being necessarily upon conviction in
those, it is so ordered in all other cases, for the law
loves uniformity. (2.) The forfeiture of lands has
iclation to the time the fact was committed, so as to
avoid all subsequent sales and encumbrances: but the
forfeiture of goods and chattels has no relation back¬
wards } so that those only which a man has at the time
of conviction shall be forfeited. Therefore a traitor
or felon may bona fide sell any of his chattels, real or
persona], for the sustenance of himself and family be¬
tween the fact and conviction ; for personal property
is of so fluctuating a nature, that it passes through
many hands in a short time} and no buyer could be
safe, jf he were liable to return the goods which he
had fairly bought, provided any of the prior venders
had committed a treason or felony. Yet if they be
collusively and not bona fide parted with, merely to
defraud the crown, the law (and particularly the statute
13 Lliz. c. 5.) will reach them } for they are all the
while truly and substantially the goods of the offender :
and as he, if acquitted, might recover them himself, as
not parted with for a good consideration} so, in case he
happens to be convicted, the law will recover them for
the king.
FORFEX, in Roman antiquity, was away of drawing
up an army in the form of a pair of sheers. It was
intended to receive the cuneus or wedge, if the enemy
should make use of that figure. For when the forfex
opened to admit the wedge, they had an opportunity of
eTror?&r^TTTtleS,Sn’ and cutting them in pieces.
FORI ICULA, the Earwig, a genus of insects be-
/"Sg t0 ^ °f coleo^tera* See Entomology
FORGE, properly signifies a little furnace, wherein
smiths and other artificers of iron or steel, &c. heat
heir metals red hot, in order to soften them and render
them more malleable and manageable on the anvil.
An ordinary forge is nothing but a pair of bellows
iS dIreCted U*0n asm°^ -I:
f
For;
9 ] FOR
on which coals are placed. The nozzle of a pair of
bellows may be also directed to the bottom of any fur- II
nace, to excite the combustion of the coals placed ForSe,y-
there, by which a kind of forge is formed. In Jabo-
ratones, there is generally a small furnace consisting
ot one cylindrical piece, open at top, which has at its
lower side a hole for receiving the nozzle of a double
bellows. This kind of forge furnace is very conveni¬
ent for fusions, as the operation is quickly performed
and with few coals. In its lower part, two inches
above the hole for receiving the nozzle of the bellows,
may be placed an iron plate of the same diameter, sup¬
ported upon two horizontal bars, and pierced near its
circumference with four holes diametrically opposite to
each other. By this disposition, the wind of the bel¬
lows pushed forcibly under this plate, enters at these
tour ho es ; and thus the heat of the fire is equally dis¬
tributed, and the crucible in the furnace is equally sur¬
rounded by it. This contrivance is used in the forge-
turnaces for melting copper, with this difference only,
that these furnaces are square, which is a matter of no
consequence.
As the wind of bellows strongly and rapidly excites
the action of the fire, a forge is very convenient when
a great heat is to be applied quickly : but it is not
suitabJe when the heat is to be gradually increased.
Ihe forge, or blast of bellows, is used in several ope¬
rations in small} as to fuse salts, metals, ores, &c. It
is also much used in works in the great, which require
strong heat, without much management} and chiefly in
the smelting of ores, and fusion of metallic matters.
Forge is also used for a large furnace, wherein iron
ore, taken out of the mine, is melted down : or it is
more properly applied to another kind of furnace
wherein the iron-ore, melted down and separated in a
former furnace, and then cast into sows and pigs is
heated and fused over again, and beaten afterwards with
large hammers, and thus rendered more soft, pure
ductile, and fit for use. , * *
Forge, in the train of artillery, is generally called
a travelling forge, and may not be improperly called
a portable smith’s shop : at this forge all manner of
smith s ivork is made, and it can be used upon a march
as well as in camp. Formerly they were very ill con¬
trived, with two wheels only, and wooden supporters to
prop the forge for working when in the park. Of late
years they are made with four wheels, which answers
the purpose much better.
Forge for red-hot Balls, is a place where the balls
are made red hot before they are fired off: it is built
about five or six feet below the surface of the ground
of strong brick-work, and an iron grate, upon which the
balls are laid, with a large fire under them.
Law’ one guilty offorgery.
FORGERY (from the Trench forger, i. e. accudarc,
fubncare, to beat on an anvil, forge, or form,”) may
be defined at common law, to be “ the fraudulent
making or alteration of a writing, to the prejudice of
another man’s right :” for which the offender may suf¬
fer^ fine, imprisonment, and pillory. And also, by a
variety of statutes, a more severe punishment is inflict¬
ed on the offender in many particular cases, which are
so multiplied of late as almost to become general. We
shall mention the principal instance.
By statute 5 Eliz, c. 14. to forge or make, or know-
B ingly
FOR [ 1°
ingly to publish or give in evidence, any forged deed,
court- roll, or will, with intent to affect the right of real
property, either freehold or copyhold, is punished by
a forfeiture to the party grieved of double costs and
damages j by standing in the pillory, and having both
his ears cut off, and his nostrils slit and seared } by
forfeiture to the crown of the profits of his lands, an
by perpetual imprisonment. For any forgery relating
to a term of years or annuity, bond, obligation, ac¬
quittance, release, or discharge of any debt or demand
]
FOR
quitianct, icictiacj uj v j ' . .
of anv personal chattels, the same forfeiture ^ &iven o
the party grieved ; and on the offender is inflicted the
pillory, loss of one of bis ears, and half a year’s im¬
prisonment: the second offence, in both cases, being
felony without benefit ot clergy. #
Besides this general act, a multitude of others, since
the Revolution (when paper credit was first established),
have inflicted capital punishment on the forging, al¬
tering, or uttering as true when forged of any bank
bills or notes, or other securities j of hills of credit
issued from the exchequer j of South Sea bonds, &c j
of lottery tickets or orders: of army or navy deben¬
tures *, of East India bonds j of writings under seal ot
the London or royal exchange assurance; ot the hand
of the receiver of the pre-sines, or of the accountant-
general and certain other officers of the court of chan¬
cery • of a letter of attorney or other power to receive
or transfer stock or annuities; and on the personating
a proprietor thereof, to receive or transfer such annui¬
ties stock or dividends : also on the personating, or
procuring to be personated, any seaman or other per¬
son, entitled to wages or other naval emoluments, or
anv of his personal representatives ; and the taking, or
procuring fo be taken, any false oath in order to ob-
tain a probate or letters of administration, in order to
receive such payments; and the forging or procuring
to be forged, and likewise the uttering or publishing,
as true, of any counterfeited seaman’s will or power*,
to which may be added, though not strictly reducible
to this head, the counterfeiting of Mediterranean pas¬
ses under the hands of the lords of adrmralty, to
protect one from the piratical states of Barbary , the
forging or imitating of any stamps to defraud the
public revenue*, and the forging of any marriage re¬
lister or license : all which are, by distinct acts of par¬
liament, made felonies without benefit of clergy. By
statutes l3 Geo. III. c. 52. and 59. forging or counter¬
feiting any stamp or mark to denote the standard of
^Id and silver plate, and certain other offences of the
like tendency, are punished with transportation for 14
vearr By statute 12 Geo. III. c. 48. certatn frauds
In the stamp-duties, there',» described, prmc,pally by
using the same stamps more than once, are made single
felonv and liable to transportation for seven years.
And^the same punishment is inflicted by statute 13
Ceo III. c. 38. on such as counterfeit the common
seal of the corporation for manufacturing plate glass
f thereby erected), or knowingly demand money of the
company by virtue of any writing under such counter-
fe ThTrc are also two other general laws witb regaid
to forgery; the one 2 Geo. II. c. 25. whereby the first
0ffence in forging or procuring to be forged, acting or
assisting therein, or altering or publ.sh.ng as true, any
forged deed, will, bond, writing obligatory, bill ot ex
change, promissory note, indorsement or assignment
thereof, or any acquittance or receipt for money or
goods, with intention to defraud any person (or cor¬
poration), is made felony without benefit of clergy.
And by statute 7 Geo. II. c. 22. it is equally penal to
forge, or cause to be forged, or utter as true, a coun¬
terfeit acceptance of a hill of exchange, or the number
of any accountable receipt for any note, hill, or any
other security for money, or any warrant or order tor
the payment of money or delivery of goods, bo that,
tne paymem 01 ujuucjt .
through the number of these general and special pro¬
visions, there is now hardly a case possible to be con¬
ceived, wherein forgery, that tends to defraud, whether
in the name of a real or fictitious person, is not made a
capital crime.
Forging, in Latv, the act of Forgery.
Forging, in smithery, the heating or hammering
iron on an anvil, after having first made it red hot in
the forge, in order to extend it into various forms, and
fashion it into various works.
There are two ways of forging and hammering iron.
One is by the force of the hand, in which there are
usually several persons employed, one of them turning
the iron and hammering likewise, and the rest only
hammering. The other way is by the forte of a wa¬
ter-mill, which raises and works several huge hammers
beyond the force of man; under the strokes whereof
the workmen present large lumps or pieces ot iron,
which are sustained at one end by the anvils, and at
the other by iron chains fastened to the ceiling of the
forge. See Mill. _ . . .
This last way of forging is only used in the largest
works, as anchors for ships, &c. which usually weigh
several thousand pounds. For the lighter works, a
single man serves to hold, heat, and turn with one hand,
while he hammers with the other. # .
Each purpose the work is designed for requires its
proper heat; for if it be too cold, it will not feel the
weight of the hammer, as the smiths call it when it
will not batter under the hammer; and if it be too hot,
it will red sear, that is, break or crack under the ham-
The several degrees of heat the smiths give their
iron, are, first, a blood-red heat; secondly , a white-
flame heat; and thirdly, a sparkling or welding heat.
FORISFAMILIATION, in Law, When a child,
upon receiving a portion from his father, or otherwrse,
renounces his legal title to any further share ot his la¬
ther’s succession, he is said to be forisfamiliated.
FORK, a well known instrument, consisting ot a
handle and blade, divided at the end into two or more
points or prongs. .
The pitchfork is a large utensil of this construction
employed in hay-making, &c. _
The table-fork, an instrument now so indispensable,
did not come into use in England till the reign of
James I. as we learn from a remarkable passage in Co-
ryat The reader will probably smile at the solemn man¬
ner in which this important discovery or innovation is
related • “ Here I will mention a thing that might have
been spoken of before in discourse of the first Italian
townes. I observed a custom in all those Itanan cities
and townes through the which I passed, that is not
used in any other country that I saw in my travels,
neither do I thinke that any other nation ot Christen¬
dom®
jroA
Form.
FOR [
dome doth use it, but only Italy. The Italians and al¬
so most strangers that are commorant in Italy, doe al¬
ways at their meals use a little forke when they eat
their meate ; for while with their knife which they
hold in one hand they cut the meate out of the dish,
they fasten the forke which they hold in the other
hand upon the same dish, so that whatsoever he be
that sitting in the company of any others at meale
shall unadvisedly touch the dish of meat with his fin¬
gers from which all the table doe cut, he will give oc¬
casion of offence unto the company as having trans¬
gressed the lawes of good manners, insomuch that
for his error he shall be at least brow-beaten if not re¬
prehended in wordes. This form of feeding I under¬
stand is generally used in all parts of Italy, their forkes
for the most part being made of yronn, steele, and
some of silver, but those are used only by gentlemen.
The reason of this their curiosity is, because the Ita¬
lian cannot by any means indure to have his dish touch¬
ed with fingers, seeing all men’s fingers are not alike
cleane. Hereupon I myself thought good to imitate
the Italian fashion by this forked cutting of meate,
not only while I was in Italy, but also in Germany,
and often times in England since I came home : be¬
ing once quipped for that frequently using my foike, by
a certain learned gentleman, a familiar friend of mine,
Mr Lawrence Whitaker; who in his merry humour
doubted not to call me a table furcifer^ only for using a
forke at feeding, but for no other cause.”
FORLI, an ancient and considerable town of Italy,
and capital of a territory of the same name, in Ro¬
magna, with a bishop’s see. The public structures are
very handsome ; and it is seated in a fertile, healthy,
and pleasant country, 10 miles south-east of Faenza,
and 45 north-east of Florence, E. Long. 12. I. N.
Lat. 44. 28.
FORLORN-Hope, in the military art, signifies men
detached from several regiments, or otherwise appoint¬
ed, to make the first attack in day of battle ; or at a
siege, to storm the counterscarp, mount the breach, or
the like. They are so called from the great danger
they are unavoidably exposed to; but the word is old,
and begins to be obsolete.
FORM, in Physics, denotes the manner of being
peculiar to each body ; or that which constitutes it such
a particular body, and distinguishes it from every
other.
Mr Harris uses the term form likewise in another
sense, as an efficient animating principle ; to which he
supposes Ovid to refer in the first lines of his Metamor*
phoses.
In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas,
Corpora.— - ■
These animating forms are of themselves no objects
either of the ear or of the eye; but their nature or
character is understood in this, that were they never to
exert their proper energies on their proper subjects,
the marble on which the sculptor exercises his art
would remain for ever shapeless, and the harp from
which the harper calls forth sounds would remain for
ever silent.
f Thus also, the animating form of a natural body
*s neither its organization nor its figure, nor any other
those inferior forms which make up the system of
11 ] FOB
its visible qualities : but it is the power, which is yet
able to produce, preserve, and employ these. It is the
power, which first moves, and then conducts that la¬
tent process, by which the acorn becomes an oak, and
the embryo becomes a man; by which digestion is
performed in plants and animals, and, which depart-
ing, the body ceases to live, and its members putrefy :
and by which every being produces another like itself,
and every species is continued. In animals, it is that
higher faculty, which, by employing the organs of
sense, peculiar to them as animals, distinguishes them
as sensitive beings from vegetables ; and i‘t is also that
more noble faculty, which by its own divine vigour,
unassisted perhaps with organs, makes and denominates
him a being intellective and rational. So that Mr
Harris reckons two sorts of forms, those which are
passive elements, and those which are efficient causes.
And all of them agree in this, that they give to every
being its peculiar and distinctive character : and on the
whole he concludes, that form appears in part to he an
element, and in part an efficient cause, i. e. a cause
which associates the constituent elements of natural
substances, and which employs them, when associated,
according to their various and peculiar characters.
The philosophers generally allow two principles of
bodies : matter, as the common basis or substratum of
all ; andybrm, as that which specifies and distinguishes
each ; and which added to a quantity of common mat¬
ter, determines or denominates it this or that; wood, or
fire, or ashes, &c.
Substantial forms seem to have been first broached by
the followers of Aristotle, who thought matter, under
different modes or modifications, not sufficient to con¬
stitute different bodies ; but that something substantial
was necessary to set them at a greater distance : and
thus introduced substantial forms, on the footing of
souls, which specify and distinguish animals. What
led to this erroneous notion were the circumstances of
life and death : For observing, that, as soon as the
soul was departed out of a man, all motion, respira¬
tion, nutrition, &c. immediately ceased, they conclud¬
ed, that all these functions depended on the soul,
and consequently that the soul was the form of the
animal body, or that which constituted it such: that
the soul was a substance, independent of matter, no¬
body doubted ; and hence the forms of other bodies
were concluded equally substantial. But to this it is
answered, that though the soul be that by which a
man is man, and consequently is the form of the hu¬
man body, as human ; yet it does not follow, that it
is properly the form of this body of ours, as it is
a body; nor of the several parts thereof, considered as
distinct from each other: I or those several parts have
their proper forms so closely connected with their mat¬
ter, that it remains inseparable therefrom lonp- after
the soul has quitted the body ; thus flesh has the form
of flqsh, bone of bone, &c. long after the soul is re¬
moved as well as before. The truth is, the body does
not become incapable of performing its accustomed
functions because the soul has deserted it; but the soul
takes its leave, because the body is not in a condition
to perform its functions.
The ancient and modern corpuscular philosophers,
therefore, with the Cartesians, exclude the notion of
substantial forms 3 and show, by many arguments, that
B 2
Form.
Torm.
FOR [12
the form is only the modus or manner of the body it is
inherent in. And as there are only three primary
modes of matter, viz. figure, rest, or motion, with
two others arising therefrom, viz. magnitude and situa¬
tion, the form of all bodies they hold to consist there¬
in ; and suppose the variations these modes are capable
of, sufficient to present all the variety observable in
bodies.
Forms are usually distinguished into essential and
accidental.
Essential. Though the five modes above mentioned,
generally taken, be adventitious j yet to this or that
body, e. gr. to fire or water, they are essential thus
it is accidental to iron, to have this or that magnitude,
lio-ure, or situation, since it might exist in different
ones 5 yet to a knife or hammer, the figure, magni¬
tude, and position of parts, which constitute it a ham¬
mer or knife, are essential ; and they cannot exist or
be conceived without them. Hence it is inferred,
that though there be no substantial, there are essen¬
tial forms, whereby the several species of bodies be¬
come what they are, and are distinguished from all
others. ... . , ,.
Accidental forms, are those really inherent in bodies,
but in such manner as that the body may exist in all
its perfection without them. Such as whiteness in a
wall, heat in water, a figure of a man in wax, &c.
Form is also used, in a moral sense, for the manner
of being or doing a thing according to rules : thus
we say, a form of government, a form of argument,
&c.
Form, in Law, the rules established and requisite to
be observed in legal proceedings. The formal part of
the law, or methdd of proceeding, cannot be altered
but by parliament j for if once these outworks were
demolished, there would be an inlet to all manner of
innovation in the body of the law itself.
Form, in carpentry, is used to denote the long seats
or benches in the choirs of churches or in schools, for
the priests, prebends, religious, or scholars, to sit on. Du
Cange takes the name to be derived from hence, that
the backs of the seats were anciently enriched with
fio-ures of painting and sculpture, called in Latinj^rw^
et typi. In the life of St William of Roschild, we
meet with forma as signifying a seat for an ecclesiastic,
or religious, in a choirand in that of St Lupicin, we
have formula in the same sense. In the rule of the
monastery of St Caesarea, the man who presides over
the choir is called primiceria, velforman.
At schools, the word form is frequently applied to
what is otherwise termed a class. See Class.
Form also denotes the external appearance or surface
of a body, or the disposition of its parts as to the length,
breadth and thickness. e
Form is also used among mechanics, tor a sort ot
mould wherein any thing is fashioned or wrought.
Printer's Form, an assemblage of letters, words, and
lines ranged in order, and so disposed into pages by the
compositor j from which, by means of ink and a press,
the printed sheets are drawn. _ , . .
Every form is enclosed in an iron chess, wherein it
is firmly locked by a number of pieces of wood ; some
long and narrow, and others of the form of wedges.
There are two forms required for every sheet, one tor
Form
] FOR
each side j and each form consists of more or fewer pages
according to the size of the book. II
Hatter's Form, is a large block or piece of wood, of i Forman.
a cylindrical figure } the top thereof rounded, and the
bottom quite flat. Its use is, to mould or fashion the
crown of the hat, after the matter thereof has been
beaten and fulled.
Papermaker's Form, is the frame or mould wherein
the sheets are fashioned. See Paper.
FORMA PAUPERIS, in Law, is when a person has
just cause of suit, but is so poor that he cannot de¬
fray the usual charges of suing at law or in equity } in
which case, on making oath that he is nut worth 5I.
in the world, on all his debts being paid, and produ¬
cing a certificate from some lawyer that he has good
cause of suit, the judge will admit him to sue forma
pauperis; that is, without paying any fee to counsel¬
lors, attorneys, or clerk: the statute 11 Hen. VII.
c. 1 2. having enacted, that counsel and attorneys, &c.
shall be assigned to such poor persons gratis. Where
it appears that any pauper has sold or contracted for
the benefit of his suit whilst it is depending in court,
such cause shall be thenceforth totally dismissed > and a
person suing informa pauperis shall not have a new trial
granted him, but is to acquiesce in the judgment of the
court.
FORMAL, something belonging to or constituting
the form of a thing. See Form.
FORMALITY, the quality of a form, or formula j
or that which constitutes and denominates them such.
Formality, as defined in the schools, is any manner
wherein a thing is conceived 5 or a manner in any ob¬
ject,.importing a relation for the understanding whereby
it may be distinguished from another object. Thus
animality and rationality are formalities. The Scottists
made great use of formalities, in opposition to the vir¬
tualities of the Thomists.
Formalities, in matters of law, are frequently
used for the formulas themselves, or the rules prescrib¬
ed for judiciary proceedings. In contracts of strict
law, all the formalities must be strictly observed : an
omission of the least formality may ruin the whole con¬
vention.
The term is also used for a certain order or decorum
to be observed.
FORMAN, Andrew, archbishop of St Andrew’s,
earl of Pittenweem, and of Cottingham in England,
one of the lords of the regency appointed by the states
during the minority of King James V. of Scotland,
legate it latere, primate of all the kingdom of Scot¬
land, and archbishop of Bourges in France, was de¬
scended from the family of the Formans of Hutton in
the shire of Berwick, and is considered to have been
one of the best statesmen of the age in which he lived.
He was employed in 1501, along with Robert Black-
ader, archbishop of Glasgow, and Patrick earl ofBoth-
well.to negotiate a match between Ja. IV. of Scotland
and Margaret eldest daughter of Hen. VII. of England,
which next year was ratified by the Scottish ambassadors.
He was afterwards frequently employed as Scots am¬
bassador to Rome, England, and France, upon the most
important occasions. In 1514, he was translated from
the see of Moray, to which he had been appointed in
1502, to that of St Andrews. During the time of
his
FOR
r
Forman, his possessing the former, he was employed as mediator
hetwixt I ope Julius II. and Louis XII. of France, who
were at that time at variance j and he happily succeed¬
ed in conciliating the difference. Having taken leave
of the Pope, he passed through France on his return
home, where he was kindly received by the king and
queen, who bestowed upon him the bishopric of Bour-
ges in I ranee, which annually brought him in 400
to^s of wine, 10,000 francs of gold, and other smaller
articles. Besides all this, he was most liberally rewarded
by Pope Julius, who promoted him to the archbishopric
ot St Andrew’s, as has been already mentioned j con-
lerred on him the two rich abbeys ot Dunfermline and
Aberbrothic; and made him his legate a latere. At
that time, however, there were two other candidates
for the archiepiscopal see. The learned Gavin Dou¬
glas, bishop of Dunkeld, having been nominated by
the queen, had actually taken possession of it 5 but
John Hepburn, a bold and factious man, having
been preferred by the monks, drove out the officers
ot Gavin Douglas, and placed a strong garrison
in the castle. So great was the power of this man,
that when Forman was nominated by the Pope, no
person could be found who durst proclaim the bulls
ior his election. At last Lord Home, at that time the
most powerful nobleman in Scotland, was induced, by
large promises, besides some gifts of great consequence,
among which was the donation of the abbacy of Cold-
ingham to his youngest brother David, to undertake
the task. It was executed at Edinburgh and St An¬
drew’s , to which places Lord Home’s brother went
with 10,000 men j though the doing of it, contrary
to Forman’s inclination, proved a source of much
trouble to that nobleman afterwards. The quarrel be-
tvyixt Hepburn and Forman, however, was at last ter¬
minated by the latter surrendering the bishopric of
Moray, as well as some years revenue of the archbi¬
shopric itself j paying Hepburn also 3000 French
crowns annually out of his ecclesiastical revenues. On
the appointment of the duke of Albany to the regency,
Hepburn endeavoured to undermine the primate’s
credit with that nobleman, by representing him as one
who had in a manner collected all the money in the
country, and who consequently might endanger the
tranquillity of the kingdom. These insinuations, how¬
ever, were but little regarded by the regent; and For¬
man had the good fortune afterwards'to make up a
difference between him and the nobility, which was
likely to be attended with much bloodshed. In 1517,
the archbishop was appointed by the states one of the*
lords of the regency, on occasion of the duke of Al¬
bany s going to France. YSe have already mentioned
his embassy to Pope Julius II. In M'Kenzie’s Lives
we are informed, that in the collection of the Letters
of the Scottish Kings from the year 1505 till the year
1626, in the lawyers library, there is a letter from the
pope to King James IV. wherein he not only highly
commends Forman, but likewise promises that at the
first creation of cardinals he should be made one. This
letter is dated the 6th of May 1511 : but the pope
died before he had an opportunity of performing his
promise. In the same collection there is a letter from
the duke of Albany to Leo X. Julius’s successor,
wherein he presses the pope to advance him to the dig¬
nity of a cardinal promised him by his predecessor,
3 ] FOR
ami to continue I,in, his legate a latere. Archbishop Po„„n
r orman died in 1521, and was buried at Dunfermline. tj
Dempster says that he wrote a book against Luther a Eonninp.
book concerning the Stoic Philosophy, and a Collection    
out of the Decretals.
FORMATION, in Philosophy, an act whereby
something is formed or produced. For the formation
ol the foetus in the womb, see Anatomy, N° ioo
no.
Formation of Stones. See Stone.
Formatwn oJ- Metals and Mii7erals. See Mftal
and Mineral.
Formation, in Grammar, signifies the manner of
forming one word from another; thus accountantship is
t"Yao™T accouniant, a"d this last from account.
T ORMEpON, in Law, (breve deforma donationis),
a writ that lies for a person who has a right to lands or
tenements by virtue of any entail, arising from the sta¬
tute of Westm. 2. Ch. II.
I his writ is of three kinds, viz. a descender, remain¬
der, and reverter. Formedon in descender, lies where a
tenant in tail infeoffs a stranger, or is disseised and dies,
and the heir may bring this writ to recover the lands,
rormedon in remainder, lies where a man gives lands,
&c. to a person in tail, and for the default of issue of
his body, the remainder to another in tail: here if the
tenant in tail die without issue, and a stranger abates
and enters into the land, he in remainder shall have
this writ. Formedon in reverter, lies where lands are
entailed on certain persons and their issue, with re¬
mainder over for want of issue; and on that remain¬
der failing, then to revert to the donor and his heirs :
in this case, if the tenant in tail dies without issue,
and also he in remainder, the donor and his heirs,
to whom the reversion returns, may have this writ for
the recovery of the estate, though the same be aliena¬
ted, &c.
FORMI/E, or Formia, in Ancient Geography, a
maritime town of the Adjected or New Latium, to the
souUreast of Cajeta; built by the Lacedemonians,
(Strabo) ; called originally Hormice, on account of its
commodious harbour. An ancient municipium. For-
miani, the people ; who were admitted to the liberty of
the city the very year in which Alexandria was built:
but not to the right of suffrage till a long time after the
second I umc war, (Livy). Formia: at this day lies in
rums, near a place now called Mola.
FORMICA, the Ant, a genus of insects belonging
to the order of hymenoptera. See Entomology In¬
dex.
Hie insects called white ants, which abound in Afri-
ca and the East Indies, belong to the genus termes,
which see in Entomology Index.
Formica Leo, the Ant lion, so called from its de*
vouring great numbers of ants. It is the caterpillar or
worm of a fly much resembling the libellae or dragon
flies ; and feeds chiefly upon ants.
. FORMING is used for the act of giving being or
birth to any thing.
The word is also simply used for giving the fiaure
to any thing. I he potter forms his vessels as he
pleases. Geometry teaches how to form all kinds of '
figures.
It is likewise used for the producing of a thing: thus
the lineaments of the face began to be formed.
FoRuiNa
Forming,
Formosa.
FOR [ »
Forming of a Siege, is the making lines of circutn-
vallation to Kirtify the camp, and disposing things for
the attack of a place in form.
They also say, to form a squadron or battalion;
meaning to range the soldiers in form of a squadron,
&CC*
Forming the Line, is drawing up infantry, cavalry,
and artillery, into line of battle. See Line.
Forming is also used in grammar, in speaking ot
certain tenses of verbs, which are made from others by
a change of certain letters. The present tense is formed
from the infinitive. Compound and derivative words
also, and even all that have any etymology, are said to
be formed. ,
FORMOSA, an island in the Pacific ocean, be¬
tween 1190 and 122° of E. Long, and 22° and 25
N Lat. about 100 miles east of Canton in China. It
is subject to the Chinese; who, however, notwithstand¬
ing its vicinity, did not know of its existence until the
year 1430. It is about 85 leagues in length, and 25
in breadth. A long chain of mountains, which runs
from north to south, divides it into two parts, the
eastern and western. The Dutch formed an establish¬
ment in the western part in 1634, and built the lort
of Zealand, which secured to them the principal port
of the island ; but they were driven from thence in
16 to or 1661 by a celebrated Chinese pirate, who made
himself master of all the western part, which afterwards
submitted in 1682 to the authority of Kang-he emperor (
of China. . . . . ,
This western part of Formosa is divided into three
distinct governments, all subordinate to the governor 0
Ta.|-ouan, the capital of the island, who is himseli sub¬
ject to the viceroy of the province of FoKIEN.
This island presents extensive and fertile plains, wa¬
tered by a great number of rivulets that fall from the
eastern mountains. Its air is pure and wholesome ; and
the earth produces in abundance, corn, rice, and the
greater part of other grains. Most of the Indian fruits
are found here, such as oranges, bananas, pme-apples,
guavas, papaws, cocoa nuts; and part of those 01 Eu¬
rope, particularly peaches, apricots figs, raisins, ches-
nuts, pomegranates, water melons, &c. Tobacco, su¬
gar, pepper, camphire, and cinnamon, are also common.
Horses, sheep, and goats, are very rare in this island:
there are even few hogs, although these animals
abound in China. Domestic poultry, such as fowls,
geese, and ducks, are exceedingly plenty; pheasants
also are sometimes seen ; and monkeys and stags have
multiplied so much, that they wander through the coun¬
try in large flocks.
The inhabitants of Formosa rear a great number ot
oxen, which they use for riding, from a want of horses
and mules. They accustom them early to this kind
of service, and by daily exercise train them to go as
well and as expeditiously as the best horses. Ihese
oxen were furnished with a bridle, saddle, and crupper.
A Chinese looks as big and proud when mounted in
this manner, as if he were carried by the finest Barbary
courser. „ , , , . ... 1 .c*
Wholesome water fit for drinking is the only thing
wanting in the island of Formosa.. It is very extraor¬
dinary, that every kind of water in it is a deadly poi«
son to strangers, for which no remedy has hitherto
been found. “ One of the governor’s servants,” says
4 ] . FOR
Father de Mailla, “ whom I had in my train (a strong Formosa,
and robust man), trusting too much to the force of his * J
constitution, would not believe what had been told
him concerning this water : he drank some of it; and
died in less than five days, after every medicine and
antidote had been administered without success. There
is none but the water of the capital which can be
drunk: the mandarins of the place therefore always
took care to transport a sufficiency ot it in carts for
our use.” Our author adds, that at the bottom of a
mountain a league distant from Fong-kan-hien there is
a spring that produces a stream, the water ot which is of
a whitish blue colour, and so noxious, that no one can
approach it.
There are few mulberry trees in Formosa, conse¬
quently little silk is made in the country. Numerous
manufactures, however, would soon be introduced in¬
to it, were the Chinese permitted indiscriminately to
transport themselves thither, and to form establishments
in the island. Those who go to it must be protected
by passports from the Chinese mandarins, and these
passports are sold at a dear rate; securities are besides
required. This is not all: when they arrive, money
must be given to the mandarins who are appointed to
examine those who enter or quit the island, and who
generally discharge this duty with the most rigid seve¬
rity. If they give no present, or oiler only a trifle,
they meet with little mercy : and are sure to be sent
back, whatever passport they may have. The Chinese,
through policy, connive at these exactions, to prevent
too great a number of people from emigrating to this
island, which is rendered a place of great importance
by its proximity to China. They fear, and with great
reason (especially since Tartar emperors have been on
the throne), that if any revolt should happen in For¬
mosa, its influence might spread and occasion great dis¬
turbance in the whole empire. On this account, the
Tartars keep a garrison there of 10,000 men; which
they take care to change every three years, or even
oftener if they judge it necessary.
Besides the capital, the Chinese have also two other
cities, and some villages, where they inhabit alone;
for they do not permit the Indians, who are their sub¬
jects, to live among them ; they suffer none to remain
but those who are either their slaves or domestics.—
These Indians are united into 45 villages; 36 of which
lie to the north, and 9 towards the south. The nor¬
thern villages are very populous, and the houses are
built almost after the Chinese manner. The habita¬
tions of the southern islanders are only heaps of huts
or cottages of earth. In these huts they have neither
chairs, benches, tables, beds, nor any piece of furni¬
ture ; the middle part is occupied by a kind of hearth
or chimney, raised two feet high, and constructed of
earth, upon which they dress their victuals. Their
ordinary food is rice, other small grain, and the game
which they catch by coursing or kill with their arms.
These islanders run with such surprising swiftnes, that
they can almost outstrip the fleetest greyhound. The
Chinese attribute this agility to the precaution they
take of confining their knees and reins by a close ban¬
dage until the age of 14 or 15. Their favourite arms are
lances, which they dart to the distance of 60 or 80 feet
with the greatest dexterity and precision. They use
bows and arrows, and can kill a pheasant on wing with
a«
FOR
[ 15 ]
FOR
1 Formosa as niuch certainty as an European sportsman could with
t 1 a fusee. These people are very dirty in their manner
of eating. They have neither plates, dishes, nor spoons,
nor even the small sticks used in China. Whatever
they dress is placed on a plain board or mat, and
they make use of their fingers for conveying it to their
mouths. They eat flesh half raw ; and provided it
has been only presented to the fire, it appears to
them excellent. Their beds are formed of fresh ga¬
thered leaves. They go almost naked, and wear only
a piece of cloth which hangs from their girdle to their
knees. Those among them, who, according to the
judgment of the chiefs of the village, have borne away
the prize for agility in running, or dexterity in the
chase, obtain the honourable privilege of making on
their skin, by a very painful operation, several fantas>
tical figures of flowers, trees, and animals. All have
the right of blackening their teeth, and of wearing or¬
naments of bracelets and crowns made of shells and
crystal.
The islanders who inhabit the northern part, where
the climate is somewhat colder, clothe themselves with
the skins of the stags which they kill in hunting. They
make a kind of dress of them without sleeves, that
pretty much resembles a dalmatic, or vestment worn
at the altar by the Roman clergy. They wear on
their beads caps in the form of a cylinder, made of
palm leaves, and ornamented with several crowns
placed one above another, on the top of which they
fix plumes composed of the feathers of a cock or
pheasant.
The marriage ceremonies of the inhabitants of For¬
mosa approach near to the simple laws of nature. They
neither purchase, as in China, the women whom they
espouse, nor does interest ever preside over their uni¬
ons. Fathers and mothers are scarcely ever consulted.
If a young man has a mind to marry, and has fixed his
affection on a young girl, he appears for several days
following near the place where she lives with a musical
instrument in his hand. If the young woman is satis¬
fied with the figure of her gallant, she comes forth and
joins him: they then agree and settle the marriage
contract. After this, they give notice to their parents
who prepare a wedding dinner, which is always given
in the house where the young woman resides, and where
the bridegroom remains without returning again to his
father. The young man afterwards considers the house
of his father-in-law as his own. He becomes the
whole support of it, and he has no farther connection
with that of his father; like married women in Eu¬
rope, who generally quit their paternal home in order
to live with their husbands. These islanders there¬
fore seldom offer up vows for obtaining male chil¬
dren : they prefer daughters, because they procure
them sons-in-law, who become their supports in old
age.
Although the Formosans are entirely subjected to
the Chinese, they still preserve some remains of their
ancient government. Each village chooses three or
four old men from among those who have the greatest
reputation for probity. By this choice they become
the rulers and judges of the rest of the hamlet. They
have the power of finally determining all differences j
and if any one should refuse to abide by their judg¬
ment, he would be immediately banished from the vil¬
lage, without hopes of ever being able to re-enter it, Formes*
and none of the inhabitants would afterwards dare to *   v . '
receive him.
The natives pay in grain the tribute imposed on
them by the Chinese. To regulate every thing that
concerns the laying on and collecting of this impost, go¬
vernment has established a Chinese in every village,
who is obliged to learn the language and act as inter¬
preter to the mandarins. These interpreters are most
cruel extortioners to the miserable people, whom they
ought rather to protect : they are such insatiable
leeches that they can scarcely ever be satisfied. This
daily and domestic tyranny has already caused the de¬
fection of three villages in the southern part of the
island, where formerly there were twelve. The inha¬
bitants of these villages revolted, expelled their inter¬
preters, refused to pay tribute any longer to the Chinese,
and have united themselves to the independent nation
in the eastern part of the island.
It was in the island of Formosa that John Struys
affirms to have seen with his own eyes a man who had
a tail more than a foot in length, covered with red
hair, and greatly resembling that of an ox. This man
with a tail said, that his deformity, if it was one, pro¬
ceeded from the climate, and that all those of the
southern part of the island were born with tails like
his.—But John Struys is the only author who attests
the existence of this extraordinary race of men} no
other writer who has spoken of Formosa makes the
least mention of them. Another circumstance, no less
singular, and which appears to be little better authen>-
ticated, is, that in this island women are not permit¬
ted to bring forth children before they are 35, although
they are at liberty to marry long before that age. # j)uU/
Rechteren * thus expresses himself concerning this ^
strange custom. Compomy
“ When women are first married, they bring no chil-Foyogc/,
dren into the world : they must, before that is permit-v°b F* 9'
ted, have attained the age of 35aor 37. When they
are big with child, their priestesses pay them a visit,
and tread on their bellies with their feet, if it be neces¬
sary, and make them miscarry, with perhaps greater
pains than they would have in being brought to bed.
It would be not only a shame, but an enormous crime,
to bring forth a child before the time prescribed. I
have seen some females who had already destroyed the
fruit of their womb 15 or 16 times, and who were big
for the 17th when it was lawful for them to bring forth
a living child.”
To our description of Formosa we shall add the fol¬
lowing account of a dreadful disaster that bef’el this un¬
happy island. The details were conveyed by a letter
from Peking, addressed to M. Berlin, and dated the
14th of July 1782.
“ The waters of the ocean have well nigh deprived
China of one of its most valuable maritime possessions.
The island of Tay-ouan, known in Europe by the
name of Formosa, has been almost swallowed up by
them. It has been reported here, that part of the
mountain which divides the island has sunk and disap¬
peared } that the rest has been overturned ; and that
the greater part of the inhabitants have perished. Such
have been for some days the popular reports in this ca¬
pital. Government, however, has put a stop to them,
by informing the public of tbe^real truth} such as it
FOR [16] FOR
Formosa, jhas been announced to the emperor by the officers who
v—"■'.have this small portion of his territories under their ju¬
risdiction. I cannot do better than transcribe what they
have written. The dispatches of the Chinese officers,
addressed to the emperor, run thus:
“ Bechen, governor-general of the province of Fo-
kien and Tche-Kyang-ya, viceroy of Fokien, and
others, make known to your majesty the disaster
that has lately befallen the island of Tay-ouan. Mon-
ha-hon, and other principal officers of this island, have
acquainted us, that on the 2ist of the fourth moon
(May 22. 1782), a most furious wind, accompanied
with heavy rain and a swell of the sea greater than ever
remembered, had kept them under continual apprehen¬
sion of being swallowed up by the waves, or buried in
the bowels of the earth, from the hour of yn until the
hour ouei (a). This dreadful tempest seemed to blow
at the same time from the four cardinal points of the
compass, and continued with equal violence during the
above-mentioned time. The buildings where the tri¬
bunals were held, the public granaries, the barracks,
salt warehouses, and works, have been totally destroy¬
ed, and every thing they contained is lost: warehouses
and workshops, as well as private houses, for the most
part, present nothing but ruins and heaps of rubbish.
Of 27 ships of war which were in the harbour, 12 have
disappeared 5 two others have been dashed to pieces,
and 10 are shattered in such a manner that they are
rendered entirely unfit for service j other smaller ves¬
sels of different sizes, above 100 in number, have
shared the same fate ; eighty have been swallowed up j
five others, which had just taken in a lading of rice
for Fokien, have sunk, and their cargoes, which
amounted to 100,000 bushels, are wholly lost. With
regard to other vessels, whether small or great, which
had not entered the harbour, 10 or 12 of the largest
are reckoned to have been swallowed up j those of in¬
ferior size, as well as a prodigious number of barks,
boats, and other small vessels of different kinds, have
disappeared, without leaving the least piece of wreck
behind them. As the whole island has been covered
with water, the provisions have been either swept
away, or spoilt so as to render them prejudicial to the
health of those who use them in their present state.
The crops are entirely lost. When we shall have
been informed of particulars, we shall not fail to give
your majesty the earliest intelligence of them.—After
having received this letter from Mon-ha-hon, and the
other principal officers residing at Tay-ouan, I em¬
ployed the utmost diligence to give every assistance
in my power to this unfortunate island $ and I or¬
dered the travelling commissary, and Trey-oner, ge¬
neral of the province, to get particular information
of the number of those who have perished, of the
houses destroyed, and of the quantity of salt and other
provisions that lias been lost: I have likewise enjoined
them to rebuild with the utmost expedition the tribu¬
nals, granaries, and other public edifices $ to dispatch
proper persons to search for the vessels and ships that
have disappeared j to repair those which are not altoge¬
ther unfit for service, and to send immediately to the Fomioia,
neighbouring countries for salt and other necessary pro- or^ll|'a,;
visions : but above all, to ascertain in the most accurate ti
manner the different losses sustained by the inhabitants,
and the precise number of people that have perished, in
order that I may be able to give the fullest information
to your majesty.”
‘ The emperor of China caused a particular detail of
these losses to be published, together with the following
letter:
“ Tchang-yu, &c. Tchem-hoei-Thon-Tsong-tou of
Fokien, and others, have informed me of the dismal
event that hath taken place in the island of Tay-ouan,
which is a district of the province of Fokien. They
have written to me, that on the 21st of the fourth
moon—[Here the emperor repeats what is contained
in the preceding letter, and continues thus]. I com¬
mand Tsong-tou to get the best information he can of
the different losses sustained by the inhabitants of the
island, and to transmit the particulars to me, in order
that I may give them every assistance to repair them.
My intention is, that all the houses which have been
thrown down shall be rebuilt entirely at my expence j
that those be repaired which are only damaged $ and
that provisions, and every thing which the people
stand in immediate want of, be supplied them. I
should feel much pain, were even one among them to
be neglected : I therefore recommend the utmost dili¬
gence and strictest inquiry, as I am desirous that none
of my subjects should entertain the least doubt of the
tender affection which I have for them j and that they
should know that they are all under my eyes, and
that I myself will provide for their wants. With
regard to my ships of war, tribunals, and public edi¬
fices, let them be restored to their former state with
money taken from the public treasury, and let the
general account of the whole expence be laid before
me.”
The missionary who sent this account farther says,
From these letters it evidently appears, that this dis¬
aster happened in consequence of an earthquake 5 but
he adds, that the volcano which occasioned it must be
at a prodigious depth below the sea. He does not pre¬
tend to give an explanation of it j he is contented with
observing, that the same scene seems to have passed on
the island of Formosa as at Lima and Lisbon.
FORMULA, or Formulary, a rule or model, or
certain terms prescribed or decreed by authority, for
the form and manner of an act, instrument, proceeding,
or the like.
Formula, in Church History and Theology, signi¬
fies a profession of faith.
Formula, in Medicine, imports the constitution of
medicines, either simple or compound, both with re¬
spect to their prescription and consistence.
Formula, a theorem or general rule, or expression,
for solving certain particular cases of some problem, &c.
so - s-{- - J is a general formula for the greater of
2 2
two
(a) The hours of the Chinese are double ours: the hour yn begins at three in the morning, and ends at five $
begins at three in the afternoon and ends at fivea
3
Formula
II
Fi>rmca-
tion.
FOR [ i
two quantities whose sum is s, and difference d; and
I I .
- s— -d is the formula, or general value, for the less
quantity. Also sjdx—a?*, is the formula, or general
value, of the ordinate to a circle, whose diameter is r/,
and absciss x.
FORMULARY, a writing, containing the form or
formula of an oath, declaration, attestation, or abjura¬
tion, &c. to be made on certain occasions.
There are also formularies of devotion, of prayers,
&c. Liturgies are formularies of the public service in
most churches.
FORNACALIA, or Fornicalia, in Roman an¬
tiquity, a festival instituted by Numa, in honour
of Fornax, the goddess of ovens ; wherein certain
cakes were made, and offered in sacrifice before the
ovens.
FORNICATION {Fornicatio, from the foi •nices in
Rome, where the lewd women prostituted themselves
for money), is whoredom, or the act of incontinencv,
between single persons ; for if either of the parties is
married, it is adultery. Formerly court leets had power
to inquire of and punish fornication and adultery ; in
which courts the king had a fine assessed on the offend¬
ers, as appears by the book of Domesday.
In the year 1650, when the ruling powers found it
for their interest to put on the semblance of a very ex¬
traordinary strictness and purity of morals, not only
incest and wilful adultery were made capital crimes,
but also the repeated act of keeping a brothel, or com¬
mitting fornication, was, upon a second conviction,-
made felony without benefit of clergy. But, at the
Restoration, when men, from an abhorrence of the
hypocrisy of the late times, fell into a contrary extreme
of licentiousness, it was not thought proper to renew
a law of such unfashionable rigour. And these offen¬
ces have been ever since left to the feeble coercion of
the spiritual court, according to the rules of the canon
law ; a law which has treated the offence of inconti¬
nence, nay, even adultery itself, with a great degree of
tenderness and lenity $ owing perhaps to the constrain¬
ed celibacy of its first compilers. The temporal courts
therefore take no cognizance even of the crime of adul¬
tery otherwise than as a private injury. See Adul¬
tery.
The evils of fornication, which too many wish to
consider as no sin, may be judged of from the following
particulars.
I. The malignity and moral quality of each crime is
not to be estimated by the particular effect of one of¬
fence, or of one person’s offending, but by the general
tendency and consequence of crimes of the same nature.
In the present case, let the libertine consider and say,
what would be the consequence, if the same licentious¬
ness in which he indulges were universal 5 or what
should hinder its becoming universal, if it be innocent
or allowable in him P
a. Fornication supposes prostitution; and by pro¬
stitution the victims of it are brought to almost cer¬
tain misery. It is no small quantity of misery in the
aggregate, which, between want, disease, and insult,
is suffei’ed by those outcasts of human society who in¬
fest populous cities ; the whole of which is a general
consequence of fornication, and to the increase and
Vol. IX. Part I. +
7 3 FOR
continuance of which every act and instance of forni¬
cation contributes.
3. Fornication produces habits of ungovernable lewd¬
ness, which introduce the more aggravated crimes of
seduction, adultery, violation, &c. The criminal in¬
dulgences between the sexes prepare an easy admission
for every sin that seeks it: they are, in low life, usual¬
ly the first stage in men’s progress to the most desperate
villanies ; and in high life, to that lamented dissolute¬
ness of principle, which manifests itself in a profligacy
of public conduct, and a contempt of the obligations of
religion and moi'al probity.
4. Fornication perpetuates a disease, which may be
accounted one of the sorest maladies of human nature,
and the effects of which are said to visit the constitution
of even distant generations.
Ihe passion being natural, proves that it was in¬
tended to be gratified ; but under what restrictions, or
whether without any, must be collected from different
considerations.
In the Scriptures, fornication is absolutely and pe¬
remptorily condemned. * Out of the heart proceed
evil thoughts, murders, adulteries, fornication, thefts,
false witness, blasphemies ; these are the things which
defile a man.’ These are Christ’s own words; and one
word from him upon the subject is final. The apostles
are more full upon this topic. One well-known pas¬
sage in the Lpistle to the Hebrews may stand in the
place of all others ; because, admitting the authority
by which the apostles of Christ spake and wrote, it i*s
decisive. 4 Marriage and the bed undefiled is honour¬
able amongst all men, but whoremongers and adulter¬
ers God will judge ;’ which was a great deal to say, at
a time when it was not agreed even amongst philoso¬
phers that fornication was a crime.
Upon this subject Mr Paley adds the followin"- ob-
8e';r'i,on8'-., . . , . *
Hie Scriptures give no sanction to those austerities*^ Politi-
which have been since imposed upon the world under
the name of Christ’s religion, as the celibacy of the ®0^’
clergy, the praise of perpetual virginity, the prohibitio 24 ' •
eoncubitus cum gravida uxore ; but with a just know¬
ledge of, and regard to the condition and interest of the
human species, have provided in the marriage of one
man with one woman an adequate gratification for the
propensities of their nature, and have restrained them
to that gratification.
“ The avowed toleration, and in some countries the
licensing, taxing, and regulating of public brothels, has
appeared to the people an authorizing of fornication,
and has contributed, with other causes, so far to vitiate
the public opinion, that there is no practice of which
the immorality is so little thought of or acknowledged,
although there are few in which it can more plainly
be made out. The legislators who have patronized
receptacles of prostitution ought to have foreseen this
effect, as well as considered, that whatever facilitates
fornication, diminishes marriages. And as to the usual
apology for thi* relaxed discipline, the danger of great¬
er enormities if access to prostitutes were too strictly
watched and prohibited; it will be time enough to look
to that, after the laws and the magistrates have done
their utmost. The greatest vigilance of both will do
no more, than oppose some bounds and some difficul¬
ties to this intercourse. And after all, these pretended
C fears
FOR [ >
fe»rs are without foondation in ex|terience. The men
5 are in all respecls the most virtuous in countries where
Forres, the women are most chaste.
'~—~v 1 “ If fornication he criminal, all those incentives
which lead to it are accessaries to the crime : as lasci¬
vious conversation, whether expressed in obscene or
disguised under modest phrases ; also wanton songs,
pictures, books} the writing, publishing, and circula¬
ting of which, whether out of frolic or for some pitiful
profit, is productive of so extensive a mischief from so
mean a temptation, that few crimes within the reach
of private wickedness have more to answer for, or less
to plead in their excuse. #
“ Indecent conversation, and by parity of reason all
the rest, are forbidden by &t Paul, Kph. iv. 29*
no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth *,
and again, Col. iii. 8. ‘ Put filthy communication out
of your mouth.’ . .
“ The invitation or involuntary admission ot impure
thoughts, or the suffering them to get possession ol the
imagination, falls within the same description, and is
condemned by Christ, Matt. v. 28. “ Whosoever look-
eth on a woman to lust after her, hath committed a-
dultery with her already in his heart.’ Christ, by thus
enjoining a regulation of the thought, strikes at the
root of the evil.”
FORNIX, in Anatomy, is part of the corpus callo¬
sum in the brain ) so called, on account of a distant re¬
semblance to the arches of ancient vaults when viewed
in a particular manner.
FORRAGE, in the military art, denotes hay, oats,
barley, wheat, grass, clover, &c. brought into the
camp by the troopers, for the sustenance ol their
horses. ,
It is the business of the quartermaster general to
appoint the method of forrage, and post proper guards
for the security of the forragers.
FORRES, a borough town of Scotland in the
county of Murray, classing with Inverness, Fortrose,
and Nairn. It is a small well built town, pleasantly
situated on an eminence near the river Findhorn, with
20 2? inhabitants in 1811. The country about it has
a cheerful appearance, having a few gentlemen’s seats.
On a hill west of the town are the remains ot a cas-
tie ; and a melancholy view of a number of sand-hills,
that now cover that tract of land which was former¬
ly the estate of a Mr Cowben in the parish of Dyke.
This inundation was occasioned by the influx of the
sea and the violence of the wind. It had been the
custom to pull up the bent, a long spiry grass near the
shore, for litter for horses, by which means the sand
was loosened, and gave way to the violence of the sea
and wind, which carried it over several thousand acres
of land. The people having been prevented from pul¬
ling up any more of the grass, the progress of the sand
is now nearly stopped, and the sea has retired *, but the
wind has blown some of the sand from the hills over
Colonel Grant’s land, and destroyed near IOO acres.
\ sand bank, which is all dry at low water, runs out
from this place for several miles into the Murray Frith.
Some of the land, which has been long forsaken by
the water, is now beginning to be useful again, and is
turned into grazing land. At Forres, coarse linen and
sewing thread are made. East from the town, and on
the left band side of the road, is a remarkable obe-
3 ] FOR
lisk, which is said to be the most stately monument of
the kind to be seen in Europe. It has been the sub¬
ject of many able pens *, but totally overlooked by
Dr Johnson, who says, “ At Forres we found good
accommodation, but nothing worthy of particular re*
mark.” It is thus described by Mr Cordiner, in a let¬
ter to Mr Pennant: “ In the first division, underneath
the Gothic ornaments at the top, are nine horses with
their riders marching forth in order: in the next is a
line of warriors on foot, brandishing their weapons,
and appear to be shouting for the battle. The import
of the attitudes in the third division is very dubious,
their expression indefinite. The figures which form a
square in the middle of the column are pretty complex
but distinct j four serjeants with their halberts guard a
canopy, under which are placed several human heads
which have belonged to the dead bodies piled up at
the left of the division j one appears in the character
of executioner severing the head from another body j
behind him are three trumpeters sounding their trum¬
pets, and before him two pair of combatants fighting
with sword and target. A troop of horse next ap¬
pears, put to flight by infantry, whose first line have
bows and arrows; the three following, swords and tar-
frets. In the lowermost division now visible, the horses
seem to he seized by the victorious party, their riders
beheaded, and the head of their chief hung in chains
or placed in a frame *, the others being thrown toge-
gether beside the dead bodies under an arched coyer.
The greatest part of the other side of the obelisk,
occupied by a sumptuous cross, is covered over with
an uniform figure, elaborately raised, and interwoven
with great mathematical exactness. Under the cross
are two august personages, with some, attendants, much
obliterated, hut evidently in an altitude of reconcilia¬
tion and if the monument was erected in memory of
the peace concluded between Malcolm and Canute,
upon the final retreat of the Danes, these large figures
may represent the reconciled monarchs. On the edge
below the fretwork are some rows of figures joined
hand in hand, which may also imply the new degree
of confidence and security which took place, after the
feuds were composed, which were characterized on the
front of the pillar. But to whatever particular trans¬
action it may allude, it can hardly be imagined, that
in so early an age of the arts in Scotland as it must
have been raised, so elaborate a performance would
have been undertaken but in consequence of an event
of the most general importance ; it is therefore sur¬
prising that no distincter traditions of it arrived at the
era when letters were known. The height of this
monument (called King Sueno's Stone) above the ground
is 23 feet: besides 12 or 15 feet under ground. Its
breadth is 3 feet 10 inches by one foot 3 indies in
thickness.”
FORSTER, John Reinhold, a celebrated Ger¬
man naturalist. See SuPLEMENT.
Forster, J. G. A. an eminent naturalist, and son
of the preceding. , See SUPPLEMENT.
FORT, in the military art, a small fortified place,
environed on all sides with a moat, rampart, and paia-
pet. Its use is to secure some high ground, or the pas¬
sage of a river, to make good an advantageous post, to
defend the lines and quarters of a siege, &c.
Forts are made of different figures and extents, ac¬
cording
Fom*
fi
Fort.
Fort
H
Vitrified
Forts.
FOR [ i
cording as the ground requires. Some are fortified with
bastions, others with demibastions. Some again are in
form of a square, others of a pentagon. A fort differs
^ from a citadel, as this last is built to command some
town.
Royal Fort, is one whose line of defence is at least
26 fathoms long.
Star Fort, is a sconce or redoubt, constituted by re¬
entering and salient angles, having commonly from five
to eight points, and the sides flanking each other.
Vitrified Forts, a very singular kind of structures
found in the highlands and northern parts of Scotland,
in which the walls have the appearance of being melted
into a solid mass, so as to resemble the lava of a volcano,
for which indeed they have been taken by several per¬
sons who have visited them.
These walls were taken notice of by Mr Williams
an engineer, who wrote a treatise upon the subject,
and was the first who supposed them to he woiks
of art ; other naturalists having attributed them to a
volcanic origin. Ihese works are commonly situated
on the tops of small hills, commanding an extensive
view of the adjacent valley or low country. The area
on the summit, varying, as is supposed, according to
the number of cattle the proprietor had to protect, or
the dependents he was obliged to accommodate, is sur¬
rounded with a high and strong wall, of which the
stones are melted, most of them entirely ; while others,
in which the fusion has not been so complete, are sunk
in the vitrified matter in such a manner as to be quite
enclosed with it ; and in some places the fusion has
been so perfect, that the ruins appear like masses of
coarse glass. Mr Williams has not only absolutely de¬
termined the walls in question to be the works of art
but has even hazarded a conjecture as to the manner
in which they were constructed, and which, according
te him, vvas as fo.Jows. Two parallel dikes of earth
or sod being raised, in the direction of the intended
wall, with a space between them sufficient for its thick¬
ness, the fuel was put in, and set on fire. The stones
best adapted for the purpose, called the plum-pudding
stone, are everywhere to be found in the neighbour¬
hood. These were laid on the fuel, and when melted,
were kept by the frame of earth from running ofi'j and’
by repeating the operation, the wall was raised to a
sufficient height. This opinion of the stones beint*
thrown in without any order, is thought to he con¬
firmed by the circumstance of there not being any¬
where a large one to he seen, nor a stone laid in any
particular direction, nor one piece which has not in
some degree been affected by the fire. Mr Williams
mentions a fact tending to confirm his hypothesis,
viz. of a brick kiln situated on the declivity of an emi¬
nence, so as to be exposed to the wind, which happen¬
ing to rise briskly one time when the kiln was burning,
ao increased the heat, that, the bricks were melted*
and ran, like a lava, for a considerable way down the
hill.
The opinion of Mr Williams has been embraced by
aeveral other authors •, particularly Mr Freebairn and
Dr Anderson, the latter having published two treatises
upon these buildings in the Archeeologia. In the same
work, however, we meet with a paper by the Hon.
Dailies Barrington, in which the author expresses quite
diilerent sentiments. He observes, that Mr Williams,
9 ] FOR
and the other antiquarians, who suppose the walls in vitritl.il
question to be works of art, imagine that the reason Forts.'
of their being constructed in this manner was the -v—
ignoiance of cement, which in these remote ages pre¬
vailed in Scotland : but with respect to this circum¬
stance, he says, that if one side of the wall only was
' heated, and that to any considerable height, the
matter in insion would in all likelihood drop down to
the bottom, without operating as any cement to the
loose stones thrown in amongst it. This circumstance
of the walls being vitrified only on one side, is indeed
remarkable, and takes place in most of the forts of this
kind to be met with at present : hut with regard to
it, Mr Barrington observes, that he himself has .been
twice 111 tlie Highlands of Scotland, and has found
very lew hills ot any height which were clothed with
wood ; the trouble therefore of carrying it up to the
top ef such a mountain would he very considerable.
But to this it might easily be replied, that we cannot
by any means argue from the present state of the hills
in the Highlands to their state in a very remote period
ol antiquity. At that time, it is neither impossible,
nor m the least improbable, that most of the hills in
Scotland were overgrown with wood ; or at any rate,
there undoubtedly was plenty of peat, which is still
used as fuel in Scotland, and which affords such a strong
heat as to be advantageously employed in smelting
iron, as we are informed by M. Magellan. A third
particular mentioned by Mr Williams is, that these en¬
closures were intended as places of defence ; and in
support ot this opinion he alleges, that there are dried
wells found within most of them. But on this Mr
Barrington observes, that shelter from the weather was
also necessary, “ upon the top of a bleak Scotch hill,
whilst whisky (or a succedaneum for it) would he often
w greater request than the bare element of water.”
This objection, however, as well as the last, is evi¬
dently very frivolous ; for these buildings might have
roofs as well as any other ; and whatever necessity
there might be for whisky occasionally, water was cer¬
tainly an indispensable requisite.
Mr Barrington having thus given his reasons for
dissenting from the opinion of Mr Williams and the
antiquaries just mentioned, proceeds to state his own.
He tells us, that having travelled for 21 years the most
mountainous circuit in Wales, he has frequently ob¬
served enclosures of dry stones, particularly a long’tract
in the western part of Merionethshire, called in the
language of the country Dujfryn, i. e. the vale. On
first viewing these small enclosures made with walls
of thick stones, he was at a loss to imagine how it
could he worth while to construct such strong fences
for so inconsiderable a piece of ground as they enclosed ;
but, on examining the adjacent country, he found it
almost entirely covered with stones of a similar kind ;
and, of consequence, the smaller the space to be cleared,
the less expensive would be the removal. “ For the
same reason (says he), such dry walls are often of a
great thickness, and sometimes the corners of the en¬
closures are filled with stones to a great width, thi$
being the only possible means of procuring pasture.”
10 a practice of the same kind our author would ascribe
the origin of the works in question : but the objection
occurs very strongly, that the walls in Scotland are
vitrified, and it is not to be supposed that such trouble
C 2 would
‘Vitrified
Foils.
FOR [2°
would be taken with fences made in such a fortuitous
manner. This objection, our author owns, would indeed
be unanswerable, on the supposition that the vitiifica-
tion was made on purpose to strengthen the walls ol the
fortress -, but (says he) may not the vitrification have
been Occasioned by volcanoes, or by what are called
bhomerks ? The same ett'ect may be produced like¬
wise on dry walls of stone by lightning passing along
them. The loose stones in either case would not be
rejected because they were glassy, and would be piled
up in the fence of the enclosure : as the great point
upon these occasions is to clear the ground, and remove
the encumbering stones to the smallest distance. One
of the advocates for the designed and not fortuitous
vitrification, says, that the pieces he had produced did
not resemble what is called lava. But every volcano
is not necessarily an Etna or a Vesuvius*, and conse-
c|uently the matter disgorged from the crater must pei-
petually vary both in substance and form. Vitrified
masses, larger or smaller, will likewise be produced by
the same means. It may be contended, indeed, that
pasture thus procured, by clearing the ground, would
be more convenient at the bottom or on the sides, than
on the top of the hill; but to this I answer, that in
rocky countries you must get what pittance you can of
soil, and often it will happen that the only detached and
removeable stones are on the summit. When such en¬
closures have been made, they became very convenient
for putting cattle into and hence perhaps some of the
wells which Mr Williams hath mentioned.
Our author concludes his dissertation on this subject
by observing, that if vitrification answered the purpose
of cement, it is very extraordinary that the ancient in¬
habitants of Scotland did not apply it to the houses
or huts in which they constantly lived, but reserved
this troublesome and expensive process merely for a
fortification, which might not perhaps be used in half
a century against an enemy. On this it is almost su¬
perfluous to observe, that in the ages of barbarity and
bloodshed, in which these enclosures, whether natural
„r artificial, were supposed to be used as fortresses,
war was so frequent, that a defence against an enemy
might seem to he necessary every day, instead of once
in half a century. Before we proceed further in the
argument, however, it will be necessary to give some
account of the situation and appearance of these for-
t rcsscs.
According to Mr Cardonnel, the largest of them
is situated on the hill of Knockfarril, to the south of
the valley of Strathpeft'er, two miles west from Ding¬
wall in Ross-shire. The enclosure is 120 feet long and
40 broad within the walls ; strengthened on the out¬
side with works at each end. A range of habitations
seems to have been erected against, or under, the shade
of the outward wall; of which those on the south side
seem to have been higher and larger than those on the
north. There are two wells in the middle, which,
an being cleared out, filled with water. On the
skirts of the hill to the south are many detached build¬
ings*, which, from the stratum of dung found on re¬
moving the ruins, appear plainly to have been used for
securing the cattle. This place seems to have been
anciently of consequence, and the residence of some
powerful chief, from a road which leads through the
hills to the north-west sea. lo the east of the works
Viirffkd
Ports.
] FOR
are a number of vitrified ruins, extending for a consider¬
able way along the* ridge of the hill. I he end next ,
the fort seems to have joined the outer wall, and con¬
sisted either of two parallel walls, closed above with a
passage between them under cover, or a high wall broad
enouifh to walk on. In this wall there is the vestige of
a break about the middle, over which a bridge has been
laid, to be drawn up or removed as occasion might re-
q The fort next in consequence to that of Knock¬
farril is situated on the hill of Craig-1 hadnck near In¬
verness, “ which (says Mr Cardonnel) has this pecu¬
liar circumstance, that there appears to have been two
vitrified walls quite round the area. 1 be inner one
seems to have been very high and strong ; the outer
wall but low : probably the space between was intend¬
ed for securing their cattle, as there are no remains ot
dry-stone buildings, such as are found near the rest.
Several parts of this outer wall appear quite entire,
sticking to the firm bare rock, where it was first run.
The area within the inner wall is nearly 80 paces long
and 27 broad.” Of this we have an account by*j:*m.
Alexander Fraser Tytler, Es,|. professor of civil Instory
in the university of Edinburgh, who v„,ted it ■» the
year 1782. The hill itself is a small conical eminence, Art n
forming the eastern extremity of that ridge of moun¬
tains which bounds Loch Ness on the north-west side.
It is situated about a mile to the north of Inverness,
and is accessible on two different quarters, viz. the
west and south-east j the forming affording entrance by
a narrow level ridge adjoining the hills on Loch Ness,
and the latter by an easy ascent from the high ground
above Inverness. On approaching the lull from the
west we first meet with a road cut through the rock
from’ the bottom to the top, in most places 10 feet
broad and nearly as deep 5 winding, for about 70 feet,
with an easy serpentine direction, by which we gam
an ascent over a steep rock otherwise quite inaccessi¬
ble from that quarter. This road, in our author s opi¬
nion, is undoubtedly the work of art, and the vitrified
matter on the top is the only thing which indicates
the effect of fire*, there being neither the appearance
of pumice-stone, lava, nor basaltes, about the hill other¬
wise. There is indeed plenty of plum-pudding stone ;
which some have supposed to be ot the nature of vol¬
canic tufa j but this opinion is rejected by our author
as erroneous.
“ But the circumstance (says he)
which in my apprehension evinces, in the most satis¬
factory manner, that these appearances of the etfect
of fire on the summit of this hill are not the opera¬
tion of nature, but of art, is the regular order and dis¬
position of those materials, the form of the ground,
and the various traces of skill and contrivance which
are yet discernible, though considerably defaced either
by external violence or the obliterating hand of time.
To investigate this matter regularly, he begins with the
winding road already mentioned, and which is evi¬
dently cut through the rock for the purpose of gain¬
ing an easy ascent from the level ridge to the summit,
which would otherwise have been impracticable, la
ascending by this road, there appears towards the
middle on the right hand, a small platform overhang¬
ing the passage, and inclining by a very gentle declivi¬
ty to the very edge of the rock. Four enormous stones
are placed unon the platform, and on the edge and
v trp mi tv
FOR [
Vitrified extremity of It, which have evidently been guided by
Forts. art into that position ; it being impossible that they
could have rested there, had they been rolled down
fiom the higher parts. The obvious reason for placing
them in such a position has been, that on an alarm of
danger they might be projected into the path below,
which could be done by the efforts of a very few men :
and when this was done, the passage would be entirely
obstructed, or at least rendered so difficult that it could
he defended by a few against any number of assailants.
Some other large stones are placed on an eminence to
the left, probably with a view to block up a hollow
channel, by which an enemy might have attempted to
ascend. When we come to the top of the hill, a few
feet below the rampart which crowns the whole, there
appears an outward wall, approaching on the sides of
the hill so near the upper rampart, as to have only a
trench of 10 or 12 feet wide between them. This
outward wall is in some places so low as to be almost
level with the rock, though in other places it rises
to the height of two or three feet; but even where
lowest, it may be traced-by a line of vitrified matter
sticking fast to the rock all along, and nearly of the
same breadth, which is about nine feet. The remains
of this wall are strongly vitrified, except in one place
on the north side, where, for about 70 yards, the
rampart is formed only of dry stones and earth. At
the ea^t side, where the hill is more accessible, there
is a prodigious mound of vitrified matter, extending
itself to the thickness of above 40 feet. At the south¬
east corner, and adjoining to this immense mound
is an outwork, consisting of two semicircular vitrified
walls, with a narrow pass cut through them in the
middle ; which appears to have been another, and per¬
haps the principal entry to the fort.
The inner wall, surrounding the summit of the hill,
encloses an oblong level area of about 75 yards long
and 30 broad, rounded at each of the ends like the
outward wall. It is of considerable height, and near¬
ly of the same thickness with the outward one.—It
has some appearance of having been defended with
four turrets or bastions : but the traces are so imper¬
fect, that Mr Tytler does not lay much stress on his
observations in this respect ; a number of small tumuli
of earth, with a stone in the centre, were more dis¬
cernible. On the east side a portion of the internal
space appears separated from the rest by two ranges of
stones fixed strongly in the earth, and forming a right-
angled parallelogram. “ This separation (says our
author) is immediately discernible by the eye, from
this circumstance, that the whole of the enclosed sum¬
mit has been most carefully cleared from stones, of
which there is not one to be seen, unless those that
form this division, and the single one in the middle of
the circle of tumuli above mentioned. What has been
the design of this separated space, it is difficult to con¬
jecture. It might perhaps have marked the residence
of those of a higher rank, or served as a temple for the
purposes of devotion.” On the east end of the large
area on the summit is a well of about six feet in dia¬
meter, which has probably been sunk very deep in the
rock, though now it is filled up with rubbish to within
a yard of the top.
The other fortified hills mentioned by Mr Cardon-
nel are those of Dun-Evan in the shire of Nairn j Tor-
i ] FOR
dun castle, near Fort Augustus ; and another on the Vitrified
west side of Gleneves in Lochaber, three miles to the Forts,
south of Fort William. The Castle hill of Finhaven,
in the county of Angus, has likewise some considerable
ruins of the same kind.
Dun-Evan and the hill of Finhaven have likewise
been visited by Mr Tytler, who gives an account of
them in the paper already quoted j of which the fol¬
lowing is an abstract. “ On the summit of the hill
of Dun-Evan, whose name implies that it had been
originally a place of defence, are the remains of two
walls surrounding an oblong space like that of Craig
Phadrick already described, but somewhat smaller in
size. [Mr Cardonnel says that it is about 70 paces
long and 30 broad]. There are likewise the traces
of a well in the enclosed area} and at the east end are
the remains of a prodigious mass of building, much
more extensive than that on Craig Phadrick.” Here,
however, our author could not perceive any marks of
fire ; and Mr Williams owns that the vitrified ruins
here are more wasted than on Knockfarril or Craig
Phadrick. But with regard to the vitrifications here,
our author is inclined to suppose Mr Williams to have
been entirely in a mistake. On the Castle hill of
Finhaven, however, the vitrified remains are very vi¬
sible all round the summit, which is cleared of stones
and levelled, unless at one end, where there is a great
hollow space separated from the rest of the area, and
probably destined exclusively for the keeping of cattle.
The enclosed area is about 140 yards long, and up¬
wards of 40 broad.
Besides these fortifications, the bill of Noth affords
a remarkable appearance of the same kind ; of which
Mr Cordiner gives the following description, not from
his own observations, but those of a gentleman of cre¬
dit who visited the place. “ On the top of the hill
there is an oblong hollow, as I could guess, of about
an English acre, covered with a fine sward of grass :
in the middle toward the east end of this hollow is a
large and deep well. The hollow is surrounded on all
sides with a thick rampart of stones. On three sides
of this rampart, from 8 to 12 feet thick, is one com¬
pact body of stones and minerals which have been in
a state of fusion, resembling a mixture of stone and
iron-ore, all vitrified, calcined, and incorporated. On
the north side the rampart consists of broken pieces of
rock, which have the appearance of having been torn
to pieces by some extraordinary violence. If the cal¬
cined compact wall exists under them, it is not at pre¬
sent visible.”
Such are the descriptions of the most remarkable of
these curious fortifications which of late seem to have
engaged the attention of the learned in a considerable
degree. We have already taken notice, that by some
they are supposed to be the works of art, by other*
the productions of a volcano. Mr Cardonnel adopts
the opinion of Mr Williams as the most probable, both
with respect to their use and manner of construction.
Mr Tytler takes notice of the remarkable difference
of opinion among those who have viewed the places
in question. “ It is curious to remark (says he)
how the same appearances, to different observers, lead
to the most opposite opinions and conclusions. The
two gentlemen above mentioned (Mr Williams and
Dr Anderson) seem not to have entertained the small¬
est <
FOE [2
cst rloubt, that the vitrified materials on the tops of
these hills were the vestiges of works of art, and the
remains of structures reared for the purposes of secu¬
rity and defence. The bishop of Derry, when on a
tour to the north of Scotland, visited the hill of Craig
Phadrick near Inverness, and expressed his opinion,
that the mounds of vitrified matter were not the re¬
mains of any artificial work, hut the traces of an an¬
cient volcano. In the Phil. 1 rans. of the Poyal So¬
ciety of London for 1777, Part II. N° 20. is an ac¬
count of Creek luitcrick, there termed a Volcanic lull
near Inverness, in a letter from Ihomas West, Lsq.
to Mr Law, F. R. S. in which the writer does not he¬
sitate to pronounce this hill an extinguished volcano j
and having sent specimens of the burnt matter for the
inspection of the Royal Society, the secretary subjoins
a note to the paper, intimating, that these specimens
having been examined by some of the members well
acquainted with volcanic productions, were by tnem
judged to be real lava. Such was likewise the opinion
of the late Andrew Crosbie, Esq. who, in an account
which he gave to the Philosophical Society of Edin¬
burgh in 1780, offered some very curious conjectures
with regard to the process of nature, by which he sup¬
posed the whole of this hill to have been thrown up
from the bottom of the sea by the operation of intestine
fire. . ,
Mr Tytler agrees with those who think the vitrified
structures to be artificial works: but he differs fiom
Mr Williams and others, who think that they were
vitrified on purpose for cementing the materials toge¬
ther. His reason for this is, that the number of forts
that show marks of vitrification, is inconsiderable when
compared with those that do not. He therefore con¬
siders the vitrification as accidental *, and that it must
have been accomplished in the following manner. In
the rude state in which we must suppose Scotland to
have been In early times, it is very probable that their
buildings, both for habitation and defence, would be fre¬
quently constructed of loose stones of an irregular shape 5
of which, by themselves, it would scarce be possible to
fabricate a wall of any tolerable strength. Hence it
became necessary to use wood as well as stone in their
construction. This kind ol building, then, in our au¬
thor’s opinion, was begun by raising a double row of
pallisades or strong stakes in the form of the intended
structure, in the same way as in that ancient mode of
building described by Palladio under the name of riem-
piuta a caffa, or coffer-work. These stakes wrere pro¬
bably warped across by houghs of trees laid very close¬
ly together, so as to form two fences running parallel
to each other at the distance of some feet, and so close
as to confine all the materials of whatever size that
were thrown in between them. Into this intermediate
space, Mr Tytler supposes, were thrown boughs and
trunks of trees, earth and stones ol all sizes, laige or
small as they could quarry or collect them. 'Very little
care would be necessary in the disposition of these ma¬
terials, as the outward fence would keep the mound
in form. In this way it is easy to conceive that a very
strong bulwark might be reared with great dispatch;
which, joined to the natural advantage of a very inac¬
cessible situation, and that improved by artful contri¬
vances for increasing the difficulty ol access, would
form a structure capable of answering every purpose of
2 ] FOB
security or defence. ’I he most formidable attack a’* Vitrified
gainst such a building would be fire, which would
no doubt be always attempted, and often with success, v_'L_
by an enemy who undertook the siege. If the besiegers
prevailed in gaining an approach to the ramparts, and,
surrounding the external wall, set fire to it in several
places, the conflagration must speedily liave become
universal, and the effect may be easily imagined. If
there happened to he any wind at the time to increase
the heat, the stony parts could not fail to come into
fusion , and as the wood burnt away, sinking by their
own weight into a solid mass, there would remain a
wreck of vitrified matter tracking the spot where the
ancient rampart had stood j irregular, and of unequal
height, from the fortuitous and unequal distribution
of the stony materials of which it had been composed.
This conjecture appears very probable from their ap¬
pearance at this day. 1 hey do not seem to have ever
been much higher than they are at present, as the
fragments that have fallen from them, even where the
wall is lowest, are very inconsiderable. The durable
nature of the materials would prevent them from suf¬
fering any changes by time j though from the gradual
increase of the soil, they must in some places have lost
considerably of their apparent height, and in others
been quite covered. Mr Williams, in making a cut
through the ramparts at Knockfarril, found in many
places the vitrified matter covered with peat moss half
a foot thick.
In confirmation of this opinion, our author likewise
urges that in the fortification on Craig Phadrick, a
large portion of the outward rampart bears no marks
of vitrification. The reason of this seems to be, that the
steepness of the hill on that side renders a low fence of
stones and turf sufficient *, and no wood had probably
been employed in its construction. “ It appears there¬
fore highly probable (concludes onr author), that the
effect of fire upon these hill fortifications has been en¬
tirely accidental 5 or to speak more properly, that fire
has been employed not m the construction, but to¬
wards the demolition of such buildings : and for the
latter purpose it would certainly prove much more ef¬
ficacious than for the former. It is much to be doubt¬
ed, whether it would be at all possible, even in the pre¬
sent day, by the utmost combination of labour and of
skill, to surround a large space of ground with a double
rampart of stones compacted by fire, of such height
and solidity as to answer any purpose of security, or de¬
fence against an enemy. Any structure of this kind
must have been irregular, low, fragile, easily scaled,
and quite insecure j a much weaker rampart, in short,
than a simple wall of turf or wooden pallisade. rlhe
vestiges yet remaining, as I have already observed, give
no room to suppose that the vitrified mound has ever
been much more entire than it is at present. rl he ef¬
fect of fire upon structures reared in the manner 1 have
supposed them to have been, will account most per¬
fectly for their present appearance. It was from ne¬
cessity that the builders of these fortifications betook
themselves to a mode of structure so liable to be de¬
stroyed by fire. In those parts where stones could be
easily quarried, of such size and form as to rear a ram¬
part by themselves of sufficient strength and solidity,
there was no occasion to employ wood or turf in its
construction j and it was therefore proof against all as¬
saults
FOR
Vitrified saults by fire. Such are the ramparts which appear on
Forts, the hill of Dun Jardel, Dun-Evan, and many others, on
—v"“—which there is not the smallest appearance of vitrifica¬
tion. But on Craig Phadrick, and the other hills, above
dscribed, where, from the nature of the rock, the stones
could be procured only in irregular and generally small
fragments, it was necessary to employ some such mode
of construction as I have supposed ; and these ramparts,
though solid and well calculated for defence against
every attack by force or stratagem, were not proof
against an assault by fire.”
Mr Cordiner is of opinion, that the vitrifications in
question cannot have been the works of art, and ridi¬
cules the contrary hypothesis ; though without adducing
any argument against it. The hill of Noth is by him
supposed to have been a volcano. He describes it as
“ a most majestic mountain, in general brown, with
moss and heath, interspersed with hare rock, in many
places crumbling down. The highest part of it is a
circular hill, whose verdure, as well as height, distin¬
guishes it from the rest of the mountain. This is called
the Top of Noth ; and hears the strongest resemblance
to every description of a volcanic mount. At the
distance of many miles, one can distinguish those ridges
which are the boundaries of the crater, indicating the
hollow in the top.” The gentleman from whom Mr
Cordiner received the account of the vitrifications on
the summit, informs us, that on first seeing specimens
ot them, he imagined that they had been pieces of
stone calcined by the burning down of a castle j as he
had found something very like them on the castle-hill
at Cullen, in parts where the sward of grass was broken :
but on reaching the top, and viewing the appearances
on it already described, he altered his opinion. “ That
men hardly beset (says he) might climb up w'ith some
provisions to this as a place of refuge, is probable :
but that, on a barren mountain top, far from cultivated
ground, half a day’s journey from the plain; that
there, in any period of society, man should have been
tempted to build that amazing rampart, is not to he
imagined : they have found it a natural and extensive
fortress, and in critical circumstances have made use
of it accordingly. That it has been occupied as a
place of strength and of refuge, is very evident; for,
some hundred yards lower down on the hill, there are
the remains of another rampart or wall, consisting of
loose stones piled together without any cement, carried
quite round the hill. This last has been built for an
additional defence to those who made their abode on
the top. The top of Noth, for two-thirds downwards,
is covered with a green sward ; below that, it is brown
with heath : this is the very reverse of the adjacent
mountains ; and the greater verdure of the upper part
I imputed to a new soil created by the ashes of the
volcano. The opening, called a well, I suppose to
have been the latest crater. About a mile south,
down towards the lower grounds of the Cahrock, there
is a very pretty regular green bill, which I ascribe,
to a later eruption than those which may have formed
the contiguous hills now covered with heath. There
is an extraordinary luxuriant spring of water rushes
out at once from the side of the hill of Noth; which
is likewise some confirmation of the opinion that a
volcano has some time existed there, which has oc¬
casioned great hollows and reservoirs of water in the
FOR
heart of the mountain. And the wild irregularities of Vitrified
nature through all the Cabrock, the hideous and strange Forts,
projection of rocks from the sides of the hills, would
seem to indicate some vast convulsions which the earth
must have suffered in these parts.
“ The traces of ancient volcanoes (says Mr Cor¬
diner) are far from being unfrequent in Scotland.
'I he hill of Finhaven is one instance; and not only
abundant in this species of lava, hut with tarras, or
the pulvtsputeolanus, an amalgama, as Condamine calls
it, of calcined stones mixed with scorias and iron rust
reduced to powder. The hill of Beregonium, near
Dunstallnage castle, is another, yielding vast quantities
of pumice or scoria of different kinds; many of which
are of the same species with those of the volcanic Ice¬
land. I he noble assemblage of basaltic columns at
Staffa, those in the isle of Sky, and the rock Humble,
are hut so many evidences of the ancient volcanoes of
this country. And finally, the immense stratum of pu-
mex vitreus or Iceland agate, on the hill of Dun-fuin
in Arran, is the last proof I shall bring in support of the
question.”
On this dispute we can only observe, that whatever
side we embrace, the difficulties seem to he very great,
nay almost insurmountable. When we consider the
great thickness of the walls on the top of Noth, from
8 to 12 feet, and the vast mound of vitrified matter, no
less than 40 feet in breadth, mentioned by Mr Tytler,
we can scarce conceive it possible that less than a vol¬
canic fire could be able to form them. We may easily
allow, that, in the way this gentleman mentions, there
might be considerable vitrifications formed ; but that
such immense masses should be brought into perfect fu¬
sion by the small quantity of fuel which could be put
round them in pallisades, or intermixed with the mate¬
rials themselves, will be incredible to every one ac¬
quainted with the extreme difficulty with which stones
of any magnitude are brought into complete fusion. We
see even in the insides of furnaces, though sometimes
built of no more infusible materials than common
brick, no such effects follow. There is a slight vitri¬
fication indeed, but it scarcely ever penetrates to the
depth of an inch or two, though very violent fires are
kept up for a much longer time than we could suppose
the wood surrounding those walls to require for its be¬
ing consumed. In conflagrations, where houses are
consumed, which are the only similar examples we
have, no such effect is perceived. Even in the great
fire at London in 1666, where so many buildings were
destroyed, we do not hear of their walls being vitri¬
fied, though the materials of many of them w'ere un¬
doubtedly as fusible as the rocks and stones of Craig
Phadrick, or the Top of Noth. If, on the other
hand, we reject this, and adhere to the volcanic hypo¬
thesis, our difficulties are equally great. For where
shall we find, in any other part of the world, an ex¬
ample of volcanoes ejecting lava in the form of walls
enclosing a regular area? This would he attributing
such a singularity to the volcanoes of Scotland as the
most extravagant imagination cannot admit. We must
therefore conclude, that though these ruins are cer¬
tainly the works of art, we have not yet sufficient data
to decide the question with respect to their construc¬
tion, but that the subject requires a farther investiga¬
tion.
r 23 ]
la
FOR C 24- ] FOR
T„ tW paper already quoted, Mr Ty.ler obaervee, »Wed him man, .^"^reHor o'! F^‘
that “ tliese ancient fortifications present a moie curious IL ™" , During the reign of King Edward IV. he
and interesting object of speculation, than those uncer- k • f S 0f the house of Lancaster, and
tain and indeed fruitless conjectures as to the mode in fw0"0Wrneadn;iev*0rrstU” exile with Queen Margaret and
which they have been reared.” I his, he justly observes, ; raUard her son. At length they having a pros-
must have been before the use ot mortar was known , 0f retrieving their desperate fortunes, the queen and
for as the country abounded in limestone, and the pect ot rel ieving ^ Sir John Fortescue,
builders certainly would exert all their powers in
criving them a proper degree of strength, it would
undoubtedly have been used. Hence we are led to
ascribe to these a very considerable degree ot antiquity ;
for as the Britons were taught the use of mortar by Urn
Homans, it is probable that we must date the origin ot
the structures in question before the time of the inva¬
sion of that people, or at least soon after it : so that we
must look upon them to be more than 1650 years old;
but how far beyond that period we are to search tor their
origin, does not appear. “All that we can conclude
w ith certainty (says our author) is, that they belong to
a period of extreme barbarism. They must have been
constructed by a people scarcely removed trom the state
of savages, who lived under no impression ot fixed or
regulated property in land •, whose only appropriated
goods were their cattle *, and whose sole security, in a
life of constant depredation, was the retreat to the
summits of those hills of difficult access, which they had
fortified in the best manner they could. As the space
enclosed was incapable of containing a great number ot
men, especially if occupied in part by cattle, it is
presumed, that these retreats were formed chiefly tor
the security of the women and children of the canton,
and of their herds. They could be defended by a few
men, while the rest of the tribe were engaged with
their enemies in the field.” #
Our author concludes his dissertation with a conjec¬
ture that the forts in question were constructed, not
01117* before the Roman invasion, but before the intro¬
duction of the rites of the Druids into Britain.
FORT ALICE, in^Scots Law, signified anciently a
small place of strength, originally built for the defence
of the country •, and which on that account was formerly
reckoned inter regalia, and did not go along with the
lands upon which it was situated without a special
grant from the crown. Now, fortalices are carried y
a general grant of the lands *, and the word is become
synonymous with manor-place, messuage, &c. _
FORTAVENTURA, one of the Canary islands,
co miles long, and from 8 to 24 broad, fertile in corn
and excellent fruits*, and remarkable for its numerous
breed of goats and prodigious quantity of goat-milk
cheese. The number of inhabitants amounts to 100,000.
W. Long. 14-32-N* Lat* 28\4\ , fJ
FORTESCUE, Sir John, lord chief justice ot the
King’s Bench, and lord high chancellor ot England,
in the reign of King Henry VI. was descended from
the ancient family of Fortescue, in the county of Devon.
He studied the municipal laws of England in Lincoln s
Inn, of which he was made one of the governors in the
fourth and seventh years of the reign of King Henry \ I.
In 1440, he was called to the degree of a serjeant at
law, and in 1441 was constituted the king s serjeant.
  * « _ 1 orlo 1 nril rVilPf 1 UStlCG 01
pect or retrieving men  A
prince returned to England, and Sir John Fortescue,
with many others, accompanied them j but soon alter
the decisive battle of Teweksbury, he was thrown into
prison and attainted, with other Lancastrians i but
found means to procure his pardon from Edward IV lie
wrote, 1. A learned commentary on the politic laws
of England, for the use of Prince Edward j to one
edition of which Mr Seldc-n wrote notes. 2. Ihe
difference between an absolute and limited monarchy,
as it more particularly regards the English constitution
(which was published, with some remarks, by John
Fortescue, afterwards Lord Fortescue, in 8vo, m 1714*,
and a second edition was published with amendments,
in 1719)' And several works, which still remain in
manuscript. He died near 90 years of age j and was
buried in the parish church of Ebburton, where a mo¬
nument was erected to his memory, in 1677, by one
of his descendants.
FORTH, one of the most noble and commo ious
rivers in Scotland. It takes its rise near the bottom
of Ben-Lomondj and running from west to east, receives
in its passage many considerable streams, deriving Uieir
waters from the eminences in the counties of
North Britain. Between Stirling and Alloa, the 1‘orth
winds in a most beautiful and surprising manner *, so
that, though it is but four miles by land, it is 24 by
water between those two places. Below Alloa the
river expands itself to a great breadth between the
counties of Lothian and Fife, till at Queensferry it is
contracted by promontories shooting into it from both
coasts j so that, from being four or five, there it is not
above two miles broad. In the middle of the channel
lies a small island called Inchgarvy, which has a spring
of fresh water : upon the island there is an ancient tort,
which has been lately repaired 5 and if there were
either forts or blockhouses on the opposite promontories,
that part of the river which lies between Alloa and
Queensferry would be as secure and convenient a har¬
bour as could be desired. A little below this, near the
north shore, lies Inchcolm, on which are the remains
of an ancient monastery of considerable extent *, and
opposite to Leith stands the island of Inchkeith, for¬
merly fortified, but now furnished with a light-house.
Below Queensferry the north and south shores receding,
the body of the water gradually enlarges till it be¬
comes two or three leagues broad, affording several
safe harbours on both sides, and excellent roads through¬
out, unembarrassed with latent rocks, shoals, or sands j
and allowing secure anchorage to the largest ships with¬
in a league of the coast in almost any part ot the
Frith, and to vessels of a smaller size within a mile
or less. The Firth, or (as it is commonly written)
the Frith, of Forth, is, at the mouth of it, from North
Berwick to Fifeness, full five leagues broad *, having the
-i 1 „r (nn which there is a lieht-house.
F ° R [ 25 ] FOR
Fwih. 6ian^‘ng which, the largest fleet may enter and sail up
it many miles with the utmost facility and in the great¬
est safety. In 1781, Admiral Parker’s fleet lay some
weeks opposite to Edinburgh, accompanied by joo sail
of merchantmen, the whole in view of the city and
castle.
The Forth was known to the ancients by the name
of Bodotria, or (as Ptolemy calls it) Boderia, and has
been ever famous for the number of its havens : some
of which are, indeed, in their present condition, scarce
worthy of that name. It is navigable for merchantmen
as high as Alloa, 50 miles from the sea; and for coast¬
ers as far as Stirling, 24 miles further by water, though
only four by land in a direct line, as already observed.
The tide flows only a full mile above Stirling to a
place called Craigforth, where the proprietor intercepts
the passage of the salmon by a cruive or wear, very in¬
jurious to the large tract of country which stretches
as far as Lomond westward. The river from Stir¬
ling to the bridge of Aberfoil, at the entrance into the
\y Highlands, is only passable for mart or horse at
few places, and these in dry seasons. It glides gently
through a dead flat, from Gartmore eastward ; “ and
View of on these accounts (says Mr Knox*) it might be made
ie British navigable for barges, at a trifling expence to the pro-
™pi^e’ prietors of the lands, an improvement much wanted in
$\s. a extensive, and populous valley, without market
towns, coal and lime. Supposing this work to be ex¬
ecuted, of which there is some probability, the whole
extent of navigation on the Forth, will, including all
its windings, exceed 200 miles, through a coast of
nearly 100 miles $ fertile, populous, industrious j and
I from Stirling eastward, almost lined with towns, an¬
ciently the seats of commerce and navigation, till they
were ruined by the English depredations j in which
miserable state some of them still remain, while others
begin to resume the appearance of business. The prin¬
cipal object of these towns was the fisheries ; which
they prosecuted with great vigour as far as Iceland, fcoith.
till the time of the Union, from which period the east- *—-v—
ern fisheries gradually dwindled away ; and the poor
fishermen, unable to subsist themselves upon air and
water, took up the trade of smuggling ; but so soon
as the fishery laws shall be amended, the salt duties
abolished, and an adequate bounty extended to boats
as well as busses, these people will readily fall into the
track of their ancestors, live by honest industry, ami
add new vigour to our naval strength. Many of the
ports are nearly choked up, others want repairs,
winch neither the individuals nor the corporations of
those decayed places can accomplish. Though the
harbours on the forth are in general small, the depth
of water might he made sufficient for vessels of 203
tons burden, which fully answer the purposes of their
coasting and Baltic trade 5 but to obtain this, or even
a less depth ot water, an aid of 50,000k would be re¬
quisite.”
. By this river and the Clyde, Scotland is almost di¬
vided into two parts. The Forth falls into the east sea
below Edinburgh, and lias an easy communication with
the whole eastern coast of Great Britain ; with France,
Ostend, Holland, Hamburgh, Prussia, Dantzic, Russia,
Sweden, Denmark, Norway, and Greenland. The Clyde
falls into the Atlantic ocean below Glasgow, and com¬
municates with the western coast of Great Britain; with
Ireland, the south of France, Portugal, Spain, tiie Me¬
diterranean, America, and the West Indies. These
two rivers, thus falling in opposite directions into the
two seas which environ our island, and the neck of
land between them amounting scarcely to 24 miles,
gave rise to the idea of a junction, so as to open a
communication across the kingdom, and thereby cut
off'the long dangerous navigation by the Land’s End,
and the Pentland Frith : an object, of vast utility, and
which has been happily accomplished. See Canal.
F O R T I F I
’"THE art of fortifying a town, or other place ; or
-*• of putting it in such a posture of defence, that
every one of its parts defends, and is defended by, some
other parts, by means of ramparts, parapets, moats, and
other bulwarks; to the end that a small number of men
within may lie able to defend themselves for a consider¬
able time against the assaults of a numerous army with¬
out, so that the enemy in attacking them must of ne¬
cessity suffer great loss.
The origin and rise of fortification is undoubtedly
owing to the degeneracy qf mankind. In the first ages
of the world, men were dispersed up and down the
countries in separate families, as we are told in the hi¬
stories of the Jews and Scythians, who wandered from
one place to another, for the sake of finding pasture
for their cattle. These families became in time so nu¬
merous as to form large communities, which settled all
together in a place ; from whence villages and towns
had their origin and rise : but they found it was ne¬
cessary, for the common security, to surround those
towns with walls and ditches, to prevent all violences
Vol. IX. Part I. 4
CATION;
/row their neighbours, and sudden surprises. This was
sufficient for some time, till offensive weapons were in¬
vented, and conquering became a fashion. Then walls
with loop holes were made at proper distances, in or¬
der to screen the defenders against the arrows of the
assailants : but finding that, as soon as the enemy got
once close to the walls, they could from no part tie
discovered or repulsed; for this reason they added square
towers at proper distances from each other, so that
every part of the wall might he defended, by the adja¬
cent sides of the towers. This manner of enclosing
towns, however, was found to be imperfect, because
there remained still one of the faces of the towers
which fronted the field that could not be seen from anv
other point, and therefore could not be defended. To
remedy this, they made the towers round instead of
square, imagining this figure to be the strongest to re¬
sist the battering engines, as likewise to be better de¬
fended from the other parts of the wall.
Notwithstanding the superiority of this method a-
bove the former, there remained yet a part of these
toweis
26
FORTIFI
Vauban's tower.'; unseen and incapable of being defended j which
Method, made them change the figure ot the towers again *,
—v" ' that is, they made them square as before-, but, instead
of presenting a face to the field as formerly, they pre¬
sented an angle ; by this means they effectually Sound
out such a disposition of their works that no pait could
he attacked without being seen or defended by some
other part. . , . . „
This last method was long in use-, and would in a.I
probability have continued to this day, if gunpowder
had not been found ouf, but the violence of the guns
and mortars soon convinced the world, that such towers
and walls were hut a weak defence against these thun¬
dering engines j and besides, as the nature of the at¬
tack Was entirely changed, it was also necessary to
change that of fortifying likewise.
From that time ramparts were added to the walls,
the towers enlarged into bastions, and all sorts of out¬
works have been added, such as ravelins, counter-
guards, horn and crown works, and others of the like
nature, in order to render the defence in some measure
equivalent to the attack.
Notwithstanding all the improvements which have
been made in the art of fortifying since the invention
of gunpowder, that of attacking is still superior to it -,
engineers have tried in vain to render the advantages
of a fortification equal to those of the attack j the supe¬
riority of the besiegers fire, together with tne greater
number of men, obliges generally, sooner or later, tne
besieged to submit. ^
The greatest improvement made in the art ot at¬
tacking happened in the year 1697, when M. Vauban
made first use of ricochet firing at Hie siege of Ath,
whereby the besieged placed behind the parapets were
as much exposed to the fire of the besiegers as if there
had been none 5 whereas, before, they had been se¬
cure as long as the parapet was not demolished ; and
the worst is, that there can be no remedy found to
prevent this enfilading, without falling into inconve¬
niences almost as bad as those which we endeavour to
avoid. # , • i r>
Fortification is either regular or irregular, lie-
p-ular fortification, is that built in a regular polygon,
the sides and angles of which are all equal, being com¬
monly about a musket shot from each other. Irregular
fortification, on the contrary, is that where the sides
and angles are not uniform, equidistant, or equal j
which is owing to the irregularity of the ground, val¬
leys, rivers, hills, and the like.
Sect. I. Of Regular 'Fortification.
Although authors agree as to the general form in
the present manner of fortifying, yet they mostjy differ
in particular constructions of the parts. As it would
be both needless and superfluous to treat of all the dif¬
ferent methods hitherto proposed, we shall content
ourselves with explaining those only which are^ most
esteemed by the best judges, and have been mostly put
in practice.
Construction 01 M. Vaubax's Method.
This method is divided into little, mean, and great}
the little is chiefly used in the construction of citadels,
Vautmn’B
Method.
Plate
CCXXL
fig. 1.
CATION. Sect. I.
the mean in that of all sorts of towns, and the great in
particular cases only.
We shall give the construction of the mean, as being
most useful -, and refer the reader to the table hereafter,
for those dimensions which are different in these several
fortifications.
Inscribe in the circle a polygon of as many sides as
the fortification is designed to have fronts; let AB
(fig. I.) be one of the sides of half an hexagon, which
bisect by the perpendicular CD; divide half AC of it
into nine equal parts, and one of these into ten others;
then these divisions will serve as a scale to construct all
the parts of the fortification, and each of them is '’Up-
posed to be a toise or fathom, that is, six 1 renen •ee^ ?
and therefore the whole side AB is supposed to he 180
toises. _ .
As the dividing a line into so many equal pasts is
troublesome and tedious, it is more convenient to have
a scale of equal parts by which the works may be con¬
structed.
If therefore, in this case, the radius is taken equal
to 180 toises, and the circle described with that radius
being divided into six equal parts, or the radius oeing
carried six times round, you will have a hexagon in¬
scribed ; AB being bisected by the perpendicular CD
as before, set off 30 toises from C to D, and draw the
indefinite lines ADG, BDF ; in which take the parts
AE, BH, each equal to 50 toises : _ from the cen¬
tre E describe an arc through the point H, meeting
AD in G, and from the centre H describe an arc
through the point E, meeting BD in F ; or, which is
the same, make each of the lines EG, HI, equal to
the distance EH; then the lines joining the points
A, E, F, G, H, B, will be the principal or outline ot
the front.
If the same construction be performed on the other
sides of the polygon, you will have the principal or
outline of the whole fortification.
If, with a radius of 20 toises, there be described
circular arcs, from the angular points B, A, M, jl,
and lines are drawn from the opposite angles, E, II,
&c. so as to touch these arcs, their parts, a 6, 6 r, &c.
together with these arcs, will represent the outline ot
the ditch.
Definitions.
1. The part FEALN, is called the bastion.
2. AE, AL, the faces of the bastion.
3. EF, LN, the flanks.
4. EG, the curtain.
5. FN, the gorge of the bastion.
6. AG, BF, the lines of defence.
7. AB, the exterior side of the polygon.
8. CD, the perpendicular.
fine which divides a work into two equal
parts, is called the capital of that work.
10. ad c, the counterscarp ol the ditch.
11. A, M, the flanked angles.
12. H, E, L, the angles of the shoulder, or shoulder
only.
13. G, F, N, the angles of the flank.
14. Any angle whose point turns from the place is
called a salient angle, such as A, M; and any angle
Sect L FORTIFICATION.
Of whose point turns towards the place a re-entering angle,
Orilions. such as b, F, N.
15. If there he drawn two lines parallel to the prin-
CCXXI- C1l>a or 0llt^lie> ^,e 0116 at 3 toises distance, and the
other at 8 from it; then the space y x included be¬
tween the principal one and that farthest distant, is
called the rampart.
And the space xx, contained by the principal line,
and that near to it, and which is generally stained black,
is called the parapet.
16. There is a fine line drawn within four feet of the
parapet, which expresses a step called banquette.
N. B. All works have a parapet of three toises
thick, and a rampart of 8 to 10, besides their slopes.
The rampart is elevated more or less above the level
of the place, from 10 to 20 feet, according to the na¬
ture of the ground and the particular constructions of 0f
engineers. _ Ravelins.
The parapet is a part of the-rampart elevated from v——'
6 to feet above the rest, in order to cover the troops
which are drawn up there from the fire of the enemy in (
a siege 5 and the banquette is two or three feet higher
than the rampart, or about four feet lower than the pa¬
rapet ; so that when the troops stand upon it they may
just be able to fire over the parapet.
17. The body of the place, is all that which is con¬
tained within this first rampart: for which reason it is
often said to construct the body of the place ; which
means properly, the construction of the bastions and
curtains.
18. All the works which are constructed beyond the
ditch before the body of the place are called outworks.
TAB L E.
j Side of Bolyg,
Perpendicul.
Faces bast.
if oris.
80
10
22
Cape of ravel. | 25
90
25
28
100
28
30
I 10
M
3°
35
120
lS
33
38
130
16
35
40
ijitlle r'orlif.
I40
20
40
54
5°
21
42
5°
160
23
45
5°
170
25
47
52
Mean.
180
30
50
55
190
31
53
55
Great.
200
25
55
60
260
22
60
5°
In the first vertical column are the numbers ex¬
pressing the lengths of the exterior sides from 80 to
260. In the second, the perpendiculars answering to
these sides. In the third, the lengths of the faces of
bastions : and in the fourth, the lengths of the capitals
of the ravelins.
The forts are mostly, if not always, squares: for
which reason, the perpendiculars are made one-eighth
of the exterior sides ; because if they were more, the
gorges of the bastions would become too narrow.
The little fortification is chiefly designed for citadels,
and are commonly pentagons j the perpendiculars are
made one-seventh of the exterior side : the mean is
used in all kinds of fortifications from an hexagon up¬
wards to any number of sides 5 and the great is seldom
used but in an irregular fortification, where there are
some sides that cannot be made less without much ex¬
pence, or in a town which lies near a great river, where
the side next the river is made from 200 to 260 toises j
and as that side is less exposed to be attacked than any
other, the perpendicular is made shorter, which saves
much expence.
The faces of the bastions are all ^ths of the exterior
sides, or nearly so, because the fractions are neglected.
It may be observed in general, that in all squares the
perpendicular is |th of the exterior side, and all penta¬
gons ^th, and in all the rest upward ^-th.
1. Construct ion of Orilions and retired Flanks.
Describe the front MPQRST as before, and di¬
vide the flank into three equal parts, of which suppose
S r to be one : from the opposite flanked angle M draw
a line M r, in which take the part m r of 5 toises $ take
likewise Yin in the line of defence MR, produced,
equal to 5 toises, and join nm, upon which as a base
describe the equilateral triangle np m, and from the
angle p, opposite to the base as centre, is described the
circular flank n m.
And if Sr be bisected by the perpendicular 1, 2, and
another be erected upon the face ST, at S ; the inter¬
section 2 of these two perpendiculars will be the centre
of the arc which forms the oriilon.
The orillons are very useful in covering the retired
flanks, which cannot be seen but directly in the front j
and as these orillons are round, they cannot be so easily
destroyed as they would be if they were of any other
figure.
2. Construction of Ravelins or Half-moons.
Fig. 2. Set off 55 toises, from the re-entering angle
O of the counterscarp, on the capital OL or on the per¬
pendicular produced, and from the point L draw lines
to the shoulders AB 5 whose parts LM, LN, terminat¬
ed by the counterscarp, will be the faces, and MO,
ON, the semi-gorges, of the ravelin required.
I his is M. \ auban’s method of constructing ravelins,
according to some authors : and others will have the
faces of the ravelin to terminate on those of the bastions
within 3 toises of the shoulders ; which seems to be the
best way, for these ravelins cover the flanks much bet¬
ter than the others.
The ditch before the ravelin is 12 toises, its counter¬
scarp parallel to the faces of the ravelins ; and it is made
in a circular arc, before the salient angle j as likewise
all ditches are in general.
When the ravelins are made with flanks, as in fig. 3. Fig ?.
the faces should terminate on those of the bastions, at
least 5 toises from the shoulders.
The flanks are made by setting off 10 toises from the
extremities of the faces, from f to h, and from m to /,
and from the points h, /, the flanks h, k, /, p, arc drawn
parallel to the capital LO of the ravelin.
D 2
There
2 3
Fig. 4.
‘f’ig- 5*
Fig. 6.
F O R T I F 1
There are sometimes redoubts made in the ravelin,
such as in fig. 2. which is done by setting of! 16 toises
from the extremities of the faces on the semi-gorges
from N to b, and from M to a ; and from the points b,
a, the faces are drawn parallel to those or the ravelin :
the ditch before the redoubt is 6 toises, and its coun¬
terscarp parallel to the faces.
3. Construction of Tenailles.
A tenaille is a work made in the ditch before the
curtains, the parapet of which is only 2 or 3 (eet high¬
er than the level ground of the ravelin. There are
three different sorts : the first are those as in fig. 4.
which are made in the direction of the lines of defence,
leaving a passage of 3 toises between their extremities
and the flanks of the bastions, as likewise another of 2
in the middle for a bridge of communication to the
ravelin. rr. . -
The second sort are those as in hg. 5. I heir taces
are in the lines of defence, and 16 toises long, besides
the passage of 3 toises between them and the flanks
of the bastions j their flanks are found by describing
arcs from one shoulder ot the tenaille as centre through
the other, on which are set ofl 10 toises lor the flanks
desired. ^
And the third sort are those as in fig. 6. Their faces
are 16 toises, as in the second soit, and the flanks aio
parallel to those of the bastions.
The use in general of tenailles is to defend the bot¬
tom of the ditch by a grazing fire, as likewise the level
ground of the ravelin, and especially the ditch before
the redoubt within the ravelin, which can be defended
from nowhere else so well as from them.
The first sort do not defend the ditch so well as the
others, as being too oblique a defence j but as they are
not subject to 'be enfiladed, M. Vauban has generally
preferred them in the fortifying of places, as may be
seen in the citadel of Lille, at Landau, New Bnsac,
and in a great many other places.
The second sort defend the ditch much better than
the first, and add a low flank to those of the bastion :
but as these flanks are liable to be enfiladed, they have
not been much put in practice. This defect might
however be remedied, by making them so as to be
covered by the extremities of the parapets of the oppo¬
site ravelins, or by some other work.
‘ As to the third sort, they have the same advan¬
tage as the second, and are likewise liable to the same
objections ; for which reason, they may be used with
the same precautions which have been mentioned in the
second. . ,
Tenailles are esteemed so necessary, that there is
hardly any place fortified without them : and it is not
without reason. For when the ditch is dry, the part
behind the tenailles serves as a place of arms from
which the troops may sally, destroy the works of the
enemy in the ditch, oppose their descent, and retire
with safety ; and the communication from the body ot
the place to the ravelin becomes easy and secure :
which is a great advantage*, for by that means the
ravelin may' be a much better defence, as it can be
supplied with troops and necessaries at any time.
\nd if the ditch is wet, they serve as harbours lor
boats, which may carry out armed men to oppose the
2
CATION. Sect-
passage over the ditch whenever they please j and the 0j
communication from the tenailles to the ravelin be- Lnneites,
comes likewise much easier than it would be without f
them.
4. Construction of Lunettes.
Plate
CCXXf.
Fig. 7. Lunettes are placed on both sides oi the la-^*".
velin, such as B, to increase the strength of a place :
they are constructed, by bisecting the faces of the ia-
velin with the perpendicular LN j on which is set off
30 toises from the counterscarp ot the ditch, for one ot
its faces) the other face, BN, is found by making the
semi-gorge TP of 25 toises*, the ditch before the lu¬
nettes is 12 toises, the parapet 3, and the rampart S,
as in the ravelin.
There is sometimes another work made to cover the
salient angle of the ravelin, such as A, called bonnet,
whose faces are parallel to those of the ravelin, and
when produced bisect those of the lunettes } the ditch
before it is 10 toises. _ . „ 0 rr- *
There are likewise lunettes, such as D inhg.
whose faces are drawn perpendicular to those of the
ravelin, within a third part from the salient angle ; and
their semi-gorges are only 20 toises.
These kinds of works may make a good defence,
and cost us very great expence*, for as they are so near
the ravelin, the communication with it is very easy, and
one cannot well be maintained till they are all three
taken.
5. Construction of Tencnllons.
Fig. 9. Produce the faces of the ravelin beyond the Fig. 9. |
counterscarp of the ditch, at a distance IVIN of 30
toises, and take on the counterscarp of the great ditch ^
1 5 toises from the re-entering angle p to q, and draw
Ny; then q NMp will be the tenailles required ; its
ditch is 12 toises, that is, the same as that of the rave¬
lin. Sometimes there is made a retired battery in the
front of the tenaillons, as in B *, this battery is 10
toises from the front to which it is parallel, and 15
toises long. .
There are commonly retrenchments made in the
tenaillons, such as O j their parapets are parallel to the
fronts MN, and bisect the side yN ; the ditch before
this retrenchment is 3 toises *, and there is a banquette
before the parapet next to the ditch of about 8 feet,
called berm; which serves to prevent the earth of the
parapet (which seldom has any revetment) from falling
into the ditch.
It is to be observed, that the ravelin, before which
tenaillcns are constructed, must have its salient angles
much greater than the former construction makes them;
otherwise the salient angles of the tenaillons become
too acute ; for which reason we made the capital ot
this ravelin 45 toises, and the faces terminate within 3
toises of the shoulders.
6. Construction of Counterguards.
Fig. 10. 11. When the counterguard is placed he-Fig. 10.
fore the ravelin, set off 40 toises on the capital of theaml n.
ravelin from the salient angle A to the salient angle B,
of the counterguard j and 10 from C to I), on the
counterscarp of the ditch.
When the counterguard is before the bastion, such as
in
Sect. I.
FORTIFICATION.
29
Of in fig. 2. its salient angle F is 50 toises from the salient
Horn works, angle E of the bastion, and the breadth near the ditch
^c- of the ravelin 10 toises as before.
' i’l-ite * Fhe ditch before the counterguards is 12 toises, and
CCXXf. its counterscarp parallel to the faces.
Counterguards are made before the ravelin on some
particular occasions only j but are frequently construct¬
ed before the bastions, as covering the flanks wonder¬
fully well. Some authors, as Mr Blondel and Mr
Coehorn, will have them much narrower than they are
here.
7. Construction of Hormvorks.
Fig. 12. Fig. 12. Produce the capital of the ravelin be¬
yond the salient angle A, at a distance AB of about
80 toises ; draw DBF at right angles to AB j in
which take BD, BE, each equal to 55 toises j and
on the exterior side DE, trace a front of a polygon
in the same manner as that of the body of the place,
making the perpendicular BE 10 toises, and the faces
30-
The branches Da, E £, of the hornwork, when pro¬
duced, terminate on the faces of the bastions, with¬
in 5 toises of the shoulders. The ditch of the horn-
work is 12 toises, and its counterscarp parallel to the
branches ; and in the front terminates at the shoul¬
ders, in the same manner as the great ditch before the
bastions.
The capital of the ravelin before the front of the
hornwork is 35 toises, and the faces terminate on the
shoulders, or rather 2 or 3 toises beyond them : and
the ditch before the ravelin is 8 toises.
There are sometimes retrenchments made within the
hornwork, such as S, S j which are constructed by
erecting perpendiculars to the faces of the ravelins,
within 25 toises of their extremities. This retrench¬
ment, like all others, has a parapet turfed only with a
berm of 8 feet before it 5 as likewise a ditch from 3 to
5 toises broad.
’£■ 'J- Fig. 13. When a hornwork is made before the ba¬
stion, the distance DL of the front from the salient
angle of the bastion is 100 toises, and the branches
terminate on the faces of the adjacent ravelins within
5 toises from their extremities j all the rest is the same
as before.
8. Construction of Crownworks.
Plate From the salient angle, A (fig. 14 ) of the ravelin,
CJ5XIL as a centre, describe an arc of a circle with a radius of
4’ about 120 toises, cutting the capital of the ravelin
produced at C j from the point C, set otf the cords
CB, CF, each of them equal to no toises; and on
each of which, as an exterior side, construct a front of
a polygon of the same dimensions as in the hornwork ;
that is, the perpendicular should be 18 toises, the faces
30, and the branches terminate on the faces of the ba¬
stions within 25 toises of the shoulders.
The ditch is 12 toises, the capital of the ravelin
35, and its ditch 8; that is, the same as in the horn¬
work.
'g- 1S’ Sometimes tiie crownwork is made before the ba¬
stion, as in fig. 15. The arc is described from the sa¬
lient angle A of the bastion, with a radius of 120 toises,
as belore ; and the branches terminate on the faces of
the adjacent ravelins, within 25 toises of their extremi¬
ties ; the rest of the dimensions and constructions are Q(
the same as before. Covert-
Hornworks, as well as crownworks, are never made wa-',s> ^c’
but when a large spot of ground falls beyond the forti-
fication, which might be advantageous to an enemy ccXXIf/
in a siege, or to cover some gate or entrance into a
town.
9. Construction of Covcrt-waijs and Glacis.
Although we have not hitherto mentioned the co¬
vert-way, nevertheless all fortifications whatsoever have
one ; for they are esteemed to be one of the most essen¬
tial parts ot a modern fortifica.*.on; and it is certain,
the taking the covert-way, when it is in a good condi¬
tion and well defended, is generally the most bloody
action of the siege.
After having constructed the body of the place, and
all the outworks which are thought necessary, lines are
drawn parallel to the outmost counterscarp of the ditches,,
at 6 toises distant from it; and the faces mn, m n, in¬
cluded between that line and the counterscarp, will be
the covert-way required.
Fig. 16. Th ere is in every re-entering angle of the Fig. ic.
counterscarp a place of arms m ; which is found by set¬
ting ofi 20 toises from the re-entering angle a, on both
sides from a to b, and from a to c ; and from the points
b, c, as centres, arcs are described with a radius of 25
toises, so as-to intersect each other in d; then the lines
drawn from this intersection to the points b, c, will be
the faces of the places of arms.
If 1 ines are drawn parallel to the lines which ter¬
minate the covert-way, and the places of arms at 20
toises distant from them, the space x, x, x, between these
lines and those which terminate the covert-way will be
the glacis.
At the extremities of the places of arms, are traverses
made, such as v, v, which serve to enclose them ; these
traverses are 3 toises thick, and as long as the covert¬
way is broad ; and a passage is cut in the glacis round
them, of about 6 or 8 feet, in order to have a free com¬
munication with the rest of the covert-way-
There are also traverses of the same dimensions be¬
fore every salient angle of the bastion and outworks,
and are in the same direction as the faces of those works
produced ; and the thickness lies at the same side as the
parapets.
The passages round these last traverses are likewise*
from 6 to 8 feet wide.
In each place of arms are two sally ports sss, which
are 10 or 12 feet wide, for the troops to sally out;,
in time of a siege, they are shut up with barriers or
gates.
10. Construction of Arrows and Detached Redoubts.
An arrow is a work made before the salient angles of
the glacis, such as A, fig. 16. It is composed of a.
parapet of 3. toises thick, and 40 long; and the ditch
before it 5 toises, terminating in a slope at both ends*
The communication from the covert-way into these
arrows is 4 or 5 toises wide ; and there is a traverse, r,
at the entrance, of 3 toises thick, with a passage of 6 or
8 feet round it.
A detached redoubt is a kind of work much like a
ravelin, with flanks placed beyond Hie glacis; such as
B : they are made in order to occupy some spot of
ground.
I
3°
OF
Covert
ground which might be advantageous to the besiegers ;
likewise to oblige the enemy to open their trenches far-
,Wii-vs’ &co' ther off than they would do otherwise.
Plate Their distance from the covert-way ought not to
CCXXIl. exceed 120 toises, that it may be defended by musket
shot from thence.
The gorge a & is 40 toises ; the flanks a f, bf, which
are perpendicular to the gorge, 10 j and the faces c d,
f d, 30 : the ditch before it is 6 toises, ending in slopes
at both ends; the covert-way 4; the branches of the
covert-way are 42 toises long, or thereabouts ; the faces
of the places of arms y,y, which are perpendicular to
the branches, 10; and the other, which is parallel to
them, 14.
The communication from the covert-way into the re¬
doubt, is 5 or 6 toises wide; and there is a traverse
made ]ust at the entrance, and another in the middle
when it is pretty long. The parapets of this commu¬
nication terminate in a slope or glacis.
If these redoubts are above 50 toises distant from the
covert-way, the besiegers carry their trenches round,
and enter through the gorge ; by which the troops
that are in them are made prisoners of war, if they
do not retire betimes ; to prevent which, some other
outivorks should be made to support them.
11. Construction of Second Ditches and Covert-ways.
fig. 17, Tig. 17. When the ground is low, and water to
be found, there is often a ditch about 10 or 12 toises
made round the glacis ; and opposite to the places of
arms are constructed lunettes, beyond the ditch : such
as D, whose breadth on the counterscarp of the ditch
is 10 toises, from b to o, and from c to d; and the
faeesaL, r/L, are parallel to those of the places of
arms ; the ditch before them is from 8 to 10 toises
wide.
The second covert-way is 4 toises, the semi-gorges of
the places of arms, tn, about 15, and the faces perpen¬
dicular to the counterscarp ; the second glacis is from
15 to 1 8 toises broad.
Tins second covert-way has traverses everywhere, in
the same manner as the first.
12. Construction of Profiles.
A profile is the representation of a vertical section of
a work; it serves to show those dimensions which can¬
not be represented in plans, and is necessary in the
building of a fortification. Profiles are generally con¬
structed upon a scale of 30 feet to an inch. It w'ould
be endless to describe all their particular dimensions ;
we shall therefore lay down the principal rules only,
given by M. Vauban, on this subject.
1. Every work ought to be at least 6 feet higher
than that before it, so that it may command those be¬
fore it : that is, that the garrison may fire from all
the works at the same time, with great and small arms,
at the besiegers in their approaches. Notwithstanding
this specious pretence, there are several authors who
object against it. For, say they, if you can discover
the enemy from all the works, they can discover, by the
same reason, all the works from their batteries ; so that
they may destroy them without being obliged to change
their situation, and thereby dismount all the guns of the
place before they tome near it.
But if all works were of the same height, those
Of
Profiles.
FORTIFICATION. Sect. I.
within cannot be deestroyed, till such time as those
before them are taken : guns might be placed in the co¬
vert-way and outworks to obstruct the enemy’s ap- "
proach ; and when they come near the place, they might (XXXH.
be transported into the inner works : and as the body of
the place would be much lower, the expence would be
considerably diminished.
But when works are low, they are easily enfiladed by
the ricochet batteries, which is a kind of firing with a
small quantity of powder, by giving the gun an eleva¬
tion of 10 or 12 degrees ; this might however be partly
prevented, by making the parapets near the salient
angles, for the space of 8 toises on each side, 5 or 6
feet higher than the rest of the works.
2. The covert-way should he lower than the level
ground, otherwise the body of the place must be raised
very high, especially where there are several outworks :
this is to be understood only when the works exceed
each other in height, otherwise it need not be below the
level.
3. The bases of all inward slopes of earth should
be at least equal to the height, if not more.
4. The bases of all outward slopes of earth, two-
thirds of their height.
5. The slopes of all walls, or revetments, should be
one-fifth of their height; or one-sixth might perhaps be
sufficient: the height of a wall is estimated from the
bottom of the ditch, and not from the beginning of its
foundation.
6. The slopes of all parapets and traverses are one-
sixth of their breadth ; that is, 3 feet towards the field ;
or the inside, where the banquettes should be 3 feet
higher than the outside.
7. When the revetment of a rampart goes quite up
to the top, 4 feet of the upper part is a vertical wall of
3 feet thick, with a square stone at the top of it project¬
ing 6 inches; and a circular one below, or where the
slope begins, of 8 or 10 inches diameter : they go quite
round the rampart, and the circular projection is called
the cordon.
Where the straight part of the wall ends and the
slope begins, the wall is always made 5 feet thick ; and
the counterforts or buttresses reach no higher than the
place.
8. When the rampart is partly walled and partly
turfed, then one-fifth of the height which is turfed
must be added to 5 feet, to get the thickness of the wall
above.
And having the thickness of any wall above, by add¬
ing one-fifth of its height from the bottom of the ditch,
the sum will be the thickness of the wall at the bottom ;
but if a sixth part is only taken for the slope, then a
sixth part must be added.
For instance, suppose a rampart of 30 feet high from
the bottom of the ditch, and that 10 of which are to
be turfed ; then the fifth part of io, which is 2, added
to 5, gives 7 for the wall above ; and as this wall is 20
feet high, the fifth of which is 4, and 4 added to the
thickness 7 above, gives 11 for the thickness near the
foundation.
Fig. 18. represents (in military perspective) the pro- plate
files of the body of a place, the ravelin, and covert-way; CCXXIU
which gives a clear idea of what is meant by a pro- %• 8l*
file, and from which those of all other works may be
easilv conceived.
Sect.
Sect. II. F O R T I F
Of
Irregular Sect. II. Of Irregular Fortification.
r u^'11' . The most esssential principle in fortification consists
Hate making the fronts of a place equally strong, so
CtXXHI. that the enemy may find no advantage in attacking
either of the sides. This can happen no otherwise in
a regular fortification situated in a plain or even ground:
hut as there are but few places which are not irregular
either in their works or situations, and the nature of
the ground may be such as makes it impracticable, to
build them regular without too great expence $ it is so
much the more necessary to show in what consists the
strength or weakness of a town irregularly fortified, so
that the weakest part may be made stronger by addi¬
tional outworks j as likewise, if such a place is to be
attacked, to know which is the strongest or weakest
part.
i. Construction of an Irregular Place situated in an
open country.
If the place to be fortified is an old town enclosed by
a wall or rampart, as it most frequently happens, the
engineer is to consider well all the different circum¬
stances of the figure, situation, and nature of the ground;
and to regulate his plan accordingly, so as to avoid the
disadvantages, and gain all the advantages possible :
he should examine, whether by cutting off some parts
of the old wall or rampart, and taking in some ground,
the place can be reduced into a regular figure, or
neaily so ^ for if that can be done without increasing
the expence considerably, it should by no means be
omitted. Old towns have often towers placed from
distance to distance, as Douay, T.ournay, and many
other places, which are generally made use of, and
mended when it may be done. If there is a rampart
without bastions or towers, it must be well considered
whether bastions may not be added, or if it is not bet¬
ter to make only some outworks : if the ditch about
this rampart is not too wide and deep, it would be ad¬
vantageous to make detached bastions ; otherwise rave¬
lins and counterguards must be constructed. Special
caie must be taken to make all the sides of the polygon
as nearly equal as possible, and that the length of the
lines of defence do not exceed the reach of musket-shot;
but if that cannot be done, those sides which are on
the narrowest part should be made the longest.
If it should happen that some of the sides are inac¬
cessible or of very difficult approach, either on account
of sonte precipice, marshy ground, or inundation, they
may be made much longer than the others which are
of easy access, and the flanks need not be so large as
the rest \ by doing so there will be some expences sa¬
ved, which may be used in making the other sides
stronger by adding more outworks.
There are few situations but what are more advan¬
tageous in some parts than in others j it is therefore
- the business of an engineer to distinguish them, and to
render those sides strong by art which are not so by
nature. J
If the situation is low and watery, lunettes or tenail-
Sons, and such other small outworks, should be construc¬
ted 5 because they are not of any great expence, and
may make a very good defence. But if one side of the
place only is low, and running water is to be had, a se-
ICATION. 3
cond ditch and covert-way with lunettes may be made, q,-
by observing, that if the first glacis is made to slope, Ine-ular
so as to become even with the level of the water in the Foi-titica-
second ditch j or if the water can be swelled by means , tIon*
of dikes or sluices, so as to overflow the best part of ^
the first glacis, it should be done: for by so doingCCXXIII.
these works will be aide to make a very good defence,
since the besiegers will find it a difficult matter to lodge
themselves upon this glacis which cannot be done but
rvithin a few toises of the first covert-way, where the
besieged are ready to receive them, and to destroy their
works with great advantage ; whereas the enemy can¬
not support their workmen but from the second covert¬
way, which is too far off to be of any great service to
them.
But if the situation is of a dry nature, without any
water upon it, caponiers should be made in the great
ditch, from the curtains to the ravelin, and batteries
raised in the entrance of the ditch before the ravelin,
whose parapet must slope off into a glacis so as to af¬
ford no cover for the enemy behind them. Arrows and
detached redoubts are likewise very proper to be used
in such a case $ and sometimes horn or crownworks, if
it should be thought convenient: but these works
should never be constructed without an absolute neces¬
sity, either to occupy a spot of ground which might
he advantageous to the enemy, or to cover some gate
or entrance into the town ; for they are of great ex-
pence, and their defence seems not to be answerable
to it.
Most of the places in Flanders are fortified with
hornworks, such as Ypres, Tournay, Lisle, and o-
thers.
It the place to be fortified is new, and the situation
Will not admit of a regular construction, particular
care must be taken in choosing such a spot of ground as
is most advantageous, and least liable to any disadvan¬
tages either in the building or in the maintaining of it.
All hills or rising grounds should be avoided, which
might command any part of the works ; marshy grounds,
because such situations are unwholesome $ or lakes and
standing waters for the same reason, excepting a lake
is or may be made navigable. Good water should be
had either within the place or near it, for it is absolute¬
ly necessary for men and cattle : the air should be
wholesome ; otherwise the continual sickness that may
reign in such a place might prevent people to come and
live in it, and the garrison would not be in a condition
to defend themselves as they ought to do. In short, all
the different circumstances attending such an undertak¬
ing should be maturely considered before a resolution is
taken to fortify any place.
When a situation is fixed upon, the next thing to be
considered is the bigness of the town and the number
of its outworks ; which must absolutely depend upon
the consequence such a place is of to a nation. If it is
only to guard a pass or entrance into a country, it
need not be so large : but if it is to be a place either to
promote or to protect trade, it should be large and com¬
modious : the streets should be wide, and the buildings
regular and convenient. As to what regards the forti¬
fication, its construction should depend on the nature
of the situation, and the number of works, on the funds
or ex pence a prince or a nation will be at ; which,
however, ought to be according to the benefit arising
from
FORTIFIC AT 10 N.
Sett. II.
Plate
CCXXUI.
rig. 19.
from sucli a place •, for as such undertakings are of very
great ex pence, an engineer cannot be too sparing m
his works ; on the contrary, the greatest economy
should be used both in regard to the number ot works
and to their construction. The body ot the place may
have (a) revetments quite up to the top, or only in
part and the rest turfed j but as to the outworks, they
should have half revetments, or they may be made
with turf only j as being not so necessary to prevent
the place from being surprised, wlncli may nevertheless
make a good defence.
Fif<-. IQ. is the plan of an octagon, one half of which
is similar and equal to the other half; it being suppo¬
sed that the situation would not admit of a fortification
quite regular. The exterior sides are each 180 toises,
and the works are constructed accoiding to om me
tbod : but because the sides AB, EF, are weaker than
the rest, as has been proved before, we have added te-
nailles, redoubts in the ravelins, and lunettes, to ren¬
der them nearly equal in strength with the others ; and
if counterguards were made before the bastions A and
B, it would effectually secure that front. Instead of
lunettes, any other works may he made, as may e
thought convenient and according to the nature of the
mound. If it should he judged necessary to add other
outworks to the ravelins all around the place, care must
he taken to add likewise more to the fronts Ab, bi ,
in order to render the advantages and disadvantages of
attacking on either side equal.
2. Construction of an Irregular Place situated on a hill
or rock.
In the construction of such places, care must be ta¬
ken that no neighbouring hill commands any part of
the works. The town should always be built on the
highest part; hut if it should be thought more conve¬
nient to place it lower, then the upper part must be for¬
tified with a fort. The situation should be made level
as near as possible, by removing the earth from some
places to fill up others ; and if it cannot well be level¬
led without extraordinary expence, works must he mane
on the highest part, so as to command and protect the
lower. The works ought to occupy all the upper part
of the hill ; but if it should be too extensive to be a
enclosed, or so irregular as not to be fortified without
meat inconvenience, the parts which fall without should
he fortified with some detached works, and a com¬
munication with the place must he made either above
()r undev -round. There should he no cavity or ho low
roads within cannon shot round about the place, where
the enemy might he able to approach under cover It
riiereTould happen to be a spring near the top of the
hill, it should be enclosed in the fortification, or, if that
cannot be done, by some work or other ; for there is
nothing more necessary, and at the same time scarcer
in such situations than water; for which reason there
cannot be too much care in providing it ; severa cis¬
terns are to he made to receive the rain water, ami
to preserve it; wells should he dug likewise, though
ever so deep, the water of.which win seive foi common Of
irregular
use.
Places built on hills or rocks should never lie large ;
for their use is generally to guard passes or inlets into
a country, and are seldom useful in traffic; and it is a plate
difficult matter to provide for a large garrison in such CCXXHI,
situations: neither should any such place be built with¬
out some very material reasons ; hut when it is abso¬
lutely necessary, great care and precaution should he
taken to render the works as perfect as the situation
will admit of, and at the same time to be as frugal in
the expence as possible.
3. Construction of Irregular Fortifications situated
near rivers, lakes, or the sea.
As the intent of building these kind of places is
chiefly to facilitate and protect trade, they are of more
importance than any other kind, especially in maritime
countries, where the principal strength and powei it-. •
pends on them : for which reason, we shall treat 01 tms
construction more largely than of any other.
The first thing to be considered is their situation,
which ought to be such as to afford a good harbour
for shipping, or a safe and easy entrance in stormy
weather; but. as it is hardly possible to find any where
ships may go in and lie secure with all winds, care
should he taken to make them safe to enter with those
winds which are most dangerous; but it is not suffi¬
cient that the harbour is safe against stormy weather,
it should likewise be so against an enemy both by
land and water, for it often happens, that ships are de¬
stroyed where it was imagined they were secure, which
is of too great consequence not to be provided against ;
for which reason, forts or batteries must be built in the
most convenient places, to prevent the enemy’s ships
from coming too near, so as to bp able to cannonade
those in the harbour, or fling shells amongst them ; and
if there is any danger of an enemy’s approach by land,
high ramparts and edifices must he built, so as to cover
them. .
When a river is pretty large, and it is not conveni¬
ent for making a harbour without great expence, the
ships may ride along the shore : which for that reason,
must be made accessible for ships of burden : this may
be done by advancing the quay into the river 1! the
water is too shallow, or by digging the river sufficiently
deep for that purpose.
And to prevent an enemy from coming up the river,
forts must be built on both sides, especially when there
are any turnings or windings. Antwerp is such a
place ; for the Scheldt is sufficiently deep to carry ships
of great burden, which may come quite near the town-
vJclW j and several forts are built below it on both sides,
so that it would not he an easy matter for an enemy to
come up the river.
When the river is but small, so that no ships of bur¬
den can come through it, it is sufficient to make it run
through some of the works, where proper landing-places
are contrived, from whence the goods may he carried
into
1 x* l r cuvrkVtQPfl * OlltWOFWs do not Wailt to be IllHdfi
to prevent it.
FORTIFICATION
\
IV. Arc hi6a la'
PLATE CCXXU
Fort i Fi c a t r o x
FORTIFICATION.
Fiq. 7fV.
PL ITE CCXXJU
JZtUf? M' Watrcn.
!3'ect. II. F O R T I F
Of into the place j as at Sarrelouis, where a hornwork is
Irregular built beyond the Sarre, in the gorge of which the goods
f'mt’iica- are |ant]etJ.
t>”J‘ j If the breadth of the river does not exceed 200
plate yards, it commonly passes through the middle of the
’ CCXXUI. town, and proper quays are made on each side; in
such a case, the fortification is so contrived, as that the
river passes through the curtain, in order to have a
bastion on each side to defend the coming in and going
out.
When M. Vauban fortified near rivers, he made
always the exterior side near the water much longer than
any of the others; such as Hunninghen on the Rhine,
and Sarrelouis on the Sarre ; but for what reason he
fortified these places in that manner, has not been told
by any author.
But it is plain that the sides which terminate at the
river are the weakest ; because the besiegers trenches
being secured by the river, they may draw most of their
troops off, and act therefore with more vigour and
strength on the other side : besides, as the strength of
a side increases in proportion as the angle of the polygon
is greater, by making the side next the river longer,
the angles of the extremities become wider, and conse¬
quently the adjacent sides stronger.
There are other advantages, besides those mentioned
already, which arise from the lengthening that side : for
if the river is pretty deep, so as not to be fordable, that
side is not liable to be attacked; and by increasing its
length, the capacity of the place increases much more in
proportion to the expence, than if more sides were
made ; the centre of the place will be likewise nearer
the river, which makes it more convenient for trans¬
porting the goods from the water side to any part of the
town.
j 5.13. To illustrate this method of M. Yauban’s, we shall
give the plan of Hunninghen : this place was built for
the sake of having a bridge over the Rhine, for which
reason, he made it only a pentagon ; the side AB next
to the river is 200 toises, and each of the others but
180.
About the space a 5 c, which lies before the front
I C A T I O N. 33
AB, is a stone wall; and the passages # x are shut up of
with sluices, to retain the water in the ditches in dry Irregular
seasons : and to prevent an enemy from destroying the i'ortifica-
ssluice near the point c, whereby the water would run tion'
out and leave the ditches dry, the redoubt y was built
in the little island hard by, in order to cover that CCXXIII.
sluice ; without which precaution the place might be
insulated from the river side, where the water is shal¬
low in dry seasons.
The hornwork K beyond the Rhine was built to cover
the bridge; but as this work cannot be well defended
across the river, the hornwork H was made to support
the other.
Before finishing the description of this plan, we shall
show how to find the long side AB.
. Af,ter having inscribed the two sides GE, GF, in a
ciicle, draw the diameter CD, so as to be equally distant
from the line joining the points EF that is parallel to
it. On this diameter set off* 100 toises on each side
of the centre ; from these points draw two indefinite
perpendiculars to the diameter ; then if from the points
EF, as centres, two arcs are described with a radius
of 180 toises, their intersections A and B, with the
said perpendiculars, will determine the long side AB
as likewise the other two FB and EA. In like man-
nei may be found the long or short side of any polvgon
whatsoever.
When a place near a river is to be fortified for the
safety of commerce, particular care should be taken in
leaving a good space between the houses and the water
side, to have a quay or landing place for goods brought
by water; it should also be contrived to have proper
places for ships and boats to lie secure in stormy weather
and in time of a siege; and as water-carriage is very
advantageous for transporting goods from one place to
another, as likewise lor bringing the necessary materials
not only for building the fortifications, but also the
place itself, the expences will be lessened considerably
when this convenience can be had ; for which reason,
places should never be built anywhere else but near
rivers, lakes,, or the sea; excepting in extraordinary
cases, where it cannot be avoided.
FOR
Fortin . FORTIN, Forteler, or Fidclfort, a sconce, or
j) little fort, whose flanked angles are generally 120 fa-
1 ortiuule. thorns distant from one another.
' The extent and figure of fortins are different, accord¬
ing to the situation and nature of the ground ; some of
them having whole bastions, and others demi-bastions.
They are made use of only for a time, either to defend
the lines of circumvallation, or to guard some passage
or dangerous post.
FORTISSIMO, in Music, sometimes denoted by
FFF, orfjf, signifies, to sing or play veiy loud or
strong.
FORTITUDE, a virtue or quality of the mind,
generallyconsidered as the same with Courage; though
in a more accurate sense they seem to be distinguishable.
Courage may be a virtue or a vice, according to
Vol. IX. Part I. 6 X
FOR
circumstances fortitude is always a virtue : we speak
of desperate courage, but not of desperate fortitude.
A contempt or neglect of danger, without regard to
consequences, may be called courage; and this some
brutes have as well as we : in them it is the effect’
of natural instinct chiefly ; in man it depends partly
on habit, partly on strength of nerves, and partly on
want of consideration. But fortitude is the virtue of
a rational and considerate mind, and is founded in a
sense of honour and a regard to duty. There may be
courage in fighting a duel, though that folly is more
fiequently the effect of cowardice ; there may be cou¬
rage in an act of piracy or robbery : but there can be
no fortitude in perpetrating a crime. Fortitude implies
a love of equity and of public good; for, as Plato and
Cicero observe, courage exerted for a selfish purpose, or
F* without
F ortitude.
FOR [34
Fortitude, without a regard to justice, ought to be called audacity
t rather than fortitude.
This virtue takes different names, according as it
acts in opposition to different sorts of evil} but some
of those names are applied with considerable latitude.
With respect to danger in general, fortitude may be
termed intrepidity } with respect to the dangers of war,
valour ; with respect to pain of body or distress ot mind,
patience ; with respect to labour, activity ; with respect
to injury, forbearance ; with respect to our condition in
general, magnanimity.
Fortitude is very becoming in both sexes; but cou¬
rage is not so suitable to the female character } for in
women, on ordinary occasions of danger, a certain de¬
gree of timidity is not unseemly, because it betokens
gentleness of disposition. Yet Irom those of very high
rank, from a queen or an empress, courage in emer¬
gencies of great public danger would be expected, and
the want of it blamed $ we should overlook the sex,
and consider the duties of the station. In general,
however, masculine boldness in a woman is disagree¬
able ; the term virago conveys an offensive idea. The
female warriors of antiquity', whether real or fabulous,
Camilla, Thalestris, and the whole community of Ama¬
zons, were unamiable personages. But female cou¬
rage exerted in defence of a child, a husband, or a near
relation, would be true fortitude, and deserve the high¬
est encomiums. '
The motives to fortitude are many and powerful.
This virtue tends greatly to the happiness of the in¬
dividual, by giving composure and presence of mind,
and keeping the other passions in due suboidination.
To public good it is essential •, for without it, the in¬
dependence and liberty of nations would be impossible.
It gives to a character that elevation which poets, ora¬
tors, and historians, have in all ages vied with one an¬
other to celebrate. Nothing so effectually inspires^ it
as rational piety j the fear of God is the best security
against every other fear. A true estimate of human
life j its shortness and uncertainty; the numberless
evils and temptations to which by a long continuance
in this world we must unavoidably be exposed j ought
by no means to discourage or to throw any gloom on
our future prospects : they should teach us, that many
things are more formidable than death j and that no¬
thing is lost, but much gained, when, jiy the appoint¬
ment of Providence, a well spent life is brought to a
conclusion. i r
Let it be considered too, that pusillanimity and tear¬
fulness can never avail us any thing. On the contrary,
they debase our nature, poison all our comforts, and
make us despicable in the eyes of others-, they darken
our reason, disconcert our schemes, enfeeble our efforts,
extinguish our hopes, and add tenfold poignancy to
all the evils of life. In battle, the brave soldier is in
less danger than the coward j in less danger even of
death and wounds, because better prepared to defend
himself*, in far less danger of infelicity j and has be¬
fore him the animating hope of victory and honour.
So in life, the man of true fortitude is in less danger of
disappointment than others are, because his understand-
,na is clear, and his mind disencumbered ; he is pre¬
pared to meet calamity without the fear of sinking un¬
der it • and he has before him the near prospect ot ano-
] FOR
ther life, in which they who piously hear the evils of Fortinule
this will obtain a glorious reward. H
FORTUNA, a goddess worshipped with great i g,l!l'lne-
devotion by the ancient Greeks and Romans ; who
believed her to preside over human affairs, and to dis¬
tribute wealth and honour at her pleasure. See For¬
tune.
FORTUNATE islands, in Ancient Geography,
certain islands (concerning the situation of which au¬
thors are not agreed), famous for the golden apples of
the Hesperides.—The common opinion is, that they
are the Canary Islands.
FORTUNE (Tv^u), a name which among the an¬
cients seems to have denoted a principle of fortuity,
whereby things came to pass, without being necessi¬
tated thereto ; but what and whence that principle
is, they do not seem to have ever precisely thought,
lienee their philosophers are often intimating, that
men only framed the phantom Fortune to hide their ig¬
norance ; and that they call Fortune whatever befals a
man without his knoVving for what purpose. Hence
Juvenal (sat. x. ver. 366.) affirms, they were men who
made a deity of fortune.
Nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia ; sed te
Nos facimus. For tuna, dearn, caloque locamus.
The ingenious Mr Spence gives another reading of this
passage:
Nullum numen hales, si sit prudentia ; sed te
Nos facimus, Fortuna, deam, cceloque locamus.
This reading, he thinks, agrees best with the context:
Juvenal says, ver. 356, that the two things we should
pray for are good health and good sense ; that we
might be the authors of our own happiness if we plea¬
sed^ ver. 363. -, that virtue is the only way to true hap¬
piness, ver. 364*; that if we ourselves are prudent, For¬
tune has no power over us ; and that, in truth, she is
no goddess at all, and has only usurped a seat in heaven
from the folly of mankind, ver. 366. Fortune was not
considered as a deity by the old Romans, but was made
so by the devotion and folly of the vulgar ; and Mr
Spence says, that he has seen an ancient gem, in which
Cybele, the mother of the gods, is represented as turn¬
ing away her head from Fortune, in an attitude of
disowning and rejecting her; (Polymetis, p. ifo* J54»
&c.)
According to the opinion of the heathens, therefore,
fortune in reality was only the arrival of things in a
sudden and unexpected manner, without any apparent
cause or reason: so that the philosophical sense of the
word coincides with what is vulgarly called chance.
But in religion it bad a farther force ; altars and
temples in great numbers were consecrated to this For¬
tune, as a deity. This intimates, that the heathens
had personified, and even deified, their chance-, and
conceived her as a sort of goddess, who disposed of the
fate of men at her pleasure. Hence that invocation
of Horace, 0 diva, gratum quee regis Antiuni, in the
35th ode of the first book, where he recommends
Augustus, then preparing for a visit to Britain, to her
protection. From these different sentiments it may
be inferred, that the ancients at one time took For¬
tune fot a peremptory cause, bent upon doing good to
some.
FOB [
it ynrmne, some, and persecuting others ; and sometimes for a
Forty. blind inconstant cause, without any view or determina-
it, —v ' tion at all.
If then the word fortune had no certain idea in the
mouth of those who erected altars to her, much less can
it be ascertained what it denotes in the minds of those
who now use the word in their writings. They who
would substitute the name Providence in lieu of that of
Fortune, cannot give any tolerable sense to half the
phrases wherein the word occurs.
Horace paints the goddess, preceded by Necessity,
holding nails and wedges in her hands, with a cramp-
iron, and melted lead to fasten it; rarely accompanied
with Fidelity, unless when she abandons a family j for
in that case Fidelity never fails to depart with her, as
well as friends.
She i disrespectfully spoken of by most of the Ro¬
man writers, and represented as blind, inconstant, unjust,
and delighting in mischief, {Ovid, adLiv. ver. 52, ver.
374. (Hor. lib. i. od. 34. ver. 26. lib. iii. od. 29.
ver. 15. Statius, Theb. xii. ver. 505.). Flowever they
had a good as well as a bad Fortune, a constant and
inconstant Fortune j the latter of which was represent¬
ed with wings, and a wheel by her, {Hor. lib. iii. od.
29. ver. 56.). Juvenal alludes to a statue of Fortune,
which exhibited her under a very good character, as the
patroness of the poor infants that were exposed by their
parents in the streets, {Sat. vi. ver. 605.).
The painters represent her in a woman’s habit, with
a bandage before her eyes, to show that she acts with¬
out discernment $ and standing on a wheel, to express
her instability. The Romans, says Factantius, repre¬
sented her with a cornucopia, and the helm of a ship,
1 to shew that she distributes riches, and directs the af¬
fairs of the world. In effect, it is with such characters
that we see her represented on so many medals, with
the inscription, Fortuna avg. Fortuna redvx, for-
TVN.2E avg. or REDVCis,r&c. Sometimes she is seen
pointing at a globe before her feet, with a sceptre in one
hand, and holding the cornucopia in the other.
The Romans had a virile as well as a muliebrian
Fortune, for the objects of their adoration : the Fortuna
virilis was honoured by the men, and the Fortuna mu-
liehris by the women. They honoured fortune also
under a variety of other appellations.
The Romans derived the worship of Fortune from
the Greeks, under the reign of Servius Tullius, who
dedicated the first temple to her in the public market.
Nero also built a temple to Fortune. The Fortune
worshipped at Antium was probably of the most ex¬
alted character of any among the Romans $ if we may
judge by the account which Horace gives us of the
great solemn processions that were made to her, {Hor.
lib. 1. od. 35. ver. 22.). But the most celebrated tem¬
ple of Fortune was at Praeneste. Statius speaks of se¬
veral Fortunes there, and calls them the Preenestince
sorores, (lib. i. Sylv. iii. ver. 80.).
Fortvne-Tellers. Persons pretending to tell for¬
tunes are to be punished with a year’s imprisonment,
and standing four times on the pillory. Stat. ix. Geo.
II. c. 5.
FORIY days Court, the court of attachment or
woodmote, held before the verderors of the forest once
every forty days, to inquire concerning all offenders
against vert and venison. See Attachment.
35 1 FOB
FORUM, in Roman antiquity, a public standing Fonirn.
place within the city of Rome, where causes were judi- —v—-
cially tried, and orations delivered to the people.
Forum w-as also used for a place of traffic, answer¬
ing to our market-place. These were generally called
fora venalia ; in contradistinction to the former, which
were called fora civilia,
1 he Jbra civilia were public courts of justice, very
magnificent in themselves, and surrounded with por¬
ticoes and stately edifices 5 of these there were six verv
remarkable: 1. Forum Ponictnum. i.Julictnum, 3. Au-
gustum. 4. Palladium. 5. Forum Trajani. 6. Forum
Salustii. The Forum Romanum was the most noted,
and is often called simply Forum, by way of eminence.
Here was the pleading place called Rostra, the Cemi-
tium, the sanctuary of Saturn, temple of Castor, &c.
See Rostra, Comitium, &c.
i he fora venalia, or market-places, wrere very nume¬
rous. I he chief of them were the forum boarium for
oxen or beef; suarium for swine; phtorium for bread ;
cupedinarium for dainties ; olitorium for garden stuff.
The Grecian exactly correspond with the Ro-
man/ora, being places where courts and markets were
held. At Athens they had many fora, but the chief
of them were the old and the new.
Forum Indicere, was the act of the praetor appointing
the place in Rome where causes were to be tried. Agere
forum denoted the bringing on causes out of Rome, in a
Roman province (Cicero, Suetonius) ; the same with
agere conventum (Florus.)
The term forum added to a proper name, denoted
some town or market borough ; as,
Forum Allieni, a place mentioned only by Tacitus ;
and, from what he says of it, thought to be Ferrara,
capital of the duchy of that name in Italy. E. Lomj.
12. 5. N. Lat. 44. 46.
Forum Appii (Cicero, Luke) ; a town of the Volsci,
in Latium, on the ^ ia Appia ; a little beyond the Tres
labernae ; set down in the Jerusalem Itinerary as si¬
tuated near the river Nymphaeus: now entirely ex¬
tinct.
Forum Cornelii, a town of the Cispadana, built
by Sylla : Now Imola, a city in Romagna, and
territory of the Pope. E. Long. 12. 12. N. Lat. 44.
3°-
Forum Domitii, a town of Gallia Narbonensis; pro¬
bably built by Homitius Ahenobarbus, who commanded
in those parts : Now Frontignan, or Frontigniac, in
Languedoc, near the Mediterranean. E. Long. 3. 30.
N. Lat. 43. 30.
Forum Fulvu, a town of Liguria, surnamed Valen-
tinum : from which it is conjectured that it it is now
Valen%a, in the duchy of Alilan ; which is confirm¬
ed by Peutinger’s distances. E. Long. 90. N. Lat.
45°*
Forum Gallorum, a small town of the Cispadana, on
the Via ./Emilia, eight miles from Mutina, beyond the
river Scultenna. Here Antony defeated Pansa, and
was in his turn defeated by Hirtius : Now Castelfranco,
in the territory of Bologna.—Another Fbraiw Gallorum,
a town of the Vascones in the Hither Spain : Now
Gurrea, a small town of Arragon.
Forum Julium. There are several towns of this
name ; as a Forum Julium of Gallia Narbonensis ; or
Forojulium : Now Frejus, or Frejules, in Provence, at
E 2 the
Forum
Fossarii.
F O S [36
tlie mouth of the Argens. Forum Julium Carnorum^ to
the north of Aquileia, in the Transpadana: Now Civi~
dal di Friuli, formerly Cividal d' Austria, in the terri¬
tory of Venice.
Forum Jutuntorum, a town of the Insubres, in the
Transpadana : Now Crema, capital of the Cremasco, in
the territory of Venice. E. Long. 10. IJ. N. Lat. 45.
2°.
Forum Livii, a town of the Semnones, in the Cis-
padana : Now-for/*', in Romagna. E. Long. 12. 45.
N. Lat. 44. 25.
Forum Segusianorum,s\t\iVLtz<\ on the east side of the
Liger, in Gallia Celtica: now Feurs, on the Loire, in
the Lyonnois, capital of the territory of Forez. E.
Long. 4. 15. N. Lat. 45. 44.
Forum Tiberii, a town of the Pagus Tigurinus, in
Belgica, on the left or south side of the Rhine : Now
Kayserstull; literally the tribunal of Tiberius, which
he held there when commander in the Rhetian war.
Forum Volcani (Strabo) $ the Campi Phlegrcei of
Pliny •, a place in Campania encompassed with rocky
eminences, nearPuteoli, and distant from it two miles
towards Naples, emitting smoke, and in some places
flame, like a large extensive furnace, and yielding sul¬
phur : Now called Solfatara, in the Terra di Lavoro.
Forum is also used, among casuists, &c. for juris¬
diction ; thus they say, In foro legis, &c.
FOSS, or Fosse, in Fortification, See. a ditch or
moat. The word is French, formed of the Latin par¬
ticiple /o.«ww, of the verb fodio, “ I dig.”
Foss, Fossa, in Anatomy, a kind of cavity in a bone,
with a large aperture, but no exit or perforation. When
the aperture is very narrow, it is called a sinus*
Foss is particularly used for the cavity or denture in
the back part of the neck.
FOSSA magna, or Navicularis, is an oblong ca¬
vity, forming the inside of the pudendum muliebre, and
which presents itself upon opening the labia $ and in
the middle whereof are the carunculce myrtiformes* See
Anatomy.
Fossa, in our ancient customs, was a ditch full of
water, where women committing felony were drowned $
as men were hanged : Naw et ipsi in omnibus tenemeniis
suit omnemab antique legalem habuerejustitiam, videlicet
ferrum,fossam, furcas, etsimilia. In another sense it is
taken for a grave, as appears by these old verses:
Hie jacent in fossa Bedce venerabilis ossa :
Hie est fossatus, qui bis erat hie cathedratus.
Foss Way was anciently one of the four great Ro¬
man highways of England: so called, according to
Camden, because it was ditched on both sides, which
was the Roman method of making highways.
FOSSARII, in antiquity, a kind of officers in
the eastern church, whose business was to inter the
dead.
Ciaconius relates, that Constantine created 950 fos-
saries, whom he took, out of the divers colleges or com¬
panies of tradesmen : he adds, that they were exempted
from taxes, services, burdensome offices, &c.
F. Goar, in his notes on the Greek Euchologion, in¬
sinuates that the fossarii were established in the times
of the apo?tles ; and that the young men, who carried
off the body of Ananias, and those persons full of the
] F O S
fear of God who interred St Stephen, were of the num-
ber.
St Jerome assures us, that the rank of fossarii held the
first place among the clerks j but he is to be understood
of those clerks only who had the direction and intend¬
ance of the interment of the devout.
FOSSE, the Roman military way in South Britain
begins at Totness, and passes through Exeter, Ivel
Chester, Shepton Mallet, Bath, Cirencester, Leicester
the Vale of Belvoir, Newark, Lincoln, to Barton up
on the Humber, being still visible in several parts
though of 1400 years standing. It had the name from
the fosses or ditches made by the sides of it.
FOSSIL, in Natural History, denotes, in general,
every thing dug out of the earth, whether it be a na¬
tive thereof, as metals, stones, salts, earths, and other
minerals 5 or extraneous, reposited in the bowels of the
earth by some extraordinary means, as earthquakes, the
deluge, &c.
Native fossils are substances found in the earth, or
on its surface, of a simple structure, exhibiting no ap¬
pearances of organization •, and these are included un¬
der the general names of simple and compound, earthy
or metallic minerals. See Mineralogy.
Extraneous fossils are bodies of the vegetable or ani¬
mal kingdoms accidentally buried in the earth. Of the
vegetable kingdom, there are principally three kinds j
trees or parts of them, herbaceous plants, and corals :
and of the animal kingdom there are four kinds ; sea
shells, the teeth or bony palates and bones of fishes,
complete fishes, and the bones of land animals. See
Geology.
These adventitious or extraneous fossils, thus found
buried in great abundance in divers parts of the earth,
have employed the curiosity of several of our latest na¬
turalists, who have each their several system to account
for the surprising appearances of petrified sea fishes,
in places far remote from the sea, and on the tops of
mountains j shells in the middle of quarries of stone j
and of elephants teeth, and bones of divers animals, pe¬
culiar to the southern climates, and plants only growing
in the east, found fossil in our northern and western
parts.
Some will have these shells, &c. to be real stones,
and stone plants, formed after the usual manner of other
figured stones j of which opinion is the learned Dr
Lister.
Another opinion is, that these fossil shells, with all
the foreign bodies found within the earth, as bones,
trees, plants, &c. were buried therein at the time ot
the universal deluge j and that, having been penetrat¬
ed either by the bituminous matter abounding chiefly
in watery places, or by the salts of the earth, they have
been preserved entire, and sometimes petrified.
Others think, that those shells, found at the tops ol
the highest mountains, could never have been carried-
thither by the waters, even of the deluge ; inasmuch as
most of these aquatic animals, on account of the weight
of their shells, always remain at the bottom of the wa¬
ter, and never move but close along the ground. They
imagine, that a year’s continuance of the waters of the
deluge, intermixed with the salt waters of the sea, up¬
on the surface of the earth, might well give occasion
to the production of shells of divers kinds in different
climates j
F tr'tarii
H
Fossil.
F O S [ 37 ] F O S
Ftmil, climates; and that the universal saltness of the water
Foster, was the real cause of their resemblance to the sea shells,
as the lakes formed daily by the retention of rain or
spring ivater produce different kinds.
Others think, that the waters of the sea, and the
rivers, with those which fell from heaven, turned the
whole surface of the earth upside down ; after the same
manner as the waters of the Loire, and other rivers,
which roll on a sandy bottom, overturn all their sands,
and even the earth itself, in their swellings and inun¬
dations ; and that in this general subversion, the shells
came to he interred here, fishes there, trees there, 8tc.
Bee Deluge.
Dr Woodward, in his Natural History of the Earth,
pursuing and improving the hypothesis of Dr Burnet,
maintains the whole mass of earth, with every thing
belonging thereto, to have been so broken and dissolved
at the time of the deluge, that a new earth was then
formed on the bosom of the water, consisting of different
strata or beds of terrestrial matter, ranged over each
other usually according to the order of their specific
gravities. By this means, plants, animals, and espe¬
cially fishes and shells, not yet dissolved among the
rest, remained mixed and blended among the mineral
and fossil matters ; which preserved them, or at least
assumed and retained their figures and impressions
either indentedly or in relievo. See Geology.
Fossil Fitch. See Petroleum, Mineralogy
Index.
FOSTER, James, a nonconformist divine, very
highly celebrated for his pulpit eloquence and erudition,
was born at Exeter in the year 1697. At the age of
five years he was put to the free school of that city,
where his progress in the acquisition of grammar was so
rapid, that his master boasted of him as the most emi¬
nent genius in his school. From this seminary he went
to the academy where young men designed for clergy¬
men in the dissenting interest were educated, where his
progress and applause were equally great. His appre¬
hension was remarkably quick, his judgment solid, me¬
mory retentive, eloquence commanding, and his talents
for argumentation were truly admirable ; but above all,
his piety was genuine, and few men possessed candour,
modesty, liberality, integrity, tenderness and benevo¬
lence, in such a remarkable degree. He commenced
preacher at the age of 21, and was much admired where
he occasionally officiated. About this time the doctrine
of the Trinity was much agitated in the west of England,
which was not consonant to the notions of Mr Foster,
and the honesty and openness of his heart would not
allow him to conceal these, which brought so much
odium upon him from the orthodox party, that he retired
to another scene of action. He became pastor of a con¬
gregation at Milborne-port, in Somersetshire; but as
soon as his hearers became zealously attached to what
was deemed the orthodox opinion, he retired to Ashwick
under the hills of Mendip, in the same county. In this
asylum he preached to two congregations at a little dis¬
tance from each other, as poor as they were plain, the
united contributions of which did not amount to 15].
per annum. In this humble poverty and obscurity he
lived for some years, honourable, however, as it was
occasioned by his determined uprightness and sincerity.
In the year 1720, he gave the world his “ Essay on
Fundamentals, with a particular regard to the doctrine Foster,
of the ever-blessed Trinity,” &c. The design of this -y—^
work was to check an uncharitable and intolerant spirit,
at that time extremely prevalent, by shewing that the
trinitarian notion is not a fundamental article of Chris¬
tianity, or made an express condition of salvation in the
sacred scriptures. A sermon accompanied this essay,
entitled “ The resurrection of Christ proved, and vin¬
dicated against the most important objections of the
ancient Jews, or modern Deists, and his disciples shown
to be sufficient witnesses of the fact.” From Ashwick
he removed to Trowbridge in Wiltshire, where his con¬
gregation did not usually exceed 20 or 30 people.
By reading Dr Gale’s treatise on infant baptism, he
became a convert to the doctrine, that immersion is
the true scriptural rite, and was accordingly soon after-
baptised in London in conformity to that mode. This
unreserved manner of adopting whatever his conscience
believed to be truth, excluded him from almost every
religious party among whom he might otherwise have
expected preferment. But while he deliberated with
himself whether he should abandon the ministry, and
acquire the knowledge of some mechanical employ¬
ment, Robert Houlston, Esq. took him to his house in
the capacity of chaplain, where his circle of acquaint¬
ances became wider and more respectable. In *724,
he was appointed to succeed Dr Gale in the baptist
congregation in Barbican, London. In the year 1728
he commenced a Sunday evening lecture in the Old
Jewry, which he continued till within a short time of
his death, with such a degree of popularity as few
dissenters at that time experienced. In 1732 appeared
his valuable work, entitled “ The usefulness, truth, and
excellency of the Christian revelation, defended against
the objections contained in a late book, called Chris¬
tianity as old as the Creation,” &c. In this reply Mr
Foster exhibited no ordinary share of talents and inge¬
nuity, and it was admired by the candid and judicious
of every description. Dr Tindal, against whom it was
written, is said to have spoken of it always with great
respect. He published a volume of sermons in the year
1734, followed by other three volumes, the last of which
appeared in 1744* At this time he was appointed suc¬
cessor to Dr Jeremiah Hunt, in the protestant congre¬
gation at Pinner’s-hall. In 1746, he attended the earl
of Kilmarnock when under sentence of death for high-
treason, after which he published an octavo pamphlet,
with the title of “ An account of the behaviour of the
late earl of Kilmarnock after his sentence, and on the
day of his execution.”
He received from the Marischal college of Aberdeen
the degree of doctor in divinity, accompanied with
handsome letters from the principal and Professor For-
dyce, the latter of whom thus addressed him. “ We
beg that you will be so good as to accept of the diplo¬
ma, as a small mark of the sincere veneration we have
lor you, and of the sense we entertain of the eminent
services you have done to the cause of liberty, religion,
and virtue, by your writings as well as public instruc¬
tions.” The first volume in quarto of his ‘ Discourses
on all the Principal Branches of Natural Religion and
Social Virtue,’ was published in the year 1749, and the
second appeared in 1752. They were published by
subscription ; and to evince the high estimation in which .,
F O T
[ 38 ]
F O T
Fo'ler
II
F othergill.
his talents and virtues were held, 2000 names ■were con¬
tained in the list, many of them distinguished by their
dignified rank and literary abilities.
In the month of April 1750, he was seized with a
.violent distemper, from the edects of which he never
thoroughly recovered j yet while at all able to officiate,
he continued to preach till the beginningoi 1752, when
he had another attack, which seems to have been of a
paralytic nature. After declining for some time, he
expired like a genuine Christian on the 5th of Novem¬
ber, in the 55U1 year of his age. His private and pub¬
lic life were alike irreproachable. Such was the won¬
derful extent of his beneficence, that he must have died
in indigent circumstances, had it not been for the nu¬
merous subscriptions to his discourses on natural reli¬
gion. Mr Rider gives him the following eulogium.
“ His voice was naturally sweet, strong, distinct, har¬
monious, always adapted to his matter, always vai’ied
as his method changed j as expressive of the sense as the
most judicious recitative. Monotony was a fault he
was never guilty of. His action, the soul of eloquence,
was grave, expressive, free from distortions, animated
without being theatrical j in short, such as became the
pulpit. He reminded us of Paul at Athens, arresting
the attention of his auditors.” It was no doubt such
rare accomplishments which induced Mr Pope to be an
occasional hearer, and to pay him the following compli¬
ment :
Let modest Foster, if he will, excel
Ten metropolitans in preaching well.
In a poem describing the respective merits of dissenting
ministers at that period, and supposed to have been the
work of Mr Savage, we find the following lines up¬
on Dr Foster.
But see th’ accomplish’d orator appear,
Refin’d his language, and his reasoning clear*,
Thou only, Foster, hast the pleasing art,
At once to charm the ear and mend the heart.
Besides the works formerly taken notice of, Dr Fos¬
ter published three funeral sermons, one of which was
intended for that celebrated confessor Mr Emyln ; to¬
gether with a number of essays in the Old Whig.
Foster, Samuel^n ingenious English mathematician
of the last century, and astronomical professor in Gres¬
ham college, was one of that learned association which
met for cultivating the new philosophy during the poli¬
tical confusions, and which Charles II. established into
the Royal Society. Mr Foster, however, died in 1652,
before this incorporation took place 5 but wrote a num¬
ber of mathematical and astronomical treatises, too
many to particularize. There were two other mathe¬
matical students of this name j William Foster, a dis¬
ciple of Mr Oughtred, who taught in London, and
Mark Foster, author of a treatise on trigonometry,
who lived later than the former two.
FOTHER, or Fodder, is a weight of lead, con¬
taining eight pigs, and every pig one and twenty stone
and a half ; so that it is about a ton or common cart
load. Among the plumbers in London, it is nineteen
hundred and a half; and at the mines it is two and
twenty hundred and a half. The word is of Teutonic
origin, fromfuder. .
FOTHERGILL, Dr George, was born m >> est-
morland in 1705, where his family had been long Fothergill.
seated on a competent estate that had descended regu- v iuJ
larly for several generations. Alter an academical
education in Queen’s college, Oxford, ot which he be¬
came a fellow, he was, in 1751, elected principal of St
Edmund’s hall, and presented to the vicarage of Brum-
ley in Hampshire. Having been long afliicted with
an asthma, he died in 176c. He was the author of a
collection of much esteemed sermons, in 2 vols. 8vo.
The first volume consists of occasional discourses, pub¬
lished by himself; the second printed from his MSS.
Fothergill, Dr John, a late eminent physician,
son of John and Margaret, Quakers, was born in 1712,
at Carr End in Yorkshire, where his lather, who had
been a brewer at Knarcsborough (after having travelled
from one end of America to the other), lived retired
on a small estate which he cultivated, Ihe Doctor
was the second ol five children (four sons and a daugh¬
ter), and received his education under the care of his
grandfather Thomas Hough, a person of fortune in
Cheshire, which gave him a predilection for that county),
and at Sedbergh in Yorkshire. He afterwards served
his time to one Mr Bartlett an apothecary at Bradford.
Erom thence he removed to London, and became a
pupil of Dr (afterwards Sir Edward) Wilmot, at St
Thomas’s hospital. He then went to the university of
Edinburgh to study physic, and took his doctor’s degree
there. From Edinburgh he went to Leyden ; whence,
after a short stay, he returned to London, and began to
practise about the year 1740, in a house in White-hart
Court, Lombard-street, where he resided during the
greatest part of his life, and acquired most of his
fortune. In 1746, he was admitted a licentiate of
the College of Physicians in London; and in 1754
a fellow of that of Edinburgh, to which he was a
considerable benefactor. He afterwards became a
member of the Royal Medical Society at Paris, and a
member both of the Royal and Antiquarian Societies.
He continued his practice with uninterrupted success
till within the last two years of his life, when the illness
which he had brought on himself by unremitted at¬
tention, obliged him to give up a considerable part of
it. Besides his application to medical science, he had
imbibed an early taste for natural history, improved by
his friend Peter Collinson, and employed himself 011
conchology and smaller objects of botany. He was for
many years a valuable contributor to the Gentleman’s
Magazine ; where his observations on the weather and
diseases were begun in April 1751, and discontinued in
the beginning of 1756, being disappointed in his views
of exciting other experienced physicians in different
parts to imitate the example. He had very extensive
practice, but he did not add to his art any great 01
various improvements. His pamphlet on the ulcerous
sore throat is, on every account, the best of his publica¬
tions ; but owes much of its merit to the information of
the late Dr Letherland. It was printed in 1748, on
the re-appearance of that fatal disorder which in 1739
had carried off the two only sons of Mr Pelham. In
1762 Dr Eothergill purchased an estate at Upton in
Essex ; and formed a botanic garden there, the second in
Europe ; Kew is the first. In 1766 he began regularly
to withdraw, from Midsummer to Michaelmas, from
the excessive fatigue of his profession, to Lee Hall, near
Middlewicb, in Cheshire; which, though he only rent-
2 ed
ii^otlieiail!.
/ O T [ 39 1
Ci\ it by the year, he had spared no expence to improve, dered
F O T
— He took no fees during this recess, but attended to
prescribe gratis at an inn in Middlevvich once a week.
In 1767, after he found himself obliged to relax his
attention to business, he removed from his house in the
city, to reside in Harpur-street, Red-Lion Square.
Some time before his death he had been industrious to
contrive a method of generating and preserving ice in
the West Indies. He was the patron of Sidney Par¬
kinson, and drew up the preface prefixed to his account
of the voyage to the South Seas. At his expence al¬
so was made and printed an entire new translation of
the whole Bible, from the Hebrew and Greek originals,
by Anthony Purver, a Quaker, in two volumes,
1764, folio, and also, in 1780, an edition of Bishop
Percy’s “ Key to the New Testament,” adapted to the
use of a seminary of young Quakers, at Acworth, near
Leeds in Yorkshire, founded in 1778 by the Society,
who purchased, by a subscription in which Dr Fother-
gill stood foremost, the house and an estate of thirty
acres which the Foundling Hospital held there, but
which they found inconvenient for their purpose on
account of distance. The Doctor himself first project¬
ed this on the plan of a smaller institution ot the same
kind at Gildersomes. He also endowed it handsomely
by his will. It now contains above 300 children of
both sexes, who are clothed and instructed. Among
the other beneficent schemes suggested by Dr Fother
gill were those of bringing fish to London by land car
riage, which, though it did notin every respect succeed
tended to destroy a supposed combination ; and of ren
dering bread much cheaper, though equally wholesome
to the poor, by making it with one part of potatoes’
and three parts of household flour. But his public
benefactions,^ his encouragements of science, the in¬
stances of his attention to the health, the police, the
convenience of the metropolis, &c. we cannot pretend
to specify. The fortune which Dr Fothergill had ac¬
quired was immense ; and, taking all things together,
the house and moveables in Harpur-street, the property
in Essex, and the estate in Cheshire (which he held on
a lease), and his ready money, amounted to 8o,oool.
His business, when he was in full practice, was calcu¬
lated at near 7000I. per annum. In the influenza of
1775 and 1776, he is said to have had 60 patients on
his list daily, and his profit was estimated at 8000I. per
annum. 1
The disorder which hastened his death was a scir-
rhus of the prostata, and an obstruction of the bladder
(in which were found after his death two quarts of
water), which had been gradually coming on him for
six years past, occasioned by a delicacy, which made
him unwilling to alight from his carriage, and when
after his temporary recovery from it the year before he
died, he submitted to use relief in his carriage, it was
too late. He died at his house in Harpur-street, De¬
cember 26. 1780 j and his remains were interred, Ja-
nuary 5. in the Quakers burying-ground at Winch-
more-hill, whither they were accompanied by more
than 70 coaches and post-chaises, notwithstanding the
intention of the executors to have the funeral private.
ie Doctor by his will appointed, that his shells and
other pieces of natural history should be offered to the
late Dr Hunter at 500I. under the valuation he or-
to be taken of them. Accordingly Dr Hunter
bought them for 1200!. The drawings and collections
in natural history were also to be offered to Mr (now
oir Joseph) Bankes at a valuation. His English por-
traits and prints, which had been collected by Mr John
JNickolls of Ware, and purchased bv him for 80 gui¬
neas, were bought for 200 guineas by'Mr Thane. His
books were sold by auction, April'30. 1781, and the
eight following days. His house and garden at Upton
in which 15 men were constantly employed, were va-
ued at 10,0001. He spared no expence to augment
this as well as his other collections. He had an in<re-
mous artist qualified to collect for him at the Cape°of
Good Hope, and another on the Alps, and employed
for several years before his death a painter in natural
history at Leeds.
Dr Fothergill’s character was excellent. A trans¬
action, indeed, with regard to one Dr Leeds, gave oc¬
casion to some of his enemies to blame him; but how
unjustly, has been abundantly shown by his biogra¬
phers Dr Elliot and Dr Lettsome. Besides the pamph¬
let already mentioned, Dr Fothergill wrote a consider¬
able number of Iracts, which are now collected into
one volume 8vo, by Dr Elliot. He sometimes wrote
in the newspapers, and is said to be the author of more
Pavement eUerS ^ ^ Gazetteer’ concerning the New
FOTHERGILLA, a genus of plants belonging to
the polyandna class. See Botany Index. h
POTHERING, a peculiar method of endeavouring
to stop a leak m the bottom of a ship while she is afloat,
either under sad or at anchor. It is usually performed
in the following manner : A basket is filled with ashes
cinders, and chopped rope yarns, and loosely covered
with a piece of canvas ; to this is fastened a long pole
by which it is plunged repeatedly in the water, as close’
as possible to the place where the leak is conjectured
to lie. The oakum or chopped rope yarns being thus
gradually shaken through the twigs, or over the top of
the basket, are frequently sucked into the hole alon<r
with the water, so that the leak becomes immediately
choked ; and the future entrance of the water is there¬
by prevented.
FOTHEHINGAY, a town of Northamptonshire,
about four miles from Staneford, situated on the river’
Avon, or Nen, and consisting of one street. Edward
duke of York, in the.reign of Henry V. founded and
endowed a fine collegiate church here, in which he was
interred. At the dissolution, the college and the choir
were pulled down, and the bodies of the founder and
his family left exposed till Queen Elizabeth’s time, who
ordered them to be interred, and the present monu¬
ments to be erected On the north side of the church
is a ftee school, founded by Henry VII. or Edward VI
endowed with 20I per annum for a master, payable out
of the exchequer by the receiver of the county. The
bridge over the river here was first built by Queen
Elizabeth, 1573, of timber, with three pillars upon the
foundation. Haniel first earl of Nottingham, and the
other trustees for William Saville, marquis of Halifax,
rebuilt it in 1722, of freestone from King’s Cliffe. On
the south-east side of the cliffe stood the castle ; which
was of great antiquity and considerable strength. Mary
queen of Scots, who had been in the custody of Sir
A mi as >
F O U [4°
V uitieiin- AnliasPowlet liere, was tried and beheaded in the hall,
and her son afterwards, forgiving and even taking into
favour her greatest enemy Cecil, only took the cluldis i
, revenge of heating down the castle; which he so com¬
pletely demolished, that no more than the earthworks
now remain. Within the first work is a farm-house,
with some carved stones wrought into it, and at the
south-west corner of the inner trench are some masses
of stone walls. Sir Robert Cotton carried the wainscot
of the hall to Connington. _ • r
FOU-tcheou, a city of China, in the province ot
I'o-KIEN. It carries on a considerable trade •,. but is
chiefly remarkable for the magnificence of its principal
bridge, which has more than 100 arches constructed
of white stone, and ornamented with a double balus¬
trade throughout. This city is the residence ot a
viceroy, and has under its jurisdiction nine cities ot the
third class. . , f
FOUGA.DE, or Fougasse, m the art ot war, a
little mine, about 8 or xofeet wide, and 10 or 12 deep,
dug under some work or post, which is in danger ot
tailing into the enemy’s hands ; and charged with sacks
of powder, covered with stones, earth, and w£atev^
else can make great destruction. It is set on fire like
other mines, with a saucisse. See mine. .
FOUL, or Foule, in the sea language, is used
when a ship has been long untrimmed, so that the
grass weeds, or barnacles, grow on her sides under
water. A rope is also foul when it is either tangled
in itself, or hindered by another, so that it cannot run
or be overhauled. .. . .
Foul imports, also, the running of one ship against
another. This happens sometimes by the violence ot
the wind, and sometimes by the carelessness of the
people on board, to ships in the same convoy, and to
ships in port by means of others coming in. Ihe da¬
mages occasioned by running foul, are of the natl“«j 0
those in which both parties must bear a share, lb y
are usually made half to fall upon the sufferer and half
upon the vessel which did the injury; but in cases
where it is evidently the fault of the master of the
vessel, he is alone to bear the damage.
FouL-JFater. A ship is said to make foul water,
when, being under sail, she comes into such shoal
water, that though her keel do'not touch the ground,
" t “ comes so near it, that the motion ot the water
under her raises the mud from the bottom.
Foul is also a disease in cattle, proceeding from
blood, and a waterish rheum that falls down into the
leo-s, and makes them swell.
*Foul or Pimpled Face. See GuttA Bosacca
FOULA, or Foul Island, one ol the Shetland isles,
Wing between six and seven leagues west from the
main land. It is about three miles long, narrow, and
full of rough, steep, and bare rocks; one or which is
so large, and runs up to such a height, that it may be
clearly seen from Orkney. This, it is probable, is
the' Thule of Tacitus, "it has scarcely any pasturage,
and but little arable land. The only commodities ex¬
ported are stock fish, train oil, and feathers..
1 FOULAHS, a people of Africa, which inhabit the
See Mam- Foumait
F oundery.
] F O U
FOUMART, a species of Mustela.
MALIA Index. '
FOUNDATION, in Architecture, is that part ol a _ _
building which is under ground. See Architecture,
N° 104.
Palladio allows a sixth part of the height of the
whole building for the hollowing or. under-digging ;
unless there be cellars under ground, in which case he
would have it somewhat lower.
Foundation, denotes also a donation or legacy,
either in money or lands, tor the maintenance and
support of some community, hospital, school, &c.
The king only can found a college, b“t, 1'ere Bi*
be a college in reputation founded by others, it it
cannot appear by inquisition who it was that founded
a church or college, it shall be intende-d that it was the
king, who has power to found a new church, &c.
The king may found and erect an hospital, and give a
name to the house upon the inheritance of another, or
license another person to do it upon his own lands ; and
the words fundo, creo, &c. are not necessary in every
foundation, either of a college or hospital, made by the
king ; but it is sufficient if there be words equivalent:
the incorporation of a college or hospital is the veiy
foundation; but he who endows it with lands is the
founder; and to the section of an hospital, nothing
more is requisite but the incorporation aod foundation.
Persons seised of estates in fee simple, may erect and
found hospitals for the poor by deed enrolled m chan¬
cery, &c. which shall be incorporated, and subject to
such*visitors as the founder shall appoint, &c. stat. 39
E1IZ.
FOUNDER, in a general sense, the person who lays
a foundation, or endows a church, school, religious house,
or other charitable institution. See 1 oundation. .
Founder, also implies an artist who casts metals, in
various forms, for different uses, as guns, bells, statues,
printing characters, candlesticks, buckles, &c. whence
they are denominated gun-founders, bell-foundeis, fi¬
gure-founders, letter-founders, founders of small works,
&c. See Foundery. ... • • 1 ,
Founder, in the sea language : A ship is said to
founder, when by an extraordinary leak, or by a great
sea breaking in upon her, she is so filled with water,
that she cannot be freed of it; so that she can neither
veer nor steer, but lie like a log ; and not being able to
swim long, will at last sink.
FOUNDERED, applied to horses, bee r arriery
J[Tidsx m •
FOUNDERY, or Foundry, the art of casting all
sorts of metals into diflerent forms. It likewise signi¬
fies the workhouse or smelting hut wherein these opera¬
tions are performed. _ .
Foundery of Small ff orks, or casting in Sand. 1 he
sand used for casting small works is at first of a pretty
soft, yellowish, and clammy nature; but it.being ne¬
cessary to strew charcoal dust in the mould, it at length
becomes of a quite black colour. The sand is worked
over and over, on a board, with a roller, and a sort ot
knife; being placed over a trough to receive it, alter
it is by these means sufficiently prepared.
p TouTaHS, a people of Africa winch rohah.t t e ,t .soy rnese ^ o( , le„gtl),
confines of the great desert Sahara. e Pll»cipa 0 breadth ’pr0P01'tional to the tllIn£s t0 be CaSt’ aml
Foulah states is that tv.tlnn S.crra Leona and of winch and rea p^ ^ ^ ^ ^ a ,iu,
Teembo is the capital. See Sierra LEO><A. pun 5 5 moistened,
3
Din
F O U [
roainJery. moistened, to make it duly cohere. Then they take
 either wood or metal models of what they intend to
cast, and apply them so to the mould, and press them
into the sand, as to leave their impression there. Along
the middle of the mould is laid half a small brass cy¬
linder, as the chief canal for the metal to run through,
when melted, into the models or patterns ; and from
this chief canal are placed several others, which extend
to each model or pattern placed in the frame. After
this frame, is finished, they take out the patterns, by
first loosening them all around, that the sand may not
give way.
Then they proceed to work the other half of the
mould with the same patterns in just such another frame ;
only that it has pins, which, entering into holes that
correspond to it in the other, make the two cavities of
the pattern fall exactly on each other.
The frame, thus moulded, is carried to the melterj
who, after extending the chief canal of the counterpart,
and adding the cross canals to the several models in
both, and strewing mill dust over them, dries them in a
kind of oven for that purpose.
Both parts of the mould being dry, they are joined
together by means of the pins: and to prevent them
giving way, by reason of the melted metal passing
through the chief cylindrical canal, they are screwed
or wedged up like a kind of press.
\\hilethe moulds are thus preparing, the metal is
fusing in a crucible of a size proportionate to the quan¬
tity of metal intended to be cast.
When the moulds are coolish, the frames are un¬
screwed or unwedged, and the cast work taken out of
the sand, which sand is worked over again for other
casting.
Foundery of Statues. The casting of statues de¬
pends on the due preparation of the pit, the core, the
wax, the outer mould, the inferior furnace to melt off
the wax, and the upper to fuse the metal. The pit is a
hole dug in a dry place something deeper than the in¬
tended figure, and made according to the prominence
of certain parts thereof. The inside of the pit is com¬
monly lined with stone or brick j or when the figure
is very large, they sometimes work on the ground, and
raise a proper fence to resist the impulsion of the melted
metal.
Ihe inner mould, or core, is a rude mass to which
is given the intended attitude and contours. It is rais¬
ed on an iron grate, strong enough to sustain it, and
is strengthened within by several bars of iron. It is
generally made either of potters clay, mixed with hair
and horse dung 5 or of plaster of Paris mixed with brick
dust. The use of the core is to support the wax, the
shell, and lessen the weight of the metal. The iron bars
and the core are taken out of the brass figure through
an aperture left in it for that purpose, which is sol¬
dered up afterwards. It is necessary to leave some
of the iron bars of the core, that contribute to the
steadiness of the projecting part, within the brass fi¬
gure.
The wax is a representation of the intended statue.
It it be a piece of sculpture, the wax should be all of
Uie sculptor’s own hand, who usually forms it on the
core : I hough it may be wrought separately in cavities,
moulded on a model, and afterwards arranged on the
Vol. lA, Part I. ^
41 ]
F O U
ribs of iron over the grate j filling the vacant space in Foi,ndei.v
the middle with liquid plaster and brick dust, whereby
the inner core is proportioned as the sculptor carries on
the wax.
When the wax, which is the intended thickness of
the metal, is finished, they fill small waxen tubes per¬
pendicular to it from top to bottom, to serve both as ca¬
nals for the conveyance of the metal to all parts of the
work; and as vent holes, to give passage to the air,
which would otherwise occasion great disorder when the
hot metal came to encompass it.
The work being brought thus far, must be covered
with its shell, which is a kind of crust laid over the
wax, and which being of a soft matter, easily receives
the impression of every part, which is afterwards com¬
municated to the metal upon its taking the place of the
wax, between the shell and the mould. The mat¬
ter of this outer mould is varied according as different
layers are applied. The first is generally a composition
of clay, and old white crucibles well ground and sifted,
and mixed up with water to the consistence of a colour
fit for painting : accordingly they apply it with a pen¬
cil, laying it seven or eight times over, and letting it
dry between whiles. For the second impression thev
add horse dung and natural earth to the former conipo-
sition. The third impression is only horse dung and
ear.li Tastly, The shell is finished by laying on seve¬
ral more impressions of this last matter, made very thick
with the hand.
The shell, thus finished, is secured by several iron
girths, bound round it, at about half a foot distance from
each other, and fastened at the bottom to the grate un¬
der the statue, and at top to a circle of iron where they
all terminate. s
If the statue be so big that it would not be easy to
move the moulds with safety, they must be wrought
on the spot where it is to be cast. This is performed
two ways: in the first, a square hole is dug under
ground, much bigger than the mould to be made
therein, and its inside lined with walls of free-stone or
brick. At the bottom is made a hole of the same
materials, with a kind of furnace, having its aperture
outwards : in this is a fire made to dry the mould,
and afterwards melt the wax. Over this furnace is
placed the grate, and upon this the mould, &c. formed
as above. Lastly, At one of the edges of the square
pit, is made another large furnace to melt the metal.
In the other way, it is sufficient to work the mould
above ground, but with the like precaution of a fur¬
nace and grate underneath. When finished, four
walls are to be run around it, and by the side thereof
a massive made for a melting furnace. For the rest,
the method is the same in both. The mould being fi¬
nished, and enclosed as described, whether underground
or above it, a moderate fire is lighted in the furnace
under it, and the whole covered with planks, that the
wax may melt gently down, and run out at pipes con¬
trived for that purpose, at the foot of the mould,
which are afterwards exactly closed with earth, so soon
a^ the wax is carried of!. This done, the hole is filled
up with bricks thrown in at random, and the fire in
the furnace augmented, till such time as botfi the
bricks and mould become red hot. After this, the
fire being extinguished, and every thing cold again,
^ they
F O U [42
they take out the bricks, and fill up their place with
earth moistened, and a little beaten at the top of the
mould, in order to make it the more firm and steady.
These preparatory measures being duly taken, there
remains nothing but to melt the metal, and run it into
the mould. This is the office of the furnace above
described, which is commonly made in the form of an
oven with three apertures, one to put in the wood,
another for a vent, and a third to run the metal out at.
From this last aperture, which is kept very close while
the metal is in fusion, a small tube is laid, whereby the
melted metal is conveyed into a large earthen bason,
over the mould, into the bottom of which all the big
branches of the jets, or casts, which are to con¬
vey the metal into all the parts of the mould, are in-
sorted •
These casts or jets are all terminated with a kind of
plugs, which are kept close, that, upon opening the
furnace, the brass, which gushes out with violence,
may not enter any of them, till the bason be lull enough
of matter to run into them all at once. Upon which
occasion they pull out the plugs, which are long iron
rods with a head at one end, capable of filling the
whole diameter of each tube. The whole of the fur¬
nace is opened with a long piece of iron fitted at the end
of each pole, and the mould filled in an instant. This
completes the work in relation to the casting part; the
rest being the sculptor’s or carver’s business, who, tak¬
ing the. figure out of the mould and earth wherewith it
is encompassed, saws off the jets with which it appears
covered over, and repairs it with chissels, gravers, pun¬
cheons, &c. • . . . ,
Foundery of Fells. The metal, it is to be ob¬
served, is different for bells from what it is for
statues ; there being no tin in the statue metal j but
there is a fifth, and sometimes more, in the bell
The dimensions of the core and the wax, for bells, if
a chime of bells especially, are not left to chance, but
must be measured on a scale, or diapason, which gives
the height, aperture, and thickness, necessary for the
several tones required.
It is on the wax that the several mouldings and other
ornaments and inscriptions, to be represented m re¬
lievo on the outside of the bell, are formed, l ie
clapper or tongue is not properly part of the bell,
but is furnished from other hands. In Europe, it is
usually of iron, with a large knob at the extreme 5 and
is suspended in the middle of the bell. In China, it is
only a huge wooden mallet, struck by force of arm
against the bell *, whence they can have but litt e of that
consonancy so much admired in some of our chimes oi
bells The Chinese have'an extraordinary way ot in¬
creasing the sound of their bells, viz. by leaving a ho e
under the cannon *, which our bell-founders would
reckon a defect. _
The proportions of our bells differ very much from
those of the Chinese. In ours, the modern propor¬
tions are, to make the diameter 15 times the thickness
of the brim, and the height 12 times. . The parts of a
hell are, I. The sounding bow, terminated by an Jn"
ferior circle, which grows thinner and thinner. 2. Ihe
brim or that part of a bell whereon the clapper strikes
and which is thicker than the rest. 3. The outward
Plate
CCXX1I1
] F O U
sinking of the middle of the bell, or the point under Foundery,
which it grows wider to the brim. 4. he waist or , -J
furniture, and the part that grows wider and thicker
quite to the brim. 5. The upper vase, or that part
which is above the waist. 6. fhe pallet which sup¬
ports tlie staple of the clapper within. *]. I he bent
and hollowed branches of metal uniting with the can¬
nons, to receive the iron keys, whereby the bell is hung
up to the beam, which is its support and counterpoise
when rung out.
The business of bell foundery is reducible to three
particulars. 1. The proportion of a. bell. 2. The
forming of the mould. And, 3* 'll*6 melting of
the metal. There are two kinds of proportions,
viz. the simple and the relative j the former are
those proportions only that are between the . several
parts of a bell to render it sonorous ; the relative pro¬
portions establish a requisite harmony between several
bells.
The method of forming the profile ot a bell, pre¬
vious to its being cast, in which the proportion of the
several parts may be seen, is as follows : the thickness
of the brim, C 1 (Plate CCXXIIJ.) is the foundation
of every other measure, and is divided into three equal
parts. First, draw the line HD, which represents the
diameter of the bell •, bisect it in F, and erect the per¬
pendicular F/; let DF and HF be also bisected m
E and G, and two other perpendiculars E e, G c, be
erected at E and G : GE will be the diameter of the
top or upper vase, i. e. the diameter of the top will be
half that of the bell •, and it will, therefore, be the dia¬
meter of a bell which will sound an octave to the
other. Divide the diameter of the bell or the line
HD into 15 equal parts, and one of these will give
C 1 the thickness of the brim $ divide again each of
these 15 equal parts into three other equal parts, and
then form a scale. From this scale take 12 of the lar¬
ger divisions or TV of the whole scale in the compass,
and setting one leg in D describe an arc to cut the line
E c in N; draw ND, and divide this line into 12
equal parts j at the point 1 erect the perpendicular
1 C=io, and C I will be the thickness of the brim —tt
of the diameter : draw the line CD j bisect DN •, and
at the point of bisection erect the perpendicular
6 K=i4 of the larger divisions on the scale. With an
opening of the compass equal to twice the length of
the scale or 30 brims, setting one leg in N, describe an
arc of a circle, and with the same leg in K and the
same opening describe another arc to intersect the for¬
mer : on this point of intersection as a centre, and
with a radius equal to 30 brims, describe the arcNKj
in 6 K produced take KB=| of the larger measure
of the scale or } of the brim, and on the same centre
with the radius 30^ brims describe an arc AB parallel
to NK. For the arc BC, take 12 divisions ol the
scale or 12 brims in the compass j find a centre, and
from that centre, with this opening, describe the arc
BC, in the same manner as NK or AB were descri¬
bed! There are various ways of describing the arc
K p ,* some describe it on a centre at the distance of
nine brims from the points jy and K; others, as it is
done in the figure, on a centre at the distance only of
seven brims from those points. But it is necessary first
to find the point;?, and to determine the rounding of
the
F O -U [
IFoHiidery. tbe bell p I. For this purpose, on tbe point C as a
.»-v—/ centre, and with the radius C i, describe the arc i p n;
bisect the part I, 2 of the line D », and erecting the
perpendicular p my this perpendicular will cut the arc
1 p nm m, which terminates the rounding 1 p. Some
founders make the bendings K a third of a brim lower
than the middle of the line DN j others make the part
C I D more acute, and instead of making C 1 perpendi¬
cular to DN at 1, draw it f th of a brim higher, making
it still equal to one brim j so that the line 1 D is longer
than the brim C 1. In order to trace out the top part
N o, take in the compass eight divisions of the scale or
eight brims, and on the points N and D as centres,
describe arcs to intersect each other in 8 : on this point
8, with a radius of eight brims, describe the arc N b ;
this arc will be the exterior curve of the top or crown :
on the same point 8 as a centre, and with a radius
equal to 7^ brims, describe the arc A e, and this will
be the interior curve of the crown, and its whole
thickness will be one-third of the brim. As the point 8
does not fall in the axis of the bell, a centre M may
be found in the axis, by describing, with the interval
of eight brims on the centres D and H, arcs which
will intersect in M; and this point may be made the
centre of the inner and outer curves of the crown as
before. The thickness of the cap which strengthens
the crown at Q is about one-third of the thickness of
the brim; and tbe hollow branches or ears about one-
sixth of the diameter of the bell. The height of the
bell in proportion to its diameter as 12 to 15, or in the
proportion of the fundamental sound to its third major:
whence it follows, that the sound of a bell is principally
composed of the sound of its extremity or brim as a
fundamental, of the sound of the crown which is
an octave to it, and of that of the height which is a
third.
The particulars necessary for making the mould of
a bell are, i.The earth: the most cohesive is the best;
it must be well ground and sifted, to prevent any chinks.
2. Brick stone ; which must be used for the mine,
mould, or core, and for the furnace. 3. Horse dung,
hair, and hemp, mixed with the earth, to render the
cement more binding. 4. The wax for inscriptions,
coats of arms, &c. 5. The tallow equally mixed with
the wax, in order to put a slight lay of it upon the
outer mould, before any letters are applied to it. 6. The
coals to dry the mould.
^ For making the mould, they have a scaffold con¬
sisting of four boards ranged upon tressels. Upon
this they carry the earth, grossly diluted, to mix it
with horse dung, beating the whole with a large spa¬
tula.
The compasses of construction is the chief instrument
for making the mould, which consist of two different
legs joined by a third piece. And last of all the foun¬
ders shelves, on which are the engravings of the letters,
cartridges, coats of arms, &c.
They first dig a hole of a sufficient depth to contain
the mould of the bell, together with the case or can¬
non, under ground; and about six inches lower than
the terreplain, where the work is performed. The
hole must be wide enough for a free passage between
the mould and walls of the hole, or between one mould
and another, when several bells are to be cast. At
43 ] F O U
the centre of the hole is a stake erected, that is strongly F(l,jn.jciy
fastened in the ground. This supports an iron peg,  -
on which the pivot of the second branch of the com¬
passes turns. The stake is encompassed with a solid
brick-work, perfectly round, about half a foot high,
and of the proposed bell’s diameter. This they call a
millstone. The parts of the moulds are, the core, the
model of the bell, and the shell. When the outer sur¬
face of the core is formed, they begin to raise the core,
which is made of bricks that are laid in courses of equal
height upon a lay of plain earth. At the laying of
each brick, they bring near it the branch of the com¬
passes on which the curve of the core is shaped, so as
that there may remain between it and the curve the
distance of a line, to be afterwards filled up with layers
of cement. The work is continued to the top, only
leaving an opening for the coals to bake the core. This
work is covered with a layer of cement, made of earth
and horse dung; on which they move the compasses of
construction, to make it of an even smoothness every¬
where.
The first layer being finished, they put the fire to
the core, by filling it half with coals, through an open¬
ing that is kept shut, during the baking, with a cake
ot earth that has been separately baked. The first
fire consumes the stake, and the fire is left in the core
half, or sometimes a whole day : the first layer being
thoroughly dry, they cover it with a second, third, and
fourth ; each being smoothed by the board of the com¬
passes, and thoroughly dried before they pi’oceed to
another.
The core being completed, they take the compasses
to pieces, with intent to cut off the thickness of the
model, and the compasses are immediately put in their
place to begin a second piece of the mould. It con¬
sists of a mixture of earth and hair, applied with the
hand on the core, in several cakes that close together.
This work is finished by several layers of a thinner
cement of the same matter, smoothed by the compasses,
and thoroughly dried before another is laid on. The
first layer of the model is a mixture of wax and grease
spread over the whole. After which are applied the
inscriptions, coats of arms, &c. besmeared with a pen¬
cil dipped in a vessel of wax in a chafing dish: this is
done for every letter. Before the shell is begun, the
compasses are taken to pieces, to cut off all the wood
that fills the place of the thickness to be given to the
shell.
The first layer is the same earth with the rest, sifted
very fine: while it is tempering in water, it is mixed
with cows hair to make it cohere. The whole being a
thin cullis, is gently poured on the model, that fills
exactly all the sinuosities of the figures, &c. and this
is repeated till the whole is two lines thick over the
model. When this layer is thoroughly dried, they
cover it with a second of the same matter, but some¬
what thicker; when this second layer becomes of some
consistence, they apply the compasses again, and light
a lire in the core, so as to melt off the wax of the in¬
scriptions, &c.
After this, they go on with other layers of the shell,
by means of the compasses. Here they add to the
cows hair a quantity of hemp, spread upon the layers,
and afterwards smoothed by the board of the com-
F 2 passes.
F O U
[ 44 ]
F O U
Fonudfi y. passes. The thickness of the shell comes to four or five
 v— inches lower than the millstone before observed, and
surrounds it quite close, which prevents the extravasa¬
tion of the metal. The wax should be taken out before
the melting of the metal.
The ear of the bell requires a separate work, which
is done during the drying of the several incrustations of
the cement. It has seven rings : the seventh is called
the bridge, and unites the others, being a perpendicular
support to strengthen the curves. It has an aperture at
the top, to admit a large iron peg, bent at the bottom ;
and this is introduced into two holes in the beam,
fastened with two strong iron keys. There are models
made of the. rings, with masses of beaten earth, that are
dried in the fire in order to have the hollow of them.
Those rings are gently pressed upon a layer of earth and
cows hair, one half of its depth j and then taken out,
without breaking the mould. This operation is repeat¬
ed t 2 times for i 2 half moulds, that two and two united
may make the hollows of the six rings: the same they
do for the hollow of the bridge, and bake them all to
unite them together.
Upon the open place left for the coals to he put in
are placed the rings that constitute the ear. They first
put into this open place the iron ring to support the
clapper of the bell j then they make a round cake of
day, to fill up the diameter of the thickness of the
core. This cake, after baking, is clapt upon the open¬
ing, and soldered with a thin mortar spread over it,
which binds the cover close to the core.
The hollow of the model is filled with an earth,
sufficiently moist to fix on the place, which is stiewed
at several times upon the covei' of the core ^ and they
beat it gently with a pestle, to a proper height j and a
workman smooths the earth at top with a wooden trowel
dipped in water.
Upon this cover, to be taken off afterwards, they
assemble the hollows of the rings. When every thing
is in its pioper place, they strengthen the outside of the
hollows with mortar, in order to bind them with the
bridge, and keep them steady at the bottom, by means
of a 'cake of the same mortar, which fills up the whole
aperture of the shell. This they let dry, that it may
he removed without breaking, lo make room for the
metal, they pull off the hollows of the rings, through
which the metal is to pass, before it enters into the va¬
cuity of the mould. The shell being unloaded of its
ear, they range under the millstone five or six pieces
of wood, about two feet long, and thick enough to
reach almost the lower part ot the shell *, between these
and the mould, they drive in wooden wedges with a
mallet, to shake the shell of the model whereon it rests,
so as to be pulled up and got out of the pit.
When this and the wax are removed, they break
the model and the layer of earth, through which the
metal must run, from the hollow ot the rings, between
the shell and the core. They smoke the inside of the
shell by burning straw under it, that helps to smooth
the surface of the bell. Then they put the shell m
the place, so as to leave the same interval between that
and the core*, and before the hollows of the rings or
the cap are put on again, they add two vents, that are
united to the rings, and to each other, by a mass of
baked cement. After which they put on this mass of
3
the cap, the rings, and the vent, over the shell, and Founder),
solder it with thin cement, which is dried gradually by ■
covering it with burning coals. Then they fill up the
pit with earth, beating it strongly all the time round the
mould.
The furnace has a place for the fire, and another for
the metal. The fire-place has a large chimney with a
spacious ash-hole. rlhe furnace which contains the
metal is vaulted, whose bottom is made of earth,
rammed down ; the rest is built with brick. It has
four apertures j the first, through which the flame re¬
vibrates j the second is closed with a stopple that is
opened for the metal to run ; the others are to separate
the dross or scorise of the metal by wooden rakes :
through these last apertures passes the thick smoke.
The ground of the furnace is built sloping, for the metal
to run down.
Foundery of Great Gu?is and Mortar Fieces. The
method of casting these pieces is little different from
that of hells ; they are run massy, without any co.e,
being determined by the hollow of the shell * and they
are afterwards bored with a steel trepan, that is worked
cither by horses or a water-mill.
For the metal, parts, proportions, &c. of these pieces,
see Gunnery.
Letter Foundery, or Casting of Printing Letters.
In the business of cutting, casting, &c. letters for
printing, the letter-cutter must he provided with a vice,
hand-vice, hammers, and files of all sorts for watch¬
makers use ; as also gravers and sculpters of all sorts,
and an oil-stone, &c. suitable and sizeable to the seve¬
ral letters to be cut : a fiat gage made of box to hold
a rod of steel, or the body of a mould, &c. exactly per¬
pendicular to the flat of the using file : a sliding gage,
whose use is to measure and set off distances between
the shoulder and the tooth, and to mark it off from the
end, or from the edge of the work; a face gage,^
which is a square notch cut with a file into the edge ot.
a thin plate of steel, iron, or brass, of the thickness of
a piece of common tin, whose use is to proportion the
face of each sort of letter, viz. long letters, ascending
letters, and short letters. So there must be three gages j
and the gage for the long letters is the length of the
whole body supposed to be divided into 42 equal parts.
The gage for the ascending letters Roman and Italic
are, 4 or 3° Parts 42> ant^ 33 parts for the English
face. The gage for the short letters is or 18 parts
of 42 of the whole body for the Roman and Italic, and
22 parts for the English face.
The Italic and other standing gages are to measure
the scope of the Italic stems, by applying the top and
bottom of the gage to the top and bottom lines of the
letters, and the other side of the gage to the stem j for
when the letter complies with these three sides ol the
gage, that letter has its true shape.
The next care of the letter cutter is to prepare good
steel punches, well tempered, and quite free from all
veins ol iron } on the face ol which he draws 01 maiks
the exact shape ot the letter with pen and ink if the
letter be large, or with a smooth blunted point oi a
needle if it be small y and then with sizeable and pro¬
per shaped and pointed gravers and sculpters, digs or
sculps out the steel between the strokes or marks he
made on the face of the punch, and leaves the marks
standing
F O U
Plate
CCXXIil,
I. &. a
Foui)fiery, stantllng on tlie face. Having well shaped tlie inside
'—strokes of his letter, he deepens the hollows with the
same tools ; for if a letter he not deep in proportion
to its width, it will, when used at press, print hlack,
and be good for nothing. This work is generally re¬
gulated by the depth of the counter-punch. Then lie
works the outside with proper files till it be fit for the
matrice.
But before we proceed to the sinking and justifying
of the matrices, we must provide a mould to justify
them by, of which there is a draught in Plate CCXXIII.
fig. I. 2.
Every mould is composed of an upper and an under
part. The under part is delineated in fig. i. The
upper part is marked fig. 2. and is in all respects made
like the under part, excepting the stool behind, and the
bow or spring also behind : and excepting a small
roundish wire between the body and carriage, near the
break, where the under part hath a small rounding
groove made in the body. This wire, or rather half
wire, in the upper part makes the nick in the shank of
the letter, when part of it is received into the groove
in the under part. These two parts are so exactly fit¬
ted and gaged into one another (viz. the male gage
marked c in fig. 2. into the female marked g in fig. i. j,
that when the upper part of the mould is properly pla¬
ced on, and in the upper part of the mould, both toge-
tlier make the entire mould, and may be slid backwards
for use so far, till the edge of either of the bodies on the
middle of either carriage comes just to the edge of the
female gages cut in each carriage ; and they may he
slid forward so far, till the bodies on either carriage
touch each other : and the sliding of these two parts
of the mould backwards makes the shank of the letter
thicker, because the bodies on each part stand wider
asunder j and the sliding them forwards makes the
shank of the letter thinner, because the bodies on each
part of the mould stand closer together. The parts of
the mould are as follow : viz. a, The carriage, b, The
body.^ c, The male gage. d e, The mouth-piece,
f i, The register, g, The female gage, h, The hag,
ua a a, The bottom-plate, b b b, The wood on which
the bottom-plate lies. c c c, The mouth. d d, The
throat, c d d, The pallat. f The nick, g gf The
stool, h k, The spring or bow.
Then the mould must be justified : and first the
founder justifies the body, by casting about 20 proofs
or samples of letters j which are set up in a composing
stick, with all their nicks towards the right hand ;
and then by comparing these with the pattern letters,
set up in the same manner, he finds the exact measure
of the body to be cast. He also tries if the two sides of
the body are parallel, or that the body be no bigger
at the head than at the foot, by taking half the num¬
ber of his proofs and turning them with their heads to
the feet of the other half; and if then the heads and
the feet be found exactly even upon each other, and
neither to drive out nor get in, the two sides may he
pronounced parallel. He farther tries whether the
two sides of the thickness of the letter he parallel, by
first setting his proofs in the composing stick with their
nicks upwards, and then turning one-half with their
heads to the feet of the other half; and if the heads
and feet lie exactly upon each other, and neither drive
[ 45 ]
F O U
out nor get in, the two sides of the thickness are pa¬
rallel.
Ihe mould thus justified, the next business is to pre¬
pare the matrices. A matrice is a piece of brass or
copper of about an inch and a half long, and of thick¬
ness in proportion to the size of the letter it is to con¬
tain. In this metal is sunk the face of the letter in¬
tended to lie cast, by striking the letter punch about
the depth of an n. After this the sides and face of
tne matrice must he justified and cleared with files of
all bundlings made by sinking the punch.
Every thing thus prepared, it is brought to the fur¬
nace ; which is built of brick upright, with four square
sides, and a stone on the top, in which stone is a wide
round hole for the pan to stand in. A foundery of any
consequence lias several of these furnaces in it.
As to the metal of which the types are to be cast,
this, in extensive fonnderies, is always prepared in
large quantities; but cast into small bars, of about 20
pounds weight, to be deliveied out to the workmen as
occasion requires. In the letter foundery which has
been long carried on with reputation under the direc¬
tion ol Mess. W ilson and Sons at Glasgow, we are
informed, that a stock of metal is made up at two dif¬
ferent times of the year, sufficient to serve the casters at
the furnace for six months each time. For this purpose,
a large furnace is built under a shade, furnished with a
wheel vent, in order the more equally to heat the sides
of a strong pot of cast iron, which holds when full
15 hundred weight of the metal. The fire being
kindled below, the bars of lead are let softly down in¬
to the pot, and their fusion promoted by throwing in
some pitch and tallow, which soon inflame. An outer
chimney, which is built so as to project about a foot
over the farthest lip of the pot, catches hold of the
flame by a strong draught, and makes it act very power¬
fully in melting lead ; whilst it serves at the same time
to convey away all the fumes, &c. from the workmen,
to whom this laborious part of the business is commit¬
ted. When the lead is thoroughly melted, a due pro¬
portion of the regulus of antimony and other ingredi¬
ents are put in, and some more tallow inflamed to
make the whole incorporate sooner. The workmen
now having mixed the contents of the pot very tho-
roughly by stirring long with a large iron ladle, next
proceed to draw the metal off into the small troughs
of cast iron, which are ranged to the number of four¬
score upon a level platform, faced with stone, built to¬
wards the right hand. In the course of a day 15 hun¬
dred weight of metal can be easily prepared in this
manner; and the operation is continued for as many
days as are necessary to prepare a stock of metal of all
the various degrees of hardness. After this, the whole
is disposed into presses according to its quality, to be
delivered out occasionally to the workmen.
The founder must now be provided with a ladle,
which diflers nothing from other iron ladles but in its
size ; and he is provided always with ladles of several
sizes, which he uses according to the size of the letters
he is to cast. Before the caster begins to cast, he must
kindle his fire in the furnace to melt the metal in the
pan. 'Iherefore he takes the pan out of the hole in
the stone, and there lays in coals and kindles them ;
and, when they are well kindled, he sets the pan in
again,,
Foundery;
F O U t 4^
Foundery. again, and puts in metal into it to melt j if it be a small-
' v—J bodied letter he casts, or a thin letter of great bodies,
his ladle must be very hot, nay sometimes red hot,
to make the letter come. Then having chosen a ladle
that will hold about so much as the letter and break
is, he lays it at the stoking hole, where the hame
bursts out, to heat. Then he ties a thin leather, cut
with its narrow end against the face to the leather
groove of the matrice, by whipping a brown thread
twice about the leather groove, and fastening the
thread with a knot. Then he puts both halves ct the
mould together, and puts the matrice into the matrice-
cheek, and places the foot of the matrice on the stool
of the mould, and the broad end of the leather upon
the wmod of the upper half of the mould, but not tight
up, lest it might hinder the foot of the matrice trom
sinking close down upon the stool in a train of work.
Then laying a little rosin on the upper wood of the
mould, and having his casting ladle hot, he with the
boiling side of it melts the rosin : and, when it is yet
melted, presses the broad end of the leather hard down
on the wood, and so fastens it to the wood ; all this is
the preparation.
Now he comes to casting. Wherefore, placing the
under half of the mould in his left hand, with the hook
or hag forward, he clutches the ends of its wood be¬
tween the lower part of the ball of his thumb and his
three hind fingers j then he lays the upper half of the
mould upon the under half, so that the male gages may
fall into the female gages, and at the same time the
foot of the matrice places itself upon the stool; and,
clasping his left hand thumb strong over the upper half
of the mould, he nimbly catches hold of the bow or
spring with his right hand fingers at the top of it, and
his thumb under it, and places the point ot it against
the middle of the notch in the backside of the matrice,
pressing it as well forwards towards the mould, as down¬
wards by the shoulder of the notch close upon the stool,
while at the same time with his hinder fingers, as afore¬
said, he draws the under halt of the mould towards the
ball of his thumb, and thrusts by the ball of his thumb
the upper part towards his fingers, that both the regi¬
sters of the mould may press against both sides of the
matrice, and his thumb and fingers press both halves of
the mould close together. _ ...
Then he takes the handle of his ladle in his right
hand, and with the boll of it gives a stroke, two or
three, outwards upon the surface of the melted metal,
to scum or clear it from the film or dust that may swim
upon it 5 then takes up the ladle full of metal, and ha¬
ving his mould, as aforesaid, in his left hand, he a little
twists the left side of his body from the furnace, and
brings the geat of his ladle (full of metal) to the mouth
of the mould, and twists the upper part of his right
hand towards him to turn the metal into it,, while at
the same moment of time he jilts the mould in his left
hand forwards, to receive the metal with a strong shake
(as it is called), not only into the body of the mould,
but while the metal is yet hot running, swift and
strongly, into the very face of the matrice, to receive
its perfect form there, as well as in the shank.
Then he takes the upper half of the mould off the
under half, by placing his right hand thumb on the
end of the wood next his left hand thumb, and his
; 3 F o u
two middle fingers at the other end of the wood j and Fournlery.
finding the letter and break lie in the under halt of '——"v'—
the mould (as most commonly by reason of its weight
it does), he throws or tosses the letter, break and all,
upon a sheet of waste paper laid for that purpose on
the bench, just a little beyond his left hand, and is
then ready to cast another letter as before ; and also,
the whole number that is to be cast with that matrice.
A workman will ordinarily cast about 3000 of these
letters in a day.
When the casters at the furnace have got a sufficient
number of types upon the tables, a set of boys come
and nimbly break away the jets from them : the jets
are thrown into the pots, and the types are carried
away in parcels to other boys, who pass them swiftly
under their fingers, defended by leather, upon smooth
flat stones, in order to polish their broadsides. This
is a vex-y dexterous operation, and is a remarkable in¬
stance of what may be effected by the power of habit
and long practice 5 for these boys, in turning up the
other side of the type, do it so quickly by a mere touch
of the fingers of the left hand, as not to require the
least perceptible intermission in the motion of the right
hand upon the stones. The types, thus finely smooth¬
ed and flattened on the broad sides, are next carried
to another set of hoys, who sit at a square table, two
on each side, and there are ranged upon long rulers
or sticks, fitted with a small projection, to hinder them
from sliding off backwards. When these sticks are so
filled, they are placed two and two, upon a set of
wooden pins fixed into the wall, near the dresser, some¬
times to the amount of an hundred, in order to under¬
go the finishing operations. This workman, who is
always the most expert and skilful in all the different
branches carried on at the foundery, begins by taking
one of these sticks, and, with a peculiar address, slides
the whole column of types off upon the dressing-stick :
this is made of well-seasoned mahogany, and furnished
with two end-pieces of steel, a little lower than the
body of the types, one of which is moveable, so as to
approach the other by means of a long screw-pin, in¬
serted in the end of the stick. The types are put in¬
to the stick with their faces next to the back or pro¬
jection $ and after they are adjusted to one another so
as to stand even, they are then bound up, by screwing
home the moveable end-piece. It is here where the
great and requisite accuracy of the moulds comes to
be perceived; for in this case the whole column, so
bound up, lies flat and true upon the stick, the two
extreme types being quite parallel, and the whole has
the appearance of one solid continuous plate of metal.
The least inaccuracy in the exact parallelism of the in¬
dividual type, when multiplied so many times, would
render it impossible to bind them up in this manner,
by disposing them to rise or spring from the stick by
the smallest pressure from the screw. Now, when lying
so conveniently with the narrow edges uppermost, which
cannot possibly be smoothed in the manner before men¬
tioned by the stones, the workmen does this more ef¬
fectually by scraping the surface of the column with a
thick-edged but sharp razor, which at every stroke
brings on a very fine smooth skin, like to polished silver :
and thus he proceeds till in about half a minute he
comes to the farther end of the stick. The other edges
F O U [ 47 ] F O U
Fouudery, ot the types are next turned upwards, and polished in
Fount, the same manner. It is whilst the types thus lie in the
v dressing-stick that the operation of bearding or barb¬
ing is performed, which is effected by running a plane,
faced with steel, along the shoulder of the body next
to the face, which takes more or less off the corner,
as occasion may require. Whilst in the dressing stick,
they are also grooved, which is a very material opera¬
tion. In order to understand this, it must be remem¬
bered, that when the types are first broken off from
the jets, some superfluous metal always remains, which
would make them bear very unequally against the pa¬
per whilst under the printing press, and effectually mar
the impression. That all these inequalities may, there-
lore, be taken away, and that the bearings of every
type may be regulated by the shoulders imparted to
them all alike from the mould, the workman or dres¬
ser proceeds in the following manner : The types be¬
ing screwed up in the stick, as before mentioned, with
the jet end outermost, and projecting beyond the wood
about one-eighth of an inch, the stick is put into an
open press, so as to present the jet end uppermost, and
then every thing is made fast by driving a long wedge,
which bears upon a slip of wood, which lies close to
the types the whole length : then a plough or plane
is applied, which is so constructed as to embrace the
projecting part of the types betwixt its long sides,
which are made of polished iron. When the plane is
thus applied, the steel cutter bearing upon that part
between the shoulders of the types, where the inequa¬
lities lie, the dresser dexterously glides it along, and by
this means strips off every irregular part that comes in
the way, and so makes an uniform groove the whole
length, and leaves the two shoulders standing j by
which means every type becomes precisely like to ano¬
ther, as to. the height against paper. The types be¬
ing now finished, the stick is taken out of the press,
and the whole column replaced upon the other stick j
and after the whole are so dressed, he proceeds to pick
out the bad letters, previous to putting them up into
pages and papers. In doing this he takes the stick
into his left hand, and turning the faces near to the
light, he examines them carefully, and whenever an
imperfect or damaged letter occurs, he nimbly plucks
it out with a sharp bodkin, which he holds in the right
hand for that purpose. Those letters which, from their
form, project over the body of the type, and which can¬
not on this account be rubbed on the stones, are scraped
on the broadsides with a knife or file, and some of the
metal next the face pared away with a pen-knife, in
order to allow the type to come close to any other. This
operation is called kerning.
The excellence of printing types consists not only
in the due performance of all the operations above de¬
scribed, but also in the hardness of the metal, form,
and fine proportion of the character, and in the exact
bearing and ranging of the letters in relation to one
another.
FOUNT, or Font, among printers, &c. a set or
quantity of characters or letters of each kind, cast
by a letter-founder, and sorted We say, a founder
has cast a fount of pica, of english, of pearl, &c.
meaning that he has cast a set of characters of these
kinds.
A complete fount not only includes the running
letters, but also large and small capitals, single letters, Fount
double letters, points, commas, lines, and numeral cha- Fountain,
racters. it
Founts are large or small, according to the demand
of the printer, who orders them by the hundred weight,
or by sheets. When the printer orders a fount of 500,
he means that the fount should weigh joolb. When
he demands a fount of 10 sheets, it is understood, that
with that fount he shall be able to compose 10 sheets,
or 20 forms, without being obliged to distribute. The
founder takes his measures accordingly; he reckons
120 pounds for a sheet, including the quadrates, &c.
or 60 pounds for a form, which is half a sheet: not
that the sheet always weighs 120 pounds, or the form
60 pounds; on the contrary, it varies according to the
size of the form ; besides, it is always supposed that
there are letters left in the cases.
The letter-founders have a kind of list, or tariff,
whereby they regulate their founts : the occasion there¬
of is, that some letters being in much more use, and
oftener repeated than others, their cells or cases should
be better filled and stored than those of the letters
which do not return so frequently. Thus the 0 and
for instance, are always in greater quantity than the k
or at.
1 his difference will be best perceived from a propor¬
tional comparison of those letters with themselves, or
some others. Suppose a fount, of 100,000 characters,
which is a common fount; here the a should have
5000, the c 3000, the e 11,000, the i 6000, the m
3000, the k only 30, and the xy y and 2;, not many
more. But this is only to be understood of the let¬
ters of the lower case ; those of the upper having other
proportions, which it would be, here, too long to insist
on.
FOUNTAIN, a spring or source of water rising
out of the earth. Among the ancients, fountains were
generally esteemed as sacred ; but some were held to be
so.in a more particular manner. The good effects re¬
ceived from cold baths gave springs and rivers this
high reputation ; for their salutary influence was sup¬
posed to proceed from some presiding deity. Particu¬
lar reasons might occasion some to be held in greater ve¬
neration than others. It was customary to throw little
pieces of money into those springs, lakes, or rivers,
which were esteemed sacred, to render the presiding
divinities propitious ; as the touch of a naked body was
supposed to pollute their hallowed waters. For the phe¬
nomena, theory, and origin of fountains or springs, see
Spring.
Artificial Fountain, called also jet (Peau, is a con¬
trivance by which water is violently spouted upwards.
See Hydrodynamics.
Boiling Fountain. See Iceland.
FouNTAiN-Tree, a veryextraordinary vegetable grow¬
ing in one of the Canary islands, and likewise said to
exist in some other places, which distils water from its
leaves in such plenty as to answer all the purposes of
the inhabitants who live near it. Of this tree we have
the following account in Glasse’s history of the Cana¬
ry islands.—“ There are only three fountains of water
in the whole island of Hierro, wherein the fountain-
tree grows. One of these fountains is called Acof,
which, in the language of the ancient inhabitants, sig¬
nifies river; a name, however, which does not seem
t©
Fountain.
F O U [ 48 ] F O U
have been Given it on account of Its yielding much against the fore-mentioned steep cliff; so that the cloud Founla;ni
water, for in that respect it hardly deserves the name
of a fountain. More to the northward is another call¬
ed Hapio ; and in the middle of the island is a spring,
vielding a stream about the thickness of a man’s finger.
This last was discovered in the year I565» an<^ i* call-
ed the fountain of Anton. Hernadcx. On account of
the scarcity of water, the sheep, goats, and swine,
here do not drink in the summer, but are taught to dig
up the roots of fern, and chew them to quench their
thirst. The great cattle are watered at those fountains,
and at a place where water distils from the leaves of a
tree. Many writers have made mention of this fa¬
mous tree, some in such a manner as to make it ap¬
pear miraculous : others again deny the existence of
any such tree : among whom is Father leyjoo, a mo¬
dern Spanish author, in his Theatre Critico. But he,
and those who agree with him in this matter, are as
much mistaken as those who would make it appear to
be miraculous. This is the only island of all the Ca¬
naries which I have not been in 5 but X have sailed with
natives of Hierro, who, when questioned about the ex¬
istence of this tree, answered in the affirmative.
“The author of the History of the discovery and con¬
quest has given us a particular account of it, which I
shall here relate at large. . hit-.
“The district in which this tree stands is called h-
qulahe ; near to which, and in the clift or steep rocky
ascent that surrounds the whole island, is a narrow' gut¬
ter or gully, which commences at the sea, and conti¬
nues to the summit cf the clift, where it joins or co¬
incides with a valley, which is terminated by the steep
front of a rock. On the top of this rock grows a tree,
called in the language of the ancient inhabitants Garse,
“ Sacred or Holy Tree,” which for many years has
been preserved sound, entire, and fresh. Its leaves con¬
stantly distil such a quantity of water as is sufficient to
furnish drink to every living creature in Hierro j na¬
ture having provided this remedy for the drought of
the island. It is situated about a league and a half from
the sea. It is not certainly known of what species it is,
only that it is called Til. It is distinct from other trees,
and stands by itself', the circumference of the trunk
is about 12 spans, the diameter four, and in height
from the ground to the top of the highest branch, 40
spans: the circumference of all the branches together
is 120 feet. The branches are thick and extended ;
the lowest commence about the height of an ell from
the ground. Its fruit resembles the acorn, and tastes
something like the kernel of a pine apple, but is softer
and more aromatic. rl he leaves of this tree resemble
those of the laurel, but are larger, wider, and more
curved ', they come forth, in a perpetual succession, so
that the tree always remains green. Near to it grows
a thorn which it fastens on many of its branches, and in¬
terweaves with them j and at a small distance Irom the
garse are some beech trees, bresos, and thorns. On the
north side of the trunk are two large tanks or cisterns,
of rough stone, or rather one cistern divided, each half
being 20 feet square, and i6 spans in depth. One of
these contains water for the drinking of the inhabi¬
tants : and the other that which they use for their
cattle, washing, and such like purposes. Every morn¬
ing, near this part of the island, a cloud or mist arises
from the sea, which the south and easterly winds force
having no vent but by the gutter, gradually ascends it,
and from thence advances slowly to the extremity of
the valley, where it is stopped and checked by the
front of the rock which terminates the valley, and then
rests upon the thick leaves and wide-spreading branches
of the tree, from whence it distils in drops during the
remainder of the day, until it is at length exhausted,
in the same manner that we see water drip from the
leaves of trees after a heavy shower of rain. This
distillation is not peculiar to the garse or til j for the
bresos, which grow near it, likewise drop water; but
their leaves being but few and narrow, the quantity is
so trifling, that though the natives save some of it,
yet they make little or no account of any but what di¬
stils from the til, which, together with the water of
some fountains, and what is saved in the winter season,
is sufficient to serve them and their flocks. Ibis tree
yields most water in those years when the Levant or
easterly winds have prevailed for a continuance ; for,
by these winds only the clouds or mists are drawn hi¬
ther from the sea. A person lives on the spot near
which this tree grows, who is appointed by the council
to take care of it and its water ; and is allowed a house
to live in, with a certain salary. He every day distri¬
butes to each family of the district seven pots or vessels
full of water, besides what he gives to the principal
people of the island.”
“ Whether the tree which yields water at this pre¬
sent time be the same as that mentioned in the above
description, I cannot pretend to determine: but it is
probable there has been a succession of them ; for Pli¬
ny, describing the Fortunate islands, says, “ In the
mountains of Ombrion are trees resembling the plant
ferula, from which water may be procured by pressure.
What comes from the black kind is bitter, but that
which the white yields is sweet and potable.”
Trees yielding water are not peculiar to the island
of Hierro ; for travellers inform us of one of the same
kind in the island of St Thomas, in the bight or gulf
of Guinea. In Cockburn’s voyages we find the follow¬
ing account of a dropping tree, near the mountains ot
Vera Paz, in America.
“ On the morning of the fourth day, we came out
on a large plain, where were great numbers of fine
deer, and in the middle stood a tree of unusual size,
spreading its branches over a vast compass of ground.
Curiosity led us up to it. We had perceived, at some
distance off, the ground about it to be wet; at which
we began to be somewhat surprised, as well knowing
there had no rain fallen for near six months past, ac¬
cording to the certain course of the season in that lati¬
tude : that it was impossible to be occasioned by the
fall of dew on the tree, we were convinced, by the
sun’s having power to exhale away all moisture of that
nature a few minutes after its rising. At last, to our
great amazement as well as joy, we saw water drop¬
ping, or as it were distilling, fast from the end of every
leaf of this wonderful (nor had it been amiss if I had
said miraculous') tree ; at least it was so with respect to
us, who had been labouring four days through extreme
heat, without receiving the least moisture, and were now
almost expiring for want of it.
“ We could not help looking on this as liquor sent
from heaven to comfort us under great extremity. We
catched
EToantaiu
II
Fourties*.
F O U [49
catched what we could of it in our hands, and drank the
very plentifully of it; and liked it so well, that we could
hardly prevail with ourselves to give over. A matter of
this nature could not but incite us to make the strictest
observations concerning it j and accordingly we staid
under the tree near three hours, and found we could not
fathom its body in five times. We observed the soil
where it grew to be very strong j and upon the nicest
inquiry we could afterwards make, both of the natives
of the country and the Spanish inhabitants, we could
not learn there was any such tree known throughout
New Spain, nor perhaps all America over: but I do
not relate this as a prodigy in nature, because I am
not a philosopher enough to describe any natural cause
for it j the learned may perhaps give substantial reasons
in nature for what appeared to us a great and marvellous
secret.”
FOUQUIERES, James, an eminent painter, was
born at Antwerp in 1580, and received his chief in¬
structions from Velvet Breughel. He applied himself
to the study of landscapes, and went to Italy to improve
himself in colouring. He succeeded so happily, that
his works are said to be nearly equal to those of Titian.
—He was engaged and much caressed at the court of
the elector Palatine, and in France. By some miscon¬
duct, however, he sunk into poverty, and died in 1659,
in the house of an inconsiderable painter. He had re¬
sided for several years at Rome and Venice, where he
acquired that excellent style of colouring and design for
which his works have been distinguished.
FOURCHEE, or Fourchy, in Heraldry, an ap¬
pellation given to a cross forked at the end. See
Heraldry.
FOURCROY, Antony Francis de, a late cele¬
brated French chemist. See Supplement.
FOURMONT, Stephen, professor of the Arabic
and Chinese languages, and one of the most learned
men of his time, was born at Herbelai, a village four
leagues from Paris, in 1683. He studied in Mazarine
college, and afterwards in the Seminary of Thirty-three.
He was at length professor of Arabic in the Royal
College, and was made a member of the Academy of
Inscriptions, In 1738, he was chosen a member of
the Royal Society of London, and of that of Berlin iu
1741. He was often consulted by the duke of Orleans,
first prince of the blood j who had a particular esteem
tor him, and made him one of his secretaries. He
wrote a great number of books ; the most considerable
of those which have been printed are, 1. The Roots of
the Latin Tongue, in verse. 2. Critical Reflections
on the Histories of ancient Nations, 2 vols. 410. 3.
Meditationes Sinicce, folio. 4. A Chinese Grammar,
m Latin, folio. 5. Several dissertations printed in the
Memoirs of the Academy of Inscriptions, &c. He
died at Paris in 1744.
He ought not to be confounded with Michael Four-
mont, his youngest brother ; who took orders, was pro¬
fessor of the Syriac language in the Royal College, and
a member of the Academy of Inscriptions. He died
in 1746.
FOURNESS, in Loynsdale, Lancashire, is a tract,
between the Kent, Leven, and Dudden sands, which
runs north parallel with the west sides of Cumberland
ana VVestmoreland ; and on the south runs out into
Vol. IX. Part I. 4.
] F O U
sea as a promontory. Here, as Mr Camden ex¬
presses it, “ the sea, as if enraged at it, lashes it more
furiously, and in high tides has even devoured the shore,
and made three large bays ; viz. Kentsand, into which
the river Ken empties itself; Levensand and Dudden-
aand, between which the land projects in such a man¬
ner that it has its name hence j Foreness and Foreland,
signifying the same with us as promontorium anterius
in Latin.” Bishop Gibson, however, derives the name
of Fourness or Furness, from the numerous furnaces
that were there anciently, the rents and services of
which (called Bloomsmithy rents') are still paid. This
whole tract, except on the coast, rises in high hills and
vast piles of rocks called Fourness-Fells; among which
the Britons found a secure retreat, trusting to these
natural fortresses, though nothing was inaccessible to
the victorious Saxons 5 for we find the Britons set¬
tled here 228 years after the arrival of the Saxons ;
because at that time Egfrid king of Northumberland
gave St Cuthbert the land called Carthmell, and all the
Britons in it, as is related in his life. In these moun¬
tainous parts are found quarries of a fine durable blue
slate to cover buildings with, which are made use of
in many other parts of the kingdom. Here are several
cotton mills lately erected j and if fuel for fire were
more plentiful, the trade of this country would much
increase : but there being no coals nearer than Wigan
or Whitehaven, and the coast duties high, firing is ra¬
ther scarce, the country people using only turf or peat,
Fournets.
and that begins to be more scarce than formerly. In
the mosses of Fourness much fir is found, but more
oak : the trunks in general lie with their heads to the
east, the high winds having been from the west. High
Furness has ever had great quantities of sheep, which
browse upon the hollies left in great numbers for them }
and produces charcoal for melting iron ore, and oak
bark for tanners use, in great abundance. The forests
abound with deer and wild boars, and the legh or
scofe, or large stags, whose horns are frequently found
under ground here. The low or plain part of Fourness,
which is so called to distinguish it from the woody or
mountainous part, produces all sorts of grain, but prin¬
cipally oats, whereof the bread eaten in this country
is generally made; and there are found here veins of
a very rich iron ore, which is not only melted and
wrought here, but great quantities are exported to
other parts to mix with poorer ores. The three sands
above mentioned are very dangerous to travellers, by
the tides and the many quicksands. There is a guide
on horseback appointed to Kent or Lancaster sands at
10I. per ann. to Leven at 61. per ann. out of the pub¬
lic revenue ; but to Dudden, which are most danger¬
ous, none } and it is no uncommon thing for persons
to pass over in parties of 100 at a time like caravans,
under the direction of the carriers, who go to or fro
every day. The sands are less dangerous than former¬
ly, being more used and better known, and travellers
never going without the carriers or guides. “ Furnis
abbey up in the mountains,” was begun at Tulket in
Amounderness 1124, Stephen earl of Boulogne,
afterwards king of England, for the monks of Savigni
in France, and three years after removed to this val¬
ley, then called Bekangesgill, or, “ the vale of night¬
shade.” It was of the Cistertian order, endowed with
G above
F O W [50
above 8ool. per ann. Out of the monks of this abbey,
Mi Camden informs us, the bishops of the Isle of Man,
which lies opposite to it, used to be chosen by ancient
custom *, it being as it were the mother of many mo¬
nasteries in Man and Ireland. Some ruins, and part or
the fosse which surrounded the monastery, are still to
he seen at Tulket. The remains at Fourness breathe
that plain simplicity of the Cistertian abbeys j the chap¬
ter-house was the only piece of elegant Gothic about it,
and its roof has lately fallen in. Part of the painted
glass from the east window, representing the crucifixion,
&c. is preserved at Windermere church in Bowlness,
Westmoreland. The church (except the north side of
the nave), the chapter-house, refectory, &c. remain,
only unroofed.
FOURTH REDUNDANT, in Music. See INTERVAL.
FOWEY, or Foy, a town of Cornwall in England,
2iO miles from London, with a commodious haven on
the Channel. It contained 1319 inhabitants in 18II,
and extends above one mile on the east side of a riyer
of its own name $ and has a great share in the fishing
trade. It rose so much formerly by naval wars and
piracies, that in the reign of Edward III. its ships re-
fqslng to strike when required as they sailed by Rye and
Winchelsea, were attacked by the ships of thosp ports,
but defeated them *, whereupon they bore their arms
mixed with the arms of those two cinque-ports, which
gave rise to the name of the “ Gallants of Fowey.
And we learn from Camden, that this town quartered
a part of the arms of every one of the cinque-ports
with their own ; intimating, that they had at times
triumphed over them all : and indeed once they were
so powerful, that they took several of the French men
of war. In the reign of Edward III. they rescued
certain ships of Rye from distress, for whicli this town
was made a member of the cinque-ports. Edward IV.
favoured Fowey so much, that when the Irench
threatened to come up the river to burn it, he caused
two towers, the ruins of which are yet visible, to be
built at the public charge for its security : but he was
afterwards so disgusted with the inhabitants for attack-
ipcr the French after a truce proclaimed with Louis XI,
that he took away all their ships and naval stores, to¬
gether with a chain drawn across the river between the
two forts above mentioned, which was carried to Dart¬
mouth It is said they were so insolent, that they cut
off the ears of the king’s pursuivants > for which some
on me eais in ~ r  - ,
lives were forfeited as well as estates. The corporation
consists of a mayor, recorder, 8 aldermen, a town clerk,
and 2 assistants. The market is on Saturday, the fairs
Mav-day and Sept. 10. Here are a fine old church,
a free school, and an hospital. The toll of the market
and fairs, and keyage of the harbour were vested in
the corporation on the payment of a fee-farm rent of
about 40s. It does not appear to have sent members to
parliament before the 13th of Queen Elizabeth. Here
is a coinage for the tin ; of which a great quantity is
dug in the country to the north and west of it. Ihe
river Foy, or Foath, is very broad and deep here, and
was formerly navigable as high as Lestwithiel. W.
Long c. N, Lat. 50.27.
FOWL, among zoologists, denotes the larger sorts
of birds, whether domestic or wild : such as geese,
pheasants, partridges, turkeys, ducks, &c.
] FOX
Tame fowl make a necessary part of the stock of a fowl
country farm. See Poultry. .
Fowls are again distinguished into two kinds, viz.
land and wafer fowl, these last being so called from
their living much in and about water : also into those
which are accounted game, and those which are not.
See Game.
FOWLING, the art of catching birds by means of
bird-lime, decoys, and other devices, or the killing of
them bv the gun. See Bird-Catching, Bird-Lime,
Decoy', Shooting, and the names of the different
birds in the order of the alphabet. #
Fowling, is also used for the pursuing and taking
birds with hawks, more properly called FALCONRY or
HAWKING. See these articles. .
Fowling Piece, a light gun for shooting birds.
That piece is always reckoned best which has the long¬
est barrel, from Si to 6 feet» with a m0(leratR b?re ’
though every fowler should have them of different sizes,
suitable to the game he designs to kill. The barrel
should be well polished and smooth within, and the
bore of an equal bigness from one end to the other}
which may be proved, by putting in a piece of paste¬
board, cut of the exact roundness of the top : for it
this frees down without stops or slipping, you may con¬
clude the bore good. The bridge pan must be some¬
what above the touch-hole, and ought to have a notch
to let down a little powder: this will prevent the piece
from recoiling, which it would otherwise be apt to do.
As to the locks, choose such as are well filled with true
work, whose springs must be neither too strong nor too
weak. The hammer ought to be well^ hardened, and
pliable to go down to the pan with a quick motion.
POX, in 'Loology. See Canis, Mammalia Index,
The fox is a great nuisance to the husbandman, by
taking away and destroying his lambs, geese, poultry,
&c. The common way to catch him is by gins $
which being baited, and a train made by drawing raw
flesh across in his usual paths or haunts to the gin, !t
proves an inducement to bring him to the place of de¬
struction. , . . . .
The fox is also a beast of chase, and is taken will)
greyhounds, terriers, &c. See Hunting.
Fox, John, the martyrologist, was born at Boston in
Lincolnshire, in the year 1517. At the age of 16 he
was entered a student of Brazen-Nose college in Oxford j
and in I C43 he proceeded master of arts, and was chosen
fellow of ^Magdalen college. He discovered an early
genius for poetry, and wrote several Latin comedies,
the subjects taken from Scripture, which his son assures
us were written in an elegant style. Forsaking the
muses, he now applied himself with uncommon assi¬
duity to the study of divinity, particularly church-hi¬
story *, and, discovering a premature propensity to the
doctrine of reformation, he was expelled the college as
an heretic. His distress on this occasion was very great j
but it was not long before he found an asylum in the
house of Sir Thomas Lucy of Warwickshire, who em-
pl'oyed him as a tutor to his children. Here he mar-
ried the daughter of a citizen of Coventry. Sir Tho¬
mas’s children being now grown up, after residing a
short time with his wife’s father, he came to London j
where finding no immediate means of subsistence, he
was reduced to the utmost degree of want j but was at
length
*1
FOX [
Foe length (as his son relates) miraculously relieved in the
, oi-glove. following manner: As he was one day sitting in St
^ v—— Paul’s church, emaciated vvitli hunger, a stranger ac¬
costed him familiarly, and, bidding him to be of good
cheer, put a sum of money into his hand ; telling him,
at the same time, that in a few days new hopes were
at hand. He was soon after taken into the family of
the duchess of Richmond, as tutor to the earl of Sur¬
rey’s children, who, when their father was sent to the
Tower, were committed to her care. In this family he
lived at Ryegate in Surrey, during the latter part of
the reign of Henry VIII. the entire reign of Ed¬
ward VI. and part of that of Queen Mary : but at
length, persecuted by his implacable enemy Bishop
Gardiner, he was obliged to seek refuge abroad. Ba^il
in Switzerland was the place of his retreat, where he
subsisted by correcting for the press. On the death of
Queen Mary he returned to England ; where he was
graciously received by his former pupil the duke of
Norfolk, who retained him in his family as long as
he lived, and bequeathed him a pension at his death.
Mr Secretary Cecil also obtained for him the rectory
of Shipton near Salisbury; and we are assured that he
might have had considerable church preferment, had
it not been for his unwillingness to subscribe to the
canons. He died in the year 1587, in the 70th year
of his age ; and was buried in the chancel of St Giles’s,
Cripplegate. He was a man of great industry, and
considerable learning; a zealous, but not a violent
reformer; a nonconformist, but not an enemy to the
church of England. He left two sons; one of whom
was bred a divine, the other a physician. He wrote
many pieces; but his principal work is, the Acts and
Monuments of the Church, &c. commonly called
Fox's Book of Martyrs. His facts are not always to
be depended on, and he often loses his temper; which,
considering the subject, is not much to be wondered
at.
Fox, George, the founder of the sect of English
Quakers, was a shoemaker in Nottingham. The
accounts of those times tell us, that as he rvrought at
his trade, he used to meditate much on the Scriptures ;
which, with his solitary course of life, improving his
natural melancholy, he began at length to fancy him¬
self inspired ; and in consequence thereof set up for a
preacher.. He proposed but few articles of faith, in¬
sisting chiefly on moral virtue, mutual charity, the love
of God, and a deep attention to the inward motions and
secret operations of the Spirit; he required a plain
simple worship, and a religion without ceremonies,
making it a principal point to wait in profound silence
the directions of the Holy Spirit. Fox met with much
rough treatment for his zeal, was often imprisoned, and
several times in danger of being knocked on the head,
But all discouragements notwithstanding, his sect pre¬
vailed much, and many considerable men were drawn
oveT' to them ; among whom were Barclay and Penn.
He died in 1681. His followers were called Quakers.
See Quakers.
, Fox, Right Honourable Charles James, a late dis¬
tinguished British statesman and orator. See Supple¬
ment .
Fox-Glove. See Digitalis, Botany and Mate¬
ria Medic a Index.
f ] FOX
Fox Islands, the name of a group of islands, 16 in FoE-iMandi.
number, situated between the eastern coast of Kamt-  v 
schatka and the western coast of the continent of
America. Each island has a particular name ; but the
general name Fox Islands is given to the whole group,
on account of the great number of black, gray, and red
foxes with which they abound. The dress of the in¬
habitants consist of a cap, and a fur coat which reaches
down to the knee. Some of them wear common caps
of a party-coloured bird skin, upon which they leave
part of the wings and tail. On the fore part of their
hunting and fishing caps, they place a small board like
a skreen, adorned with the jaw bones of sea bears, and
ornamented with glass beads, which they receive in
barter from the Russians. At their festivals and dan¬
cing parties they use a much more showy sort of caps.
They feed upon the flesh of all sorts ©f sea animals,
and generally eat it raw. But if at any time they
choose to dress their victuals, they make use of "a
hollow stone ; having placed the fish or flesh therein,
they cover it with another, and close the interstices
with lime or clay. They then lay it horizontally
upon two stones, and light a fire" under it. The
provision intended for keeping is dried without salt
in the open air. I heir weapons consist of bows,
arrows, and darts; and for defence they use wooden
shields. The most perfect equality reigns amomr
these islanders. They have neither chiefs nor supe¬
riors, neither laws nor punishments. They live toge¬
ther in families, and societies of several families united,
which form what they call a race, who, in case of an
attack or^ defence, mutually help and support each
other. The inhabitants of the same island always
pretend to be of the same race; and every person
looks upon his island as a possession, the property of
which is common to all the individuals of the same
society. Feasts are very common among them, and
more particularly when the inhabitants of one island
are visited by those of the others. The men of the
village meet their guests beating drums, and preceded
by the women, who sing and dance. At the conclu¬
sion of the dance, the hosts serve up their best provi¬
sions, and invite their guests to partake of the feast.
They feed their children when very young with the
coarsest flesh, and for the most part raw. If an infant
cries, the mother immediately carries it to the sea-
side, and whether it be summer or winter, holds it
naked in the water, until it is quiet. This custom is
so far from doing the children any harm, that it
hardens them against the cold, and they accordingly
go barefooted through the winter without the least
inconvenience. They seldom heat their dwellings;
but when they are desirous of warming themselves^
they light a bundle of hay, and stand over it; or else’
they set fire to train-oil, which they pour into a hollotv
stone. They have a good share of plain natural sense,
but are rather slow of understanding. They seem
cold and indifferent in most of their actions; but let
an injury, or even a suspicion only, rouse them from
this phlegmatic state, and they become inflexible and
furious, taking the most violent revenge without any
regard to the consequences. The least affliction
prompts them to suicide; the apprehension of even
an uncertain evil often leads them to despair; and
G 2 they
FRA
[ 5
Box-islands they put an en(l to t^e‘r ^ays grea^ aPParent in*
I) sensibility.
Frr.csion. FKACASTOR, Jerome, an eminent Italian poet
anti physician, was born at Aerona in the year 1482.
Two singularities are related of him in his infancy .
one is, that his lips adhered so closely to each other
when he came into the world, that a surgeon was obliged
to divide them with his incision knife ; the other, that
his mother was killed with lightning, while he, though
in her arms at the very moment, escaped unhurt. Ira-
castor was of parts so exquisite, and made such progress
in every thing he undertook, that he became eminently
skilled not only in the belles lettres, but in all arts and
sciences. He was a poet, a philosopher, a physician,
an astronomer, and a mathematician. He was a man
of vast consequence in his time ; as appears from Pope
Paul III.’s making use of his authority to remove the
council of Trent to Bologna, under the pretext of a
contagious distemper, which, as Fracastor deposed, made
it no longer safe to continue at Trent. He was inti¬
mately acquainted with Cardinal Bembus, Julius Scali-
ger, and all the great men of his time. He died of an
apoplexy at Casi near Verona, in 1553 : and in 1559,
the town of Verona erected a statue in honour or him.
He was the author of many performances, both as
a poet and a physician : yet never man was more
disinterested in both these capacities than he : evi¬
dently so as a physician, for he practised without fees;
and as a poet, whose usual reward is glory, nothing
could be more indifferent. It is owing to this inditler-
ence, that we have so little of his poetry, in compari¬
son of what he wrote ; and that, among other compo¬
sitions, his Odes and Epigrams, which were read in
manuscript with infinite admiration, yet, never passing
the press, were lost. What we have now of his, are
the three books of “ Siphilis, or of the French disease ;
a book of Miscellaneous Poems ; and two books ot his
poem, entitled Joseph, which he began at the latter
end of his life, but did not live to finish. And these
works, it is said, would have perished with the rest, it
bis friends had not taken care to preserve and commu¬
nicate copies of them: For Fracastor, writing merely
for amusement, never troubled himself in the least
about what became of his works after they once got
out of his hands. Fracastor composed also a poem,
called Alcon, sive de cura canum venaticorum. His
poems as well as his other works are all written m
Latin. His medical pieces are, De Sympatfoa et An-
tipathia,—De contagione et contagiosu mar bis,—De
causis eriticorum dierum,—De vini temperature, &c.
His works have been printed separately and collective¬
ly. The best edition of them is that of Padua 1234,
io 4 vols. 4to. .1 n . •
FR ACHES, in the glass trade, are the flat iron
pans into which the glass vessels already formed are
put when in the tower over the working furnace, and
by means of which they are drawn out through the
leers, that they may be taken gradually from the fire,
and cool by degrees. , ,
FRACTION, in Arithmetic and Algebra, a part or
division of an unit or integer; or a number which stands
to an unit in the relation of a part to its whole. Ihe
word literally imports a broken number. <
Fractions are usually divided into decimal, sexa-
2 ] FRA
gesimal, and vulgar. See Algebra and AritHME- Fraction
TIC.
FRACTURE, in Surgery, a rupture of a bone or ^
a solution of continuity in a bone when it is crushed
or broken by some external cause. See Surgery
Xnclex.
FRiENUM, or Frenum, Bridle, in Anatomy,**
name given to divers ligaments, from their office in
retaining and curbing the motions of the parts they are
fitted to.
Frjenum Lingua, or Bridle of the Tongue ; a mem¬
branous ligament, which ties the tongue to the os
hyoides, larynx, fauces, and lower parts of the mouth.
In some subjects the freenum runs the whole length of
the tongue to the very tip; in which cases, if it were
not cut, it would take away all possibility of speech.
See ToNGUE-Tied.
Frjenum Penis, a slender ligament, whereby the
prepuce is tied to the lower parts of the glans of the
penis. Nature varies in the make of this part; it be¬
ing so short in some, that unless divided it would not
admit of perfect erection. There is also a kind of little
freenum, fastened to the lower part of the clitoris.
FRAGA, a strong town with a handsome castle, in
the kingdom of Arragon in Spain. It is strong by
situation among the mountains ; having the river Cinca
before it, whose high banks are difficult of access ; and
at its back a hill, which cannot easily be approached
with large cannon. Alphonso ^ II. king ot Arragon,
and the first of that name of Castile, was killed by the
Moors in 1134, when he besieged this town. E. Long.
O. 23. N. Lat. 41. 28.
FRAGARIA, the Strawberry, a genus of plants
belonging to the icosandria class; and in the natural
method ranking under the 35th order, Senticosa. See
Botany Index ; and for an account of the varieties and
culture, see Gardening Index.
FRAIL, a basket made of rushes or the like, in which
are packed up figs, raisins, &c. It signifies also a cer¬
tain quantity of raisins, about 75 pounds.
FRAISE, in Fortification, a kind of defence con¬
sisting of pointed stakes, six or seven feet long, driven
parallel to the horizon into the retrenchments of a camp,
a half moon, or the like, to prevent any approach or
SGcil&dc*
Fraises differ from pallisades chiefly in this, that the
latter stand perpendicular to the horizon, and the former
jet out parallel to the horizon, or nearly so, being usual¬
ly made a little sloping, or with the points hanging
down. Fraises are chiefly used in retrenchments and
other works thrown up of earth; sometimes they are
found under the parapet of a rampart, serving instead of
the cordon of stone used in stone works.
To Fraise a Battalion, is to line the musqueteers
round with pikes, that in case they should be charged
with a body of horse, the pikes being presented, may
cover the musqueteers from the shock, and serve as a
b 21 me tide#
FRAME, in Joinery, a kind of case, wherein a thing
is set or inclosed, or even supported ; as a window frame,
a picture frame, &c.
Frame is also a machine used in divers arts; as,
Frame, among printers, is the stand which supports
the cases. See Case.
Frame.
Frame.
FRA
Frame. Frame, among founders, a kind of ledge enclosing
—v——' a board ; which, being filled with wetted sand, serves
as a mould to cast their works in. See Foundery.
Frame is more particularly used for a sort of loom,
whereon artificers stretch their linens, silks, stuffs, &c.
to be embroidered, quilted, or the like.
Frame, among painters, a kind of square, consisting
of four long slips of wood joined together, whose in¬
termediate space is divided by threads into several little
squares like a net $ and hence sometimes called rcticu-
F R A
It serves to reduce figures from great to small j fczmt
or, to augment their size from small to great. |)
FRAMLINGHAM, a town in Sussex, 88 miles Franc,
from London. It is a large old place, with a castle, V—
supposed to have been built by some of the first kings
of the East Amgles ; the walls yet standing, are 44
feet high, 8 thick, with 13 towers 14 feet above them,
two of which are watch-towers. Population 106 c in
1811.
FRANC. See Frank.
r 53 ]
la.
FRANCE.
France. TJ^RANCE, a large kingdom of Europe, situated be-
tween 50 W. and 8° E. Long, and between 420 and
510 N. Lat. being bounded by the English channel
and the Netherlands on the north ; by Germany, Swit¬
zerland, Savoy, and Piedmont, on the east; by the Me¬
diterranean sea, and the Pyrenean mountains, which
separate it from Spain, on the south ; and by the bay
! of Biscay on the west.
hit sob- The kingdom of France was originally possessed by
ied by Qeltes or Gauls. They were a very warlike peo-
ilius Cue- pje^ anfj 0|j.en checked the progress of the Roman
arms : nor did they yield till the time of Julius Ctesar,
who totally subdued their country, and reduced it to
:eeGW. t|ie form 0f a Roman province*. The Romans con¬
tinued in quiet possession of Gaul, as long as their em¬
pire retained its strength, and they were in a condition
to repress the incursions of the German nations, whom
even in the zenith of their power they had not been
able to subdue. But in the reign of the emperor Va¬
lerian, the ancient Roman valour and discipline had
begun to decline, and the same care was not taken to
defend the provinces as formerly. The barbarous na-
* tions, therefore, began to make much more frequent
STpran^ *ncurs‘ons ’ ant* among the rest the Franks, a Ger-
ran ‘‘man nation, inhabiting the banks of the Rhine, proved
particularly troublesome. Their origin is variously ac¬
counted for ", but the most probable supposition is, that
about the time of the emperor Gordian, the peo¬
ple inhabiting the banks of the Lower Rhine, entered
into a confederacy with those who dwelt on the Weser,
and both together assumed the name of Franks or
Freemen. Their first irruption, we are told by Vale-
sius, happened in the year 254, the second of Valerian’s
reign. At this time they were but few in number j
and were repulsed by Aurelian, afterwards emperor.
Not discouraged by this check, they returned two
years after in far greater numbers ; but were again
defeated by Gallienus, whom Valerian had chosen
for his partner in the empire. Others, however,
continued to pour in from their native country in such
multitudes, that Gallienus, no longer able to drive
them out by force of arms, made advantageous proposals
to one of their chiefs, whom he engaged to defend the
frontiers against his countrymen as well as other in¬
vaders.
This expedient did not long answer the purpose.
In 260 the Franks, taking advantage of the defeat
and captivity of Valerian in Persia, broke into Gaul,
and afterwards into Italy, committing everywhere
dreadful ravages. Five years afterwards they invaded
Spain ; which they possessed, or rather plundered, for France.'
the space of 12 years : nor could they be driven out *1" ‘ v*""**i
of Gaul till the year 275, when the emperor Probus
not only gave them a total overthrow in that country,
but pursued them into their own, where he built seve¬
ral forts to keep them in awe. This intimidated them
so much, that nine of their kings submitted to the em¬
peror, and promised an annual tribute.—They conti¬
nued quiet till the year 287 } when, in conjunction
with the Saxon pirates, they plundered the coasts of
Gaul, carrying off an immense booty. To revenge this
insult, the emperor Maximian entered the country of
the Franks the following year, where he committed
such ravages that two of their kings submitted to him ;
and to many of the common people who chose to re¬
main in Gaul, he allowed lands in the neighbourhood
of Treves and Cambray.
The restless disposition of the Franks, however, did
not allow them to remain long in quiet. About the
year 293, they made themselves masters of Batavia
and part of Flanders $ but were entirely defeated, and
forced to surrender at discretion, by Constantius the
father of Constantine the Great, who transplanted them
into Gaul. Their countrymen in Germany continued
quiet till the year 306, when they renewed their de¬
predations •, but being overtaken by Constantine the
Great, two of their kings were taken prisoners, and
thrown to the wild beasts in the shows exhibited on
that occasion.
All these victories, however, as well as many others
said to have been gained by the Romans, were not suf¬
ficient to prevent the incursions of this restless and tur¬
bulent nation : insomuch that, in the year 355, they
had made themselves masters of 40 cities in the pro¬
vince of Gaul. Soon after, they were totally defeated
by the emperor Julian, and again by Count Theodo¬
sius, father to the emperor of that name ; but in the
year 388, they ravaged the province with more fury
than ever, and cut off a whole Roman army that was
sent against them. As the western empire was at
this time in a very low state, they for some time found
more interruption from other barbarians than from
the Romans, till their progress was checked by Ae-
tius.
When the war with Aetius broke out, the Franks'
were governed by one Pharamond, the first of their PLarameiid
kings of whom we have any distinct account. He is the first
supposed to have reigned from the year 417 or 418, king*
to 428 j and is thought by Archbishop Usher to have
been killed in the war with Aetius. By some he is
supposed
FRA
4
Clodio.
Merovseus,
6
Chtlderic.
French mo
narchy es¬
tablished
by CIoyis.
supposed to have compiled the Salic laws, with the as¬
sistance of four sages named Wisegast, Loscgast, F'?de¬
gas t, and Solegast. Kut Valesius is ot opinion that the
Franks had no written laws till the time of Clovis.
Pharamond was succeeded by his sou Clodio, who
likewise carried on a war against the Romans. lie is
said to have received a terrible overthrow from Aetius
near the city of Lens *, notwithstanding which, he ad¬
vanced to Cambray, and made himself master of that
city, where for some time he took up his residence.
After this he extended his conquests as far as the river
Somme, and destroyed the cities of Treves and Co¬
logne, Tonrnay and Amiens. He died in the year
448, and was succeeded by Merovaeus.
Authors are not agreed whether the new king was
brother, or son, or any relation at all, to Clodio. It
sei ms probable indeed, that he was of a different fa¬
mily; as from him the first race of French kings were
styled Merovingian. He was honoured and respected
by his people, but did not greatly enlarge the bounda¬
ries of his kingdom. He died in 45^*
Merovteus was succeeded by his son Childeric ; who
being no longer kept in awe by Aetius, made war on
the Romans, and extended his conquests as far as the
river Loire. He is said to have taken the city of Pa¬
ris after a siege of five years, according to some, and
of ten, according to others. The Roman power was
now totally destroyed in Italy ; and therefore Clodo-
veeusy Clovis, or Louis, for his name is differently writ¬
ten, who succeeded Childeric, set himself about making
an entire conquest of Gaul. Part of the province was
still retained by a Roman named Syagrius, who proba¬
bly had become sovereign of the country on the down¬
fall of the western empire in 476. He was defeated
and taken prisoner by Clovis, who afterwards caused
him to be beheaded, and soon after totally reduced his
dominions. ^ .
Thus was the French monarchy established byUovis
in the year 487. He now possessed all the country
lying between the Rhine and the Loire ; which, though
a very extensive dominion, was yet considerably infe¬
rior to what it is at present. _
Clovis had been educated in the Pagan religion,
and continued in that profession till the 3°^ year of
his age ; notwithstanding which, he allowed his subjects
full liberty of conscience. Having married, however,
Clotilda, daughter of the duke of Burgundy ; this
princess, who was a zealous Christian, used all her in¬
fluence with her husband to persuade him to embrace
her religion. For some time he continued to waver ;
but happening to gain a battle, where, being in great
danger, he had invoked the god of Clotilda and the
Christians, he afterwards gave such a favourable ear
to the discourses of Remigius bishop of Rheims, that
he soon declared himself a convert, and was baptized
in the year 496. His acknowledgment of the truths
of the gospel was not followed by any amendment of
life; on the contrary, he employed the remainder of
his life in the aggrandizement of himself and extension
of his dominions by the most abominable treachery,
fraud, and violence. In his attacks on Armorica he
proved unsuccessful. The inhabitants of this country,
which comprehended the maritime part <)f ancient Gaul
lying between the rivers Seine and Loire, had united
for their defence; and though abandoned by the Ro=
N C E.
mans, made a powerful defence against the barbarians pvanpe,
who assaulted them on all sides. Clovis, finding them
too powerful to be subdued by force, proposed an union
with his people, which they readily accepted, and this
the more easily on account of bis professing the Chri¬
stian religion. Thus the Christianity of Clovis in seve¬
ral instances proved subservient to the purposes of his
ambition, and his power became gradually very for¬
midable. The Burgundians at this time possessed all
the country from the forest of Vosges to the sea of
Marseilles, under Gondebaud the uncle of Clotilda ;
who, to secure his own authority, had put to death
two of his brothers, one of whom was the father of
the French queen. The third brother, Godagesil, whom
he had spared and allowed to possess the principality of
Geneva, conspired with Clovis to drive him from his
dominions. A war having commenced between the
French and Burgundian monarchs, the latter was de¬
serted in a battle by Godagesil, and obliged to fly to
Avignon, leaving his antagonist master of the. cities of
Lyons and Vienne. The victor next laid siege to
Avignon ; but it was defended with such vigour, that
Clovis at last thought proper to accept of a sum of
money and an annual tribute from Gondebaud ; who
was likewise obliged to cede to Godagesil the city of
Vienne, and several other places taken during the
w'ar.
Gondebaud no sooner found himself at liberty from
his enemies, than he assembled a powerful army ; with
which he advanced towards Vienne, where Godagesil
himself resided at that time. The place was garrison¬
ed by 5000 Franks, and might have made considerable
resistance ; but Gondebaud being admitted through
the subterraneous passage of an aqueduct, massacred
most of the Franks, sent the rest prisoners to the king
of the Visigoths, and put Godagesil to death. This
was quickly followed by the submission of all the other
places which had owned the authority of Godagesil :
and Gondebaud, now thinking himself able to resist
the power of Clovis, sent a message to inform him,
that he must no longer expect the promised tribute ;
and though Clovis was very much mortified with this
defection, he found himself obliged for the present to
put up with the injury, and accept of the alliance and
military service of the king of Burgundy.
His next expedition was against the Visigoths, who
possessed considerable territories on both sides of the
Pyrenean mountains. His motives for this undertak¬
ing were expressed in the following speech to his no¬
bility when assembled in the city of Paris, which he
considered as the capital of his dominions. “ It is
with concern (said the religious monarch) that I suffer
the Arlans to possess the most fertile part of Gaul :
let us, with the aid of God, march against them ; and
having conquered them, annex their kingdom to our
dominions.'” The nobility approved of the scheme;
and Clovis marched against a prince for whom he had
but lately professed the greatest regard, vowing to
erect a church in honour of the holy apostles, if he suc¬
ceeded in his enterprise. Alaric the king of the Vi¬
sigoths was a young man destitute of military expe¬
rience, though personally brave. He did not there¬
fore hesitate at engaging his antagonist; but unable
to contend with the veteran troops of Clovis, his army
was utterly defeated on the banks of the Clain, 10
mi IPS
nioiu
kiitl
: toen,
FRANCE.
France, miles south of Poictiers, in the year 507. Alaric, per-
-~v—"-1 ceivlng the ruin of his troops, rushed against Clovis in
person, by whom he was killed, and the remainder
of the army pursued for some time wdth great slaugh¬
ter. After this victory the province of Aquitaine sub¬
mitted, and Clovis established his winter quarters at
Bourdeaux. Thoulouse surrendered next spring : and
the royal treasures of the Visigoths were transported
to Paris. Angouleme was next reduced, and the city
of Arles invested. But here the victorious career of
Clovis was stopped by Theodoric king of the Ostro¬
goths, who had overturned the dominion of Odoacer
in Italy. He had married Abolfleda the sister of Clo¬
vis, but had also given his own daughter in marriage
to the king of the Visigoths, and had endeavoured, as
much as was in his power, to preserve a good under¬
standing between the two sovereigns. Finding this
impossible, however, and that no bounds could be set
to the ambition of Clovis, he sent one of his generals
with a powerful army against him j by whom the
French monarch was defeated with the loss of 30,000
men. By this misfortune Clovis was obliged to raise
the siege of Arles with precipitation : however, the
Franks still retained the greatest part of their conquests,
and the province of Aquitaine was indissolubly annexed
g to their empire.
honour- In 509, Clovis had the title of Roman consul 5 by
with the which means the people of Rome were insensibly led
incomu/.to pa.y a Peculiar regard to the French monarchs : and
’Clovis was now supposed to be invested with a just
title to all his conquests in whatever manner they had
been acquired. He was solemnly invested with his new
dignity in the church of St Martin in the city of
Tours $ after which he entered the cathedral clothed
in a purple tunic and mantle, the badges of his office.
Clovis now proceeded to augment his power by the
murder of his kinsmen the princes of the Merovingian
race. Among those who perished on this occasion
were Sigebert king of Cologne, with his son Cloderic $
Cararic, another prince whose dominions have not been
accurately pointed out by historians; Ranacaire, who
governed the present diocese of Cambray; and Reno-
mer, king of the territory of Maine. All these mur¬
ders, however, were expiated, according to the views
of the clergy of those times, by the great zeal he ex¬
pressed in the cause of Christianity, and his liberality
to the church.
Clovis died in the year 511, after having reformed
and published the Salic laws : a few lines of which,
debarring women from inheriting any part of the Sa¬
lic lands, have been extended so far as to deprive the
females of the royal family of France of their right of
succession to the throne of that kingdom.
Clovis was buried in the church of St Peter and
9 St Paul, now Genevieve, in the city of Paris, where
Ki domi- his tomb is still to be seen. His dominions were di¬
al u dwi. vided among his four sons. Thieri, or Theodoric, the
hi ehU-11^ e!^es*> eastern part of the empire : and, from
dm. niaking the city of Metz his capital, is commonly
called the king oj Met%. Clodomir, the eldest son by
Clotilda, had the kingdom of Orleans ; Childebert,
and Clotaire, who were both infants, had the king¬
doms of Paris and Soissons, under the tutelage of their
mother. I he prudence of Clotilda kept matters quiet
m all the parts of the empire for eight years; but
about the year 520, a numerous fleet of Danes arrived France
at the mouth of the Meuse ; and their king Cochiliac, w-y—.
having landed his forces, began to destroy the country
with fire and sword. Against him linen sent his son
Theodobert, who defeated the Danish army and navy,
ami killed their king, forcing the rest to retire with
precipitation.
In 522, Hermanfroi king of Thuringia, having de¬
stroyed one of his brethren named Berthaire, and seized
on his dominions, applied to Thieri for assistance,
against his other brother Balderic, whom he intended
to treat in the same manner. In this infamous enter¬
prise Thieri embarked, on condition that he should
have one half of Balderic’s dominions ; but after the
unhappy prince was overcome and killed in battle,
Hermanfroi seized all his dominions. Thieri had no
opportunity of revenging himself till the year 531 ;
when perceiving the power of the Ostrogoths, whom
he much dreaded, to be considerably lessened by the
death of King Theodoric, he engaged his brother Clo¬
taire to assist him : and they accordingly entered Thu¬
ringia with two powerful armies. They joined their
forces as soon as they had passed the Rhine, and were
quickly after reinforced by a considerable body of
troops under the command of Theodobert. The al¬
lies attacked the army of Hermanfroi, which was ad¬
vantageously posted ; and having totally defeated it, he
was forced to fly from place to place in disguise. Soon
after this the capital was taken, and Hermanfroi him¬
self being invited to a conference by Thieri, was trea¬
cherously murdered ; after which his extensive domi¬
nions became feudatory to Thieri.
In the mean time, Clotilda had excited her children
to make war on the Burgundians, in order to revenge
the death of her father Chilperic, whom Gondebaud
king of Burgundy had caused to be murdered. Gon¬
debaud was now dead, and had left his dominions to
his sons Sigismund and Godemar. Sigismund’s forces
were quickly defeated ; and he himself was soon after
delivered up by his own subjects to Clodomir, who
caused him to be thrown into a pit where he perished
miserably. By his death Godemar became sole master
ol Burgundy. Clodomir marched against him, and
defeated him ; but pursuing his victory too eagerly, was
surrounded by his enemies and slain. After the reduc¬
tion of Thuringia, however, Childebert and Clotaire
entered the kingdom of Burgundy at the head of a
powerful army, and in 534 completed the conquest of
it; in which, according to some, Godemar was killed ;
according to others, he retired into Spain, and from
thence into Africa.
In 560 Clotaire became sole monarch of France. He Clotaire be-
had murdered the sons of Clodomir, who was killed in comes sole
Burgundy as above related. Thieri and his childrenH10nsMk:h'
were dead, as was also Childebert; so that Clotaire was
sole heir to all the dominions of Clovis. He had five
sons; and the eldest of them, named Chratnnes, had some
time before rebelled against his father in Auvergne.
As long as Childebert lived, he supported the young
prince ; but on his death, Chramnes was obliged to
implore his father’s clemency. He was at this time
pardoned ; but he soon began to cabal afresh, and en¬
gaged the count of Bretagne to assist him in another
rebellion. The Bretons, however, were defeated, and
Chramnee determined to make his escape ; but perceiv¬
ing
56
FRANCE.
France.
▼ided.
ing that his wife and children were surrounded by his
—v—father’s troops, he attempted to rescue them. In this
attempt he was taken prisoner, and with his family was
thrust into a thatched cottage near the field of battle *,
of which the king was no sooner informed, than he
commanded the cottage to be set on fire, and all that
;, were in it perished in the flames.
The empire ' Clotaire did not long survive this cruel execution of
again di- bis son, but died in 562 j and after his death the French
empire was divided among his four remaining sons,
Caribert, Gontran, Sigebert, and Chilperic.— fhe old
king made no division of his dominions before he died,
which perhaps caused the young princes to fall out
sooner than they would otherwise have done. After
his death, however, they divided the kingdom by lot}
when Caribert, the eldest, had the kingdom of Fans •,
Gontran, the second, had Orleans j Sigebert, had
Metz (or the kingdom of Austrasia) j and Chilperic
had Soissons. Provence and Aquitain were possessed
by all of them in common. The peace of the empire
vvas first disturbed in 563 by an invasion of the Abaresj
a barbarous nation, said to be the remains of the Hunns.
They entered Thuringia, which belonged to the do¬
minions of Sigebert: but by him they were totally
defeated, and obliged to repass the Elbe with preci¬
pitation. Sigebert pursued them close, but readily
concluded a peace with them on their first proposals.
To this he was induced, by hearing that his brother
Chilperic had invaded his dominions, and taken
Rheims and some other places in the neighbourhood.
Against him, therefore, Sigebert marched with his
victorious army, made himself master of Soissons his
capital, and of the person of his eldest son 1 heodobert.
He then defeated Chilperic in battle j and not only
recovered the places which he had seized, but conquered
the greater part of his dominions : nevertheless, on the
mediation of the other two brothers, Sigebert abandon¬
ed all his conquests, set Theodobert at liberty, and thus
restored peace to the empire. ^
Soon after this, Sigebert married Brunehaut daugh¬
ter to Athanagilde king of the Visigoths in Spain-, and
in a little time after the marriage, died Caribert king ot
Paris, whose dominions were divided among his three
* r brethren. In 1:67 Chilperic married Galswintha, Brune-
*onduct of haul’s eldest sister, whom he did not obtain without
Chilperie. some difficulty. Before her arrival, he dismissed his
mistress called Fredegonde, a woman of great abilities
and firmness of mind, but ambitious to the highest de¬
gree, and capable of committing the blackest crimes
fn order to gratify her ambition. The queen, who
brought with her immense treasures from Spain, and
made it her whole study to please the king, was tor
some time entirely acceptable. By degrees,, however,
Chilperic suffered Fredegonde to appear again at court,
and was suspected of having renewed his intercourse
with her-, which gave such umbrage to the queen,
that she desired leave to return to her own country,
promising to leave behind her all the wealth she had
brought.0 The king knowing that this would render
him "extremely odious, found means to dissipate his
wife’s suspicions, and soon after caused her to be pri¬
vately strangled, upon which he publicly married Fre-
degonde.
Such an atrocious action could not fail ot exciting
the greatest indignation against Chilperic, His donu-
France.
12
• ulFre
knit
nions were immediately invaded by Sigebert and Gon¬
tran, who conquered the greatest part of them ; after > —
which they suddenly made peace, Chilperic consenting
that Brunehaut should enjoy those places which on his
marriage he had bestowed upon Galswintha, viz. Bour-
deaux, Eimoges, Cahors, Bigorre, and the town of
Bearn, now called Lescar.
The French princes, however, did not long conti¬
nue at peace among themselves. A war quickly en¬
sued, in which Gontran and Chilperic allied themselves
against Sigebert. rIhe latter prevailed j and haying
forced Gontran to a separate peace, seemed determined
to make Chilperic pay dear for his repeated perfidy and ,3 j >3
infamous conduct 5 when he was assassinated by a con-Sigfebert »s.
trivance of Fredegonde, who thus saved herself, and sassiuated,
Chilperic from the most imminent danger. Immediate¬
ly on his death, Brunehaut fell into the hands of Chil-
peric; hut Gondebaud, one of Sigebert’s best gene¬
rals, made his escape into Austrasia with Childebert,
the only son of Sigebert, an infant of about five years
of age, who was immediately proclaimed king in room
of his father. In a short time, however, Meroveus, eld¬
est son to Chilperic, fell in love with Brunehaut, and
married her without acquainting his father. Chilperic
on this news, immediately went to Rouen, where Me¬
roveus and his consort were j and having seized them,
sent Brunehaut and her two daughters to Metz, and
carried Meroveus to Soissons. Soon after one of his
generals being defeated by Gontran, who espoused
Bruneha«t’s cause, Chilperic, in a fit of rage, caused
Meroveus to be shaved and confined in a monastery.
From hence he found means to make his escape, and
with great difficulty arrived in Austrasia, when Brune¬
haut would gladly have protected him 5 but the jealou¬
sy of the nobles was so strong, that he was forced to
leave that country j and being betrayed into the hands
of his father’s forces, was murdered at the instigation of
Fredegonde, as was generally believed. .
The French empire was at this time divided between
Gontran king of Orleans, called also king of Burgun¬
dy, Chilperic king of Soissons, and Childebert king of
Austrasia. Chilperic found his affairs in a very disagree¬
able situation. In 579, he had a dispute with \ aroc
count of Bretagne, who refused to do him homage.
Chilperic dispatched a body of troops against him.;
who were defeated, and he was then forced to submit
to a dishonourable peace. His brother and nephew
lived in strict union, and had no reason to be very well
pleased with him. His own subjects, being oppressed
with heavy taxes, were miserably poor and discontented.
His son Clovis, by a former queen named
hated Fredegonde, and made no secret of his aversion.
To add to his embarrassment, the seasons were for a
long time so unfavourable, that the country was threat¬
ened with famine and pestilence at the same time. The
king and queen were both attacked by an epidemic
disease which then raged. They recovered ; but their
three sons Clodobert, Samson, and Dagobert, died ;
after which, the sight of Clovis became so disagreeable
to Fredegonde, that she caused him to be murdered,
and likewise his mother Andovera, lest Chilperic s af¬
fection for her should return after the tragical death of
her son. ^
In 583 Chilperic himself was murdered by some un-andhKej
known assassins, when his dominions were on the pomt*^
01 ^
'■m
FRA
'France.
3 ^
itt| ; :ath of
km 11 Mran;
iS
a: Fre-
dorade,
Brl efcftut
Whed.
of being conquered by Gontran and Childebert, wbo
had entered into a league for that purpose. After his
death Fredegonde implored the protection of Gontran
for herself and her infant son Clotaire ; which he very
readily granted, and obliged Childebert to put an end
to the war. He found himself, however, greatly dif-
ficulted to keep Fredegonde and Brunehaut in awe ;
for these two princesses having been long rivals and
implacable enemies, were continually plotting the de¬
struction of each other. This, however, he accom¬
plished, by favouring sometimes Brunehaut and some¬
times Fredegonde; so that, during his life, neither of
them durst undertake any thing against the other.
On the 28th of March 593, died Gontran, having
lived upwards of 60, and reigned 32 years. Childebert
succeeded to the kingdom without opposition, but did
not long enjoy it; he himself dying in the year 596,
and his queen shortly after. His dominions were di¬
vided between his two sons Theodobert and Thierri;
the first of whom was declared king of Austrasia, and
the latter king of Burgundy. As Theodobert was
only in the nth year of his age, and Thierri in his
10th, Brunehaut governed both kingdoms with an ab¬
solute sway. Fredegonde, however, took care not to
let slip such a favourable opportunity as was ofl'ered her
by the death of Childebert, and therefore made her¬
self mistress of Paris and some other places on the Seine.
Upon this Brunehaut sent against her the best part of
the forces in Austrasia, who were totally defeated j but
Fredegonde died before she had time to improve her
victory, leaving her son Clotaire heir to all her domi¬
nions.
For some time Brunehaut preserved her kingdom in
peace} but in the end her own ambition proved her
ruin. Instead of instructing Theodobert in what was
necessary for a prince to know, she took care rather to
keep him in ignorance, and even suffered him to marry
a young and handsome slave of his father’s. The new
queen was possessed of a great deal of affability and
good nature ; by which means she in a short time gain¬
ed the affection of her husband so much, that he readily
consented to the banishment of Brunehaut. Upon this
disgrace she fled to Thierri king of Burgundy, in the
year 599. By him she was very kindly received $ and
instead of exciting jealousies or misunderstandings be¬
tween the two brothers, she engaged Thierri to at¬
tempt the recovery of Paris and the other places which
had been wrested from their family by Fredegonde,
procuring at the same time a considerable body of auxi¬
liaries from the Visigoths. This measure was so ac¬
ceptable to Theodobert, that he likewise raised a nu¬
merous army, and invaded Clotaire’s dominions in con¬
junction with his brother. A battle ensued, in which
the forces of Clotaire were totally defeated, and himself
obliged soon after to sue for peace : which was not
granted, but on condition of his yielding up the best
part of his dominions.
This treaty was concluded in the year 600 ; but
three years afterwards, it was broken by Clotaire. He
was again attacked by the two brothers, and the war
earned on with great vigour till the next spring. At
this time Thierri having forced Landri, Clotaire’s ge-
neral, to a battle, gave him a total overthrow, in which
t .e king’s infant son Meroveus, whom he had sent a-
iong Uandn, was massacred j to gratify, as Clo-
r ol. 1a. Part I. -f-
N C E.
taire pretended, the malice of Brunehaut. After this
victory, Thierri marched directly to Paris ; fully bent
on the destruction of his cousin, which now seemed ine¬
vitable. This, however, was prevented by Theodo¬
bert $ who no sooner heard of the victory gained by
Thierri, than he became jealous of his success, and of¬
fered Clotaire such terms of peace as he gladly accept¬
ed. The latter having then nothing to fear on the side
of Austrasia, quickly compelled Thierri to listen to
terms of accommodation also.
This behaviour of Iheodebert greatly provoked his
brother; and his resentment was highly inflamed by
Brunehaut, who never forgot her disgrace in being ba¬
nished from his court. A war was therefore commen¬
ced between the two brothers in 605 ; but it was so
highly disapproved of by the nobility, that Thierri
found himself obliged to put an end to it. The tran¬
quillity which now took place was again disturbed in
607, by Theodobert’s sending an embassy to demand
some part of Childebert’s dominions, which had been
added by the will of that monarch to those of Bur¬
gundy. The nobility of both kingdoms were so much
averse to w'ar, that they constrained their kings to con¬
sent to a conference, attended by an equal number of
troops ; but Theodobert, by a scandalous breach of his
faith, brought double the number, and compelled his
brother to submit to what terms he pleased. This piece
of treachery instantly brought on a W’ar; for Thierri
was bent on revenge, and his nobility no longer oppo¬
sed him. It was necessary, however, to secure Clotaire
by a negotiation; and accordingly a promise was made
of restoring those parts of his dominions which had
formerly been taken from him, provided he would re¬
main quiet. This treaty being finished, Thierri en¬
tered Theodobert’s dominions, defeated him in two
battles, took him prisoner, used him with the utmost
indignity; and having caused an infant son of his to
be put to death, sent him to his grandmother Brune¬
haut. By her orders he was first shaved and confined
in a monastery ; but afterwards, fearing lest he should
make his escape, she caused him to be put to death.-—
Clotaire, in the mean time, thought that the best me¬
thod of making Thierri keep his word was to seize on
those places which he had promised to restore to him,
before his return from the war with Theodobert. This
he accordingly did; and Thierri no sooner heard of his
having done so, than he sent him a message requiring
him to withdraw his forces, and, in case of his refusal,
declared war. Clotaire was prepared for this; and
accordingly assembled all the forces in his dominions,
in order to give him a proper reception. But before
Thierri could reach his enemies, he was seized with * Qf
dysentery; of which he died in the year 612, havingxMeni*
lived 26 years, and reigned 17.
On the death of Thierri, Brunehaut immediately
caused his eldest son, named Sigisbert, then in the 10th
year of his age, to be. proclaimed king. It is probable
that she intended to have governed in his name with
an absolute sway ; but Clotaire did not give her time
to discover her intentions. Having great intelligence
in Austrasia and Burgundy, and knowing that the no¬
bility in both kingdoms were disaffected to Brunehaut,
he declared war against her ; and she being betrayed
by her generals, fell into the hands of her enemies.
Clotaire gave her up to the nobles; who generally
H hate d
58
France.
put to a
cruel
death,
FRA
hated her, and who used her In the most cruel manner.
  -v   After having led her about the camp, exposed to the
i9 insults of all who had the meanness to insult her, she
Brunehaut wag ^ ^ tjie ieg antl arm to the tail of an untamed
horse, which, setting off at full speed, quickly dashed
out her brains. After this her mangled body was re¬
duced to ashes, which were alterwards interred in the
abbey of St Martin at Autun. _
Thus in the year 613, Clotaire became sole monarch
of France; and quietly enjoyed his kingdom till his
death, which happened in 628. He was succeeded by
Dagobert; who proved a great and powerful prince,
and raised the kingdom of France to a high degree ot
splendour. Dagobert was succeeded by his sons Sigebert
and Clovis ; the former of whom had the kingdom 0
iustrasia, and the latter that of Burgundy. Both the
kings were minors at the time of their accession to the
throne, which gave an opportunity to the mayors ot the
palace (the highest officers under the crown) to usurp
the whole authority. Sigebert died in 640, after a
short reign of one year ; leaving behind him an infant
son named Dagobert, whom he strongly recommended
to the care of Grimoalde his mayor of the palace. Ihe
minister caused Dagobert to be immediately proclaimed
king, but did not long suffer him to enjoy that honour.
He had not the cruelty, however, to put him ^ “eatl1 >
but sent him to a monastery in one of the Western
islands of Scotland ; and then, giving out that he was
dead advanced his own son Childebert to the throne.
Childebert was expelled by Clovis king of Burgundy ;
who placed on the throne Childeric, the second son ot
Sigebert. Clovis died soon after the revolution, and
was succeeded in bis dominions by his son Clotaire ; who
died in a short time, without issue. He was succeeded
by his brother Childeric; who, after a short reign, was
murdered with his queen, at that time big with child,
and an infant son named Dagobert; though another,
named Daniel, had the good luck to escape.
j The affairs of the French were now in the most de-
.fplorable situation. The princes of the Merovingian
France. faCe had been for some time entirely deprived of their
power by their officers called mayors of the palace. In
Austrasia the administration had been totally engrossed
bv Pepin and his son Grimaulde ; while Archambaud
and Ebroin did the same in Neustria and Burgundy.
On the reunion of Neustria and Burgundy to the rest ot
the French dominions, this minister ruled with such a
despotic sway, that the nobility of Austrasia were pro¬
voked to a revolt; electing for their dukes two chiefs
named Martin and Pepin. The forces of the confe¬
derates, however, were defeated by Ebroin ; and Mai tin
having surrendered on a promise of safety, was treache¬
rously put to death. Pepin lost no time m recruiting
his shattered forces ; but before he had any occasion to
try his fortune a second time in the field of battle, the
assassination of Ebroin delivered him from all appre¬
hensions from that quarter. After his death, Pepin
carried every thing before him, overthrew the royal
army under the command of the new minister Bertaire ;
and having got possession of the capital, caused himself
to be declared mayor of the palace ; in which station he
continued to govern with an absolute sway during the
^ PepffiOvlio had got the surname of Heristal from
N C E.
ao
Miserable
his palace on the Meuse) died in the year 714, having France,
enjoyed unlimited power for 26 years. He appointed 1 ^
his grandson Theudobalde, then only six years of age,
to succeed him in his post of mayor of the palace, lias
happened during the reign of Dagobert already men¬
tioned ; but this prince had too much spirit to suiler
himself to be deprived of his authority by an infant.
The adherents of the young mayor were defeated in
battle, and this defeat was soon followed by his death. n
Charles, however, the illegitimate son of Pepin, was Exploin tt!
now raised to the dignity of duke by the AuMrasians Chark,
and by his great qualities seemed every way worthy ot
that honour. The murder of Dagobert freed him from
a powerful opponent ; and the young king Chi peric,
who after Dagobert's death was brought from a cloister
to the throne, could by no means cope with such an
experienced antagonist. On the 19th of March 717,
Charles had the good fortune to surprise the royal camp
as he passed through the forest of Arden ; and soon
after a battle ensued, in which the king’s forces were
entirely defeated. On this Chilperic entered into an
alliance with Eudes duke of Aquitain, whose friendship
he purchased by the final cession of all the country
which Eudes had seized for himself. Charles, however,
having placed on the throne another of the royal family
named Clotaire, advanced against Chilperic and his
associate, whom he entirely defeated near Soissons.
After this disaster, Eudes, despairing of success, deliver¬
ed up Chilperic into the hands of his antagonist: after
having stipulated for himself the same terms which had
been formerly granted him by the captive monarch.
Charles, now advanced to the summit of power, treat¬
ed Chilperic with great respect; and on the death of
Clotaire, caused him to be proclaimed king of Austra¬
sia ; by which, however, his own power was not in the
least diminished ; and from this time the authority of
the kings of France became merely nominal ; and so
inactive and indolent were they accounted, that histo¬
rians have bestowed upon them the epithet oifaineans,
i. e. “ lazy or idle.” Charles, however, had still one
competitor to contend with. This was Rainfroy, who
had been appointed mayor of the palace ; and who
made such a vigorous resistance, that Charles was obli¬
ged to allow him the peaceable possession of the country
of Anjou. No sooner, however, had Charles thus set
himself at liberty from domestic enemies, than he was
threatened with destruction from foreign nations. Ihe
Suevians, Frisons, and Alemanni, were successively en¬
countered and defeated. Eudes also, who had perfidi¬
ously broken the treaties to which he had bound him¬
self, was twice repulsed ; after which Charles invaded
Aquitain, and obliged the treacherous duke to hearken
to reason. This was scarce accomplished, when he
found himself engaged with a more formidable enemy
than any he had yet encountered. The Saracens hav¬
ing overrun great part of Asia, now turned their victo¬
rious arms westward, and threatened Europe with total
subjection. Spain had already received the yoke ; and
having passed the Pyrenees, they next invaded France,
appearing in vast numbers under the walls of Thoulouse.
Here they were encountered and defeated by Eudes ;
but this proved only a partial check. The barbarians
once more passing the Pyrenees, entered France with
such a powerful army, that Eudes was no longer able
* to
| See
1!
Fsicf
tued:
isi;l
DliOi
Ciaria
France.
See Ara-
.»,4N°i74l
41
ance di-
led a-
>»g the
[ is of
‘arles.
FRA
to resist. He encountered them indeed with his accus¬
tomed valour; but being forced to yield to superior
power, he solicited the protection and assistance of
Charles. On this occasion the latter, on account of his
valour and personal strength, acquired the name oi'Mar¬
tel, i. e. “ the hammer,” alluding to the violence of the
strokes he bestowed on his enemiesf. Three hundred and
seventy-five thousand of the Infidels, among whom was
the commander Abdelrahman himself, are said to have
perished in the battle ; notwithstanding which they soon
made another irruption : but in this they were attend¬
ed with no better success, being again defeated by
Charles ; who by so many victories established his power
on the most solid foundation. Having again defeated
the Frisons, and with his own hand killed their duke,
he assumed the sovereignty of the dominions of Eudes,
after his decease, reserving to himself the claim of ho¬
mage, which he ought to have yielded to Thierri his
lawful sovereign. At last, his fame grew so great, that
he was chosen by Pope Gregory III. for his protector.
He ofiered to shake off the yoke of the Greek empe¬
ror, and to invest Charles with the dignity of Roman
consul; sending him at the same time the keys of the
tomb of St Peter; but while this negotiation was going
on successfully, the pope, the emperor, and Charles
Martel, himself, died. After his death, which happen¬
ed in the year 741, his dominions were divided among
his three sons, Carloman, Pepin, and Grippon, accord¬
ing to the dispositions he had made in his lifetime. By
this, Carloman, the eldest, had Austrasia ; Pepin, the se¬
cond, Neustria and Burgundy ; while Grippon, the
third, had only some lands assigned him in France ; by
which he was so much displeased, that the tranquillity
of the empire was soon disturbed. With the assistance
of his mother Sonnechilde he seized on the city of
Eahon, where he endured a violent siege. In the end
however, he was obliged to submit; Sonnechilde was
put into a monastery, and Grippon imprisoned in a
castle at Arden. The two brothers, having thus freed
themselves from their domestic enemy, continued to go
N C E.
their tranquillity was soon disturbed by the intrigues of
Sonnechilde. That enterprising and ambitious woman
had negotiated a marriage between Odilon duke of
Bavaria and Hiltrude the sister of the two princes.
This was no sooner accomplished than Odilon, instigat¬
ed by Sonnechilde, and alarmed at the growing power
of the two princes, entered into an alliance with Theo-
dobald duke of the Alemanni and Theodoric duke of
the Saxons ; who having assembled a formidable army,
advanced directly against the princes. They posted’
themselves in an advantageous manner, with the river
Lech in their front; but Carloman and Pepin, passing
the river at different fords in the night time, attacked
the camp of the allies with great vigour. The engage¬
ment continued doubtful for five hours ; but at last the
entrenchments were forced on all sides, the Bavarians
and Saxons entirely routed, and the vanquished dukes
obliged to submit to the clemency of the victors. Du¬
ring their absence on this expedition, Hunalde, whom
Charles Martel had appointed duke of Aquitain, hav¬
ing likewise entered into a confederacy with Odilon,
passed the Loire, ravaged the open country, and burnt
the magnificent cathedral of the city of Chartres. The
two princes, however, having returned with their vic¬
torious army, Hunalde found himself obliged to re¬
treat : and even this availed him but little : for the
Franks entering the duchy of Aquitain, committed
such devastations, that Hunalde in despair resigned his
dominions to his son, and retired into a convent. This
event was soon followed by a similar resignation of Car¬
loman, notwithstanding the uninterrupted success he
had met with. He suddenly took the resolution of re¬
tiring into a convent, and persisted in his design not¬
withstanding the entreaties of Pepin, who, to appear¬
ance at least, did all he could to dissuade him.
By the resignation of Carloman, which happened in Pepin^be-
the year 746, Pepin was left sole master of France ; comes sole
and in this exalted station he acquitted himself in such rnast?r of
a manner as has justly rendered his name famous to pos-tlie
terity. One of the first acts of his new administration10"1
was to release his brother Grippon from prison : but
that treacherous prince had, no sooner regained his
liberty, than he again excited the Saxons to take up
arms. His enterprise, however, proved unsuccessful;
the Saxons were defeated, their duke Theodoric taken,
and his subjects obliged to submit to the will of the’
conqueror ; who upon this occasion caused them make
a profession of the Christian religion. Grippon then
fled to Hiltrude, his half sister, whose husband Odilon
was now dead, and had left an infant son named Tassz-
lon. He met with a favourable reception from her -
but with his usual treachery, seized both her and her
son by the assistance of an army of malecontent Franks
whom he had persuaded to join him. His next step
was to assume the sovereignty and title of duke of Ba¬
varia; but being driven fiom the throne by Pepin, he
was obliged to implore his clemency, which was once
more granted.. All these misfortunes, however, were
not yet sufficient to cure Grippon of his turbulence
and ambition : He once more endeavoured to excite
disturbances in the court of Pepin ; but being finally
detected and baffled, he was obliged to take refuge
in Aquitain. 6
Pepin having now subdued all his foes, both foreign Assumes
vern the empire with uninterrupted harmony; but and domestic, began to think'of aLumi’ngthe of
their tranquillity was soon disturbed by the intrigues of Aiwp-. after bavlnn-cn Innn.  1.  TT?
lang, after having so long enjoyed the regal power. His kinS‘
wishes in this respect were quite agreeable to those of
the nation in general. The nobility, however, were
bound by an oath of allegiance to Childeric the nomi¬
nal monarch at that time: and this oath could not be
dispensed with but by the authority of the pope. Am¬
bassadors for this purpose were therefore dispatched
both from Pepin and the nobility to Pope Zachary the
reigning pontiff. His holiness replied, that it was law¬
ful to transfer the regal dignity from hands incapable
of maintaining it to those who had so successfully pre¬
served it; and that the nation might unite in the same
person the authority and title of hng. On this the
unfortunate Childeric was degraded from his dignity,
shaved, and confined in a monastery for life ; Pepin as¬
sumed the title of king of France, and the line of Clovis
was finally set aside.
This revolution took place in the year 751. The
attention of the new monarch was first claimed by a
revolt of the Saxons ; but they were soon reduced to
subjection, and obliged to pay an additional tribute :
and during this expedition against them, the king had
the satisfaction of getting rid of his restless and trea¬
cherous competitor Grippon. This turbulent prince,
H 2 having
6o
France.
FRANCE.
having soon become weary of rcsldinf at the court of
Aquitain, determined to escape from thence, and put
himself under the protection of Astolphus king of the
Lombards; but he was killed in attempting to force
a pass on the confines of Italy. Pepin in the mean time
continued to push his good fortune. The submission
of the Saxons was soon followed by the reduction of
Brittany and that by the recovery of ISarbonne from
the Infidels. His next exploit was the protection of
Pope Stephen III. against Astolphus the king of the
Lombards, who had seized on the exarchate of Ka-
venna, and insisted on being acknowledged king of
Home. The pope, unable to contend with such a
powerful rival, hasted to cross the Alps and imPlor®
the protection of Pepin, who received him with all
the respect due to his character. He was lodged in the
abbey of St Dennis, and attended by the king in per¬
son during a dangerous sickness with which he was
seized. On his recovery, Stephen solemnly placed the
diadem on the head of his benefactor bestowed the
reo-al unction on his sons Charles and Carloman, and
conferred on the three princes the title of patrician oj
Rome. In return for these honours, Pepin accompa¬
nied the pontiff' into Italy at the head of a powerful
army. Astolphus, unable to withstand such a power¬
ful antagonist, shut himself up in Pavia, where he was
closely besieged by the Franks, and obliged to renounce
all pretensions to the sovereignty of Home, as well as
to restore the city and exarchate of Ravenna, and
*wear to the observance of the treaty. Iso sooner was
Pepin gone, however, than Astolphus broke the trea y
he had just ratified with such solemnity. I he pope
was again reduced to distress, and again applied to re¬
nin He now sent him a pompous epistle in the style
and character of St Peter himself j which so much in¬
flamed the zeal of Pepin, that he instantly set out for
Laly and compelled Astolphus a second time to submit
to his terms, which were now rendered more severe y
the imposition of an annual tribute. Pepin next made a
tour to Rome *, but finding that his presence there gave
great uneasiness both to the Greeks and to the pope
himself, he thought proper to finish his visit »n a shor
time. Soon after his return Astolphus died, and his do¬
minions were usurped by his general Didier ; who, how¬
ever, obtained the papal sanction for what he had done,
and was recognized as lawful sovereign of the Lom¬
bards in the year
Pepin returned to France in triumph *, but the peace
of bis dominions was soon disturbed by the revolt of
the Saxons, who always bore the I rench yoke with
the utmost impatience. Their present attempts, how¬
ever proved equally unsuccessful with those they had
formerly made •> being obliged to subm.t and purchase
their pardon not only by a renewal of them tribute, but
by an additional supply of 300 horse. But while the
king was absent on this expedition, \ aisar duke of
Aquitaiu took the opportunity of ravaging Burgundy,
where he carried his devastations as far as Uialons.
Pepin soon returned, and entering the dominions ol
Vaisar, committed similar devastations, and would
probably have reduced the whole territory of Aqui-
fain had he not been interrupted by the hostile pre¬
parations of his nephew Tassilon the duke of Bavaria
The king, however, contented himself at present with
securing his frontiers by a chain of posts, against any
invasion ; after which he resumed his enterprise on the France.
dominions of Yaisar. The latter at first attempted to    
impede the progress of his antagonist by burning and
laying waste the country : but finding this to no pur¬
pose, he determined to try his fortune in an engage¬
ment. Victory declared in favour of Pepin 5 but he
refused to grant a peace upon any terms. Hie French
monarch advanced to the banks of the Garonne j while
Vaisar was abandoned by his ally the duke of Bavaria,
and even by his own subjects. In this distress he re¬
tired with a band of faithful followers into the country
of Saintonge, where he defended himself as long as pos¬
sible, but was at last deprived both of his crown and
life by the victor.
Thus the duchy of Aquitain was once more annex¬
ed to the crown of France $ but Pepin had scarce time
to indulge himself with a view of his new conquest
when he was seized with a slow fever, which put an
end to his life in the year 768, the 54th of his age, Deatih ef
and 17th of his reign. He was of a short stature, Pepin,
whence he had the surname of Ac Bref, or the Short ;
but his great actions justly entitled him to the character
of a hero: though under the succeeding reign his own
fame seemed to have been entirely forgot, and on his
tomb was only inscribed, “ Here lies the father of Char¬
lemagne.” , . , . • . „ 2<S. j
Pepin was succeeded in his authority by his two Suceeedd
sons Charles and Carloman 5 to whom with his dying by Jus tw.
breath he bequeathed his dominions. They continued
to reign jointly for some time 5 but the active and en¬
terprising spirit of Charles gave such umbrage to the
weak and jealous Carloman, that he regarded him with
envy, and was on the point of coming to an open rup¬
ture with him, when he himself was taken off by
death, and thus the tranquillity of the empire was pre-
served. »
The first military enterprise of Charles was against
Hunalde, the old duke of Aquitain j who leaving the •
monastery where he had resided upwards of 20 years,
assumed the royal title, and was joyfully received by
his subjects, already weary of the French yoke.
Charles took the field with the utmost expedition, and
with difficulty prevailed upon his brother Carloman,
who was then alive, to join him with his forces. But
the junction was scarce effected, when Carloman with¬
drew his forces again, and left his brother to carry on
the war in the best manner he could. Charles, though
thus deserted, did not hesitate at engaging the enemy ;
and having overthrown them in a great battle, Hu¬
nalde was obliged to fly to the territories of Lupus
duke of Gascony. Charles quickly sent an embassy de¬
manding the fugitive prince ; and Lupus, not daring to
disobey the orders of such a powerful monarch, yielded
up the unfortunate Flunalde, who was instantly cast in¬
to prison, from which, however, he afterwards made his
The death of Carloman, which happened in the year #f
-71 left Charles sole master of France, but the revolt
of the Saxons involved him in a series of wars from Great,
which he did not extricate himself for 33 years. These
had long been tributaries to the French, but frequently
revolted : and now, when freed from the terror of Pe¬
pin’s arms, thought they had a right to shake oft the
yoke altogether. Charles entered their country with
a powerful army } and having defeated them m a num-
FRA
ber of small engagement?, advanced towards Eresbourg
near Paderborn, where they had their capital post, and
where was the image of their god Irminsul, represented
as a man completely armed, and standing on a co¬
lumn. The Saxons made an obstinate defence, but
were at last obliged to submit j and Charles employed
his army three days in demolishing the monuments of
idolatry in this place $ which so much disheartened the
whole nation, that for the present they submitted to
such terms as he pleased to impose $ and which were
rendered easier than they probably would have been,
by the news which Charles now x’eceived from Italy.-—
He had concluded a marriage with the daughter of
Didier king of the Lombards ; but this had been dis¬
solved by the pope, who reproached the Lombards
with the first stain of the leprosy. Thus all friendship
was dissolved betwixt Didier and Charles j and as the
Lombard monarchs seem to have had a kind of natural
enmity towards the popes, it is not surprising that it
should now break out with uncommon fury. Didier
having seized and frighted to death Pope Stephen IV.
used his utmost endeavours to reduce his successor
Adrian I. to a state of entire dependence on himself.
Adrian applied to the French monarch, the usual re¬
source of the pontiffs in those days. Charles was very
willing to grant the necessary assistance, but the nobi¬
lity were averse to an Italian war j so that he was obli¬
ged to act with great circumspection. Several embas¬
sies were therefore sent to Didier, entreating him to re¬
store to the Pope those places which he had taken from
him, and at last even offering him a large sum of money
if he would do so j but this proposal being rejected,
he obtained the consent of his nobility to make war
on the Lombards. Didier disposed his troops in such
a manner, that the officers of Charles are said to have
been unanimously of opinion, that it would be impos¬
sible to force a passage. This, however, was accom¬
plished, either through the superior skill of Charles,
according to some historians, or a panic which seized
the Lombard soldiers, according to othersj after which
Didier, with the old duke of Aquitain, who had esca¬
ped from his prison, and taken refuge at his court,
shut themselves up in Pavia. Adalgise, the only son
of the Lombard monarch, with the widow and children
of Carloman, fled to Verona. That city was im¬
mediately invested by the conqueror, and in a short
time obliged to submit. Adalgise had the good luck
to escape to Constantinople, but we are not informed
what became of Carloman’s widow and children. 
Charles, after paying a short visit to Rome, returned
to the siege of Pavia. The place was vigorously de¬
fended, until famine and pestilence obliged the inhabi¬
tants to implore the clemency of Charles. Hunalde
fell a sacrifice to his own obstinacy in opposing the
intention of the people 5 Didier was taken prisoner and
carried into France ; but we are not informed of his
fate afterwards. His kingdom, however, was totally
dissolved, and Charles was crowned king of Lombardy
at Milan in the year 774.
Having received the oaths of allegiance from his
new subjects, Charles set out for Saxony, the inhabi¬
tants of which had again revolted, and recovered Eres¬
bourg their capital. The king soon recovered this im¬
portant post •, but a detachment of his army being cut
oft, and new troubles arising in Italy, he was obliged
N C E,
to accept of the proposals of the Saxons, though
their sincerity was very doubtful.. Having therefore
only strengthened the fortifications of Eresbourg, and
left a sufficient garrison in the place, he set out for
Italy, which was all in commotion through the in¬
trigues of the emperor of the East, and Adalgise the
son of Didier. The presence of Charles restored tran¬
quillity in that quarter j but in the mean time, the
Saxons having taken Eresbourg and destroyed the for¬
tifications, threatened to annihilate the French power
in that quarter. On the king’s return, he found them
employed in the siege of Sigehourg. His sudden ar¬
rival struck the barbarians with such terror, that they
instantly sued for peace j which the king once more
granted, but took care to secure their obedience by a
chain of forts along the river Lippe, and repairing the
fortifications of Eresbourg. An assembly of the Saxon
chiefs was held at Paderborn, and a promise was made,
that the nation should embrace the Christian religion :
after which the king set out on an expedition to Spain
in the year 778.
This new enterprise was undertaken at the request
of Ibunala, the Moorish sovereign of Saragossa, who
had been driven from his territory. He was restored,
however, by the prowess of Charles, who reduced the
cities of Pampeluna and Saragossa. He reduced also
the city of Barcelona, and the kingdoms of Navarre
and Arragon $ but, on his return, he met with a se¬
vere check from the Gascons, who attacked and de¬
feated the rear-guard of his army with great slaughter
as they passed the Pyrenean mountains. This engage¬
ment, which seems to imply some defect in the prudence
or military skill of Charles, has been much celebrated
among romance writers, on account of the death of Ro¬
land a famous warrior.
Next year, 779, he paid a visit to Italy with his two
sons Carloman and Louis. Having passed the winter
at Pavia, he entered Rome next spring amidst the ac¬
clamations of the inhabitants. Here, in the 39th year
of his age, he divided his dominions in presence of the
pope betwixt his two sons Carloman and Louis. The
former, who now took the name of Pepin, had Lom¬
bardy ; the latter Aquitain. Having then received
the submission of Tassilon duke of Bavaria, he set out
for Saxony, where he took a most severe revenge
on the people of that country for the many treacheries
they had been guilty of. The present revolt was
chiefly owing to a chief named Witikind, who had
twice before fled from the victorious arms of Charles,
and taken refuge at the court of Denmark. Return¬
ing from thence, in the king’s absence, he roused his
countrymen to action, while the generals of Charles,
disagreeing among themselves, neglected to take the
proper methods for repelling the enemy. In conse¬
quence of this, they were entirely defeated on the
banks of the Weser in the year 782. Charles arrived
in time to prevent the total destruction of his people,
and directly penetrated into the heart of the country.
Witikind unable to resist his antagonist, once more
fled into Denmark j but 4500 of his followers perished
at once by the hands of the executioner. An univer¬
sal insurrection was the consequence of this unheard of
cruelty j and though during three years the French
monarch was constantly successful in the field, he found
it impossible by any force whatever to subdue the
spirit
62
FRANCE.
France, spirit of the people. At last therefore he was obliged
' to have recourse to negotiation. Witikind and seve¬
ral other chiefs were invited to an interviewwhere
Charles represented to them in such strong colours the
ruin which must necessarily ensue to their country by
persisting obstinately in opposition to him, that they
were induced not only to persuade their countrymen
finally to submit, but to embrace the Christian reli-
gion.
Charles having thus brought his affairs in Saxony
to a happy conclusion, turned his arms against Tassi-
lon duke of Bavaria, who had underhand supported
the Saxons in their revolt. Having entered his coun¬
try with a powerful army in the year 787, he made
such rapid advances, that the total destruction of Tas-
silon seemed inevitable. Charles had advanced as lar
as the river Lech, when Tassilon privately entered his
camp, and threw himself at his feet. The king had
compassion on his faithless kinsman on seeing him in
this abject posture j but no sooner did the traitor find
himself at liberty, than he stirred up the Hunns, the
Greek emperor, and the fugitive Adalgise, against the
king. He fomented also the discontents of the fac¬
tious nobles of Aquitain and Lombardy : but his sub¬
jects, fearing lest these intrigues should involve them
in destruction, made a discovery of the whole to
Charles. Tassilon, ignorant of this, entered the diet
at Ingelheim, not suspecting any danger, but was in¬
stantly arrested by order of the French monarch.
Being brought to a trial, the proofs of his guilt were so
apparent, that he was condemned to lose his head j
the punishment, however, was afterwards mitigated to
perpetual confinement in a monastery, and the duchy
cf Bavaria was annexed to the dominions of Charles.
The Hunns and other enemies of the French monarch
continued to prosecute their enterprises without regard¬
ing the fate of their associate Tassilon. Their attempts,
however, only served to enhance the fame of Charles.
He defeated the Hunns in Bavaria, and the Greek em¬
peror in Italy •, obliging the latter to renounce for ever
the fortune of Adalgise. The Hunns, not dishearten¬
ed by their defeat, continuing to infest the French do¬
minions, Charles entered their country at the head of
a formidable army and having forced their intrench-
ments, penetrated as far as Raab on the Danube, but
was compelled by an epidemic distemper to retire be¬
fore he had finished his conquest. He was no sooner
returned to his own dominions, than he had the morti¬
fication to be informed, that his eldest son Pepin had
conspired against his sovereignty and life. The plot
was discovered by a priest who had accidentally tallen
asleep in a church where the conspirators were assem¬
bled. Being awakened by their voices, he overheard
them consulting on the proper measures for completing
their purpose *, 011 which be instantly set out for the pa¬
lace and summoned the monarch from his bed to in¬
form him of the guilt of his son. Pepin was seized,
but had his life spared, though condemned to expiate
his offences by spending the remainder of his days m a
m°Charles*was n0 sooner freed from this danger than
he was again called to arms by a revolt of the Saxons
on the one hand, while a formidable invasion of the
Moors distressed him on the other j the Hunns at the
same time renewing their depredations on his domi¬
nions. The king did not at present make war against France,
the Moors j probably foreseeing that they would be v-w
called off by their Christian enemies in Spain. This
accordingly happened 5 the victories of Alonso the
Chaste obliged them to leave France •, after which
Charles marched in person to attack the Saxons and
Hunns. The former consented again to receive the
Christian religion, but were likewise obliged to deliver
up a third part of their army to be disposed of at the
king’s pleasure ; but the Hunns defended themselves
with incredible vigour. Though often defeated, their
love of liberty was altogether invincible ; so that the
war was not terminated but by the death of the king,
and an almost total destruction of the people : only one
tribe could be induced to acknowledge the authority of
the French monarch.
These exploits were finished betwixt the years 793
and 798 : after which Charles invaded and subdued the
islands of Majorca and Minorca ; which the dissensions
of the Moorish chiefs gave him an opportunity of
doing. The satisfaction he felt from this new con¬
quest, however, was soon damped by the troubles which
broke out in Italy. After the death of Pope Adrian,
his nephew aspired to the papal dignity j but a priest
named Leo being preferred, the disappointed candi¬
date determined on revenge. He managed matters so
well, that his designs were concealed for four years.
At last, on the day of a procession, a furious assault was
made on the person of Leo. The unfortunate pontiff
was left for dead on the ground ; but having with
difficulty recovered, and made his escape to the Vati¬
can, he was protected by the duke of Spoleto, at that
time general of the French forces. His cause was
warmly espoused by Charles, who invited him to his
camp at Paderborn in Westphalia; whence he dis¬
patched him with a numerous guard to Rome, promising
soon after to visit that metropolis, and redress all griev¬
ances. His attention for the present, however, was
called by the descents of the Normans on the maritime
provinces of his dominions; so that he was obliged to
defer the promised assistance for some time longer.
Having constructed forts at the mouths of most of the
navigable rivers, and further provided for the defence
of his territories, by instituting a regular militia, arid
appointing proper squadrons to cruise against the in¬
vaders, he set out for the fourth and last time on a
journey to Rome. Here he was received with the
highest possible honours. Leo was allowed to clear
himself by oath of the crimes laid to his charge by the
enemies, while his accusers were sent into exile, On
the festival of Christmas, in the year 800, after Charles
had made his appearance in the cathedral of St Peter,
and assisted devoutly at mass, the pope suddenly put a 2S
crown on his head $ and the place instantly resounded He w
with acclamations of “ Long life to Charles the Au-downed
frat
'-'Y
gust, crowned by the hand of God! Long life and®"^"*
victory to the great and pacific emperor of the. Ro
mans!” His body was then consecrated and anointed
with royal unction 5 and after being conducted to a
throne, he was treated with all the respect usually paid
to the ancient Caesars; from this time also being ho¬
noured with the title of Charlemagne, or Charles the
Great. In private conversation, however, he usually
protested, that he was ignorant of the pope’s intention
at this time $ and that, had he known it, be would have
disappointed
F K A
!'! France, disappoiiited him by his absence: but these protesta-
^ —v——/ tions were not generally believed; and the care he
took to have his new title acknowledged by the eastern
emperors, evidently showed how fond he was of it.
Charles, now raised to the supreme dignity in the
west, proposed to unite in himself the whole power of
the first Roman emperors, by marrying Irene the em¬
press of the East. But in this he was disappointed by
the marriage of that princess by Nicephorus ; however,
the latter acknowledged his new dignity of Augustus,
and the boundaries of the two empires were amicably
settled. Charles was further gratified by the respect
paid him by the great Haroun Al-Rashid, caliph of
the Saracens, who yielded to him the sacred city of
Jerusalem, and holy sepulchre there. But in the mean
time his empire was threatened with the invasion of a
very formidable enemy, whom even the power of Charles
would have found it hard to resist. These were the
Normans, at this time under the government of God¬
frey a celebrated warrior, and who by their adventurous
spirit, and skill in maritime affairs, threatened all the
western coasts of Europe with desolation. From
motives of mutual convenience a transitory peace was
established, and Charles made use of this interval to
settle the final distribution of his dominions. Aqui-
tain and Gascony, with the Spanish Marche, were as¬
signed to his son Louis; Pepin had Italy confirmed to
him ; and to this was added the greatest part of Ba¬
varia, with the country now possessed by the Grisons.
Charles the eldest had Neustria, Austrasia, and Thu¬
ringia. The donation was supposed to be rendered
more authentic by the sanction of the pope. This di¬
vision, however, had scarce taken place, when the
princes were all obliged to defend their dominions by
force of arms. Louis and Pepin were attacked by the
Saracens, and Charles by the Sclavonians. All these
enemies were defeated ; but while Charles hoped to
spend the short remainder of his life in tranquillity, he
was once more called forth to martial exertions by the
hostile behaviour of Godfrey the Norman leader.
Charles sent him a message of defiance, which was re¬
turned in the same style by Godfrey : but the former,
by artfully fomenting divisions among the northern
powers, prevented for a while the threatened danger;
but, these disturbances being quelled, the Normans re¬
newed their depredations, and Charles was obliged to
face them in the field. An engagement, however, was
prevented by the death of Godfrey, who was assassi¬
nated by a private soldier ; on which the Norman ar¬
my retreated, and the dominions of the empire still re¬
mained free from these invaders. Still the latter days
of Charles were embittered by domestic misfortunes.
His favourite daughter Rotrude died, as did also Pepin
d king of Italy ; and these misfortunes were soon follow¬
ed by the death of his eldest son Charles. The empe¬
ror then thought proper to associate his only surviving
kp son Louis with him in the government; which was for-
D<|!th of “ally done at Aix-la-Chapelle. Charles himself sur-
Cbiies thevived this transaction only a few months: his death
T1* happened on the 27th of January 814, in the 71st year
0 of his age, and 47th of his reign.
Eirjnt of By the martial achievements of this hero, the French
fh* rrit0- monarchy was raised to its utmost pitch of splen¬
dour. He had added the province of Aquitain to the
territories of his ancestors ; he had confined the inha-
2
N C E.
63
France.
bitants of Brittany to the shores of the ocean, and ob¬
liged them to submit to a disgraceful tribute. He 1
had reduced under his dominion all that part of Spain
winch extends from the Pyrenees to the river Ebro,
and includes the kingdoms of Rousillon, Navarre, Ar-
ragon, and Catalonia. He possessed Italy from the
Alps to the borders of Calabria ; but the duchy of Be-
neventum, including most of the present kingdom of
Naples, escaped the yoke after a transitory submission.
Besides these extensive countries, Charles added to his
territories the whole of Germany and Pannonia ; so
that the French now had the jurisdiction of all the
country from east to west, from the Ebro in Spain
to the Vistula ; and from north to south, from the
duchy of Beneventum to the river Eyder, the boun¬
dary between Germany and the dominions of Denmark.
In acquiring these extensive dominions Charles had been
guilty of horrid and repeated massacres, for which,
however, he had been in some measure excusable by the
barbarity and rebellious disposition of the people with
whom he had to deal, upon whom no mild measures
Would probably have had any elFect. His establishing
of schools throughout the conquered provinces, showed
also his inclination to govern his subjects in peace,
and to take proper steps for their civilization ; though
indeed many parts of his private conduct showed no
small inclination to cruelty ; particularly the fate of
the sons of Carloman, of whom no account could ever
be obtained. His advice to his son Louis indeed was
excellent ; exhorting him to consider his people as his
children ; to be very mild and gentle in his admini¬
stration, but firm in the execution of justice ; to re¬
ward merit; promote his nobles gradually ; choose mi¬
nisters deliberately, but not remove them capriciously ,
or without sufficient reason. All these prudent maxims, Decbne of
however, were not sufficient to enable Louis to govern bis empire,
dominions so extensive, and people so turbulent" as he
had to deal with. At the time of the decease of his
father this prince was about 36 years of age, and had
married Ermengarde, daughter of the count of Hes-
bai of the diocese of Liege, by whom he had three
sons, Lothaire, Pepin, and Louis. Lothaire, the eldest,
was associated with himself in the empire, and the two
youngest were intrusted with the governments of Aqtii-
tain and Bavaria. Every one of the princes proved
unfaithful to their father, as well as enemies to one an¬
other. The death of Ermengarde, and the marriage of
the emperor with Judith a princess of Bavaria, artful
but accomplished, proved the first source of calamity to
the empire. In the year 823, Charles, the emperor’s
youngest son, was born ; and his pretensions became in
time more fatal to the public tranquillity than the am¬
bition and disobedience of all the rest. Various parts
of the Imperial dominions were likewise assaulted by
foreign enemies. The inhabitants of Brittany and Na¬
varre revolted; the Moors invaded Catalonia; while
the ambition of Judith produced a war amongst the
brothers themselves.
Charles at first had been appointed sovereign of that civil wars
part of Germany bounded by the rivers Danube, the among ths
Maine, the Neckar, and the Rhine ; the country ofsons of
the Grisons and Burgundy, comprehending Geneva ^
and the Swiss cantons ; but this was opposed by the *ent C
three elder sons. Pepin and Louis advanced with the
united forces of Aquitain and Bavaria, while the Im¬
perial
64 ,F R A
France, perial forces deserted their standard and joined the
v.'—y.1.11 ■> malecontents. The emperor was taken prisoner, and
the empress retired to a monastery* Lothaire, the
eldest of the younger princes, to whom the rest found
themselves obliged to submit, was the person who ic-
tained the emperor in his possession j but notwithstand¬
ing his breach of duty, his heart was touched w’ith re¬
morse on account of the crimes he had committed.
Dreading the reproach of the world at large, and be¬
ing threatened with the censures of the church, he
threw himself at his father’s feet, and begged par¬
don for his guilt, consenting to relinquish the autho¬
rity he had unjustly usurped. Thus Louis was re¬
established in his authority by the diet of the empire
which had met to depose him. His first step was to
recal his empress from the monastery to which she had
retired j but this princess, implacable in her resent¬
ment, now persecuted Lothaire to such a degree, that
he was obliged to join his twro brothers 1 epin and
Louis in a confederacy against their father. The old
emperor thought to check this rebellious disposition
by revoking his grant of Aquitain to 1 cpin, and con¬
ferring it on his youngest son Charles, then only
nine years of age j but Pope Gregory IV. conferred
the Imperial dignity itself on Lothaire, deposing the
unhappy monarch, and again sending the empress to a
nunnery in the forest of Arden. The unnatural be¬
haviour of his son, however, once more excited the
compassion of his subjects. Dreux, the bishop of
Mentz, used his interest with Louis king of Bavaria
to arm his subjects in defence of his father and sove¬
reign. In this enterprise the Bavarian monarch was
joined by the French and Saxons ; so that the aged
emperor was once more restored, the empress released
from her nunnery, and Charles from his prison, in the
year 833.
The ambition of Judith now set matters once more
in a flame. Taking advantage of the affection her
husband bore her, she persuaded him to invest her son
Charles with the sovereignty of Neustria as well as
the dominions formerly assigned him. This was pro¬
ductive of great discontent on the part of Lothaire
and Pepin j but their power was now too much broken
to be able to accomplish any thing by force of arms.
The death of Pepin, which happened soon after, pro¬
duced a new division of the empire. The claims of
young Pepin and Charles, sons of the deceased prince,
were entirely disregarded, and his French dominions
divided between the two brothers Charles and Lothaire,
the latter being named guardian to his infant nephew.
This enraged Louis of Bavaria, whose interest was
entirely neglected in the partition, to such a degree,
that he again revolted *, but the unexpected appearance,
with the hostile preparations of the Saxons, obliged
him to submit and ask pardon for his offences. Still,
however, the ambition of the empress kept matters in
a continual ferment, and the empire was again threat¬
ened with all the calamities of civil war j but before
these took place, the emperor died, in 841, after a most
unfortunate reign of 27 years.
Louis was eminent for the mildness of his manners
and peaceful virtues, which procured him the title of
u Debonnaire, or, “ the gentle but such was the
turbulence and excessive barbarity of the age in which
he lived, that all his virtues, instead of procuring him
3
N C E.
respect and esteem, were productive only of contempt France. fan
and rebellion from those whom both duty and nature v—j
ought to have rendered the most submissive and obe¬
dient. .
The decease of the emperor was followed by a civil
war among his sons. rlhe united forces of Lothane
and his nephew Pepin were defeated by those ol
Charles and Louis in a very bloody battle in the plains
of Fontenoy, where 100,000 Franks perished, in the
year 842. This victory, however, bloody as it was,
did not decide the fortune of the war. The conquerors
having, through motives of interest or jealousy, retired
each into their own dominions, Lothaire found means
not only to recruit his shattered forces, but pressed the
other two princes so vigorously, that they were glad
to consent to a new partition of the empire. By this
Lothaire was allowed to possess the whole of Italy,
with the whole tract of country between the rivers
Rhone and Rhine, as well as that between the Meuse
and Scheldt. Charles had Aquitain, with the country
lying between the Loire and the Meuse j while Louis
had Bavaria, with the rest of Germany, from whence
he was distinguished by the appellation of Louis the
Great. .33
By this partition, Germany and France were dis-Division of
joined in such a manner as never afterwards to be unit-the empue,
ed under one head. That part of France which was
allowed to Lothaire, was from him called Lot/ianngia,
and now Lorrain, by the gradual corruption of the
word. The sovereignty, however, which that prince
had pursued at the expence of every filial duty, and
purchased with so much blood, afforded him now but 34
little satisfaction. Disgusted with the cares and anxie- Lothaiie
ties of his situation, he sought relief in a monastery inresiSns'
the year 855. On his retreat from the throne, he al¬
lotted to his eldest son Louis II. the sovereignty of
Italy 3 to his second son Lothaire the territory of
Lorrain, with the title of king 3 and to his youngest
son Charles, surnamed the Bald, Provence, Dauphiny, Reigs of
and part of the kingdom of Burgundy 3 so that he Charles tkt
may be considered as properly the king of France.Ea d‘
From the year 845 to 857 the provinces subjected to
his jurisdiction had been infested by the annual de¬
predations of the Normans, from whom Charles was
at last fain to purchase peace at a greater expence than
might have carried on a successful war. The people
of Brittany had also revolted^ and though obliged by
the appearance of Charles himself, at the head of a
powerful army, to return to their allegiance, they no
sooner perceived him again embarrassed by the incur¬
sions of the Normans, than they threw off the yoke,
and under the conduct of their duke Louis subdued
the neighbouring diocese of Rennes 3 after which ex¬
ploit Louis assumed the title of king, which he trans¬
mitted to his son Herispee. By him Charles was to¬
tally defeated 3 and his subjects, perceiving the weak¬
ness of their monarch, put themselves under the pro¬
tection of Louis the German. His ambition prompt¬
ed him to give a ready ear to the proposal 3 and there¬
fore, taking the opportunity of Charles’s absence in
repelling an invasion of the Danes, he marched with a
formidable army into France, and was solemnly crown¬
ed by the archbishop of Sens in the year 857. Being
too confident of success, however, and fancying him¬
self already established on the throne, he was persuaded
FRANCE.
ranee, to dismiss liis German forces j which he had no sooner
done, than Charles marched against him with an army,
and Louis abandoned his new kingdom as easily as he
had obtained it.
Notwithstanding this success, the kingdom of Charles
continued still in a very tottering situation. The Nor¬
mans harassed him in one quarter, and the king of Brit¬
tany in another. He marched against the latter in the
year 860 $ but had the misfortune to receive a total de¬
feat, after an engagement which lasted two days. The
victory was chiefly owing to a noted warrior named Ro¬
bert le Fort, or tire Strong, who commanded the Bre¬
tons j but Charles found means to gain him over to his
party, by investing him with the title of duke of France,
including the country which lies between the rivers
Seine and Loire.
For some time the abilities of Robert continued to
support the tottering throne of Charles; but the diffi¬
culties returned on the death of that hero, who Was
killed in repelling an invasion of the Danes. Some a-
mends was indeed made for his loss by the death of the
king of Lorrain in the year 869 5 by which event the
territories of Charles were augmented by the cities of
Lyons, Vienne, Toul, Besan^on, Verdun, Cambray,
Viviersand Urez, together with the territories of Hain-
ault, Zealand, and Holland. Cologne, Utrecht, Treves,
Mentz, Strasburg, with the rest of the territories of
Lothaire, were assigned to Louis the German.
All this time the Normans still continued their in¬
cursions to such a degree, that Solomon king of Brit¬
tany was persuaded to join his forces to those of Charles,
in order to repel the common enemy. The event
proved unfortunate to the Normans ; for their principal
leaders were besieged in Angiers, and obliged to pur¬
chase leave to depart by relinquishing all the spoil they
had taken. Charles thus freed from a formidable ene-
my, began to aspire to the Imperial crown, which
about this time became vacant by the death of Louis.
This belonged of right to Louis the German 5 but
Charles, having instantly assembled a powerful army,
marched with it into Italy before Louis could be ap¬
prised of his designs $ and being favourably received at
Rome, the Imperial crown was put on his head with¬
out any hesitation by the pope, in the year 873. Louis,
enraged at his disappointment, discharged his fury on
the defenceless country of Champagne; and though
the approach of Charles obliged him for the present
to retire, yet he continued his preparations with such
vigour, that Charles would in all probability have found
him a very formidable adversary, had he not been taken
off by death in the year 877. Charles was no sooner
informed of his brother’s decease, than he invaded the
dominions of his son Louis, who possessed Franconia,
Thuringia, the Lower Lorrain, with some other terri¬
tories in that quarter. The enterprise, however, prov¬
ed unsuccessful. Charles, though superior in num¬
bers, was defeated with great slaughter, and had scarcely
time to reunite his scattered forces, when he was in¬
formed that the Normans had invaded his territories,
laid waste part of that country, and taken possession of
the city of Rouen. So may disasters affected him in
such a manner that he fell dangerously ill, and was
scarcely recovered of his sickness when he found himself
called into Italy to the assistance of the pope against
Vol. IX. Part I. ^ +
C5
the Saracens, whose invasions were encouraged by the France.
duke of Beneventum and the Greek emperor. Charles ' ^
passed into Italy with only a few followers > but when
he came to Pavia, at which place the pontiff had ap¬
pointed to meet him, he was informed that Cariomau
king of Bavaria, and son of Louis the German, was
already in Italy with a powerful army, and laid claim
to the imperial title in virtue of his father’s right.
Charles prepared to oppose him by force of arms ; but
his generals conspired against him, and the soldiers de¬
clared their resolution not to pass the Alps. On this
he was obliged to retire to France, at the very moment
that Carloman, dreading his power, prepared to return
to Germany. This was the last of Charles’s enterprises.
His journey brought on a return of his indisposition,
which was rendered fatal through the treachery of a
Jewish physician named Zedechius, who administered
poison to him under pretence of curing his malady. He j
expired in a miserable cottage upon Mount Cenis, insoned.PO "
the 54th year of his age, and 38th of his reign over the
kingdom of France.
The ambition of Charles had been productive ofRe;i£7of
much distress both to himself and to his subjects. His£,ohiis the
son Louis, surnamed, from a defect in his speech, Staniincr»r.
Stammerer, was of a quite different disposition ; but his
feeble administration was ill calculated to retrieve mat¬
ters in their present situation. He died on the 10th
of April 879, while on a march to suppress some in¬
surrections in Burgundy. He left his queen Adelaide
pregnant; who some time after his decease was deliver¬
ed of a son, named Charles. After his death followed
an interregnum 5 during which a faction was formed
for setting aside the children of Louis the Stammerer,
in favour of the German princes, sons to Louis the
bi other of Charles the Bald. I his scheme, however,
proved abortive ; and the two sons of the late king,
Louis and Carloman, were crowned kings of France.
Another kingdom was at that time erected by an as¬
sembly of the states, namely the kingdom of Provence,
which consisted of the countries now called Lyonnais,
Savoy, Dauphiny, Tranche Compte, and part of the duchy
of Burgundy j and the kingdom was given to Duke
Boson, brother-in-law to Charles the Bald. In 88r,
both kings of France died $ Louis, as was suspected,
by poison ; and Carloman, of a wound he received ac¬
cidentally while hunting. This produced a second in¬
terregnum $ which ended with the calling in of Charles
the Gross, emperor of Germany. His reign was more
unfortunate than that of any of his predecessors. The
Normans, to whom he had given leave to settle in
Friesland, sailed up the Seine with a fleet of 700 ships,
and laid siege to Paris. Charles, unable to force them
to abandon their undertaking, prevailed on them to
depart by a large sum of money. But as the king
could not advance the money at once, he allowed them
to remain in the neighbourhood of Paris during the
winter j and they in return plundered the country, thus
amassing vast wealth besides the sum which Charles
had promised. After this ignominous transaction
Charles returned to Germany, in a very declining state
of health both as to body and mind. Here he quar¬
relled with his empress $ and being abandoned by all
his friends, he was deposed, and x-educed to such
distress, that he would not even have had bread to eat,
I had
66
France.
FRANCE.
ha<l lie not been supplied by the archbishop of Mentz, on the throne.
  out of the principle of charity.
On the deposition of Charles the Gross, Eudes count
of Paris was chosen king by the nobility during the
minority of Charles the son of Adelaide, afterwards
named Charles the Simple. He defeated the Normans,
and repressed the power of the nobility •, on which ac¬
count a faction was formed in favour of Charles, who
was sent for, with his mother, from England. Eudes
did not enter into a civil war •, but peaceably resigned
the greatest part of the kingdom to him, and consented
to do homage for the rest. He died soon after this
agreement, in the year 898. .
During the reign of Charles the Simple, the French
government declined. By the introduction of fiefs,
those noblemen who had got into the possession of go¬
vernments, having these confirmed to them and their
heirs for ever, became in a manner independent sove¬
reigns : and as these great lords had others under them,
and they in like manner had others under them, and
even these again had their vassals j instead of the easy
and equal government which prevailed before, a vast
number of insupportable little tyrannies was erected.
The Normans, too, ravaged the country in the most
terrible manner, and desolated some of the finest pro¬
vinces in France. At last Charles ceded to Rollo, the
king or captain of these barbarians, the duchy of Neu-
stria ; who thereupon became a Christian, changed his
own name to Robert, and that of his principality to
Not'mandij. .
During the remainder of the reign of Charles the
Simple, and the entire reign of Louis IV. surnamed
the Stranger, Lothaire, and Louis V. the power of the
Carlovingian race continually declined ; till at last they
Family of were supplanted by Hugh Capet, who had been created
«harles the 0f France by Lothaire. This revolution happened
Great sup- . the g8)- an^ was brought about much in the
Hugh Ca-y same manner as the former one had been by Pepin.
' Jie proved an active and prudent monarch, and posses¬
sed such other qualities as were requisite for keeping
his tumultuous subjects in awe. He died on the 24th
of October 997, leaving his dominions in perfect quiet
to his son Robert. .
The new king inherited the good qualities ot his fa¬
ther. In his reign the kingdom was enlarged by the
death of Henry duke of Burgundy, the king’s uncle,
to whom he fell heir. This new accession of territory,
however, was not obtained without a war of several
years continuance, on account of some pretenders to the
sovereignty of that duchy •, and had it not been for the
assistance of the duke of Normandy, it is doubtful
whethertheking would have succeeded.—As Robert was
of opinion, that peace and tranquillity were preferable to
wide extended dominions with a precarious tenure, he
refused the kingdom of Italy and imperial crown of Ger¬
many, both which were offered him. He died on the 20th
of July 1030 ; having reigned 33 years, and lived 60.
Robert was succeeded by his eldest son Henry I.
who in the beginning of his reign met with great op¬
position from his mother. She had always hated him *,
and preferred his younger brother Robert, in whose fa¬
vour she now raised an insurrection. By the assistance
of Robert duke of Normandy, however, Henry over¬
came all his enemies, and established himself firmly up-
pet
.39
Robert.
40
Henry I.
In return for this, he supported Wil- Franee.
liam, Robert’s natural son, and afterwards king of'  —■*
England, in the possession of the duchy of Normandy.
Afterwards, however, growing jealous of his power,
he not only supported the pretenders to the duchy of
Normandy secretly, but invaded that country himself in
their favour. This enterprise proved unsuccessful, and
Henry was obliged to make peace : but no sincere re¬
conciliation ever followed ; for the king retained a deep
sense of the disgrace he had met with, and the duke ne¬
ver forgave him for invading his dominions. The trea¬
ty between them, therefore, was quickly broken j and
Henry once more invaded Normandy with two armies,
one commanded by himself, and the other by his bro¬
ther. The first was harassed by continual skirmishes,
and the last totally defeated j after which Henry was
obliged to agree to such terms as the “duke thought
proper $ but the rancour between them never ceased,
and was in reality the cause of that implacable aver¬
sion which for a long series of years produced perpetual
quarrels between the kings of France and those of the
Norman race in England. . _
Henry died in 1059, not without a suspicion of being p^pip.
poisoned ; and was succeeded by his eldest son Philip,
at that time in the eighth year of his age. Baldwin
earl of Flanders was appointed his guardian j and died in
the year 1066, about the time that William of Normandy
became king of England. After the death of his tutor,
Philip began to show a very insincere, haughty, and
oppressive disposition. He engaged in a war with
William the Conqueror, and supported his son Robert in
his rebellion against him§. But after the death of^ geeEq-
William, he assisted Robert’s brothers against him j by/awd,N°Ss,
which means he was forced to consent to a partition of
his dominions.
In 1092, King Philip being wearied of his queen
Bertha, procured a divorce from her under pretence of
consanguinity, and afterwards demanded in marriage
Emma daughter to Roger count of Calabria. The
treaty of marriage was concluded 5 and the princess was
sent over, richly adorned with jewels, and with a large
portion in ready money: but the king, instead of
espousing her, retained her fortune, and dismissed the
princess herself, carrying off from her husband the coun¬
tess of Anjou, who was esteemed the handsomest wo¬
man in France. With her he was so deeply enamour¬
ed, that not satisfied with the illegal possession of her
person, he procured a divorce between her and her hus¬
band, and prevailed upon some Norman bishops to so¬
lemnize his own marriage with her. The whole of
these transactions, however, were so scandalous, that
the pope having caused them to be revised in a coun¬
cil at Autun, in the year 1094, pronounced sentence
of excommunication against Philip in case he did not
part with the countess. On his repentance, the cen¬
sure was taken off > but as the king paid no regard to
promises, he was, in 1095, excommunicated a se-
hL r , __ - , 
cond time. He again professed repentance, and was
absolved j but soon after, living with the countess of
Anjou as formerly, he was excommunicated a third
time. This conduct, so unworthy of a prince, exposed
him to the contempt of the people. Too many of
the nobility followed his example, and at the same
time despised his authority j not only making war up-
FRANCE.
ranee, ot} each other, but spoiling and robbing his subjects
■—with impunity.
In the year mo, Philip prevailed on the court of
Home to have his affair reviewed in an assembly at
Poictiers ; where, notwithstanding his utmost efforts,
sentence of excommunication was a fourth time pro¬
nounced against him. Yet, in spite of all these sen¬
tences, as Queen Bertha was dead, and the count of
Anjou offered, for a large sum of money, to give
whatever assistance was requisite for procuring a dis¬
pensation, Philip at last prevailed, and the countess
was proclaimed queen of France. But though the
king’s domestic affairs were now in some degree quiet¬
ed, his negligence in government had thrown the af¬
fairs of the nation into the greatest disorder. He there¬
fore associated with him in the government his eldest
son Louis. This prince was the very reverse of his fa¬
ther j and by his activity and resolution, keeping con¬
stantly in the field with a considerable body of forces,
he reduced the rebellious nobility to subjection, and
according to the best historians, at this time saved the
state from being utterly subverted.
For these services the queen looked upon the young
prince with so jealous an eye, and gave him so much
disturbance, that he found it necessary to retire for some
time into England $ where he was received by King
Henry I. with the greatest kindness. He had not been
long at court, before Henry received by an express a
letter from Philip j telling him, that, for certain im¬
portant reasons, he should be glad if he closely confined
his son, or even despatched him altogether. The king
of England, however, instead of complying with this
infamous request, shewed the letter to Louis, and sent
him home with all imaginable marks of respect. Im¬
mediately on his return he demanded justice; but
the queen procured poison to be given him, which
operated so violently that his life was despaired of. A
stranger, however, undertook the cure, and succeeded ;
only a paleness remained in the prince’s face ever af¬
terwards, though he grew so fat that he was surnamed
the Gross.
On his recovery, the prince was on the point of re¬
venging his quarrel by force of arms; but his father
having caused the queen to make the most humble sub¬
missions to him, his resentment was at length appeased,
^ and a perfect reconciliation took place,
lii the Nothing memorable happened in the reign of King
Gtis. Philip after this reconciliation. He died in the year
1118, and was succeeded by his son Louis the Gross.
The first years of his reign were disturbed by insur¬
rections of his lords in different places of the king¬
dom ; and these insurrections were the more trouble¬
some, as they were secretly fomented by Henry I. of
England, that by weakening the. power of France
his duchy of Normandy might be the more secure.
This quickly brought on a war ; in which Henry was
defeated, and his son William obliged to do homage
to Louis for the duchy of Normandy. As the kings
of England and France, however, were rivals, and
exceedingly jealous of each other, the latter espoused
the cause of William the son of Robert duke of
Normandy, whom Henry had unjustly deprived of that
duchy. This brought on a new war ; in which Louis,
receiving a great defeat from Henry, was obliged to
make peace upon such terms as his antagonist thought
67
proper. The tranquillity, however, was but of short Fl.Hllcr
duration. Louis renewed his intrigues in favour 0F -
William, and endeavoured to form a confederacy
against Henry ; but the latter found means not only
to dissipate this confederacy, but to prevail upon Hen¬
ry V. emperor of Germany to invade France with the
whole strength of the empire on one side, while he
prepared to attack it on the other. But Louis hav¬
ing collected an army of 200,000 men, both of them
thought proper to desist. Upon this the king of
France would have marched into Normandy, in order
to put William in possession of that duchy. * His great
vassals, however, told him they would do no such
thing; that they had assembled in order to defend the
territories of I ranee from the invasion of a foreign
punce, and not to enlarge his power by destroying
that balance which arose from the king of England’s
possession of Normandy, and which they reckoned ne¬
cessary for their own safety. This was followed ,by a
peace with Henry ; which, as both monarchs had now
seen the extent of each other’s power, was made on
pietty equal terms, and kept during the life of Louis,
who died in 1137, leaving the kingdom to his son
Louis VII.
The young king was not endowed with any of those Louis VII,
qualities which constitute a great monarch. Froma 'vea^
the superstition common to the age in which he lived, pr'nce‘
he undertook an expedition into the Holy Land, from
whence he returned without glory. In this expedition
he took his queen Eleanor along with him ; but was
so much offended with her gallantries during her stay
there, as well as her behaviour afterwards, that he di¬
vorced her, and returned the duchy of Guienne which
he received with her as a portion. Six weeks after
this she married Henry duke of Normandy, count of
Anjou and Maine, and heir apparent to the crown of
England. Ihis marriage was a very great mortifica¬
tion to Louis; and procured him the surname of the
Young, on account of the folly of his conduct. When
Henry ascended the throne of England, some wars
were carried on between him and Louis, with little
advantage on either side : at last, however, a perfect
reconciliation took place ; and Louis took a voyage to
England, in order to visit the shrine of St Thomas of
Canterbury. On his return he was struck with an apo¬
plexy ; and though he recovered for that time, yet he
continued ever after paralytic on the right side. Af¬
ter having languished for about a year under this ma¬
lady, he died on the 18th of September 1180, leav¬
ing the kingdom to his son Philip.
This prince, surnamed The Gift of God, The Magna- Philip the
nunous, and The Conqueror, during his lifetime ; and, as Great,
if all these titles had fallen short of his merit, styled
Augustus after his death,—is reckoned one of the
greatest princes that ever sat on the throne of France,
or any other. It doth not, however, appear, that these
titles were altogether well founded. In the beginning
of his reign he was opposed by a strong faction excited
by his mother. This indeed he suppresed with a vi¬
gour and spirit which did him honour ; but his taking
part with the children of Henry II. of England in
their unnatural contests with their father, and his
treacherous combination with John to seize his bro¬
ther’s kingdom when he was detained in prison by the
emperor of Germany, must be indelible stains in his
I 2 character,
68 FRA
France- character, and for ever exclude him from the title of
 v~~—• Magnanimous. As to military skill and personal^
valour, he was evidently interior to Richard I. ot
England \ nor can his recovering of the provinces held
by the English in France, from such a mean and
dastardly prince as King John, entitle him with any
justice to the surname of Conqueror. In politics he
was evidently the dupe of the pope, who made use of
him to intimidate John into a submission, by promising
him the kingdom ot England, which he never meant
that he should enjoy. An account of these transactions,
which are the principal ones ot this reign, is given
4.5 under the article England, N° 121—141.
Reign of Philip died in 1223, and was succeeded by his son
Louis IX. Lmm VIII. and he, ‘in 1226, by Louis IX. afterwards
styled St Louis. This prince was certainly possessed
of many good qualities, but deeply tinctured with the
superstition of the times. This induced him to en¬
gage in two croisades. The first was against the
Saracens in Egypt: in which he was taken prisoner
by the Infidels, and treated with great cruelty j but
at last obtained his ransom, on condition of paying a
million of pieces of gold, and surrendering the city ot
Damietta. He no sooner regained his liberty, than he
entered Syria with a view of doing something worthy
of his rank and character. From this expedition he
was obliged to return sooner than he intended, by the
news of the decease of his mother Queen Blanch, whom
lie had appointed regent in his absence, and who had
managed the national affairs with the greatest prudence.
The king, however, found many disorders in the king¬
dom upon his return ; and these he set himself to re¬
form with the utmost diligence. Haying succeeded in
this, he yielded to Henry HI. ot England, the Li¬
mousin, Querci, Perigord, and some other places ; in
consideration of Henry and his son Prince Edwai d their
renouncing, in the fullest manner, all pretensions to
Normandy and the other provinces of France winch the
English had formerly possessed.
The reputation of this monarch for candour and
justice was so great, that the barons of England, as well
33 King Henry III. consented to make him umpire
of the differences which subsisted between them. But
though he decided this matter very justly, his decision
was not productive of any good efiect. At last the
king, having settled every thing relating to his king¬
dom in a proper manner, set out on another croisade
for Africa j where he died of the plague, on the 25th
.5 of August 1270. _ . .
Philip the Notwithstanding the misfortunes of Louis, his suc-
Ifardy. cessor Philip, surnamed the Hardy, continued the war
against the Infidels with great vigour. Being rein¬
forced by his uncle Charles king of Sicily, he brought
the war to a more fortunate conclusion than his prede¬
cessor had been likely to do. The Saracens were de¬
feated in two engagements, and the king ot lunis
obliged to sue for peace •, offering at the same time to
double the tribute he formerly paid to the crown ot
Sicily ; to reimburse the expences of the war j and to
permit the Christian religion to be freely propagated
throughout his dominions. Having accomplished this,
the two princes set sail for Europe j but the seeds of
the distemper which had infected the army in Africa
not being eradicated, broke forth on their arrival in
Sicily, and raged for some time with great violence.
N C E.
Besides a vast number of common people, the king’s , L&net.
brother John, his queen Isabella, with his brother and /'~"J
sister-in-law the king and queen of Navarre, and his
uncle and aunt the count and countess of Poictiers,
perished by this dreadful malady.
On his return to France, Philip took possession of
the counties of Provence and Thoulouse } married his
second son, though then very young, to the only daugh¬
ter of the king of Navarre ; while he himself espoused
Mary the daughter of the duke of Brabant, reckoned
one of the most beautiful princesses of the age. He
steadily enforced the regulations of his predecessor,
who had prohibited the barons from making private^
wars upon one another; procured the friendship of
Edward I. of England by ceding to him the county of
Agenois 5 and entered into a war with Spain in order
to support the pretensions of his nephews, the Infants
de la Cerda, to the throne of Castile.
The events of this war were of no great import¬
ance * and the king’s attention was quickly called off
from them by the death of his eldest son Louis at the
age of twelve years. This disastrous event happened
in the year 1275, not without a suspicion of poison j
and the young queen, Mary, was accused by a sur¬
geon named La Brosse as guilty of his death. Philip
gave some credit to the accusation: but having applied
to a nun, who pretended to be inspired, for full satis¬
faction, her answer proved fatal to La Brosse. The
queen being cleared by this pretended prophetess, La
Brosse was accused of a treasonable correspondence
with the king of Castile, and condemned to death. The
manner of his trial and execution, however, were such,
that the tide of popular favour was turned $ La Brosse
was by the voice of the people declared to be innocent,
and the king and queen themselves loudly condemned.
During these unfavourable circumstances, the Sicilians,
over whom Charles of Anjou had established his
authority, instigated by John of Procida, a noble exile,
came to a resolution of freeing themselves at once from ^
the French yoke by a general massacre. This cruel Fr€rci)
resolution was accordingly put in execution ; and the massacred
French, to the number of 8000, murdered in oneinW
night; after which Peter of Arragon, sailed to the
island, where he was received by the inhabitants as
their king and saviour. Charles was sensibly affected
by this misfortune : and having laid siege to Messina,
sailed directly to Marseilles, where he obtained a power¬
ful reinforcement. But during his absence on this
occasion, his son, to whom he had entrusted the care of
the siege, having rashly ventured an engagement with
the Spanish fleet, was entirely defeated and taken pri¬
soner } which so much affected the father that he died
of grief, and Sicily was inseparably attached to the
house of Arragon.
The misfortunes of Charles were followed by others
equally great to Philip himself. Pope Martin FV. in
the warmth of his zeal for the cause of the duke of
Anjou, had excommunicated Pedro king ol Arragon,
and bestowed his kingdom on Charles of Valois,, a
younger son of the king of France. In attempting
to defend himself against the execution of this unjust
sentence, Pedro was mortally wounded j but, soon af¬
ter, the French fleet being defeated by that of Arra¬
gon, the king was so much affected by the misfortune
that he fell sick. His disease was augmented by the
beat
fras
*-/■
4*
Ri"
Ftilip!
fiir.
49
Diftien
*,Ei
Itt
Franc:'-
4S
liiin of
heat of the climate and the fatigues of war ; so that,
quite worn out with grief and infirmities, he expired at
Perpignan in the 41st year of his age, and 16th of his
reign.
By the death of Philip the Hardy the French crown
FRANCE.
ders ; while Philip strengthened himself by an alliance
69
France.
lai
lip the devolved on his second son, called also Philip, and from
|lir« the beauty of his person surnamed the Fair; who had
espoused the princess of Navarre, and at the time of
his accession was in his 17th year. By the marriage
with this princess he had obtained the counties of
Champagne and Brie ; yet with all this increase of
power he found himself unable to support the war in
which his predecessor had engaged. For this reason he
thought proper to abandon the interest of the Infants
de la Cerda, and settle the ditferences with Castile.
The treaty was concluded by the mediation of Edward
I. of England j at whose intercession Charles the Lame,
son to the duke of Anjou already mentioned, was re¬
leased from his captivity *, Edward himself paying
part of his ransom. On this Charles consented to re¬
nounce his claim on Sicily ; and Philip himself pro¬
mised that his kinsman Philip of Valois should re¬
nounce all pretensions to the crown of Arragon. In
return for this generosity, the latter obtained the eldest
daughter of Charles, with the territories of Anjou and
Maine as a dowry.
The tranquillity procured by this treaty, however,
was soon interrupted by differences with Edward the
I ^ promoter of it ; Pope Boniface VIII. and Guy de
Lferente Dampier, count of Flanders. The difference with
>v i Eng- England took place by a mere accident. A Norman
and an English vessel having met off the coast of Bay¬
onne, and having both occasion for water, the crews
met and quarrelled at the same spring. A Norman
was killed in the squabble by his own weapon, with
which he assaulted an Englishman, as the latter pre¬
tended : but however the matter was, complaints were
made by the Normans to Philip j who, without giving
himself much trouble to inquire into the merits of the
cause, instantly allowed them to redress their supposed
injuries. On this a kind of piratical war commenced
between the two nations, in which the two sovereigns
for some time took no active part; though other na¬
tions interfered ; the Irish and Dutch seamen siding
with the English, and those of Flanders and Genoa
with the French. Thus the powers on both sides were
gradually augmented, till at last the affair became so
serious, that in one engagement 15,000 French are
said to have perished. Philip, alarmed at such a car¬
nage, summoned the king of England as his vassal to
attend ; and, on his refusal, declared his estates in
France to be forfeited. After a number of negotia¬
tions, Philip declared that he would be satisfied with
the nominal cession of the province of Guienne, which
he engaged instantly to restore to the king of England
as soon as it should be put into his hands. Edward
complied with his demands •, but no sooner had the
Irench monarch obtained possession of that country,
than he persisted in the forfeiture of the English pos¬
sessions in France ; which treacherous proceeding in¬
stantly produced a war betwixt the two nations. Ed¬
ward, that he might defend himself the better against
such a formidable adversary, concluded a treaty with
the emperor Adolphus, together with the counts, of
I rjttany, Holland, Bar, Juliers, Gueldres, and Flan-
with John Baliol of Scotland j and thus laid the foun¬
dation of that strict union which took place between
France and Scotland for two centuries. During this
war the French made a descent on the coast of Eng¬
land, and destroyed the town of Dover j while Ed¬
ward, in revenge, landed in Gascony with an army of
50,000 men. No great exploits, however, were per¬
formed with this mighty armament ; and both parties
finding themselves pretty equally matched, consented
to a suspension of arms for two years 5 during which a
peace was finally concluded by the mediation of Pope
Boniface VIII. Guienne was restored: Edward pCace con-
espoused Margaret the sister of Philip j while his eluded. .
daughter Isabella was given in marriage to the prince
of Wales.
Both Philip and Edward behaved to the allies whom
they had engaged in their cause with equal perfidy.
Baliol was abandoned by Philip to the resentment of
Edward ; while Guy, earl of Flanders, was left equally
exposed to the resentment of Philip. <r
The reconciliation betwixt the French and English Difference
monarchs was soon followed by a difference with Pope with
Bonilace, whom they had appointed mediator between Boniiace.
them. Sensible of his assuming disposition, how¬
ever, they had inserted in the reference made to him,
that he was chosen as a private man, and not as
the successor of St Peter. The haughty pontiff,
however, soon showed, that he was not by any means
to be treated as a private person, and a contest with
Pliilip quickly ensued. Boniface began with forbidding
the clergy to grant the king any subsidies without
first obtaining the consent of the Holy See, under the
pain ol excommunication. Philip revenged himself by
prohibiting any ecclesiastics from sending money out
of the kingdom without his leave ; and by protecting
the Colonnas, who were the implacable enemies of Bo¬
niface. By this bis holiness was so much irritated that .
he sent a most abusive letter to Philip; after which he
summoned the clergy of France to a council at Rome ;
which Philip retaliated, by seizing the temporalities
of those who obeyed the summons, and recalling bis
brother Charles of Valois, who had the title of the
Pope's General. Sensible, however, of the danger that
attended this contest, he despatched two emissaries,
under pretence of conciliating the differences, to levy
such a body of troops as might execute his hostile pur¬
poses against the holy father. With these he suddenly
invested the pope in his native city of Anegnia ; and
while the bull was preparing for the excommunication
of Philip, and releasing his subjects from their obedi¬
ence, the pope himself was obliged to surrender prisoner
to the troops of the prince whom he designed to anathe¬
matize.
Though Boniface had been at this time delivered
up to the troops of Philip through the treachery of the
people of Anegnia, yet he was no sooner taken pri¬
soner and brought to distress, than they rescued him .
from his guards and conveyed him to Rome, where he >
soon after died of grief and shame. His successor Pe”j)ea^* f
nedict revoked the excommunication of Boniface, and ^onjfaCg
attempted to regain the allegiance of Philip by gentle
means : but, hef'ote this could be effected, he himself
was cut off by death, not without strong suspicions of
poison. After his decease Philip offered to procure
the
France.
53
The Pope
FRA
the papal chair for Bertrand archbishop of Bourdeaux,
provided he would condemn the memory ot Boniface,
restore the honours and estates of the Colonnas which
had been forfeited, allow him, for five years, the tenths
of the clergy of France, and comply with a request
which at that time it was not proper to divulge.
Bertrand having complied with the terms proposed
by the king, ascended the papal throne by the name
of Clement V. but narrowly escaped being killed on his
return from the cathedral of Lyons, by the falling of
a wall which had been overloaded by the number of
people who came to see the procession ; by which acci¬
dent the duke of Brittany was killed, and the king
and count of Valois considerably bruised. The new
fixes his re-p0pe fixed his residence at Avignon, where he punc
sidenee tit   Jf«~i +lao t-rpafv
Avignon.
tually complied with all the conditions of the treaty,
except that of condemning the conduct of Boniface,
which he absolutely refused to do 5 and, instead of do¬
ing so, vindicated it with much solemnity, after hav¬
ing inquired into the matter, or pretended to do so.
The other condition, which Philip had at first con¬
cealed, was discovered by the death of the emperor
Albert of Austria; after which event he desired Cle¬
ment to assist him in placing his brother Charles or
Valois on the Imperial throne. But his holiness, ap¬
prehensive of the danger which might accrue to himself
from being surrounded with the powerful relations of
Philip, urged the diet to proceed instantly to an elec¬
tion j recommending to them Henry of Luxemburg
as a proper person to fill the Imperial throne. In this
scheme he succeeded so well, that the election was over
before Philip could arrive at Avignon ; and. the only
consolation the French monarch could obtain for his
disappointment, was the possession of the city ot Lyons,
which had hitherto maintained an independency under
its archbishop ; but was now persuaded to submit to the
,, authority of Philip. .
Expedition In the mean time Guy, earl of Flanders, being
of Philip abandoned by his ally Edward king of England, was
against the^; d to throw himself on the mercy of the French
monarch, who had sent his brother Charles of .Va¬
lois, with a powerful army to invade his dominions.
From the latter indeed he had obtained a promise, that
if he could not, within a year, compose the differences
subsisting between him and Philip, he should be at li¬
berty to retire, and pursue what measures he pleased.
But Philip, in order to gratify the resentment which
his queen entertained against the captive prince, de¬
tained him, with two of his sons, in close confinement,
while he himself entering Flanders in triumph, was
everywhere received as sovereign of the country; and
at his departure appointed John de Chatillon, a rela¬
tion of the queen, to govern those newly acquired ter-
The new governor took care to repair the fortifica¬
tions which had been suffered to decay by reason ot the
assiduous application of the Flemings to trade j but be-
intr of a very haughty and tyrannical disposition, and
the poverty of the times not allowing his .master to
keep regular garrisons, an insurrection quick y took
place. This would have been effectually quel ed by
the dilioence of the magistrates, had not Chatillon un-
tuCkily0entered Bruges, and publicly displayed two
hogsheads of ropes, which he threatened to employ in
the execution of the inhabitants. On this they flew
Flanders.
N C E.
to arms, and massacred 1500 French ; Chatillon him- Trance,
self being obliged to escape their fury by swimming » —1
over the town ditch. The insurgents, now daily gather¬
ing strength, soon amounted to an army of 60,000 men,
who laid siege to Courtray. Here they were rashly
attacked in their trenches by the count d’Artois, who
met with the reward of his temerity, being cut off
with 20,000 of his troops. Philip determined on re-
.vengej though the raising another army obliged him
to debase the coin of the kingdom. Ihus, however,
he was enabled to enter Flanders with such a force as Ihecon.
would probably have subdued the whole country, had quest of
not Edward artfully communicated to the queen ofJ^®0"H-
France, as a secret, a feigned correspondence between vente(j by
the French nobility and the court of Rome } by which Edwardlll
false intelligence the king was induced to abandon the of England
enterprise without performing any thing worthy of the
armament he had fitted out. The war was continued
for some time longer j but the attempts of Philip were
constantly defeated by the steady valour of the Fle¬
mings ; and the only recompense Philip obtained for all
his trouble and expence was the city ot Courtray. (54)
The other remarkable transactions of this reign were Expulsimi
the expulsion and confiscation of the estates of the of the
Templars, who at that time enjoyed immense posses-
sions in France. The confiscations took place without
any form of trial, and upwards of 50 of them were put
to death in a cruel manner. The grand master, with
three of his principal officers, were burnt by a slow fire
in the presence of the king himself. The whole body
of these unfortunate knights had been accused of the
most gross and abominable sensualities. The particu¬
lars were revealed, or pretended to be so, by two cri¬
minals who received their pardon for the discoveries
they made j and these discoveries were confirmed by
the confession of the Templars themselves. But this
confession was afterwards retracted, as being extorted
from them by the fear of absolute destruction j and
those who suffered, maintained their purity to the last.
and on the whole, it was believed that Philip consulted
his avarice rather than his justice by this cruel execu¬
tion. The latter part of his life was embittered by
domestic misfortunes. His three daughters-in-law,
Margaret daughter of the duke, and Jean and Blanch
of the count, of Burgundy, who had married his three
sons, Louis, Philip, and Charles, were accused of infi¬
delity to their husbands. After a severe examination,
Margaret and Blanch were condemned to perpetual im¬
prisonment j in which situation Margaret was after¬
wards strangled by order of her husband Louis. Then
paramours, Philip and Walter de Launay, two bro¬
thers, were flayed alive, and afterwards hung upon a
gibbet, with an usher of the chamber, who had been
their confidant. The uneasiness of mind which Philip
suffered on this account is supposed to have impaired his
health, and he died of a consumption in the year 1295,
the 47th of his age, and 30th of his reign. . 55
On the accession of Louis, surnamed the Boisterous,
on account of his violent temper, he found his treasury
so much exhausted, that he was obliged to delay for
some time the ceremony of his coronation with his new
queen Clemence, daughter of the king of Hungary.
Finding the kingdom otherwise in a very distracted
state, he applied himself very diligently to appease the
discontents of his subjects, and conciliate their affection
hv
f r Alice
R :ii.of
Ptip the
m-
Unl! tu-
natlixpe-
did into
Ital
by every means in his power. In this he was assisted
by his uncle Charles of Valois, on whom he at length
entirely devolved the government of the kingdom.
This regent, however, behaved with such cruelty0as is
supposed to have proved fatal to the king himself; for
having put to death a nobleman named Enguerrand de
Poitier de Marigni, who enjoyed the confidence of the
late king, this cruelty was so much resented, that his
friends were thought to have administered poison to
the king; who expired suddenly after drinking a glass
of cold water, in the 26th year of his age, and second
of his reign. Immediately after his death, Charles
prepared to dispute the sovereignty with the brothers
of the late sovereign. Philip count of Poictou, the
eldest brother, was at that time at Rome assisting in
the election of a new pope ; and it was not until a
month after the death of his brother that he was able
to put an end to the intrigues which took place on that
occasion : but on his arrival in France, the throne was
assigned to him by the unanimous voice of the people.
His prospects, however, were for a short time clouded
by the queen dowager Clemence being delivered of a
son, who has been enrolled among the kings of France
under the name of John I. His death in three weeks
secured the throne to Philip; who, on account of the
tallness of his stature, was surnamed the Long. His
conduct proved superior to that of his predecessor, who
had unsuccessfully attempted to subdue the Flemings,
and had even suffered himself to be duped by their
count ; but Philip, by his vigorous behaviour, so reduced
them, that they compelled their sovereign to consent
to a peace upon honourable terms. He summoned
.Edward II. of England to do homage for his posses¬
sions in France ; but that monarch, finding himself in¬
volved in difficulties, which rendered the visit inconve¬
nient, sent excuses to Philip, which he was pleased to
accept. As the French monarch had formerly taken
the cross during the lifetime of his father, he now pro¬
posed to put his vow in execution ; but was dissuaded
from this by the pope himself, at whose instance he
sent an army into Italy to put an end to the contend¬
ing factions of the Guelphs and Cibbelines, who for so
long time filled the country with blood and slaughter.
Ihe event proved unfortunate; and the disgrace was
rendered more mortifying by a contagious distemper,
which swept off many thousands of French subjects,
.is was supposed by the superstitious people of those
times to be occasioned by the Jews, who had conspired
with the Saracens to poison the springs ; and that the
execution of the project was committed to some le-
pers who lived by themselves in hospitals richly endow¬
ed. . On this a persecution was instantly commenced
against these unfortunate men, and great numbers of
them were burnt alive; while the Jews in general were
abandoned to the rage of the populace, who insulted
their persons, and plundered their houses without re¬
morse.
. The remaining part of the reign of Philip was spent
in attempting to regulate the internal concerns of his
kingdom. A design had been formed bv his prede¬
cessors of establishing a certain standard for the coin,
weights, and measures, throughout France : and this
was adopted by Philip ; who, in order to carry it more
ffectually into execution, purchased from the counts
of Valois, Clermont, and Bourbon, their right of
7r
France.
FRANCE.
coinage within their own dominions. But notwith¬
standing all Ins endeavours for this purpose, he never
could bring the scheme to bear: nor indeed could he
many degree conciliate the affection of his subjects.
He died of a fever and dysentery in the year 1322, the
28th year of his age, and 9th of his reign.
By the death of Philip, the crown of France de-Reiefof
volved on his brother Charles IV. who had obtained ChSs the
the surname of Fatr. After settling some disputes with Fair,
he duke of Burgundy, his next step was to dissolve
Ins marriage with Blanch, who still continued in pri¬
son, and to espouse Mary the daughter of Henry em¬
peror of Germany. Tins marriage was contracted
with a view to the Imperial crown itself, which had
been so long separated from that of France ; and in
1325 an opportunity offered for Charles to gratify bis
ambition. At that time the Imperial dignity was dis¬
puted between Louis of Bavaria and Frederic of Au-
s na; the latter of whom had been taken prisoner in a
battle with Louis But Pope John, who entertained an
implacable hatred against Louis, fulminated the sen¬
tence of excommun.cation against him, intrusting the
execution of it to Leopold the brother of Ferdinand.
Hie king of I ranee was induced to embark in the same
causj, by a promise of the spoils of Bavaria; while
x1 redenc himself consented to relinquish bis pretensions
to. the empire which he had so unsuccessfully main¬
tained. Louis, however, by instantly releasing his pri¬
soner, and dismissing him in an honourable manner,
engaged his friendship, and disarmed his most formidl
able antagonist. But the pope was not to be dis¬
appointed. A considerable sum of money induced Leo-
pold to persevere in bis hostilities, while it was de¬
termined that a new council of electors should be held
in order to transfer the Imperial crown to Charles. In
pursuit of this visionary scheme, the king of France
set out for the frontiers of Germany with a splendid
army ; but soon found that there was no possibility of
accomplishing his wishes. Leopold alone, from mo¬
tives of interest remained his friend ; the rest shewed
the greatest indifference ; and even his brother-in-law
the king of Bohemia absented himself from the diet;
while m a short time the death of the queen put an end
to all connexions vuth that crown.
On the decease of Mary, Charles espoused Joanna
daughter to the count of Evreux : and in order to
avert the calamities to be feared from an infant suc¬
cession, he entered into an alliance with Robert kiim of
bcot and ; by which it was provided, that should either
of the sovereigns die without an heir apparent, the
s ates of the kingdom should fill the vacant throne, and
the survivor of the two kings should with his whole force
support the legality of the nomination against any other
competitor ; though even this proved insufficient to
avert the danger which now threatened the kingdom, as
shall be explained in the sequel.
Charles died in the year 1328, in the 34th year of Candidates
ms age, leaving his queen pregnant; and as the sue-for the re'
cession depended on the fruit of the queen’s pregnancy « and
a regent m tlie mean time wa. necessary ; and two cam IStV1
diddles instantly appeared for this important post, of Charles,
urging at the same time their right to the crown as
well as to the regency. These were, Philip de Valois
cousin-german toi the deceased king ; the other, Ed¬
ward III. king of England, who aspired to the throne
lit 1
72
France.
FRA
In right of his mother, and the nephew of Charles the
' Fair. His pretensions, however, were easily set aside,
, r • From wlnrJl
rfimce.
60
Disputes
with Ed¬
ward III.
of Eng¬
land.
61
Edward’s
first expe-
ditieo.
X air. xus preieusiuu.-.,   j -
and Philip was confirmed in the regency : from which
he soon after stepped into the throne, on the queen
being delivered of a daughter j front which circum¬
stance he acquired the surname of Fortunate. Put
though the pretensions of Edward, both to the regen¬
cy and crown, were unanimously rejected by the P60’
nle, it was still impossible for Philip to think of the
claims of such a formidable rival without uneasiness.
He therefore summoned the English monarch to do
homage for his possessions in France*, and, upon his
not answering his summons, forfeited them, and sei/.e
bis revenues. This at last induced Edward to cross
the sea and pay his homage ; which Philip consented
to receive in any form, upon condition oi a proper ex¬
planation being afterwards given : but as this was s u-
diously delayed after the return of the king of Eng¬
land, the province of Guienne was again seizet y e
French monarch. Edward, unwilling to lose his con¬
tinental dominions, or involve himself in a war lor the
sake of a mere ceremony, sent over a formal deed, by
which he acknowledged that he owed liege homage to
France Thus the flame was smothered lor the pre¬
sent j and would perhaps have been entirely extin¬
guished, had it not been for the intrigues of Robert ot
Artois, brother-in-law to the king of France himself,
who had been expelled his country, and had taken re¬
fuge in England. By him he was persuaded to renew
his pretensions to the crown of France, which of neces¬
sity produced a war.
For some time, indeed, neither party made any
open declaration of hostility, but as both monarchs
were possessed of great prudence- and sagacity, they
soon penetrated each other’s designs. Philip, under
pretence of taking the cross, began to make prodigious
armaments, strengthening himself at the same time by
alliances on every side *, while Edward, determining
renew his claim to the crown ot Franee, projected the
conquest of Scotland. This, however he could not
accomplish *, and in the mean time Philip in order to
favour the Scots, with whom he was in alliance, sutier-
ed his subjects to make irruptions into Guienne.
In 1337, the war broke out openly. Philip having
detached a squadron of his fleet against the Infide s,
employed the rest, consisting chiefly of Genoese vessels,
against the English. As in this war it was of great
importance which side was taken by the Flemings,
these people were courted by both parties. Louis
count of Flanders declared for Philip, but his subjects
were more inclined to King Edward. James Artevrlle
a brewer, the most able and artful man in the country,
governed them at that time as much as if he had been
their prince *, and the advantages arising from the
English commerce determining him in favour a* Ed¬
ward, that prince, at his request, embarked for Sluys
Vah a numerous army. Here he arrived in 1338 i and
on his first landing, it was resolved that the German
princes in alliance with him should act against I ranee.
But for this a pretence was wanting. I he vassals of
the empire could not act by Edward’s orders, or even
o' bis allies without directions from the emperor, and
R wa” in league with France. This difficulty how-
ever, was soon overcome : the French had made them¬
selves masters of Cambray, and the emperor resolved
3
N C E.
that it should be retaken. With this view he created
Edward Vicar General of the Empire \ an empty title,
but which seemed to give him a right of commanding
the services of the princes of Germany. 1 he 1 lemings,
who were vassals of France, likewise pretended scruples
at invading the territories of their liege lord. To quiet
these, Edward, by the advice of Arteville, assumed the
title oi King of France; and by virtue of this right
challenged their assistance for dethroning Philip de Va¬
lois, the usurper of his kingdom. This step, which
he feared would beget endless animosities and jealousies,
he did not take without hesitation *, and, according to
Mr Hume, from this time we may date the commence¬
ment of that great animosity which the English have
always borne to the I rencii. .
Edward’s first attempt was upon the city ot Eam-
bray, to which he laid siege j but in a short time he
was prevailed upon by Robert d’Artois to raise the
siege and march into Picardy. This country he enter¬
ed with an army of near 50,000 men, composed mostly
of foreigners. Philip came within sight of him with
an army of near 100,000, composed chiefly of native
subiects *, and it was daily expected that a battle would
ensue. But the English monarch was averse to engage
against so great a superiority : and Philip thought it
sufficient if he eluded the attacks of his enemy, without
running any unnecessary hazard. The two armies faced
each other for several days; mutual defiances were sent j
and Edward at last retired into Flanders, and dispersea
Such was the fruitless and almost ridiculous conclu¬
sion of Edward’s first expedition, which had plunged
him into the greatest difficulties. He had contracted
near 300,000!. of debt j he had anticipated all his
revenue*, he had pawned every thing of value winch
belonged either to himself or his queen $ nay, he was
obliged in some measure even to pawn himself to Ins
creditors, by desiring their permission to go over, to
England in order to procure supply, and by promising
on his word of honour to return in person if he did not
remit their money. On his arrival in England, how¬
ever, he procured a large supply, sufficient to enable
him to make all the necessary preparations for a new
invasion j and so certain were the English that I ranee
would now be conquered, that the parliament, before
Edward’s departure, protested that they owed him no
obedience as king of France, but that the two kingdoms
must remain for ever distinct and independent.
The kinc of England set out on his second expedi-HissecM
tion with aSfleet of8240 vessels.. Philip had preparedexpeto
a fleet of 400 vessels, manned with 40,000 men j which
he stationed off Sluys, in order to intercept him in his
passage. The two fleets met on the 13th ot June 5,
1340 ; but the English, either by the superior abilities
of Edward, or the greater dexterity of his seamen, entite!j :
gained the wind of the enemy, and bad the sun mfeatt *
their backs j and with these advantages began the ac-« *
tion. The battle was fierce and bloody : ihe English
archers, whose force and address were now much cele¬
brated, galled the French on their approach J and
when the ships grappled together, the example .oi the
king and the nobility who were with him so animated
the seamen and soldiers, tha* they maintained every¬
where a superiority over the enemy. The I lemings
observing the battle, hurried out of their ports, and
tiiied ini
finite a
Kirilin
%afl.ce
tlmi time.
FRA
brought a reinforcement to the English j which coming
unexpectedly, had a greater effect than in proportion
to its power and numbers. Two hundred and thirty
ships were taken: and 30,000 Frenchmen were killed,
with two of their admirals : the loss of the English was
inconsiderable, compared to the greatness and import¬
ance of the victory. None of Philip’s courtiers, it is
said, dared to inform him of the event j till his fool or
jester gave him a hint, by which he discovered the loss
he had sustained.
After this great victory, Edward landed his forces
and laid siege to Tournay. Philip marched to its re¬
lief with a very numerous army: but acted with so
much caution, that Edward found himself in a manner
blocked up in his camp: and the countess dowager of
Hainault, sister to Philip, mother-in-law to Edward,
and sister-in-law to Robert d’Artois, coming out of a
convent, to which she had retired, interposed with so
much spirit and address, that she engaged all parties to
agree to a truce for a year, and might perhaps have
^ brought about a peace if she had survived.
E-ard ia- In however, Edward’s ambition was once
ri i into more excited by the invitation of the count de Mount-
flMce a foj.^ who had possessed himself of the province of
Brittany, and applied to Edward to second his claims.
An offer of this kind entirely coincided with Edward’s
most sanguine desires. He was happy in the promised
assistance of Mountfort, an active and valiant prince,
closely united to him by interest, and thus opening to
him an entrance into the heart of France. These flat¬
tering prospects, however, were for a while damped
by the imprisonment of Mountfort; whose aims being
discovered, he was besieged in the city of Nantzand ta¬
ken. But Jane of Flanders his wife soon made up for
the loss of her husband. This lady courageously under¬
took to support the falling fortunes of her family. She
assembled the inhabitants of Rennes, where she then
resided 5 and carrying her infant son in her arms, de¬
plored her misfortunes, and attempted to inspire the
citizens with an affection for her cause. The inhabi¬
tants of Nantz instantly espoused her interests, and all
the other fortresses of Brittany embraced the same re¬
solution. The king of England was apprised of her ef¬
forts } and was entreated to send her succours with all
possible expedition to the town of Hennebone, in which
place she resolved to sustain the attacks of the enemy.
Charles de Blois, Philip’s general, anxious to make
himself master of so important a fortress as Hennebone,
and still more to take the countess a prisoner, sat down
before the place with a large army, and conducted the
siege with indefatigable industry. The defence was no
less vigorous: several sallies were made by the garri¬
son, in which the countess herself was still the most ac¬
tive, and led on the assault. Observing one day that
their whole army had quitted the camp to join in a
general storm, she sallied out by a postern at the head
of 300 horse, set fire to the enemies tents and baggage,
put their sutlers and servants to the sword, and occa-
sioneu such an alarm, that the French desisted from the
assault, in order to cut off her communication with the
town. Thus intercepted, she retired to Auray, where
she continued five or six days; then returning at the
lead of 300 horse, she fought her way through one
quarter of the French camp, and returned to her faith-
u citizens in triumph. But the besiegers had at
VaL. IX. Part I. |
N C E.
length made several breaches in the walls j and it was
apprehended that a general assault, which was hourly
expected, would be fatal. A capitulation was there¬
fore proposed, and a conference was already begun,
when the countess, who had mounted on a high tower,
and was looking towards the sea with great impatience,
descried some ships at a distance. She immediately
exclaimed that succours were arrived, and forbade anv
further capitulation. She was not disappointed in her
wishes; the fleet she discerned carried a body of Eng¬
lish gentlemen, with 6000 archers, whom Edward had
prepared for the relief of Hennebone, but who had
been long detained by contrary winds. They entered the
harbour under the conduct of Sir Walter Manny, one
of the most valiant commanders of his time. This re¬
lief served to keep up the declining spirits of the Bre¬
tons until the time appointed by the late truce with
Edward was expired, on which he was at liberty to re¬
new the war in greater form.
The succours under Sir Walter Manny were quickly
followed by a more considerable reinforcement com¬
manded by Robert of Artois, who made himself ma¬
ster of the city of Vannes soon after his arrival: but
the French soon recovered the city, and Robert was
compelled to relinquish his prize after receiving a
mortal wound. Edward himself, eager to revenge the
death of his ally, soon landed at Morbian near Vannes
with an army of 12,000 men. With this small num¬
ber he undertook at once the siege of Vannes, Nantz.
and Rennes: but by dividing his forces, he failed in
every enterprise, and gave an opportunity to John duke
of Normandy, the king of France’s eldest son, to invest
him in his camp. In this situation his provisions soon
began to fail; and Edward, notwithstanding all his
valour, would have been obliged to surrender, had he
not, by a train of artful negotiations, induced Philip
to relinquish the advantage he had obtained, and con¬
sent to a truce of three years. This was accomplished
by the mediation of the court of Rome ; and the French
monarch was soon made sensible of the partiality of
that court, and the imprudence of the step he himself
had taken. Edward soon found a pretence to renew
the war, from the execution of some nobles of Brittany,
who, he said, were partisans of Mountfort, and chose
to look upon their punishment as an infraction of the
treaty.
Philip now endeavoured to secure himself against the
power of his rival by alliances, and by purchasing the
city of Montpelier from the king of Majorca: but in
the mean time, the English, under the command of the
earl of Derby, had invaded Guienne, twice defeated
the French army commanded by the count de Lisle,
and made themselves masters of a great number of
towns. Philip, by reason of the exhausted state of his
treasury, was for some time incapable of making any
opposition. To recruit his finances, he was obliged
to lay a duty on salt; which gave such offence to his
subjects as had almost excited a rebellion. When these
discontents were assuaged, however, he soon raised an
army ot 100,000 men, whose courage was further
raised by the presence t,f the dukes of Normandy and
Burgundy. The English general was therefore com¬
pelled to stand upon the defensive. One fortress after
another was surrendered to the French ; till at length
nothing appeared but the total extinction of the power
K 0f
6S
He lands
with an ar
my in Nor
mandy.
66
Calais ta
ken.
FRA
of England upon tlie continent. In this situation,
Edward resolved to bring relief in person to his distres¬
eed subjects and allies ; and accordingly embarked in
1346 at Southampton, on board a fleet of near 1000
sail, of all dimensions. He carried with him, besides
all the chief nobility of England, his eldest son the
prince of Wales (afterwards surnamed the Black
Prince}, a youth of about 15 years old, and already
remarkable both for understanding and valour above his
age. His army consisted of 4000 men at arms, 10,coo
•archers, 10,000 Welsh infantry, and 6000 Irish ; all
'which he landed safely at La Hogue, a port in Nor¬
mandy, which country he determined to make the seat
of the war.
The intelligence of Edward’s landing, and the deva¬
station caused by his troops, who dispersed themselves
over the whole face of the country, soon spread univer¬
sal consternation through the French court. The rich
city of Caen was taken and plundered by the English
without mercy, the villages and towns, even up to
Faris, shared the same fate ; and the French had no
other resource but by breaking down their bridges, to
attempt putting a stop to the invader’s career. In the
mean time, Philip was not idle in making preparations
to repress the enemy. He had stationed one of his
generals, Godemar de Faye, with an army on the op¬
posite side of the river Somme, over which Edward
was to pass ; while he himself, at the head of 120,000
fighting men, advanced to give the English battle.
Edward, thus unexpectedly exposed to the danger of
being enclosed and starved in an enemy’s country, pub¬
lished a reward to any that should bring him intelli¬
gence of a passage over the river Somme. I his was
discovered by a peasant of the country, named Gobin
Agace : and Edward had just time to get his whole ar¬
my over the river, when Philip appeared in his rear.
OF the battle that ensued, in which the French were
overthrown with great slaughter, an account is given
under the article CresSY.
Edward next laid siege to Calais, which was then
defended by John de Vienne, an experienced com¬
mander, and supplied with every thing necessary for
defence. It was at length taken, after a twelvemon h s
siene the defendants having been reduced to the last
extremity by famine and fatigue : for the consequences
of which, see the article Calais. _
From the very beginning of this unfortunate Avar,
Philip had invariably showed himself desirous of peace,
and the victory of Cressy rendered him still more so.
Edward also, notwithstanding his successes, was unable
to support the expences of the war any longer. Ihe
mediation of the court of Rome was therefore readily
accepted, and a truce for three years concluded. At the
same time, Philip met with some recompense for the
losses he had sustained, by the acquisition of Dauphmy,
which has ever since given the title of Dauphin to the
eldest son of the king of France. It was obtained by the
resignation of Hubert prince of Dauphiny who, be-
in^ disappointed in his hopes of marrying Joan, daugh¬
ter of the duke of Bourbon, gave up his territories to
Charles the grandson of Philip, who had married that
Hdv • himself retiring into a convent. Soon after tnis
event, the king himself, who had been some time a wi¬
dower, was married to Blanch, the daughter of Philip
count of Evreux, and Jane queen of Navarre ; and Ins
2
N C E.
son John to the countess of Boulogne. But the happi- France, jfrt«
ness occasioned by these marriages was soon interrupt- v—j u*r
ed by the death of the king j who expired in the year^^
1350, the 57th of his age, and 23d of his reign. ^ King Fhu
68
On the death of Philip his eldest son John took pos-p-p
session of the kingdom ; but scarcely was he seated on
the throne, when he disgusted his nobility by an un¬
seasonable act of severity. Robert de Brienne, count
of Eu and Guisnes, had been taken prisoner by the
king of England at Caen ; and under pretence of ne¬
gotiating his ransom, had passed several times between
France and England ; but being accused of a treason¬
able correspondence with Edward, he was by oidei of
his sovereign suddenly arrested, condemned, and be¬
headed, without any form of trial. At his death, it
is said that he confessed his treasonable practices ; but
that has not been authenticated by any historian of
credit. Having been constable of France, the sivord,
the badge of his office, Avas delivered to Charks de la
Carda :"but his fate was equally unfortunate with that
of his predecessor, being soon alter assassinated by
Charles king of Navarre, surnamed The wicked. This Infamous
prince, celebrated for his personal qualifications but conduct of
detested for his crimes, was the son-in-laiv of John^^®
himself. He had demanded the duchy of Angonleme
of the king : hut as the latter had thought proper to be¬
stow it upon Carda, he had taken the effectual method
of revenging himself, by assassinating bis rival. John
did not fail to show a proper resentment; but such was
the Aveakness of his government, that the king of Na¬
varre set him at defiance, and Avould not even condes¬
cend to the ceremony of asking pardon until John had
sent him his second son as an hostage for his personal
security. To these offences the king of Navarre added
another still more atrocious, viz. that of aspiring to the
crown of France itself; to which he pretended a right
derived from his mother, being grandson by the female
side to Louis the Boisterous. But his more immediate
demands were the countries of Champagne and Bne.
To obviate all difficulties on this head, however, John
bestowed the duchy of Normandy on his eldest son
Charles ; and commanded him to seize the estates of
the king of Navarre. On this the latter soon made
his appearance at Paris ; but John found himself obli¬
ged to appease his murmurs at the expence of no less
than 100,000 crowns.
All this time the truce with England had been very
ill observed on both sides; the French had possessed
themselves of the port of St Jean d’Angeli ; and the
English had surprised the (oavu ol Gnisnes. Ihe rival
houses of Mountfort and Blois still continued their
animosities ; while Edward continued to threaten war.
The king of Navarre went on Avith his intrigues ; and
even the dauphin Avas drawn into a confederacy against
his father. John, however, being informed of their
machinations, found means to defeat them effectually.
The dauphin was reclaimed by pointing out to him
the impropriety ol his conduct, and the disadvan¬
tage Avhich must unavoidably accrue to himself from
the connexions which he had formed. The king of
Navarre Avas invited with his principal adherents, to ^
an entertainment, where they were unexpectedly ar-Heiswl"
rested : the former being sent prisoner to Chateau and «»•
Gaillard, and several of the most obnoxious of the 1IU '
latter put to death. The rest of the conspirators
instead
«ii« i3T
Lk6
Vll’
• }i
ttllc oi
liclitr
FRA
J 7°
iiaiee a
iance. instead of being dismayed by this check, immediately
—showed themselves in open rebellion j and finding
themselves unable, without farther assistance, to gain
their point, they without delay invited over Edward
from England.
That warlike and enterprising monarch had never
‘^^'lost sight of the object he had originally embraced ;
^ * and on the expiration of the truce had sent his son,
the prince of Wales, from the colour of his armour
surnamed {he Black Prince, with a-fleet towards the
coast of France. Young Edward had with this fleet
entered the mouth of the river Garonne, burnt the
towns and villages of Languedoc, and retired with the
plunder into the country of Guienne. Edward him¬
self, who had likewise passed over to the continent,
wasted the country as far as St Omer ; but the French
king, notwithstanding all these provocations, deter¬
mined to avoid a battle, and therefore prohibited his
general, the constable of Bourbon, from coming to an
engagement, though his army was much superior to
that of the prince of Wales. With the flower of his
troops, however, he pursued Edward from St Omer to
Hesdin, where he defied him to a pitched battle ; but
the latter, without minding his bravadoes, continued
his march to Calais, from whence he embarked for
England. After his departure, John called an assem¬
bly of the states at Paris, where he explained the dis¬
tressed situation of his finances, and showed so fully the
necessity of assisting him in the defence of the kingdom,
that they consented to maintain an army of 30,000
men during the war. To supply the other exigencies
of government, they revived the duty on salt, and
added a variety of other imposts 5 but at the same time
appointed a committee of their own number to take care
that the money was solely appropriated to the public
service.
flhe satisfaction which John received from these
grants, and the suppression of some disturbances which
happened about this time, was soon overcast by the
news that the prince of Wales had marched with an
army of 12,000 men from Bourdeaux : and, after ra-
vaging the Agenois, Quercy, and the Limousin, had
entered the province of Berry. The young warrior
had penetrated into the heart of France with this trif¬
ling body of forces, in hopes of joining the duke of
Lancaster in Guienne. But he soon found that his
scheme was impracticable : the country before him was
too well guarded to permit his advancing further ; and
all the bridges behind were broken down, which effec¬
tually barred a retreat. In this embarrassing situation,
his perplexity was increased, by being informed, that
the king of France was actually marching at the head
of 60,000 men to intercept him. He at first thought of
xetieatiug : but soon finding it impossible, he determin¬
ed calmly to wait the approach of the enemy ; and, not¬
withstanding the disparity offerees, to commit all to the
| hazard of a battle.
It was at a place called Mauperluis, near Poictiers,
that both armies came in sight of each other. The
French king might very easily have starved the English
into any terms he thought proper to impose j but such
was the impatient valour of the French nobility, and
such their certainty of success, that it might have been
equally fatal to attempt repressing their ardour to en-
gage. In the mean time, while both armies were
Batt«
pJcK
of
7 2
N C E.
drawn out, and expecting the signal to begin, they were
stopped by the appearance of the cardinal of Perigord,
who attempted to be a mediator between them. How¬
ever, John, who made himself sure of victory, would
listen to no other terms than the restitution of Calais ;
with which the Black Prince refusing to comply, the
onset was deferred till the next morning, for which
both sides waited in anxious suspense.
-During this interval, the young prince strengthen¬
ed his post by new intrenchments ; and placed 300
men in ambush, with as many archers, who were com¬
manded to attack the enemy in flank during the heat
of the engagement. Having taken these precautions,
he ranged his army in three divisions j the van was com¬
manded by the earl of Warwick, the rear by the earls
°f Salisbury and Suffolk, and the main body by him¬
self. In like manner, the king of France arranged his
forces in three divisions; the first commanded by the
duke ot Orleans ; the second by the dauphin, attend¬
ed by bis younger brothers ; while he himself led up
the main body, seconded by his youngest and favourite
son, then about 14 years of age. As the English were
to be attacked only by marching up a long narrow
lane, the French suffered greatly from their archers,
who were posted on each side behind the hedges. Nor
were they in a better situation upon emerging from
this danger, being met by the Black Prince himself,
at the head of a chosen body of troops, who made a
furious onset upon their forces, already in great disor¬
der. A dreadful overthrow ensued : those who were Freii*h de
as yet in the lane recoiled upon their own forces ;featec*-
while the English troops who had been placed in am¬
bush, took that opportunity to increase the confusion,
and confirm the victory. The dauphin and the duke
of Orleans were among the first that fled. The king
of France himself made the utmost efforts to retrieve
by his valour what his rashness had Forfeited ; but his
single courage was unable to stop- that consternation
which had now become general through his army ; and
his cavalry soon flying, he found himself exposed to the
enemy’s fury. At length, spent with fatigue and de¬
spairing of success, he thought of yielding himself a
prisoner; and frequently cried out, that he was ready
to deliver himself to his cousin the prince of Wales. 73
.The honour of taking him, however, was reserved for a King John
much more ignoble hand; he was seized by Dennis de take” pri'
Morbec, a knight of Arras, who had been obliged to S°BSr*
fly his country for murder.
In April following, the prince conducted his royal
prisoner through London, attended by an infinite con¬
course of people of all ranks and stations. His modesty
upon this occasion was very remarkable : the king of
France was clad in royal apparel, and mounted on a
white steed distinguished by its size and beauty: while
the prince himself rode by his side upon a mean little
horse, and in very plain attire.
Jhis dreadful defeat, which happened in the year Miserable
1356, almost entirely ruined the French affairs ; and sitHation
the miseries which ensued from this cause were greatly 1 iance*
augmented by internal commotions. The dauphin,
who had now assumed the government, was altogether
unable to govern a turbulent and seditious people at
such a crisis. An assembly of the states, which he
called, took the opportunity to limit the power of the
prince, impeach the former ministers, and demand the
K 2 liberty
75
The king
of Navarre
escapes
from pri¬
son.
76
Insurrec¬
tions and
tumults of
the pea¬
sants.
liberty of the king of Navarre *, the treasurer of the
crown was murdered by one Marcel, a partizan 0
that worthless prince who had tilled the city of rans
with confusion by his intrigues. The assassin whom
Marcel employed was dragged, by order of the dauphin,
from an altar where he l.ad taken refuge, and instantly
put to death. The bishop of Paris resented the indig¬
nity done to the church j and Marcel avenged the iate
tif his adherent, by murdering both the mareschals who
had seized him in the presence of the dauphin ; and so
near him, that his clothes were stained with their blood.
The prince indignantly asked him, if he was to be in¬
volved in the same destruction ? when Marcel ailected
to provide for Ills safety by putting upon him a blue
hood, the badge of the adherents of Navarre. I he
public disorders were now also augmented by the escape
of the king of Navarre from confinement 5 and though
the dauphin was even assured that he had administered
a dose of poison to him, he was obliged still to pay him
some appearance of regard. A scheme vyas even formed
by the chiefs of the sedition to change the government,
to vest all the power in the commons, and leave the
kino no more than an empty title •, but though this was
favourably received by the city of Pans it was entirely
rejected bv the other cities of the kingdom, i he dau¬
phin was likewise recognized as regent by the states
general, and the inhabitants of Picardy and Champagne
took up arms in his cause. . . f
In this disastrous state of affairs, the miseries ol the
people were heightened by a new and unexpected evil.
Tiie peasants, who had been all along oppressed by
the nobles, were now treated in such a manner, that
they rose in great numbers to revenge themselves j
the castles of the nobility were rased to the ground,
their wives and daughters ravished, and themselves put
to the most cruel torments. At last they were oh iged
to arm in their own defence. The duke ol Orleans
cut off 10,000 of them in the neighbourhood ot Pans ,
12,000 were massacred by the king of Navarre j 9000,
who had laid siege to the town of Meaux, where the
dauphiness and three other ladies of the first rank re¬
sided were routed and pursued with dreadful slaughter
by au officer in the service of Edward. Amidst these
confusions, Marcel, the seditious leader already men¬
tioned, perished in a tumult ot his own raising-, and
the most virtuous and prudent people of the nation sup¬
ported the pretensions of the dauphin. His most dan¬
gerous enemy was the king of Navarre, who had al¬
lured to his standard numbers of those Norman and
English adventurers who had followed Edward into
Erance, and there been left to seek their fortunes ;
where they associated themselves under the name of the
77 Companions. Bv such a formidable competitor the dau-
Peace br. „hi„ was reduced almost to the last extremity, when
JSn his hopes were revived by an unexpected proposa from
anJking of|,js riVal, of peace upon equitable and modeiate terms.
Historians in general have ascribed this to the natural
levity of the king of Navarre j but some have been o
opinion that he acted from prudential motives and that
he justly supposed it would be more easy to deal with
the dauphin who was his own kinsman, and humbled by
so many misfortunes, than with a haughty and impe¬
rious conqueror like Edward. ^,
O- lh« expiration of the truce m 1359, EJ,'™.'1
aoain set sail for Trance, and anchored before Calais
Navarre.
with a fleet of HOO sail, assumed the title of King of prance.
France, and augmented his army to 100,000 men.1 v—j
The dauphin, finding himself unable to withstand so^?®
great a power, was obliged to act on the defensive 5 ‘“,
choosing the city of Paris for his station, and allowing Franc* by
the English to’ravage all the open country. Thus Edward,
they were allowed to penetrate through Picardy into
Champagne ; but the city of Rheims, where Edward
designed to have been crowned king of France, baffled
their utmost efforts. From Champagne, therefore,
which was already laid waste, the English monarch
marched into Burgundy j pillaged lonneie, Graillon,.
and Avalon. Burgundy was saved by the payment of
100,000 merks, and a like sum was paid for Nivernois.
At last, after a long and destructive march, Edward
arrived at the gates of Paris; but the prudence of the
dauphin and citizens of that metropolis had rendered
it impregnable to the attacks of famine as well as the ^
assaults of an army. Thus the war went on till the ne con-
year 1360, when the king of England was inclined tocludesa
peace, as is said, by a dreadful tempest, to which hisPeat«-
army was exposed while encamped in the fields round
Chartres. His conduct, however, may more reason¬
ably be derived from other motives. Notwithstanding
all the victories he had gained, the French nation
showed not the least favour to his claim of succession j
the king of Navarre was a dangerous rival, and the
caution of the dauphin in avoiding an engagement
deprived him of the advantages he might expect from
his valour and military skill. Thus conferences for a
peace were opened at Bretigny in the Chartraine 5 and
it was at last concluded on the following conditions,
viz. That King John should pay for his ransom, at
diflerent periods, three millions of crowns of gold (about
a million and a half of our money) : Edward should
for ever renounce all claim to the kingdom of France 5
and should remain possessed of the territories of Poictou,
Xaintonge, I’Agenois, Perigord, the Limousin, Quercy,
Rouvergne, PAngoumois, and other districts in that
quarter, together with Calais, Guisnes, Montreuil, and
the county of Ponthieu on the other side of France.
Some other stipulations were made in favour of the allies
of England, as a security for the execution of these
conditions. # #
Upon John’s return to his dominions, he tound him¬
self very ill able to ratify those terms of peace that had
been just concluded. He was without finances, at the
head of an exhausted state ; his soldiers without disci¬
pline, and his peasants without subordination. These
had risen in great numbers ; and one of the chiefs ot
the banditti assumed the title of T/ie Friend of God
and the terror of Man. A citizen of Sens, named
John Gouge, also got himself, by means of his robbe¬
ries, to be acknowledged king 5 and he soon caused as
many calamities by his devastations, as the real king
had brought on by his misfortunes. Such was the
state of that wretched kingdom upon the return of its
captive monarch : and yet such was his absurdity,
that he immediately prepared for a croisade into the
Holy Land, before he was well replaced on the throne.
Had his exhausted subjects been able to equip him for ^
this chimerical project, it is probable, he would haveJobB #
aone through with it} but their miseries were sucb,bit»of
that they were even too poor to pay his ransom. Thisbii
fi»r<
!i
jjes,»“
Ijissectf
i!<W
j Claries
flleWisi
I )2
l!M sue
Kofi
lisk.
Liiau WJ'-J r? V, ^ V £  4 j .
was a breach of treaty that John would not submit to}£' ^
and
FRANCE.
j laree anJ he was heard to express himself in a very noble
k"*~>  ' manner upon the occasion : “ Though (says he) good
faith should be banished from the rest of the earth, yet
she ought still to retain her habitation in the breast of
kings.” In consequence of this declaration, he ac¬
tually returned to England once more; and yielded
himself a prisoner, since he could not be honourably
free. It is said by some, that his passion for the coun¬
tess of Salisbury was the real cause of his journey : but
51 we want at this time the foundations for such an inju¬
res, and rious report. He was lodged in the Savoy, the palace
oucceed- where be had resided during his captivity ; and soon af-
ter he closed a long and unfortunate reign, bv his death,
tli Wise. happened in the year 1384, about the 56th year
of his age.
Charles, surnamed t/ie Wrise, succeeded his father on
the throne of France; and this monarch, merely by the
force of a finely conducted policy, and even though suf¬
fering some defeats, restored his country once more to
tranquillity and power. He quelled and dissipated a
set of banditti, who had associated themselves under the
name of Companions, and who had long been a terror
to the peaceable inhabitants. He had them enrolled
into a body, and led them into the kingdom of Castile
against Peter, surnamed the Cruel, whom his subjects
had dethroned, and who, by means of an alliance with
the English, endeavoured to get himself reinstated up¬
on the throne. In consequence of these alliances, the
English and French again came to an engagement ;
their armies on the one side commanded by the Black
Prince; on the other, by Henry of Transtamarre, and
Bertrand du Guesclin, one of the most consummate ge¬
nerals and accomplished characters of the age in which
he lived. However, the usual good fortune of the
English prince prevailed ; the French lost above 20,000
men, while only four knights and 40 private men on
52 the side of the English were slain.
B;k sue- Nevertheless, these victories were attended with very
#csofUie few good effects. The English, by their frequent le-
E*isk. vjes> jia(] jjeen q(1;te exhausted, and were unable to
continue an army in the field. Charles, on the other
hand, cautiously forebore coming to any decisive en¬
gagement ; but was contented to let his enemies waste
their strength in attempts to plunder a fortified coun¬
try. When they were retired, he then was sure to
sally forth, and possess himself of such places as they
were not strong enough to defend. He first fell upon
Ponthieu ; the citizens of Abbeville opened their gates
to him ; those of St Valois, Hue, and Crotoy, imitated
the example ; and the whole country was in a little time
reduced to total submission. The southern provinces
were, in the same manner, invaded by his generals
with equal success ; while the Black Prince, destitute
ot supplies from England, and wasted by a cruel and
consumptive disorder, was obliged to return to his na¬
tive country, leaving his affairs in the south of France
in a desperate condition.
In this exigence, the resentment of the king of
England was excited to the utmost pitch ; and he seem¬
ed resolved to take signal vengeance on his enemies of
the continent. But the fortunate occasion was now
elapsed ; and all his succeeding designs were marked
with ill success. The earl of Pembroke and his whole
army were intercepted at sea, and taken prisoners by
Henry king of Castile. Sir Kobert Knolles, one of
77
his generals on the continent, at the head of 30,000 Fran?e.
men, was defeated by Bertrand du Guesclin ; while
the duke of Lancaster, at the head of 25,000 men,
had the mortification of seeing his troops diminished
one half by flying parties, without ever coming to a
battle.
At last, the English affairs were totally ruined by the
death of the Black Prince and King Edward. On re¬
ceiving this news, the armies of Charles attacked the
English on all sides. One, under the command of the
duke of Burgundy,, entered Artois ; another entered
Auvergne, under the command of the duke of Berry;
that which acted in Guienne was commanded by the
duke of Anjou ; and the forces in Bretagne were un¬
der the constable Guesclin : the king himself had a
powerful body of troops, that be might be able to re¬
pair any accident which should happen through the
chance of war. The constable joined the duke of
Burgundy, who found it difficult to oppose Sir Tho¬
mas Felton and the seneschal of Bourdeaux. Soon
after his arrival, the constable attacked and defeated
them, making both the commanders prisoners of war.
This victory was so well pursued, that, at the close of
the campaign 1377, Bayonne and Bourdeaux, with the
districts about them, and the fortress of Calais with its
dependencies, were all the places left to England on tha
continent.
Thus Charles established once more the house of Va-Death of
lois on the throne of France, but did not long live toCharles;
enjoy his good fortune. He died in the year 1379, at
the age of 44, of the consequences of poison formerly
given him by the king of Navarre, as has already been
mentioned. The immediate operation of this poison
had been suspended by the skill of a physician sent by
the emperor Charles IV. He opened an issue in his
arm, the running of which preserved his life ; but the
physician declared, that whenever it should dry up, the
consequence would be fatal. Not long before his
death, Charles had commenced a process against the
king of Navarre for this crime. Several of the asso¬
ciates of the latter suffered on this occasion, and the
king himself was deprived of his possessions in Nor¬
mandy, as well as his lordship of Montpelier, which
had been given him in lieu of the counties of Cham¬
pagne and Brie, and the duchy of Burgundy which
he had claimed. He did not long survive the death of and of the
the French monarch whom he destroyed. His death king of Na-
was singular and very terrible ; for having been afflict-Tanre*
ed with the leprosy, he had been obliged to make use
of some bandages dipped in sulphur, and afterwards
steeped in brandy. These took fire by the carelessness
of a page, and the unfortunate prince was burnt to
death.
Charles V. was succeeded by bis son Charles VI. sur-Reign of
named the IFcll beloved, who, at the time of his acces-Charles VI,
sion to (he throne, was only 12 years of age. The duke
of Anjou, eldest brother to the late king, had been ap¬
pointed guardian during the minority of the prince ;
but be being totally unfit for the office, and distin¬
guished only for his rapacity and ambition, readily re¬
signed his charge to the dukes of Burgundy and Bour¬
bon, the former uncle to the king by his father’s side,
the latter by his mother’s. None of these tutors, how¬
ever, proved faithful to the trust reposed in them. The
duke of Anjou seized the plate and treasures of the
late
78
France
S6
Flanders
invaded.
s?
Marries
Isabella
daughter
the duke
Bavaria.
FRA
late king, in order to support his ambitious enter¬
prises. At that time Joan, infamous for her profli¬
gacy, reigned in Naples. She had appointed one
Charles IJurazzo, who was her relation, to succeed her
in the throne j but the inhuman wretch murdered his
benefactress, who with her last breath revoked her
grant of the kingdom to him, and bestowed it upon
the duke of Anjou. His influence at the i rench
court enabled him to waste the treasures of the king¬
dom in support of his pretensions j though he proved
ultimately unsuccessful, his forces being constantly de¬
feated, and his designs frustrated by the superior skill
of his adversary. The duke of Burgundy, instead of
instructing his pupil in the ways ot virtue, indulged
him in every kind of vicious pleasure, hoping thereby
to gain his favour afterwards. The citizens of Paris,
oppressed by taxes, broke out into tumults, and were
quelled with difficulty j while the mal-administration ot
Philip the duke of Burgundy soon involved the nation
in hostilities with the Flemings. Philip invaded their
country at the. head of an army of 80,000 men, along
with whom was the young king, accompanied by the
principal nobility of France. The first operations of
war were favourable to the J lemings j but they were at
length totally defeated on the banks of the river Lis,
where their leader, with 25,000 of his followers, perish¬
ed. This victory was followed by the submission of
the whole country} but the satisfaction ot the king at
this event was disturbed by new seditions and revolts
in the city of Paris, and other great towns of the
kingdom. His return, however, at the head of a vic¬
torious army, soon reduced them to their duty, and se¬
veral of the’ revolted cities were severely punished ; at
the same time that the death of the duke ol Anjou ha¬
ving freed him from the immediate dependence on his
tutors, he assumed the reins of government into his own
hands in the year 1384. .
The genius which Charles began to display in bis
early years, raised the hopes of the nation j but these
were soon overcast, and greater misfortunes than ever
were now about to ensue. The young king, whose
marriage began to be a subject of attention to the
council, refused to comply with the forms in use
among his predecessors, and insisted upon seeing the
person designed for his consort. An interview was
accordingly contrived betwixt him and Isabella daugh-
toter to the duke of Bavaria; where he fell in love with
ofthat princess, and afterwards married her. PIxs admi¬
nistration was for some time prudent and vigorous.
He conciliated the affections of his people by restoring
their privileges, punishing their oppressors, and reliev¬
ing them from the taxes which had been imposed in
his minority. He reduced the Flemings to submit to
the authority of his uncle the duke of Burgundy ; de¬
tached 15,000 archers and 1500 men at arms to assist
the Scots in their incursions into England ; and in
1385 fitted out a prodigious armament against Eng¬
land. A vast fleet was assembled in the harbour of
Sluvs, and a very numerous army in the neighbour¬
hood. According to some writers, the armament con¬
sisted of 1200 ships, 20,000 foot differently armed,
20,000 cavalry, and 20,000 cross-bow-men. There
was besides a vast wooden edifice or floating town,
which was contrived for the protection of the soldiers
when landed : but all these preparations were at last
N C E.
brought to nothing through the obstinacy of the duke
Berry ; who, having been originally against tins
France,
* * 7   o 1
measure, carried on his part of the armament so slow
ly, that be did not arrive at Sluys till the middle of
September, when the season was so far advanced, that
no invasion was practicable. A storm that happened
soon after, drove the greatest part of the fleet on
shore, and beat the wooden edifice all to pieces; the
remains of which the king bestowed on the duke ot
Burgundy, to whom he gave also the port of Sluys,
which was then very commodious, and of the utmost
importance.
The destruction of the French fleet was only a pre¬
lude to calamities of a more extraordinary nature. The
Sieur de Craon, a profligate nobleman, bad been in¬
trusted by the court of France with a considerable sum
of money for the support ol the duke ol Anjou, at
the time he was reduced to distress by his Italian ex¬
pedition. This money he had dissipated at Venice;
but, by the credit of the duke of Orleans, the king’s
brother, he had obtained his pardon, and returned to
court. Here he attempted to gratify his private re¬
sentment by the assassination of Oliver Clisson the con¬
stable, whom he suspected of having promoted his dis¬
grace. This veteran hero w’as attacked, on his return
from the hotel de St Pol, by a hand of 20 ruffians,
against whom he defended himself with wonderful in¬
trepidity, when at last he fell, after receiving more
than 50 wounds. Happily, however, he recovered
notwithstanding his being mangled in this maimer;
while the assassin, to screen himself from vengeance,
fled for protection to the duke of Brittany. The king
demanded the assassin to be given up to him in chains ;
but the duke answered, that he knew nothing ol him :
to which the king giving no credit, marched with all
his forces into his territories. When the army arrived
at Mans, the king was seized with a slow fever; hut
could not be prevailed upon to rest or take physic. On^g^
the 5th of August 1391. having marched all day in
the heat of the sun, a miserable, ragged, wild-looking
fellow darted from behind a tree, and laying hold of
the bridle of his horse, cried out “ Stop ! where
are you going, king? You are betrayed and imme¬
diately withdrew again into the wood. T-he king
passed on not a little disturbed: and soon after one of
the pages, who rode behind and carried his lance,
overcome with heat, tell asleep, and let it tall upon the
helmet which was carried by the other. The king
hearing the noise, looked about ; and perceiving the
page lifting the lance, killed him immediately : then
riding furiously with his sword drawn, he struck on
every side of him, and at every person, till he broke
his sword : upon which one ot his gentlemen leaped up
behind him and held his arm. He lell soon altei, and
lay as if he had been dead ; so that being taken up and
bound in a waggon, he was carried back to Mans,
where he lay two days in a lethargy, after which he
came a little to himself, and expressed great concern at
the blood he had shed in his delirium. The people,
who had expressed the greatest concern for his distem¬
per, were equally rejoiced at the news ot his recove¬
ry ; but unfortunately it was soon discovered, that he
no longer possessed that strength cl judgment and un¬
derstanding for which he had formerly been remark¬
able. Hence a regency became indispensably necessary;
and
S3
ance.
,10
4ntcci-
den oc-
cauns a
ralpe in
♦lieting.
and the competition for it brought to li^ht the cha¬
racters of the queen and duke of Orleans, which had
not hitherto been displayed to public view. The for-
c\- ibout'a m!r °fl t!,cse u’:!s a most beautiful and accomplished
Xncjr. princess j but vindictive, violent, and intriguing : in¬
sensible to natural affection, but easily accessible to
flattery, and ready to yield to every impulse of law¬
less passion. The duke of Orleans was equally re¬
markable for his personal accomplishments, and had
married Valentina daughter of the duke of Milan ; but
bis engagements with that princess did not prevent him
from engaging in a number of licentious amours, and
among the rest, as was supposed, with his sister-in-law
Isabella. During the king’s illness he openly aspired
at the regency j but his pretensions were overruled
by the states, the administration of affairs being for
the present conferred on the duke of Burgundy. In a
few months indeed the health and understanding of the
king seemed to be sufficiently restored : but in the year
I393 vvas again disturbed by an accident no less
extraordinary than the former had been. An enter¬
tainment had been given in honour of the marriage of
one of the queen’s attendants. At this six masques
entered the apartment, disguised like satyrs, in linen
clothes covered with rosin, and while warm stuck over
with down. These were the king and five of his lords.
The duchess of Berri paid attention to the king, though
she did not know him, and engaged in conversation with
him. In the mean time the duke of Orleans, ignorant
of the consequence, out of diversion ran a lighted torch
against one of them. His whole dress was instantly in
a flame, and the fire was from him communicated to all
the rest. The masques, notwithstanding the dreadful
situation they were in, called out, “ Save the king j
save the king !” on which the duchess of Berri, recol¬
lecting that it must be him with whom she had engaged
in conversation, wrapped him in her cloak, antf pre¬
served him from further danger. Only one of the rest
escaped by jumping into a cistern of water j the other
four perished in the flames. The terror which the king
underwent by this accident instantly occasioned a re-
lapse ; and he continued delirious at intervals as long as
he lived. During this state of insanity he was untrac-
table by every person except Valentina duchess of Or¬
leans ; who seemed to have as great an influence over
him as her husband the duke had over the mind of the
queen. So great was the power indeed which she had
over the king in this deplorable state, that in those
superstitious times it was supposed by many to be the
effect of magic. Others, with more probability, as¬
cribed it to her superior charms as a woman ; and tin's
idea instantly produced her a number of enemies ainon*}-
her own sex, the duchess of Burgundy particularly j
and the quarrel between the two ladies soon extended
itself to their husbands. Amidst their dissensions, how¬
ever, they did not entirely neglect the administration
of public affairs; they strove to conciliate the affection
of the parliament by preserving the rights of the com¬
mons inviolate ; and they endeavoured to check an in¬
ordinate passion for gaming which began to appear
about, this time, and to substitute manly and martial
exercises in its place.
During the intervals of his reason, Charles fre¬
quently assumed the government into his own hands :
and as the war still continued with England, though in
FRANCE.
79
a languid manner, the French monarch, in one of France.
these lucid intervals, had an interview with Richard i- v
king of England, in order to put an end to hostilities, 9\
of which both were equally weary. Still, however,?ntciv‘e'l
their claims were so difficult to be adjusted, that they y*™ of
could do no moi’e than conclude a truce for 25 years; France and
during which space it was hoped that a lasting peace England,
might take place. Richard gave up Cherburg to
Charles, and Brest to the duke of Brittany : a mar¬
riage was also concluded betwixt the king of England
and Isabella the daughter of Charles, though the latter
was then only seven years of age ; but by reason of the
tender age of the princess, this marriage was never con¬
summated.
During this unfortunate reign, France was still far-UnhaLy
ther weakened by the succours sent to the Hungarians fate of the
against the lurks. On this fatal expedition upwards succours
of 1000 of the bravest and most experienced knightssent tlie
were sent under the conduct of John count of Nevers, 1.Innga'
eldest son of the duke of Burgundy ; the count 0fmnS'
Eu, constable of France; John de Vienne, admiral
of France ; and the count of Marche, a prince of the
blood royal ; together with De Courcy, one of the
best and most experienced captains in Christendom.
I he prudent counsels of this veteran, however, were
not obeyed by the youthful warriors by whom he was
accompanied. Attacking the enemy therefore rashly,
and while heated with wine, they were all either killed
or taken prisoners. Notwithstanding this disaster, how¬
ever, assistance was sent in the year 1400 to Wances-
laus emperor of Germany ; and the duke of Orleans,
W’ho commanded the army on this occasion, acquitted
himself so well that he acquired the duchy of Luxem¬
burg for himself, and left his ally satisfied : but while
the friendship of France was thus courted by foreign
powers, the kingdom itself was in the most miserable (),
situation. The king’s distemper seemed daily to gain Violent
ground ; while the discordant interests of the contend- co min o-
ing parties kept the whole nation in a ferment. The ti°ns ,rl
most violent animosity took place betwixt the dukes of
Orleans and Burgundy. The former, by means of his
own interest with the queen, and the ascendency his
duchess had over the king, for some time got the bet¬
ter of his rival, and was made lieutenant general and
governor of the kingdom ; but having presumed on
his power to levy new imposts on the people, and op¬
pressing also the churchmen, whom in that superstitious
age he ought by all means to have let alone, he was
deprived of his authority, and obliged to yield to the
duke of Burgundy. For some time, however, these
powerful rivals were kept within some bounds by the
mediation of the duke of Bourbon, who seems to have
been the only grandee who maintained a pure and un¬
spotted character ; but by bis death in 1404, the un¬
happy nation was left totally exposed to their relentless
fury. In 1405, the queen and duke of Orleans again
seized the administration ; but were soon deprived of
it by the unanimous voice of the people. During this
period Charles and his children were neglected and
abandoned to distress ; but they were relieved by the
duke of Burgundy on his obtaining the regency ; and
Isabella, with the duke of Orleans, was obliged to re¬
tire from Mil an. A sudden return of the king’s reason
and understanding for a much longer time than usual,
now deprived both parties of their power; and the ad¬
ministration
France.
8o
Vi a ace.
5*4
Duke of
v FRA
nistration was vested in the queen and a council com¬
posed of princes of the blood. . . , r
The two rival dukes, thus prohibited from inter¬
fering in public affairs, exercised themselves in com¬
mitting hostilities against the English, with whom the
truce had been lately concluded. They were encou¬
raged to this infraction of the treaty by the unsettled
situation of the affairs of Henry IV.; but their at¬
tempts proving unsuccessful, the truce was renewed at-
ter obtaining restoration of the princess, who had been
married to Richard II. as has been already mentioned.
The failure of their enterprises produced a ne\y scene ot
discord betwixt the dukes, who mutually threw the
blame upon each other. By the entreaties of the duke
of Berry they were apparently reconciled •, but the Uuke
of Burgundy pretended friendship only in order to take
0. the more signal vengeance. To this he was now fur-
Orleansas-ther inflamed by jealousy. Having lured a band ot
sassiaated. ruffians to execute his bloody purpose, the duke was
one evening attacked by eighteen of them while at¬
tended only by two pages. A Norman gentleman
whom the duke had deprived of an employment, head¬
ed the assassins, and in person attacked the duke. At
the first blow he cut off his hand, at the second he
struck him from his mule, and at the third put an end
to his life. His wife Valentina was so deep y aftected
with his death, that she died soon after. Ihe duke ot
Burgundy escaped to Flanders -, and the whole nation
was rent into two factions, called the Burgundians ^
Armagnacs •, the latter being the title of the party ot
the duke of Orleans, from Armagnac the father-in-law
of that prince. A dreadful confusion ensued : the duke
of Burgundy soon returned to France, and extorted a
pardon from the unhappy king, who was now no
longer able to resist him: and we may have some no¬
tion of the state of the kingdom in general from being
told, that 20C0 people perished in one tumult in the
capital. The king himself was alternately the prisoner
of each party, and alternately transferred the power
from the one to the other as he happened to fall into
their hands. This therefore was thought by Henry ' .
of England, a favourable opportunity to recover from
France those grants that had been formerly given up
bv treaty. But previously, to give his intended expe¬
dition the appearance of justice, he sent over ambassa¬
dors to Paris, offering a perpetual peace and alliance,
on condition of being put in possession o all those pro¬
vinces which had been ravished from the English du¬
ring some former reigns, and of espousing Catharine,
the French king’s daughter, in marriage, with a suit¬
able dowry. Though the French court was at that
time extremely averse to war, yet the exorbitance ot
these demands could not be complied with j and Hemy
. ()S , very probably made them in hopes ot a denial, lie
H,”™™ ’'therefore assembled a great fleet and artny at Sonth-
•f England, ampton ; and having allnred all the military men ot
the kingdom to attend him, from the hopes ol con-
nuest, i.e put to sea, and landed at Harfleur, at the
head of an army of 6000 men-at-arms, and 24,000 loot,
ni°His first operations were upon Harfleur : which be¬
ing pressed hard, promised at a certain day to surren¬
der unless relieved before that time. Ihe day arriv¬
ing, and the garrison, unmindful ot their engagement,
*tfl! resolving to defend the place, Henry ordered an
3
N C E.
assault to be made, took the town by storm, and put rianec.
all the garrison to the sword. From thence the vie- ' r-*
tor advanced farther into the country, which had been
already rendered desolate by factions, and which be
now totally laid waste. But although the enemy made
a feeble resistance •, yet the climate seemed to tight
against the English *, a contagious dysentery carrying
off three parts of Henry’s army. In this situation
he had recourse to an expedient common enough in that
barbarous age, to inspire bis troops with confidence in
their general. He challenged the dauphin, who com¬
manded in the French army, to single combat, otler-
ing to stake his pretensions on the event. Ibis chal¬
lenge, as might naturally be expected, was rejected j
and the French, though disagreeing internally, at last
seemed to unite at the appearance of the common
danger. A numerous army of 14,000 men-at-arms,
and 40,000 foot, was by this time assembled under the
command of Count Albert, and was now placed to in¬
tercept Henry’s weakened forces on their return. Ihe
English monarch, when it was too late, began to re¬
pent of his rash inroad into a country where disease
and a powerful army everywhere threatened destruc¬
tion ; he therefore thought of retiring into Calais. In
this retreat, which was at once both painful and dan¬
gerous, Henry took every precaution to inspire his
troops with patience and perseverance j and showed
them in his own person the brightest example ol ioiti-
tude and resignation. He was continually harassed
on his march by flying parties of die enemy ; and
whenever he attempted to pass the river Somme, across
which his march lay, he saw troops on the other side
ready to oppose his passage. However, he was so for¬
tunate as to seize by surprise a passage near St t^uintin,
which had not been sufficiently guarded *, and there lie
safely carried over his army. < .
But the enemy was still resolved to intercept his re¬
treat : and after he had passed the small river ot ler-
trois at Blangi, he was surprised to observe horn the
heights the whole French army drawn up in the plains 9*
of Agincoort; ami so posted, that it was .mposs.hle for B.l*<
him to proceed on his march, without coming to an AS
engagement. A battle accordingly took place, m
which the English gained a victory, the most remaik-
able perhaps of any recorded in history ; an account 0.
which is given under the article Agincourt.
This victory, gained on the 25th of October 1415,
was however attended with no immediate eflects.
Henry still continued to retreat, after the batt.e ot
Agincourt, out of the kingdom *, and carried his pn-^J
soners to Calais, and from thence to England. 1°laIlljs,,t!
1417, he once more landed an army ol 25,000 men iu jj01,
i„ Normandy 5 and prepared to strike a decisive blow mandy.
for the crown of France, to which the English mo-
narchs had long made pretensions. That wretched
country was now in a most deplorable situation, lue
whole kingdom appeared as one vast theatre of crimes,
murder, injustice, and devastat.on. Ihe duke of Oi¬
lcans was assassinated by the duke of Burgundy } and
the duke of Burgundy, iu his turn, fell by the treach¬
ery of the dauphin. At the same time, the duke s
son, desirous of revenging his father’s death, entered
into a secret treaty with the English j and a league was
■ 5* ,
iuiarn
,il prill-
a Catli
it
into a secret treaty 7 Tt
immediately concluded at Arras, between Henry an
the young duke of Burgundy, in which the king jro-
FRANCE.
Trance, mised to revenge the murder of the late duke ; and
' the son seemed to insist upon no further stipulations.
Henry, therefore, proceeded in his conquests without
much opposition from any quarter. Several towns and
provinces submitted on his approach j the city of Rouen
was besieged and taken ; and he soon became master
of Pontoise and Gisors. He even threatened Paris by
the terror of his power, and obliged the court to re¬
move to Troyes. It was at this city that the duke of
Burgundy, who had taken upon him the protection
of the French king, met Henry in order to ratify that
treaty which was formerly begun, and by which the
crown of France was to be transferred to a stranger.
The imbecility into which Charles had fallen, made
him passive in this remarkable treaty; and Henry dic¬
tated the terms throughout the whole negotiation.
The principal articles of this treaty were, that Henry
should espouse the princess Catharine; that King Charles
should enjoy the title and dignity of king for life ; but
that Henry should be declared heir to the crown, and
should be intrusted with the present administration of
the government; that France and England should for
ever be united under one king, but should still retain
their respective laws and privileges ; that Henry should
unite his arms with those of King Charles and the duke
of Burgundy, to depress and subdue the dauphin and
, .3. his partisans.
ffcsiarries _ It was not long after this treaty, that Henry mar-
thfurin- ried the princess Catharine ; after which he carried his
«iCatua- father-in-law to Paris, and took a formal possession of
that capital. There he obtained from the estates of
the kingdom a ratification of the late compact; and
then turned his arms with success against the adhe¬
rents of the dauphin; who, in the mean time, wan¬
dered about a stranger in his own patrimony, and to
his enemies successes only opposed fruitless expostula¬
tions.
Henry’s supplies were not provided in such plenty as
to enable him to carry on the war without returning in
| person to prevail upon his parliament for fresh succours •
and, upon his arrival in England, though he found his
subjects highly pleased with the splendour of his con¬
quests, yet they seemed somewhat doubtful as to the ad¬
vantage of them. A treaty, which in its consequences
was likely to transfer the seat of empire from England
was not much relished by the parliament. They there¬
fore, upon various pretences, refused him a supply equal
to his exigencies or his demands ; but he was resolved
on pursuing his schemes ; and, joining to the supplies
granted at home, the contributions levied on the con¬
quered provinces, he was able once more to assemble an
8 r
army of 28,000 men, and with these he landed safely at
Calais. ^
In the mean time, the dauphin, a prince of great pru¬
dence and activity, omitted no opportunity of repairing
his ruined situation, and to take the advantage of Hen¬
ry’s absence from France. He prevailed upon the re¬
gent of Scotland to send him a body of 8000 men from
that kingdom; and writh these, and some few forces of
his own, he attacked the duke of Clarence, who com¬
manded the troops in Henry’s absence, and gained a
complete victory. S
This was the first action which turned the tide of
success against the English; But it was of short dura-
10,1 after aPPearing with a consider-
f
VOL. IX. Part L
able army, the dauphin fled at bis approach; while France
many of the places, which held out for the dauphin'-4^-
m the neighbourhood of Paris, surrendered to the con¬
queror. In this manner, while Flenry was everywhere
victorious, he fixed his residence at Paris ; and while
Charles had a small court, he was attended with a
very magnificent one. On Whitsunday 1421, the two
kings and their two queens with crowns on their heads
< ined together in public ; Charles receiving apparent
homage, but Henry commanding with absolute autho¬
rity.
In the mean time, the dauphin was pursued beyond
the .Loire, and almost totally dispossessed of all the
northern provinces. He was even pursued into the
south, by the united arms of the English and Burgun¬
dians, and threatened with total destruction. In this
exigence, he found it necessary to spin out the war, and
to evade all hazardous actions with a rival who had
been long accustomed to victory. His prudence was
everywhere remarkable; and, after a train of long per¬
secutions from fortune, he found her at length willing
to declare in his favour, by the death of the king of
England. °
Charles VI. died a short time after; and Charles VII.Dcat9h9nf
succeeded his father to a nominal throne. Nothing Henry and
could be more deplorable than the situation of that mo- Charles,
narch on assuming his title to the crown. The Eng¬
lish were masters of almost all France ; and Henry VI.
though yet but an infant, was solemnly invested with
regal power by legates from Paris. The duke of Bed¬
ford was at the head of a numerous army, in the heart
o the kingdom, ready to oppose every insurrection ;
while the duke of Burgundy, who had entered into a
farm confederacy with him, still remained stedfast, and
seconded his claims. Yet notwithstanding these fa-Desperate
vourable appearances, Charles found means to break situation of
the leagues formed against him, and to bring back hischarIes
subjects to their natural interests and their duty. ViL
However, his first attempts were totally destitute of
success. Wherever he endeavoured to face the enemy
he was overthrown, and he could scarcely rely on the
friends next his person. His authority was insulted
even by his own servants ; advantage after advantage
was gained against him; and a battle fought near Ver-
neuil, in which he was totally defeated by the duke of
Bedford, seemed to render his affairs altogether despe¬
rate. But from the impossibility of the English keep¬
ing the field without new supplies, Bedford was obliged
to ictire into England; and in the mean time, his vigi¬
lant enemy began to recover from his late consternation.
Dumois, one of his generals, at the head of 1000 men.
compelled the earl of Warwick to raise the siege of
Montargis ; and this advantage, slight as it was, began
to make the French suppose that the English w'ere not
invincible.
But they soon had still greater reason to triumph In TheFreach
their change of fortune, and a new revolution was pro-affairs re¬
duced^ by means apparently the most unlikely to be at- tiered by
tendea with success. In the village of Domremi, near Maid
Vaucouleurs, on the borders of Lorrain, there lived a °f °rleans'
country girl, about 27 years of age, called Joan de
Arc. Ibis girl had been a servant at a small inn; and
in that humble station had submitted to those hardy'
employments which fit the body for the fatigues of
war. She was of an irreproachable life, and had hi-
thertc
82
FRA
t ranee, tlierto testified none of those enterprising qualities
France,
which displayed themselves soon after. She content¬
edly fulfilled the duties of her situation, and was re¬
markable only for her modesty and love of rel.gmn.
But the miseries of her country seemed to have been
one of the greatest objects ot her compassion and re¬
gard. Her mind, inflamed by these objects, and brood¬
ing with melancholy stedfastness upon them, began to
feel several impulses, which she was willing to mistake
for the inspirations of heaven. Convinced ot the rea¬
lity of her own admonitions, she had recourse to one
Baudricourt, governor of Vaucouleurs, and informed
him of her destination by heaven to free her native
country of its fierce invaders. Baudricourt treated
her at first with neglect : but her importunities at
length prevailed } and willing to make a trial oi her
pretensions, he gave her some attendants, who con¬
ducted her to the court, which at that time resided at
The French court were probably sensible of the
weakness of her pretensions •, but they were willing to
make use of every artifice to support their declining
fortunes. It was therefore given out, that Joan was
actually inspired *, that she had been able to discover
the king among the number of his courtiers, although
he had laid aside all the distinctions of his authority *,
that she had told him some secrets, which were only
known to himself i and that she had demanded and
minutely described a sword in the church ot bt Ca¬
tharine de Fierbois, which she had never seen. In this
manner, the minds of the vulgar being prepared tor
her appearance, she was armed cap-a-pee, am s lown
in that martial dress to the people. She was then
brought before the doctors of the university ; and they,
tinctured with the credulity of the times, or willing to
second the imposture, declared that she had actually
received her commision from above.
When the preparations for her mission were com¬
pletely blazoned, the next aim was to send her against
the enemy. The English were at that time besieging
the city of Orleans, the last resource of Charles, and
every thing promised them a speedy surrender. Joan
undertook to raise the siege •, and to render herself still
more remarkable, girded herself with the miraculous
sword, of which she before had such extraordinary no¬
tices. Thus equipped, she ordered all the soldiers to
confess themselves before they set out} she displayed
in her hand a consecrated banner, and assured the troops
of certain success. Such confidence on her side soon
raised the spirits of the French army j and even the
English, who pretended to despise her efforts, elt
themselves secretly influenced with the terrors of her
mission. A supply of provisions was to be conveyed
into the town ; Joan, at the head of some French
troops, covered the embarkation, and entered Orleans
at the head of the convoy which she had safely pro¬
tected. While she was leading her troops along, a dead
silence and astonishment reigned among the English ;
and they regarded with religious awe that temerity,
which they thought nothing but supernatural assistance
could inspire. But they were soon roused from their
state of amazement by a sally from the town j Joan led
on the besieged, bearing the sacredstandard in her hand,
encouraging them with her words and actions, bring¬
ing them to the trenches, and overpowering the besie-
N C E.
gers in their own redoubts. In the attack of one of
the forts, she was wounded in the neck with an arrow •, —
but instantly pulling out the weapon with her own
hands, and getting the wound quickly dressed, she hast¬
ened back to head the troops, and to plant her victori¬
ous banner on the ramparts of the enemy. These suc¬
cesses continuing, the English found that it was im¬
possible to resist troops animated by such superior ener¬
gy •, and Suffolk, who conducted the attack, thinking
that it might prove extremely dangerous to remain any
longer in the presence of such a courageous and victo¬
rious enemy, raised the siege, and retreated with a
imaginable precaution. .
From being attacked, the French now in turn be¬
came the aggressors. Charles formed a body of 6ooo
men, and sent them to besiege Jergeau, whither the
English, commanded by the earl of Suffolk, had re¬
tired, with a detachment of his army. The city was
taken-, Suffolk yielded himself a prisoner ; and Joan
marched into the place in triumph at the head ot the
army. A battle was soon after fought near ratay,
where the English were worsted, as before j and the
generals Scales and Talbot were taken prisoners.
The raising of the siege of Orleans was one part ot
the Maid’s promise to the king of France) the crown¬
ing him at Rheims was the other. She now declared
that it was time to complete _ that ceremony ; and
Charles, in pursuance of her advice, set out for Rheims
at the head of 12,000 men. The towns through which
he passed opened their gates to receive him ) and Rheims
sent him a deputation, with its keys, upon his ap¬
proach. The ceremony of his coronation was there
performed with the utmost solemnity ; and the MatdoJ
Orleans (for so she was now called) seeing the com¬
pletion of her mission, desired leave to retire, alleging
that she had now accomplished the end of her calling.
But her services had been so great, that the king
could not think of parting with her ) he pressed her
to stay so earnestly, that she at length complied with
hlSAet1de&of successes followed the performance of this
solemnity, Laon, Soissons, Chateau-Thierri, Provins,
and many other fortresses in that neighbourhood, sub¬
mitted to him on the first summons.^ On the other hand,
the English, discomfited and dispirited, fled in every
quarter; not knowing whether to ascribe their mis¬
fortunes to the power of sorcery or to a celestial in¬
fluence but equally terrified at either. They now
found themselves deprived of the conquests they ha
gained, in the same manner as the French had former¬
ly submitted to their power. Their own divisions,
both abroad and at home, unfitted them entirely for
carrying on the war) and the duke of Bedford, not
withstanding all his prudence, saw himself divested of
his strong holds in the country, without being able to
ston the enemy’s progress. In order, therefore, to re-Henryfl
Zl "14 s?a,e of hi. affairs, ho. resolved to ., «J.
have Henry crowned king at Fans, knowing that the cro
natives would be allured to obedience by the splendour
of the ceremony. In i43°> Heni7 ^
crowned, all the vassals that still continued under the
Eno-lish power swearing fealty and homage. But it
was*now too late for the ceremonies of a coronation o
aive a turn to the affairs of the English) the generality
of the kingdom had declared against them, and the
Fraw
w
I5J
) Orleani
lien l"
iiW
Vance.
103
JV-d of
0 Vans
ti en pri
s8 r.
FRA
remaiiitler only waited a convenient opportunity to fol-
1 low the example.
An accident ensued soon after, which, though it pro¬
mised to promote the English cause in France, in the
end served to render it odious, and conduced to the
total evacuation of that country. The duke of Bur¬
gundy, at the head of a powerful army, had laid siege
to Compeign ; and the Maid of Orleans had thrown
herself into the place, contrary to the wishes of the
governor, who did not desire the company of one
whose authority would be greater than his own. The
garrison, however, were rejoiced at her appearance,
and believed themselves invincible under her protec¬
tion. But their joy was of short duration j for Joan
having the day after her arrival headed a sally, and
twice driven the enemy from their entrenchments, she
was at last obliged to retire, placing herself in the rear,
to protect the retreat of her forces. But in the end,
attempting to follow her troops into the city, she found
the gates shut, and the bridge drawn up by order of
the governor, who is said to have long wished for an
opportunity of delivering her up to the enemy.
Nothing could exceed the joy of the besiegers, in
having taken a person who had been so long a terror
to their arms. The service of Te Deum was publicly
celebrated on this occasion ; and it was hoped, that the
capture of this extraordinary person would restore the
English to their former victories and successes. The
duke of Bedford was no sooner informed of her being
taken, than he purchased her of the Count Vendome,
who had made her his prisoner, and ordered her to be
committed to close confinement. The credulity of
both nations was at that time so great, that nothing
was too absurd to gain belief that coincided with their
passions. As Joan but a little before, from her succes¬
ses, was regarded as a saint, she was now, upon her
captivity, considered as a sorceress, forsaken by the de¬
mon who had granted her a fallacious and temporary
assistance. Accordingly it was resolved in council to
send her to Rouen to be tried for witchcraft: and the
bishop of Beauvais, a man wholly devoted to the Eng¬
lish interest, presented a petition against her for that
purpose. The university of Paris was so mean as to
join in the same request. Several prelates, among
whom the cardinal of Winchester was the only English¬
man, were appointed as her judges. They held their
court at Rouen, where Henry then resided ; and the
Maid, clothed in her former military apparel, but load¬
ed with irons, was produced before the tribunal. Her
behaviour there no way disgraced her former gallantry ;
she betrayed neither weakness nor womanish submis¬
sion, but appealed to God and the pope for the truth
of her former revelations. In the issue, she was found
guilty of heresy and witchcraft; and sentenced to be
burnt alive, the common punishment for such offences.
But previous to the infliction of this dreadful sen¬
tence upon her, they were resolved to make her abjure
hei former errors j and at length so far prevailed upon
her, by terror and rigorous treatment, that her spirits
were entirely broken by the hardships she was obliged
to suffer. Her former visionary dreams began to va¬
nish, and a gloomy distrust to take place of her late in¬
spirations. She publicly declared herself willing to
recant, and promised never more to give way to the
N C E.
vain delusions which had hitherto misled her, and im¬
posed on the people. I his was what her oppressors
desired j and willing to show some appearance of mer¬
cy, they changed her sentence into perpetual imprison¬
ment, and to be fed during life on bread and water.
But the rage of her enemies was not yet satiated. Su¬
specting that the female dress which she had consent¬
ed to wear, was disagreeable to her, they purposely
placed in her apartment a suit of men’s apparel, and
watched for the effect of their temptation upon her.
Their cruel artifices prevailed. Joan, struck with the
sight of a dress in which she had gained so much glo¬
ry, immediately threw off her penitent robes, and
put on the forbidden garment. Her enemies caught
her equipped in this manner; and her imprudence was
considered as a relapse into her former transgressions.
No recantation would suffice, and no pardon would
lie granted. She was condemned to be burnt alive in and crtelly
the maiket-place of Rouen ; and this infamous sentence Put to
was accordingly executed with most brutal severity. death.
One of the first misfortunes which the English felt
after this punishment, was the defection of the duke
of Burgundy; who had for some time seen the error
ot his conduct, and wished to break an unnatural con¬
nexion, that only served to involve his country in ruin.
A treaty was therefore begun and concluded between
him and Charles, in which the former agreed to assist
him in driving the English out of France. This was
a mortal blow to their cause ; and such was its effects
upon the populace of Eondon when thev were inform¬
ed of it, that they killed several of the duke of Bur¬
gundy’s subjects, who happened to be among them at
the time. It might perhaps also have hastened the
duke of Bedford’s death, who died at Rouen a few
days after the treaty was concluded; and the earl of
Cambridge was appointed his successor to the regency
of France. b J
. ^r?m tf”8 period, the English affairs became totally Affairs’of
irretrievable. The city of Paris returned once more1^1® ^nk*ls
to a sense of its duty. Lord Willoughby, who com-to^aIly
manded it for the English, was contented to stipulate
for the safe retreat of his troops to Normandy. Thus
ground was continually, though slowly, gained by the
French ; and notwithstanding their fields were laid
waste, and their towns depopulated, yet they found
protection from the weakness and divisions of the Eng¬
lish. At length both parties began to grow weary
of a war, which, though carried on but feebly, was yet
a burden greater than either could support. But the
terms of peace insisted upon by both were so wide of
each other, that no hopes of an accommodation could
quickly be expected. A truce, therefore, for twenty-
two months, was concluded in 1443, which left every
thing on the present footing between the parties. No
sooner was this agreed upon, than Charles employed
himself with great industry and judgment in repairing
those numberless ills to which his kingdom, from the
continuance of wars both foreign and domestic, had
so long been exposed. He established discipline a-
mong Ins troops, and justice among Ins governors.
He revived agriculture, and repressed faction. Thus
being prepared once more for taking the field, he took
the first favourable occasion of breaking the truce ; and
Normandy was at the same time invaded by four
k a powerful
84
Fiance.
of Charles.
fra
powerful armies ; one commanded by Charles himself,
 v   second by the duke of Brittany, a third by the count
of Alenin, and a fourth by the Count Dunois. Every
place opened its gates almost as soon as the French
appeared before them. Rouen was the only one that
promised to hold out a siege •, but the inhabitants cla¬
moured so loud for-a surrender, that the duke ot So¬
merset, who commanded the garrison, was obliged to
capitulate. The battle, or rather the skirmish, ot
Fourmingi, was the last stand which the English made
in defence of their French dominions. However, they
were put to the rout, and above a thousand were slain.
All Normandy and Guienne, that bad so long acknow¬
ledged subjection to England, were lost in the space
of a vear ; and the English saw themselves entirely dis¬
possessed of a country which for above three centuries
they had considered as annexed to their native domi¬
nions. Calais alone remained of all their conquests :
and this was but a small compensation for the blood and
treasure which had been lavished in that country, and
only served to gratify ambition with a transient applause.
Thus, in the year 1450, the power ol the English in
France was entirely destroyed : and Charles deserv-
edly obtained the surname of Victorious, on account ot
the vigour he had shown in driving out the invaders
,06 of his^country. His satisfaction, however, was now
Domestic greatly diminished by domestic misfortunes. l ^ d^“
misfortunes pj,in forgetting the allegiance and filial duty he ourd
and death [ . js fatjier, had already impeded his conquests by his
seditious intrigues. He had used every endeavour to
thwart the designs of his ministers, and it was suppos¬
ed that he had destroyed Agnes Soreille his father s
favourite mistress by poison. He had married Char¬
lotte daughter to the duke of Savoy *, which Charles
had resented by a declaration of war against the duke,
but had been persuaded to recal it in order to prose¬
cute the war against Guienne, which made part ot tne
dominions of the English. At last weary of the dis¬
obedience of his son, he commanded him to be arrested ,
but Louis, informed of his design, withdrew to Franche
cite, and afterward, to Brabant ; of wh.ch the duke
of Burgundy (at this time sovereign of the country)
was no sooner apprised, than he ordered him to be
supplied with every necessary, and treated with all
imaginable respect. He refused to see him however,
until he should obtain the approbation of Ins father >
on which Louis, having in vain attempted to draw the
duke into a participation of his crimes, employed him¬
self in sowing dissension betwixt his benefactor and his
1 the count of Charoloitt, at the very t.me that he
himself was receiving a pension of 12,000 crowns an¬
nually from the father. Thus he at last destroyed the
domestic peace of his benefactor, while his unnatural
behaviour created continual suspicions m the mind ol
bis father. Charles was repeatedly informed that his
own domestics, along with his undutiful son, were m
a conspiracy against his life. Ihe m.seraole monarch,
therefore, in continual fear of being poisoned, and hav¬
ing none in whom he could repose any confidence,
obstinately refused for some days to take any nourish¬
ment ; and when at last prevailed upon by the impor¬
tunities of his attendants to do so, his stomach had
become incapable of receiving food, so that he died
for want of sustenance in the year 1461. , His body,
neglected by his unnatural son, was interred at the ex-
France.
N C E.
pence of Tannegui de Chastel, who had been his faith
ful companion. _ . , ' '
On the death of Charles, his son Louis succeeded to ^.^7^
the throne, to which he had so long aspired. Louis XI,
was reckoned one of the greatest politicians that ever
existed $ though his character was not on that account
the more amiable •, on the contrary, there are few
princes whose history appears in a more detestable
light. So destitute was he ol natural affection, that he
did not even attempt to conceal his joy at his lather s
death. He pretended much friendship for the count
of Charolois, son to the duke of Burgundy, on ac¬
count of the protection he had received at Ins father s
court } and even conferred upon him a pension ot
12,000 crowns annually: but all this show of a lec¬
tion soon degenerated into a mortal aversion on both
sides. Some differences which took place between the
courts of France and Castile produced an interview
betwixt the two monarchs, Louis, and Henry sur-
named the Impotent. They met at Mauleon on the
confines of Navarre : but their negotiations came to
nothing, and they parted with a mutual contempt ot
each other ; Henry despising the mean and sordid ap¬
pearance of Louis, as he in his turn did the gaudy
magnificence of Henry. In his negotiations with the
duke of Burgundy, Louis proved more successful; per-
suading him to restore some towns on the river Somme,
which had been ceded by Charles VII. and by the
possession of which the duke was in ellect master 0
Picardy. This cession was opposed by the count ot
Charolois j hut Louis, by corrupting John ue Croy
the duke’s minister, obtained his end-, and tor the sum
of 400,000 crowns the cities were delivered to him.
By this transaction he effectually ensured the hatred of
Charolois : and even in that very transaction the du¬
plicity of Louis was eminently displayed 5 lor though
he had agreed to retain in those towns the othcers ap¬
pointed by the duke, he was no sooner in possession ot
them than he displaced them all, and nominated others
in their stead. ... 1 ^ r^Li.
The duchy of Brittany was at this time governed For™d4!.
by Francis, a weak but generous prince, and whose
defect of capacity was supplied by the abilities ol hi’gajnst
ministers. Him' Louis insulted in the most grievous Louu.
manner j and as Francis found himself unable to op¬
pose such a powerful adversary alone, he joined in a
close alliance with the duke of Burgundy and the
count of Charolois *, the latter having been grievously
offended with Louis, and even accused him ot attempt¬
ing his life. The conspiracy was joined by several oi
the principal French nobility, who had been oppres¬
sed by the king •, and though the secret was confided
to upwards of 500 persons, not one 01 them ever < i-
vulged it. Louis, finding matters become very critical,
marched with an army towards the capital, which the
count of Charolois already insulted. A battle ensued,
in which both princes exerted themselves to the ut¬
most, though their valour was but ill seconded by the
bravery of their troops. About 1500 perished on
each side ; but the count of Charolois remained master
of the field of battle. Louis; however, after this en¬
gagement, entered the capital: where he endeavoured,
by every kind conceGSior* he could ! o , o
ciliate the affection of his subjects j m which he suc¬
ceeded so well, that though the army ol insurgents
if1
ui in-
*wd b
Hrle>,
FRANCE.
Slice.
was soon augmented to more than ico,ooo men, they
-v-—-' were unable to make themselves masters of the city.
°9 At last a treaty was set on foot betwixt Louis and the
jCl,u* count of Charolois ; by which the latter obtained the
towns which had been formerly ceded, with the the di¬
stricts of Boulogne, Guisne, Peronne, Mondidior, and
Roye, as a perpetual inheritance for himself. By
granting favours to the other confederates, the league
to was broken ; and the moment that Louis found him-
Ttkehery se]f freed from danger, he protested against the whole
m,s' treaty in the presence of some confidential members of
parliament, as contrary to the interest of the crown $
and therefore waited the first favourable opportunity
to crush one by one those who had been ready by their
united efforts to destroy himself. The duke of Bour¬
bon, one of the most able of the confederates, was
gained over, by bestowing upon him in marriage, Jane
the natural daughter of Louis himself, with the dowry
of Usson in Auvergne $ together with Moras, Beau-
repaire, and Cormillon in Dauphiny ; while, by the dis¬
contents betwixt the dukes of Brittany and Normandy,
he was enabled to secure the neutrality of the former,
and to recover from the latter some territories which
he had unwillingly ceded to him.
In 1467, Philip duke of Burgundy, from his amiable
qualities surnamed The Good, died, and left his domi¬
nions to his son Charles count of Charolois. That
fiery and impetuous prince, jealous of the growing
power of France, and an implacable enemy of Louis,
had entered into a secret treaty with Francis ; but
Louis had driven the Bretons from the posts they oc¬
cupied in Normandy before the duke of Burgundy
could pass the Somme. The king, however, alarmed
at the power of the confederates, concluded a peace
with Brittany 5 and, confiding in his talents for nego¬
tiation, determined to have a personal interview with
the duke of Burgundy,
France.
Louliim- This memorable interview took place in the year
Chiifcf ^ ’ ant* Peronne) a city °f Picardy, but belong-
fr' ing to the duke of Burgundy, was appointed as the
place of rendezvous. To this place the politic Louis
repaired with a slender train, and attended only by
Cardinal Balue, the duke of Bourbon, and the count
de St Pol, constable of France j seemingly without re¬
flecting that he was entering a hostile city, where be
might be confined for any length of time, or treated at
the pleasure of the duke, who was his mortal enemy.
Indeed he had not long been in the place when he be¬
gan to see the error of his conduct; and by the daily
concourse of Burgundian lords and other persons of
rank, who were his avowed enemies, he became
alarmed for his personal safety. His fear now sug¬
gested to him a worse measure than even the former ;
and he requested apartments in the castle, where it
was in the power of his rival in a moment to make him
a close prisoner. This event accordingly took place,
i and that through the arts and machinations of Louis
himself. His design had been from the beginning to
keep the duke of Burgundy constantly employed in
domestic wars. For this purpose he had, before his
interview with Charles, excited the inhabitants of
Liege, who were subject to the duke of Burgundy, to
revolt. It is most probable, that he did not imagine
the effects of this treachery would so soon begin to
appear. At the very time, however, that Louis was
in the castle of Peronne, the people of Liege revolted,
seized the bishop and governor; and having massacred
great numbers of the adherents of Charles, retired
with the prisoners they had made to the capital.
Charles was soon informed of this massacre, with the
additional circumstance, that the ambassadors of Louis
were seen animating the insurgents to their work of
destruction. He then flew into a transport of rage ;
commanded the gates of the castle to be shut and
strictly guarded ; denouncing the severest vengeance
on the perfidious monarch who had so often deceived
him. _ Louis, however, though greatly, and no doubt
very justly, alarmed, did not neglect to take the pro¬
per methods for securing himself. He distributed large
sums of money among those officers to whom he ima¬
gined the duke was most inclined to pay any regard,
and by splendid promises and presents endeavoured to
allay the resentment of his other enemies. At last the
resentment of Charles having subsided, he entered into a trJaty
a tieaty with the king, and concluded it upon much between
the same terms as those which had been agreed upon ^ou‘s anci
before. His resentment, however, still manifested it- f
self so far, that he insisted upon Louis being present
at the punishment he inflicted upon the inhabitants of
Liege for the massacre they had committed, and of
which we have already taken notice. This was agreed
to: the two princes formed the siege of the city in
conjunction ; and, notwithstanding the obstinate de¬
fence of the people, it was at last taken by storm, and
the inhabitants massacred. It was not long, however,
before the new alliance was dissolved. A confederacy
against Louis, whom neither promises nor treaties
could bind, was formed betwixt his own brother the
duke of Normandy and the duke of Burgundy; but
before their measures were ripe for execution, Louis
had already commenced hostilities. The duke of Bur¬
gundy, as a peer of France, was summoned to parlia¬
ment 3 and on his refusal, the constable St Pol made
himself master of St Quintin. Several other cities
were soon after reduced ; and Baldwin, the natural
brother of Charles, corrupted by Louis, deserted his
cause 3 and the haughty spirit of the duke was thus at
last obliged to condescend to solicit a peace. This,
however, was of no long duration. Charles, encou¬
raged by the success of Edward IV. of England his
brother-in-law, began once more to league against
Louis with the dukes of Brittany and of Guienne 3 the
latter being the king’s brother, formerly duke of Nor¬
mandy, but who had exchanged that duchy for the
territory of Guienne. But while the affairs of the
confederates seemed to be in a prosperous way, their
prospects were suddenly overcast by the death of the
duke of Guienne, which was universally supposed to
have been occasioned by poison, and'Louis was as uni¬
versally looked upon as the author. The abbot of St
Joan d’Angeli was fixed upon as the immediate perpe¬
trator of the deed 3 but on the day appointed for his
trial he was found strangled in his cell; and this also
was with great probability supposed to have been the
deed of Louis, who after the death of his brother in¬
stantly seized on the territory of Guienne, and annexed
it to the dominions of France.
By this unheard-of conduct of the French monarch,
Charles was exasperated to such a degree, that he vow¬
ed the most dreadful vengeance against the unhappy
85
9.6
France.
FRA
people of France, and threatened to sacrifice to the me-
' v I mory of the duke of Gulenne every one who now fell
1 r3 into his hands. The citizens of Nesle were massacred
Furious in- without distinction of sex or age j Beauvis resisted his
Fi'auceby attacks j after which Charles wreaked his fury on other
Charles of places. Having entered the country of Gaux, he xe-
Burgundy. Juced the cities of Eu and St Valery, burnt Gcnigue-
ville, and wasted the whole country as far as Kouen.
Louis, on the other hand, steady and constant in his
designs, determined to dissolve the league between t ic
duke of Brittany and Edward IV. of England. Ac¬
cordingly he encamped with his army on the frontiers
of Brittany ; while the duke, not meeting with the
assistance promised by Edward, was obliged to consen
to a truce for a year; and the duke of Burgundy him¬
self was obliged to follow his example, having com
mitted such devastations as deprived him of all means
of subsistence in the country, so that he could neither
advance nor retreat. In a very little time, Imwever,
he again began to conspire with the king of Englan
114 against Louis, and a powerful invasion was determine
Invasion bv Up0n. Edward was to cross the sea with an army o
BdwardIT. ^ QOO men> while Charles assembled all his forces to
of Englaud.. hjm> The former was also to set up a claim to
the crown of France, and at least to obtain the pro¬
vinces of Normandy and Guienne j the duke was to
have Champagne with some adjacent districts ; to tree
his dominions from homage ; and neither party was
to make peace without the consent of the other. It
was supposed that the duke of Brittany would na¬
turally accede to the confederacy ; and the Count de
St Pol, constable of France, had engaged to deliver
up the town of St Quintin and others which he oc¬
cupied on the river Somme. Louis, however, still
had the good fortune to avoid the storm Charles
instead of advancing to the assistance of Edward, who
had entered France at the head of 15,000 an
l rco men at arms, laid siegb to the city of Nuiz on
the Rhine; while the constable St Pol, instead of
delivering up the towns as he had promised, deceived
his allies, and enabled Louis to dissolve a confederacy,
which, had it been vigorously maintained, might have
involved him in the greatest difficulties. To procure
the departure of Edward, however, he was obliged to
consent to a tribute of 75,000 crowns, as well as to
settle on the king himself 50,000 crowns 5 be
N C E.
country. To this resolution he adhered : but no sooner
Frame,
116
US
Louis
agrees to
was the term expired, than he concluded a truce with
Louis for nine years. The stipulations publicly agreed
upon betwixt these two princes consisted only in some
articles for the mutual advantage of their subjects •, but
privately they had signed others of a different nature.
The constable St Pof having rendered himself obnoxi¬
ous to all parties by his complicated treachery, fled to
Mens in Hainault j but the duke of Burgundy had al¬
ready consented to deliver him up on condition of re¬
ceiving his estates and moveables as the price of his
tr^Rclit3 Fy •
Thus was Louis, without any other remarkable quali¬
fication than the mere arts of falsehood and duplici¬
ty, got rid of all his enemies except the duke of Bur¬
gundy, whose growing power rendered him a constant
object of jealousy and terror. His own imprudence _
and rashness, however, soon proved his ruin. HavingCharleia
rashly engaged in a war with the Swiss, he was de-gages in.
feated in the first engagement with that martial ™tion
with the loss of his military chest and baggage, with
his plate and jewels, supposed to be the richest in Eu¬
rope. His disappointment on this occasion was so
great, that he was seized with a severe sickness, from
which he had hardly recovered when he resumed his
mad scheme of conquering the Swiss. Anothei battle
ensued j in which, after an obstinate dispute, Charles
was defeated with the loss of 18,000 men, himself
escaping with great difficulty. This disaster was fol¬
lowed by the defection of most of his allies •, the duke
of Lorrain recovered the city of Nancy and great part
of his dominions which Charles had seized ; while the
latter overwhelmed with shame and disappointment,
spent’his time in solitude and inactivity. From this
he was at last roused by the misfortunes which fell up¬
on him in such quick succession. He now invested
the city of Nancy j and in this, as well as in every
other instance, he acted against the advice of his best
officers ; and the consequences were still more fatal
than before. The duke of Lorrain advanced with a
strong body of Germans to the relief of the city, while
Charles had scarcely 4000 men to oppose him. Hia
troops were therefore easily defeated, and himself, not¬
withstanding the most heroic efforts of valour, hurried
away in the crowd. The count de Campobasso, an
Italian nobleman in whom he put a great deal of confi-
fr.iicfi'
^r
pen
si on to
Edward.
the* king of England.' The duke of Burgundy ex¬
claimed loudly against this treaty : but Edward per¬
sisted in his resolution *, and it was accordingly exe¬
cuted at a place called Peequigny, near Amiens j but
in such a manner as showed the little confidence the
two sovereigns reposed in each other. A grated bar¬
rier was erected in the middle of the bridge of Pec-
between the barriers of which only a man s
117
“6 settle on me King    - dence but who was in reality a traitor, had deserted
5£l“a-' trothing »l»0jthe|Jaaph.nrit! wl,h about 80 men in the beginning of the engagement.
He left 12 or 15 men about the duke’s person, with He 11W
strict orders to assassinate him in the tumult j and thissin*u4.
order they punctually complied with $ the body of
Charles being found two days after the battle pierced
with three wounds. .
The news of Charles’s death was received with the
most unfeigned joy by Louis, whose sole object now
was to unite the territories of the duke of Burgundy ^
    , , r . , , on. to his own. This might be done in two ways} onecesq^1
posite sides of it; and Having conferre pn a y* . match betwixt the dauphin and Mary the heiress BurgM1’
confirmed the treaty between them parted with many by a betw b Pma ; he/to the dukeby ^
protestations of fnen sb.p;-»-,cb, probably, ne^er of Bu f ^ roya| biood of France,
and on whom Mary had shewn some inclination to be¬
stow herself. The king, however, to whom duplicity
and falsehood seem to have been absolutely necessary,
chose a third method, more agreeable to his character.
The match with the dauphin was attended with such
circumstances
ouigny, between me — j
arm could pass: the two princes appeared on the op
. • i f V»o«rJnrr rnnfprrpil nrivatelv. «in<
nartv was very sincere. A power was reserved by Ed¬
ward, for the duke of Burgundy to accede to the
treaty : but the latter haughtily replied, that he was
able to support himself without the assistance of Eng¬
land * and that he would make no peace with Louis
till three months after the return of Edward to his own
“s
Itl
'•fuel
> Wilis,
'Tjia
F E A
circumstances as rentlered it evidently impracticable.
The disparity of age was very great, the dauphin
being only eight years old, and the princess twenty :
the Flemings were besides very much averse from sub¬
mitting to a prince whose powerful resources would
enable him to oppress their liberties: but notwithstand¬
ing these unsurmountable difficulties, Louis chose to
insist upon the match, at the same time that he endea¬
voured to make himself master of her dominions by
force of arms. He addresssd circular letters to the
principal cities of Burgundy ; representing that the
duchy had been given by King John to the male heirs
of his son Philip j and that now, when these were
extinct by the death of Charles, the territory reverted
of course to the crown. To render this argument more
effectual, he corrupted the governors of some towns ;
seduced the inhabitants of others to rise against their
governors ; whilst he himself at the head of an army,
prepared to enforce obedience from those who could not
be worked upon by other methods. Thus the pro¬
vince of Burgundy was entirely reduced j but Flanders
could not be brought under subjection either by fair
means, force, or fraud. In his conduct for this pur¬
pose, indeed, Louis displayed the most detestable as
well as the meanest treachery and falsehood. To ren¬
der Mary odious to her subjects, he negotiated with
her ministers, and prevailed upon them to disclose to
him some of the most important state secrets ; after
which he communicated their letters to the states of
Flanders. This double treachery, however, did not
at present answer his purpose. The two ministers
whom he had betrayed were indeed put to death with¬
out mercy, and that even in the presence of their sove¬
reign : but Mary herself was thus induced to bestow
herself upon the emperor Maximilian $ and Louis had
the mortification to find that all his arts had contributed
only to aggrandise a rival power, whom he had already
sufficient cause to dread. To remedy this oversight, he
entered into an alliance with Edward IV. of England,
whom he had inspired with a jealousy of his brother
Clarence, in order to prevent a match betwixt that no¬
bleman and the princess Mary, which had also been in
agitation. Thus a peace was concluded between the
two monarchs, to continue during the life of each, and
a year after.
The marriage of Mary with Maximilian effectually
secured the independence of Flanders j while the re¬
turn of the prince of Orange to the party of that
princess extended the flames of war once more to the
cities of Burgundy. The French were on the point
of being totally expelled from that country, when
Maximilian unexpectedly made proposals of peace. A
truce was on this concluded between the two princes,
but without any term limited for its duration, or with¬
out any conditions stipulated in favour of the Burgun¬
dians ; so that the whole country was quickly after re¬
duced by Louis.
The king now freed from the apprehensions of
F ranee.
“j^<*eky foreign enemies, turned his vindictive disposition against
<l,s' his own subjects ; over whom, under pretence of for¬
mer rebellions, he exercised the most insupportable ty¬
ranny. The principal victim to his sanguinary disposi¬
tion on this occasion was James d’Armagnac duke of
Nemours, one of the first noblemen in the kingdom,
but who had formerly appeared a zealous confederate
N C E.
against him in the league in which Edward and Charles
were concerned. The unfortunate nobleman, know- v
ing that vengeance was determined against him, fled to
a fortress named Carlat, situated among the mountains
of Auvergne. Here he was besieged by the Seigneur
de Beaujeu, who had married Anne the daughter of
Louis. Ihe place, however, was almost impregnable
to any force $ so that his enemies were obliged to make
the most solemn promises of safety in order to induce
him to surrender himself. By these he was at last per¬
suaded to trust himself in the hands of the faithless
tyrant : who no sooner had him in his power than he
shut him up in the Bastile in an iron cage, and repri¬
manded the judges because they had released him from
this close confinement during the time of his examina¬
tion. The judges reluctantly condemned him to be
beheaded : but the king’s cruelty extended beyond the
sentence: and he ordered the two young sons of the
duke, though yet in early childhood, to be placed
directly under the scaffold, that they might be covered
with the blood of their father. Four thousand persons
are supposed to have perished upon this occasion with¬
out any form or trial: and were it not for the con¬
current testimony of the historians of that age, the in¬
humanities and barbarities of this monarch are scarce
to be credited. By these he broke the spirits of the
French nobility, and gradually extended the power of
the crown beyond all bounds ; so that at last it was
limited only by the sovereign’s pleasure. Amidst alt-
the perfidy and cruelty, however, for which this mo¬
narch is so justly to be detested, we may on some oc¬
casions remark a kind of magnanimity and generosity
which we cannot but applaud. An instance of this
was his supporting the house of Medici against Pope
Sextus, whom he obliged to desist from his attacks, and
to recal his sentence which he had fulminated against
^em’ ’ 120
In 1479, the emperor Maximilian, who had lightly Burgundy
abandoned the duchy of Burgundy, when he might unsuccess-
have reduced it, now renewed his claims when it was fuHy
no longer in his power to enforce them. After a
variety of actions of lesser note, and the destruction oflian.
cities on both sides, a decisive battle was fought at
Guinegate. Here the Flemings were routed ; but as
the French pursued with too great ardour, the infantry
of the enemy rallied, and the battle was renewed with
great slaughter on both sides. A more decisive advan¬
tage was afterwards gained by the capture of 80 Fle¬
mish vessels, which induced that commercial people to
think of peace. In the meantime, however, Louis,
after a life spent in continual deceit, hypocrisy, and
cruelty, received warning of his approaching end by
a fit of apoplexy with which he was seized in the
year 1480. He lay speechless and motionless for two
days 5 after which he recovered in some degree, but
never completely regained his health and strength.
His illness, however, neither prevented him from pur¬
suing the schemes of his ambition, nor from using the
same methods as before to attain them. He seized,
without any pretence, the estates of the duke of Bour¬
bon, the only nobleman in the kingdom whose power
could give him any cause of suspicion ; yet, notwith¬
standing his assiduity for the interest of the dauphin,
he kept him a kind of prisoner in the castle of Am-
boise, permitting none but his own servants, or per¬
sons
87
88
FRA
Fi'auce.
in
Death of
Louis XL
122
Reign of
Charles
VIII.
123
Regency
the Lady
Beaujeu,
sons of the meanest rank, to have access to him. He
banished his own consort, the mother of the dauphin,
to Savoy, and endeavoured to inspire the prince with
aversion towards her. By the death of Charles, the
titular king of Naples, and the last of the second house
of Anjou, he became master of the county of Pro¬
vence ; but his satisfaction on this occasion was mar¬
red by a second stroke of apoplexy. Still, however,
he revived, and, with his recovery, again began to pur¬
sue his ambitious intrigues. The death of Mary ot
Burgundy, who perished by a fall from her horse, in¬
spired him with new views j and he betrothed his son
to the infant daughter of the emperor. Thus he of¬
fended Edward IV. of England, whose eldest daugh¬
ter Elizabeth had been previously contracted to the
dauphin ; and a war would have undoubtedly ensued,
had it not been for the death of the king of England.
This was followed in no long time after by that oi
Louis himself, who had in vain exhausted the skill of
the physician, and wearied the clerical order with pray¬
ers and processions to avert the impending stroke. He
expired in the year 1483, after a reign of 23 years j
during which he was detested by his subjects, whom
he had continually oppressed ; and equally dreaded and
hated by his neighbours, whom he had constantly de-
ceived: notwithstanding which he obtained the title
of Most Christian from his holiness, which his successors
have ever after retained.
Notwithstanding the dark character of this prince,
it is undoubtedly to be allowed, that he laid the foun¬
dations of the future greatness of France. By his
arts he deprived the common people of their liberty,
depressed the power of the nobility, established a stand-
incr army, and even induced the states to render many
taxes perpetual, which formerly were only temporary,
in order to support the army which was to keep them¬
selves in slavery. From this time the people were ac¬
customed to submit entirely to the voice of their so¬
vereign as their only legislator j and being always obe¬
dient in matters of the greatest consequence, they cheer¬
fully contributed whatever sums were required to ful¬
fil the king’s pleasure. T . VT
Charles VIII. who succeeded Ins father Louis XL
in 1483, was only 14 years of age at the. time of Ins
father’s death: but though he might, even at that
age have ascended the throne without any material
violation of the laws of France, yet it was judged ne¬
cessary to have a regent, on account of the king s de¬
licacy of constitution and want of education. Ihree
competitors appeared as candidates for this important
trust viz. John duke of Bourbon, a prince of the
blood, and who had, till the age of 60 maintained
the most unblemished character j Louis duke ot Ur-
leans, presumptive heir to the crown, but who from
his being only 20 years old himself, seemed incapaci¬
tated on that account from undertaking such an im¬
portant office : the third competitor was Anne, the
eldest daughter of Louis, to whom the latter had in
of the last moments of his life committed the charge of
the kingdom, with the title of governess. The claim
of this lady was supported by the assembly ot the
states general at Tours j and though she was only en¬
tered into the 22d year of her age, it appears that the
office could not have been more properly bestowed.
Being married to Peter of Bourbon, sire of Beaujeu,
3
frifl
N C E.
her present title Was the Lady of Beaujeu; but she ap- f ranee ^
pears to have acted entirely independent of her hus- v*-.
band, who was but of a modern e capacity and in¬
deed had been recommended to her by Louis on ac¬
count of his slender abilities, lest by any other match
the house of Bourbon should be too much aggran¬
dized. Her first step was to ingratiate herself with
the people, by some popul r acts *, among which one
was to punish the instruments of her father’s cruelties.
One of these, named Oliver le Dian, who, from the
station of a barber, had raised himself to the confi¬
dence and favour of the king, and had distinguished
himself by the invention of new modes of torture,
was publicly hanged. Another, named Jean Doyac,
■ivho by continual acts of violence and rapacity had
oppressed the people, was condemned, after being
whipped in all the open places or squares of Paris, to
have one of his ears cut off, and his tongue pierced
with a hot iron •, after which he was conveyed to his
native city of Montferrand, where he was a ain whip¬
ped, and his other ear cut off} after which his estates,
as well as those of Oliver, were confiscateJ Jacques
Coitier, the physician of Louis, who had availed him¬
self of the terror of death with which the king was
strongly influenced, to extort great sums of money from
him, was ordered to answer for the immense wealth he
had acquired 5 but he averted the danger by paying a
fine of 50,000 crowns.
Thus the lady de Beaujeu gained the affection of
the people at large } and was equally successful in gain¬
ing over those who were averse to her government.
The duke of Bourbon was made constable, an office
which he had long desired } but the duke of Orleans
behaved in such a manner as to exclude all hopes of
favour. Incensed at the determination of a trifling
dispute at tennis against him, by the lady Beaujeu, he
exclaimed, that whoever had decided in that manner
“ was a liar if a man, or a strumpet if a woman.” Af¬
ter this furious declaration he fled to the castle of Beau-
jency, where, however, he was soon forced to surrender.
He then applied to Henry VII. of England, who had
newly ascended the throne of England } but that prince,
naturally slow and cautious, did not pay much attention
to his proposals} on which he next made his applica- n4
tion to the court of Britanny. Here he was received Cuke of
with great marks of esteem, and began to entertain
hopes of marrying the daughter of the duke } but be-1^ °
ing looked upon with a jealous eye by the nobility,
they entered into secret negotiations with Anne, and
even solicited her to invade the country. In these ne¬
gotiations, however, they stipulated that only a certain
number of troops should enter the province, and that
no fortified place should remain in the hands of the
French } which conditions were indeed agreed to by
the regent, though she determined to keep them no n- ^
longer than it answered her purpose. In pursuance of That
this resolution, Brittany was invaded at once by ^ourtI3r,in,'b. 'fst
armies, each of them superior to the stipulated number,
who nuicklv made themselves masters of the most im- !i
who quickly made themselves masters of the most im¬
portant places in the country} while the troops of
the duke retired in disgust, leaving them to pursue
their conquests as they pleased. Finding at last, how¬
ever, that the entire subjection of their country was de¬
termined upon, the nobility began to exert themselves in
defence of it} and, inflamed by the enthusiasm of liber¬
ty
ranse
16
Mii'iage
bet :esi
th<«ing
o( ante
anciu-
ehc of
Bti my,
t)ie Ji
Ys'ft i 0
tijtaly, nd
•trprittJir
•tccci
ty, they raised an army of 60,000 men. By these the
J French were compelled to abandon the siege of Nantz $
but this proved only a transient gleam of success. Anne
persevered in her design of completing the conquest of
the country, and the state of Europe at that time fa¬
voured the design. Of all the European states, Eng¬
land alone was then capable of affording any effectual
assistance : and the slow caution of Henry prevented
him from giving the assistance which for his own inte¬
rest he ought to have done. Thus the Bretons were
left to defend themselves the best way they could ; and
having ventured a battle, they were entirely defeated,
and most of their leaders taken prisoners. A small body
of English, under the command of Lord Woodville,
who assisted them, were entirely cut in pieces. The
duke soon after died by a fall from his horse, leaving
his dominions to his daughter Anne, at that time only
13 years of age. A marriage was negotiated betwixt
this princess and Maximilian king of the Romans, who
had been married to Mary of Burgundy $ but by
reason of the poverty of that prince it was never
completed. The lady Beaujeu, then finding that the
absolute conquest of Brittany would still be a difficult
matter, determined to conclude a marriage betwixt the
young king of France and the duchess, though the
former had already been married to Margaret of Aus¬
tria, the daughter of Maximilian. This marriage in¬
deed had not been consummated by reason of the
tender age of the princess ; but she had been sent to
Paris for her education, and had for several years been
treated as queen of France. In 1491, however, Mar¬
garet was sent back to her father: Anne of Brittany
for a long time refused to violate the engagements into
which she had entered ; but at last, finding herself dis¬
tressed on all sides, and incapable of resisting the nu¬
merous forces of France with which she was pressed
she reluctantly consented to the match, and the nup¬
tials were celebrated the same year at Langeais in
Touraine.
_ Maximilian, whose poverty had prevented him from
giving any assistance to his bride, or even from coming
to see her, enraged at the double disgrace he had suf¬
fered, began, when too late, to think of revenge.
France was now threatened with an invasion from the
united forces of Austria, Spain, and England. But
this formidable confederacy was soon dissipated. 
Henry, whose natural avarice had prevented him from
giving the necessary assistance, was bought oft' with
money : the immediate payment of 745,000 crowns,
and the .promise of 25,000 annually ever after, per¬
suaded him to retire into his own country. Ferdinand
king of Spain had the counties of Roussillon and Cer-
agne restored to him ; while Maximilian was gratified
by the cession of part of Artois, which had been ac¬
quired by Louis XI.
' Ihe young king of France agreed to these terms
the more readily, that he was impatient to undertake
an expedition into Italy, in order to conquer the king¬
dom of Naples, to which he claimed a right. Most of
his counsellors were against the expedition j but the
king was inflexible, even though Ferdinand king of
ap es offered to do homage for his kingdom, and pay
11m a tribute of 50,000 crowns a-year. He appointed
e er duke of Bourbon regent in his absence ; after
which ® ®et °ut on his expedition with very few
VOL. IX. Part I. \
FRANCE.
troops and very little money. By the way he fell ill of Fran<
the smallpox, but in a short time recovered, and enter-
mg Italy with only 6000 horse and 12,000 foot, he was
attended with the most surprising success, traversing the
whole country in six weeks, and becoming master of the
kingdom of Naples in less than a fortnight. Such ex¬
traordinary good fortune seemed miraculous 5 and he
was reckoned an instrument raised up by God to destroy
the execrable tyrants with which Italy was at that time
infested. Had Charles made use of this prepossession in
hts favour, and acted up to the character generally given
him, he might have raised his name as high as any hero
of antiquity. His behaviour, however, was of a very
different nature. He amused himself with feasts and
shows j and leaving his power in the hands of favourites,
they abandoned it to whoever would purchase titles,
p aces, or authority, at the rates they imposed ; and the
whole force he proposed to leave in his new conquered
dominions amounted to no more than 4000 men.
But while Charles was thus losing his time, a league
was concluded against him at Venice; into which en-
tered the pope, the emperor Maximilian, the archduke
1 hilip, Ludovic Sforza, and the Venetians. The con¬
federates assembled an army of 40,000 men, command¬
ed by Irancis marquis of Mantua; and they waited
for the king in the valley of Fornova, in the duchy of
Parma, into which he descended with 9000 men. On
the 6th of July 1495 he attacked the allies; and, not¬
withstanding their great superiority, defeated them,
with the loss of only 80 of his own men. Thus he got
safe to France ; but his Italian dominions were lost al¬
most as soon as he departed. Some schemes were pro¬
posed for recovering these conquests; but they were t,2
never put in execution, and the king died of an apo-His deatk
plexy in 1498.
Ihe premature death of this monarch in the 28th
year of his age, was supposed to have been owing to
his irregular life, and particularly his attachment to
women ; which had for some time impaired his health
and brought on evident symptoms of his approaching
dissolution. At last he relinquished his irregularities,
and retired with the queen to the castle of Ambloise.
Here in passing through a low door he struck his head
with violence against the top. No unfavourable symp¬
tom appeared at the time ; but soon afterwards, as be
conversed with his confessor, and avowed his design of
observing the nuptial fidelity he owed to the queen
he suddenly fell backward in a fit of apoplexy. He
recovered his voice three times, and uttered some ex¬
pressions of devotion ; but instantly relapsed, and in a
short time expired, notwithstanding every assistance
that could be given. He was greatly celebrated for
Jus sweet temper and agreeable disposition, which pro-
cured him the surnames of the /Iffable and Courteous.
Ivvo of his domestics are said to have died of grief af¬
ter his death, and his widow abandoned herself to the
most pungent sorrow for two days.
By the death of Charles VIII. the throne of France
passed from the direct line of the house of Valois, and
Louis duke of Orleans succeeded to the throne. At
the time of his accession he was in his 36th year, and
had long been taught prudence in the school of ad¬
versity. During the administration of the lady Beau¬
jeu, he had been, as we have already observed, con¬
stantly in disgrace ; and after his Connexions with the
M duke
89
FRA
duke of Brittany, had spent a very considerable time
in prison j and though afterwards set at liberty by
Charles, lie had never possessed any share of that mo¬
narch’s confidence or favour. Towards the conclusion
of that reign, he fell under the displeasure of the
queen *, and had afterwards continued at his castle of
Biois till he was called from thence to the possession of
the kingdom. He had been married in early life, and
ao-ainst his will, to Jane the youngest daughter of
Louis XI. a princess of an amiable disposition, but de¬
formed in her person, and supposed to be incapable of
bearing children. Afterwards he entertained thoughts
of having his marriage dissolved, and was supposed to
possess the affection of the duchess of Brittany, before
she became queen of France. After the death of her
husband, that princess retired to Brittany, where she
pretended to assume an independent sovereignty ; but
Louis having got his marriage with Jane dissolved by
Pope Alexander VI. quickly after made proposals to
the queen-dowager, which on her part were accepted
without hesitation j though it was stipulated, that it
she should have two sons, the younger should inherit
the duchy of Brittany.
As Louis, while duke of Orleans, had some preten¬
sions to the kingdom of Naples, he instantly set about
realizing them by conquest. On his accession, he
found matters in that country much more favourable
to his designs than formerly. The pope, Alexander
VI. was very much in his interests, from the hopes of
getting his son Csesar Borgia provided for : he had con¬
ciliated the friendship of the Venetians by promising
them a part of the Milanese’, he concluded a truce
with the archduke Philip j and renewed his alliances
- 120 vvith the crowns of England, Scotland, and Denmai'.
Expedition He then entered Italy with an army of 20,000 men j
of Louis an(l being assisted by the Venetians, quickly conquered
XU. into one rt 0f the duchy, while they conquered the other,
hR]y- the duke himself being obliged to fly with his family
to Inspruck. He then attacked Ferdinand of Spam
with three armies at once, two to act by land, and one
by sea *, but none of these performing any thing re¬
markable, he was obliged to evacuate the kingdom ot
Naples in I504’ , , i *
In 1506, the people of Genoa revolted j drove out
the nobility ’, chose eight tribunes ; and declared Paul
Nuova, a silk dyer, their duke : after which they ex-
pelled^tbe French governor, and reduced a great part
of the Riviera. This occasioned Louis’s return into
Italy j where, in 1507, he obliged the Genoese to sur¬
render at discretion: and, in 1508, entered into the
league of Cambray, with the other princes who at
that time wanted to reduce the overgrown power of
the Venetians. Pope Julius II. who had been the first
contriver of this league, very soon repented of it; and
declared, that if the Venetians would restore the cities
of Faenza and Rimini, which had been unjustly taken
from him, he would be contented. This was refused *,
and in 1509, the forces of the republic received such
an entire defeat from Louis, that they agreed to restore
not only the two cities demanded by Pope Julius, but
whate. r else the allies required. _ .
The pope now, instead of executing Ins treaties with
his allies, made war on the king of France without the
least provocation. Louis called an assembly of his
clergy j where it was determined, that in some cases it
Franc*.
13a
N C E.
was lawful to make war upon the pope ; upon which
the king declared war against him, and committed the 1
care of bis army to the Marshal de Trivulce. He soon
obliged the pope to retire into Ravenna; and m 1511,
Gaston de Foix, duke of Nemours, gained a great vic¬
tory at Ravenna, but was himself killed in the engage¬
ment. After his death the army was disbanded for want
of pay ; and the French affairs in Italy, and everywhere
else, fell into great confusion. They recovered the
duchy of Milan, and lost it again in a few weeks. Hen¬
ry VIII. of England invaded France, and took ierru-
enne and Tournay ; and the Swiss invaded Burgundy
with an army of 25,000 men. In this desperate situation
of affairs the queen died, and Louis put an end to the
opposition of his most dangerous enemies by negotiating
marriages. To Ferdinand of Spain he offered his se¬
cond daughter for either of his grandsons, Charles or
Ferdinand; and to renounce, in favour of that mar-
riage, his claims on Milan and Genoa. This proposal His mi.
was accepted; and Louis himself married the princessnage^
Mary, sister to Henry VIII. of England. This mar-^P™
riage he did not long survive, but died on the 2d ot Eng]Mi
nuary 1514 ; and was succeeded by Francis I. count ot anddcaii
Angoulesme, and duke of Bretagne and Valois. I3,
The new king was no sooner seated on the throne, riamis!,
than he resolved on an expedition into Italy. In thUinrad«
he was at first successful, defeating the Swiss atMarig- *
non, and reducing the duchy of Milan. In 1518, the ^
emperor Maximilian dying, Francis was very ambitious
of beimr his successor, and thereby restoring to 1 ranee ;®
such a splendid title, which had been so long lost. But
Maximilian, before bis death, had exerted himsell so
much in favour of Charles V. of Spain, that Francis
found it impossible to succeed ; and from that time an
irreconcileable hatred took place between the two mo-
narchs. In T521, this ill will produced a war ; which,
however, might perhaps have been terminated, if £ ran-
cis could have been prevailed upon to restore the town
of Fontarabia, which had been taken by his admiral
Bonivet: but this being refused, hostilities were re¬
newed with greater vigour than ever ; nor were they
concluded till France was brought to the very brink ot
destruction. The war was continued with various suc¬
cess till the year 1524; when Francis having invaded ^
Italy, and laid siege to Pavia, he was utterly defeated
before that city, and taken prisoner on the 24th ot r e-andtaint
, pnwiti |
bruary. . . , . r 1
This disaster threw the whole kingdom into the ut¬
most confusion. The Flemish troops made continual
inroads; many thousand boors assembled in Alsace, in
order to make an invasion from that quarter; ■”enJ'y
VIII. had assembled a great army, and threatened the
kingdom on that side also ; and a party was formed
in the kingdom, in order to dispossess the duchess 0
the regency, and confer it upon the duke de Ven-
dosme.C This prince, however, who, after the constable,
was the head of the house of Bourbon, went on pur¬
pose to Lyons, where he assured the regent that he
had no view but for her service, and that of his coun¬
try ; upon which he formed a council of the ablesi
men of the kingdom, and of this she made him presi¬
dent. The famous Andrew Dona sailed with the
French galleys to take on board the remains ol the
French troops under the duke of Alva, whom he land¬
ed safely in France. Those who escaped o^ot^the
110
FRANCE.
1 Ffcii I.
; «ar l to
■ Ma*: (I,
whc he
siiB .'a dis
adi+ ta-
geo::fua-
l aki
itriiH
Milanese also made tlieir way back aoain as well as
J they could. Henry VIII. under the influence of Car¬
dinal Wolsey, resolved not to oppress the oppressed :
he therefore assured the regent that she had nothing to
fear from him ; and at the same time advised her not
to consent to any treaty by which France was to be
dismembered. To the emperor, however, he used an¬
other language. He told him, that the time was now
come when this puissant monarchy lay at their mercy j
and therefore, that so favourable an opportunity should
not be let slip : that, for his part, he should be content
with Normandy, Guienne, and Gascony, and hoped
the empire would make no scruple of owning him king
of France: adding, that he expected the emperor
would make a right use of his victory, by entering
Guienne in person ; in which case he was ready to bear
half the expence of the war. He foresaw what fell out;
the emperor was alarmed at these conditions, and did
not care to have him for a neighbour 5 for which reason
he agreed to a truce with the regent fer six months. In
Picardy the Flemings were repulsed ; and the count de
Guise, with the duke of Lorrain, had the good fortune,
with a handful of troops, to defeat and cut to pieces the
German peasants.
In the mean time, Francis was detained in captivity
in Italy : but being wearied of his confinement in that
country, and the princes of Italy beginning to cabal
for his deliverance, he was carried to Madrid ; where,
on the 14th of January 1525, he signed a treaty, the
principal articles of which were, That he should resign
to the emperor the duchy of Burgundy in full sove¬
reignty ; that he should desist from the homage which
the emperor owed him for Artois and Flanders 5 that
he should renounce all claim to Naples, Milan, Asti,
Tournay, Lisle, and Hesden, &c. $ that he should per¬
suade Henry d’Albert to resign the kingdom of Na¬
varre to the emperor, or at least should give him no as¬
sistance $ that within 40 days he should restore the
duke of Bourbon and all his party to their estates 5
that he should pay the king of England 500,000 crowns
which the emperor owed him ; that when the emperor
went to Italy to receive the Imperial crown, he should
lend him 12 galleys, four large ships, and a land army,
or instead of it 200,000 crowns.
All these articles the king of France promised on
the word and honour of a prince to execute ; or, in
case of non-performance, to return prisoner into Spain.
But, notwithstanding these professions, Francis had al¬
ready protested before certain notaries and witnesses in
whom he. could trust, that the treaty he was about to
sign was against his will, and therefore null and void.
On the 21 st of February, the emperor thought fit to
release him from his prison, in which he had been
closely confined ever since his arrival in Spain j and
after receiving the strongest assurances from his own
mouth, that he would literally fulfil the terms of the
treaty, sent him under a strong guard to the frontiers,
where he was exchanged for his two eldest sons, who
were to remain as hostages for his fidelity.
When the king returned to his dominions, his first
care was to get himself absolved by the pope from the
oaths he had taken ; after which he entered into a
league with the pontiff, the Venetians, the duke of
Milan, and the king of England, for preserving the
peace of Italy. In the month of June, he publicly
received remonstrances from the states of Burgundy j in
which they told him, without ceremony, that bv the
treaty of Madrid he had done what he had no right to
do, in breach of the laws and his coronation oath 5 add¬
ing, that if he persisted in his resolution of throwincr
them under a foreign yoke, they must appeal to the ge¬
neral states of the kingdom. At these remonstrances
the viceroy of Naples and the Spanish ministers were
present. They perceived the end which the king aim¬
ed at, and therefore expostulated with him in "pretty
warm terms. At last the viceroy told him, that he had
now nothing left but to keep his royal word in return¬
ing to the castle of Madrid, as his predecessor John had
done in a like case. To this the king replied, that King
John acted rightly ; that he returned to a king who had
treated him like a king; but that at Madrid he had re¬
ceded such usage as would have been unbecoming to a
gentleman . that he bad often declared to the emperor’s
ministers, that the terms they extorted from him were
unjust aud impracticable : hut that he was still willing
to do all that was fit and reasonable; and to ransom his.
sons at the rate of two millions of gold, in lieu of the
duchy of Burgundy.
Hitherto the treaty for the tranquillity of Italy had
been kept secret, in hopes that some mitigation of the
treaty of Madrid would have been obtained ; but now
it was judged expedient to publish it, though the vice¬
roy of Naples and the Spanish lords were still at the.
Irench court; and the emperor was to be admitted
into it, provided he accepted the king’s ofler of two
millions for the release of his children, and left the
duke of Milan and other Italian princes in quiet pos¬
session of their dominions. It is the common misfor¬
tune of all leagues, that the powers who enter into
them keep only their own particular interests in view,
and thus defeat the general intention of the confederacy,
This was the case here. The king’s great point was
to obtain bis children upon the terms be had proposed;
and lie was desirous of knowing what hopes there were
of that, before he acted against the monarch who had
them in his power. Thus the duke of Milan and the
pope were both sacrificed. The former was obliged to
surrender to the duke of Bourbon, and the latter was
surprised by the Colonnas ; both of which disasters
would have been prevented if the French succours had
entered Italy in time. See Italy.
According to an agreement which had been made
between Francis and Henry, their ambassadors went
into Spain, attended each of them by a herald, in orr
der to summon the emperor to accept the terms which
had been offered him ; or, in case of refusal, to declare
war. It seems the emperor’s answer was foreseen in
the court of France; and therefore the king had pre¬
viously called together an assembly of the notables; '
that is, persons of the several ranks of his people in
whom he could confide. To them he proposed the
great question, Whether he was bound to perform the
treaty of Madrid P or, Whether if he did not perform
it, he was obliged in honour to return to Spain ? To
both these questions, the assembly answered in the ne¬
gative : they said, that Burgundy was united, to the
crown of France, and that he could not separate it by
his own authority; that his person also was the pro¬
perty of the public, of which therefore he could no!
dispose; but for the two millions, which they looked
M 2 upon
91
France.
FRA
tJambray.
upon as a just equivalent, they undertook that it should
be raised for his service. When the ambassadors de¬
livered their propositions, Charles treated the English
herald with respect, and the krench one with con¬
tempt; which produced a challenge from Irancis to
| Sec Duel, the emperor f. All differences, however, were at last
*35 adjusted ; and a treaty was concluded at Cambray, on
Treaty °t? the ^ of A()gust I528. By this treaty, instead ot
the possession, the emperor contented himself with re¬
serving his right to the duchy of Burgundy, and the
two millions of crowns already mentioned. Of these
he was to receive 1,200,000 in ready money : the
princers lands in Flanders belonging to the house or
Bourbon were to be delivered up; these were valued
at 400,000 more : and the remaining 400,000 were
to be paid by France in discharge of the emperor s
debt to England. Francis was likewise to discharge
the penalty of 500,000 crowns which the emperor
had incurred, by not marrying his niece the princess
Mary of England ; and to release a rich fieur-de-lts
which had been many years before pawned by the house
of Burgundy for 50,000 crowns. The town and castle
of Hesden were also yielded; together with the sove¬
reignty of Flanders and Artois, and all the king’s pre¬
tensions in Italy. As for the allies of France, they
were abandoned to the emperor’s mercy, without the
least stipulation in their favour; and I rancis himself
protested against the validity of the treaty before he ra¬
tified it, as did also his attorney-general before he re¬
gistered it in parliament; but both of them with the
greatest secrecy imaginable.
Nothing farther of much consequence happened dur¬
ing the remainder of the reign of Francis I. "Ihe war
was soon renewed with Charles, who made an invasion
into France, but with very bad success ; nor was peace
fully established but by the death of I rancis, which
Fjfinet,
136
Francis
die* aud is happened on the 3d of March, 1547* He was suc-
tAcceeded ceet|e(] hy his son Henry II. who ascended the throne
* en'* that very day on which he was 29 years of age. In
the beginning of his reign, an insurrection happened
in Guienne, owing to the oppressive conduct of the
officers who levied the salt tax. _ The king despatched
against the insurgents two bodies of troops; one com¬
manded by the duke of Aumale son to the duke of
Guise, the other by the constable. 1 he first behaved
with the greatest moderation, and brought back the
people to their duty without making many examples:
the other behaved with the utmost haughtiness and
cruelty ; and though the king afterwards remittea many
of his punishments, yet from that time the constable
became odious to the people, while the family of Guise
were highly respected. t
Henry per- In 1548, the king began to execute the edicts which
iteeutes the }ia4 been made against the Protestants with the ut-
Fr°tes- most sevevity ; and, thinking even the clergy too mild
*a in the prosecution of heresy, erected for that purpose
a chamber composed of members of the parliament of
Paris. At the queen’s coronation, which happened this
year, he caused a number of Protestants to be burned,
and was himself present at the spectacle. He was, how¬
ever, so much shocked, that he could never forget it;
but complained, as long as he lived, that, at certain
times, it appeared before his eyes, and troubled his un«
4erstanding.
N C E.
king purchased Boulogne from the latter, for the sum
of 400,000 crowns ; one half to be paid on the day of —
restitution, and the other a few months after. Scot- 13S
land was included in the treaty, and the English re*
stored some places they had taken there. Phis Wa8tywith
the most advantageous peace that France had hitherto England,
made with England ; the vast arrears which were due
to that crown being in effect remitted ; and the pen¬
sion, which looked so like tribute, not being mentioned,
was in fact extinguished. The earl of Warwick him¬
self, who had concluded the peace, was so sensible of
the disgrace suftered by his nation, on this occasion,
that he pretended to be sick, in order to avoid setting
his hand to such a scandalous bargain.
This year, an edict was made to restrain the extra¬
vagant remittances which the clergy had been in use
of making to the court of Rome, and for correcting
some other abuses committed by the papal notaries.
With this edict Pope Julius HI. was highly displeased ;
and the following year (155°) was declared by
the king of France against the pope and the emperor.
The pretence was, that Henry protected Octavio Far-
nese duke of Parma, whom the pope was desirous of
depriving of his dominions. In this war the king was
threatened with the censures of the church, more espe¬
cially when it was known that he had entered into an
alliance with the Turks, and a Turkish fleet entered
the Mediterranean, where they threatened the isle of
Gozo, and made descents upon Sicily. Henry, how¬
ever, strongly denied any such connexion, and insisted
that the emperor had given them sufficient provoca¬
tion : but be that as it will, the emperor soon found
himself in such danger from these new enemies, that J}9
he ceuld not support the pope as he intended, who on Hemp
that account was obliged to sue for peace. After
this the king continued the war against the emperor
with success; reducing the cities of Toul, Verdun,
and Metz. He then entered the country of Alsace,
and reduced all the fortresses between Hagenau and
Wiss'enburg. He failed, however, in his attempt on
Strasburg; and was soon after obliged by the Ger¬
man princes and the Swiss to desist from farther con¬
quests on that side. This war continued with very
little interruption, and as little success on the part of
the French, till the year 1557, when a peace was Me
concluded; and soon after, the king was killed at aiieiitf
tournament by one Count de Montgomery, who was at a»
reckoned one of the strongest knights in France, andn
who had done all he could to avoid this encounter with
the kinS‘ « . tt u
The reign of his successor Francis II. was remark¬
able only for the persecution of the Protestants; which
became so grievous, that they were obliged to take up
arms in their ewn defence. This occasioned several
civil wars, the first of which commenced in the reign of 141
Charles IX. who succeeded to the throne in 1560. This CM J*
first war continued till the year 1562, when a peace ^
was concluded, by which the Protestants were to haye^^
a free pardon and liberty of conscience. In 1565,
the war broke out anew, and was continued with very
little interruption till 1569, when peace was again
concluded upon very advantageous terms for the Pro¬
testants. After this King Charles, who had now ta¬
ken the government into his hands, caressed the Pro-
. •  J!   TJo invited tc
rf»»c
W'Y*
t
141
Acre
: it Prote
It!
In I
549% peace being conclnded with England, the teatants in an extraordinary manner.
He invited to
court
4*
Dirdful
FRA
vMce. court the admiral Coligni, who was the head of the
Protestant party j and cajoled him so, that he was
lulled into a perfect security, notwithstanding the
many warnings given him by his friends, that the
king’s fair speeches were by no means to be trusted j
but he had soon reason to repent his confidence. On
the 22d of August 1571, as he was walking from the
court to his lodgings, he received a shot from a win¬
dow, which carried away the second finger of his
right hand, and wounded him grievously in the left
arm. This he himself ascribed to the malice of the
duke of Guise, the head of the Catholic party. After
dinner, however, the king went to pay him a visit, and
amongst others made him this compliment: “You have
received the wound, but it is I who suffer:” desiring
at the same time that he would order his friends to quarter
about his house, and promising to hinder the Catholics
from entering that quarter after it was dark. This
satisfied the admiral of the king’s sincerity; and hindered
him from complying with the desires of his friends, who
would have carried him away, and who were strong
enough to have forced a passage out of Paris if they had
attempted it.
In the evening, the queen mother, Catharine de
miiMcte ©fMedicis, held a cabinet council to fix the execution of
tha’rote- the massacre of the Protestants, which had been long
‘tar‘ meditated. The persons of which this council was
composed, were, Henry duke of Anjou, the king’s bro¬
ther ; Gonzagua duke of Nevers 5 Henry of Angou-
lesme grand prior of France, and bastard brother of
the king j and marshal de Tavannes; and Albert de
Gondi, count de Retz: the direction of the whole
was given to the duke of Guise, to whom the ad¬
ministration had been entirely confided during the
former reign. The guards were appointed to be in
arms, and the city officers were to dispose the militia
to execute the king’s orders, of which the signal was
the ringing of a bell near the Louvre. Some say, that
when the hour approached, which was that of mid¬
night, the king grew undetermined : that he expres¬
sed his horror at shedding so much blood, especially
considering that the people whom he was going to de¬
stroy were his subjects, who had come to the capital at
his command, and in confidence of his word j and par¬
ticularly the admiral, whom he had detained so lately
by his caresses. The queen mother, however, re¬
proached him with his cowardice, and represented to
him the great danger he was in from the Protestants ;
which at last induced him to consent. According to
others, however, the king himself urged on the mas¬
sacre ; and when it was proposed to him to take off
only a few of the heads, he cried out, “ If any are
to die, let there not be one left to reproach me with
breach of faith.”
As soon as the signal was given, a body of Swiss
troops of the Catholic religion, headed by the duke
of Guise, the chevalier d’Angoulesme, accompanied by
many persons of quality, attacked the admiral’s house.
Having forced open the doors, the foremost of the as-
sasins rushed into the apartment 5 and one of them ask¬
ed if he was Coligni ? To this he answered that he was ;
adding, “ Young man, respect these gray hairs : ” to
which the assasin replied by running him through the
body with a sword. The duke of Guise and the
chevalier growing impatient below stairs, cried out to
France.
N C E.
know if the business was done 5 and being told that it
was, commanded that the body should be thrown out ■. y-—
at the window. As soon as it fell on the ground, the
chevalier, or (as some say) the duke of Guise, wiping
the blood off the face, kicked it with his foot. The
body was then abandoned to the fury of the populous $
who, after a series of indignities, dragged it to the com¬
mon gallows, to which they chained it by the foot, the
head being cut oft and carried to the queen mother ^
who, it is said, caused it to be embalmed and sent to
Rome. The king himself went to see the body hang
upon the gibbet; where a fire being kindled under it,
part was burnt, and the rest scorched. In the Louvre,
the gentlemen belonging to the king of Navarre and
the prince of Conde were murdered under the king’s
eye. Two of them, wounded and pursued by the
assasins, fled into the bedchamber of the queen of
Navarre and jumped upon her bed, beseeching her to
save their lives ; and as she went to ask this favour of
the queen mother, two more, under the like circum¬
stances rushed into the room, and threw themselvesat her
feet. The queen mother came to the window to enjoy
these dreadful scenes; and the king, seeing the Prote¬
stants who lodged on the other side of the river, flying
for their lives, called for his long gun, and fired upon
them. In the space of three or four days, many thou¬
sands were destroyed in the city of Paris, by the most
cruel deaths which malice itself could invent. Peter
Ramus, professor of philosophy and mathematics, after
being robbed of all he had, his belly being first ripped
open, was thrown out of a window. This so much
affected Denis Lambin, the king’s professor, that,
though a zealous Catholic, he died of terror. The first
two days, the king denied it was done by his orders, and
threw the whole blame on the house of Guise: but, on
the 28th of August, he went to the parliament, avowed
it, was complimented upon it, and directed a process
against the admiral, by which he was stigmatized as a
traitor. Two innocent gentlemen suffered as his ac¬
complices in a pretended plot against the life of the
king, in order to set the crown on the head of the
prince of Conde. They were executed by torch light;
and the king and the queen mother (with the king of
Navarre and the prince of Conde by force) were spec¬
tators of this horrid deed; and they also assisted at the
jubilee to thank God for the execution of such an infa¬
mous design.
The massacre was not confined to the city of Paris
alone. On the eve of St Bartholomew, orders had
been sent to the governors of provinces to fall upon
the Protestants themselves, and to let loose the people
upon them ; and though an edict was published before
the end of the week, assuring them of the king’s pro¬
tection, and that he by no means designed to extermi¬
nate them because of their religion, yet private orders
were sent, of a nature directly contrary ; in consequence
of which, the massacre, or (as, in allusion to the Sici¬
lian vespersf, it is now styled) the Matins of Paris, fset sietiy.
were repeated in Meaux, Orleans, Troyes, Angers,
Thoulouse, Rouen, and Lyons; so that in the space of
two months 30,000 Protestants were butchered. The
next year Rochelle, the only strong fortress which the
Protestants held in France, was besieged, but was not
taken without the loss of 24,000 of the Catholics who
besieged it. After this a pacification ensued on terms
favourable
93
favourable to the Protestants, but to which they never
trusteed. , , , . t
This year the duke of Anjou was elected, king o
Poland, and soon after set out to take possession of his
new kingdom. The king accompanied him to the fron¬
tiers of the kingdom ; but during the journey was
ed with a slow fever, which from the beginning hac
a very dangerous appearance. He lingered for some
Charles IX. j.jme um]er t}le m0st terrible agonies both of body and
mind ; and at last died on the 30th of May I572>
M3
Death of
FRANCE.
cobine monk, on the first of August 15S8. His wound
at first was not thought mortal; but his frequent swoon¬
ing quickly discovered his danger; and he died next
morning, in the 39th year of his age, and 16th of his
reign. **+}
Before the king’s death, he nominated Henry Bour-Henry iy
bon king of Navarre for his successor on the throne
Frante.
*47
of
France : but as he was a Protestant, or at least
144
Henry III,
M5
Catholic
league
formed.
incr lived 24 years, and reigned 13. It is said, that
after the dreadful massacre above mentioned, this prince
had a fierceness in his looks, and a colour in his cheeks,
which he never had before. He slept little, and never
sound. He waked frequently in agonies, and had soft
music to compose him again to rest. ?
During the first years of the reign of Henry IH. woo
succeeded his brother Charles, the war with the Protes¬
tants was carried on with indifferent success on the part
of the Catholics. In 1575, a peace was concluded,
called by way of eminence the Edict of Eacification.
It consisted of no fewer than 63 articles ; the substance
of which was, that liberty of conscience, and the public
exercise of religion, were granted to the reformed, with¬
out any other restriction than that they should not
preach within two leagues of Paris or any other part
where the court was; party chambers erected in every
parliament, to consist of equal numbers of Catholics and
Protestants, before whom all judgments were to be
tried ; the judgments against the admiral, and, in ge¬
neral, all who had fallen in the war or been executed,
were reversed; and eight cautionary towns were given
to the Protestants.
The edict gave occasion to the Guises to form an
association, in defence, as was pretended, of the Ca¬
tholic religion, afterwards known by the name of the
Catholic League. In this league, though the king was
mentioned with respect, he could not help seeing that
it struck at the very root of his authority : for, as the
Protestants had already their chiefs, so the Catholics
were, for the future, to depend entirely upon the
chief of the league ; and were, by the very words of
it, to execute whatever he commanded, for the good of
the cause, against any, without exception of persons.
The king, to avoid the bad effects of this, by the ad¬
vice of his council declared himself head of the league ;
and of consequence recommenced the war against the
Protestants, which was not extinguished as long as he
lived.
The faction of the duke of Guise, in the mean time,
took a resolution of supporting Charles cardinal of
Bourbon, a weak old man, as presumptive heir of the
crown. In 1584 they entered into a league with
Spain, and took up arms against the king; and though
peace was concluded the same year, yet in 15^7 they
asain proceeded to such extremities, that the king was
forced to fly from Paris, Another reconciliation was
soon after effected ; but it is generally believed that
the king from this time resolved on the destruction
of Guise. Accordingly, finding that this nobleman
still behaved towards him with his usual insolence,
dered, aud ^ caused him to be stabbed, as he was coming
likewise the ^presence, by his guards, on the 23d of De«
cember 1587. The king himself did not long sur¬
vive him ; being stabbed by one James Clement, a Ja-
one who greatly favoured their cause, he was at first
owned by very few except those of the Protestant party.
He met with the most violent opposition from the
members of the Catholic league ; and was often re¬
duced to such straits, that he went to people’s houses
under colour of visits, when in reality he had not a
dinner in his own. By his activity and peiseveranct,
however, he was at last acknowledged throughout the
whole kingdom, to which his abjuration of the Pro¬
testant religion contributed not a little. As the king
of Spain had laid claim to the crown of France, Henry
no sooner found himself in a fair way of being firmly
seated on the throne, than he formally declared war a-
gainst that kingdom ; in which he at last proved suc¬
cessful, and in 1597 entered upon the quiet possession
of his kingdom.
The king’s first care was to put an end to the
religious disputes which had so long distracted the
kingdom. For this purpose he granted the famous
edict, dated at Nantz, April 13. 1598. It re-esta- 148
blished, in a most solid and effectual manner, all the
favours that had ever been granted to the reformed
by other princes ; adding some which had not been
thought of before, particularly the allowing them a
free admission to all employments of trust, profit, and
honour; the establishing chambers in which the mem¬
bers of the two religions were equal ; and the per¬
mitting their children to be educated without con¬
straint in any of the universities. Soon after, he con¬
cluded peace with Spain upon very advantageous
terms. This gave him an opportunity of restoring
order and justice throughout his dominions ; of repair¬
ing all the ravages occasioned by the civil war ; and
abolishing all those innovations which had.been made,
either to the prejudice of the prerogatives of the
crown or the welfare of the people. His schemes ^49
of reformation, indeed, he intended to have carried be-propmejl
yond the boundaries of France. If we may believe nev^ed
the duke of Sully, he had in view no less a design than the Eor
the new-modelling of all Europe. He imagined thatP^
the European powers might be formed into a kind ofpo
Christian republic, by rendering them as nearly as pos¬
sible of equal strength; and that this republic might
be maintained in perpetual peace, by bringing all their
differences to be decided before a senate' of wise, dis¬
interested, and able judges: and then he thought it
would be no difficult matter to overturn the Ottoman
empire. The number of these powers was to be 15;
the Papacy; the empire of Germany; France;
145
Duke of
Guise amir
Spain; Hungary; Great Britain; Bohemia; Lombardy;
Poland ; Sweden ; Denmark ; the republic of Venice ;
the States General; the Swiss Cantons; and the Ita¬
lian commonwealth, which was to comprehend the
states of Florence, Genoa, Lucca, Modena, Parma,
Mantua, and Monaco. In order to render the states
equal, the empire was to be given to the duke of Ba¬
varia; the kingdom of Naples to the pope; that of
Sicily
ip
is mtir
red.
France. Sicily to the Venetians ; Milan to the tluke of Savoy,
j ✓    —  J 1
who, by his acquisition, was to become king of Lom¬
bardy j the Austrian Low Countries were to be added
to the Dutch republic j Franche Compte, Alsace, and
the country of Trent, were to be given to the Swiss.
With a view, is is now thought, of executing this grand
project, hut under pretence of reducing the exorbitant
power of the house of Austria, Henry made immense
preparations both by sea and land j but if he really had
such a design, he was prevented by death from attempt-
ing to execute it. He was stabbed in his coach by one
Ravilliac, on the I2th of May 1608.
On the death of Henry IV. the queen mother as¬
sumed the regency. Ravilliac was executed, after suf¬
fering horrid tortures. It is said that he made a con¬
fession, which was so written by the person who took
it down, that not one word of it could ever be read,
and thus his instigators and accomplices could never
oJ/xHi,be discovered. The regency, during the minority of
Louis XIII. was only remarkable for cabals and in¬
trigues of the courtiers. In 1617, the king assumed
the government himself, banished the queen mother to
Blois, caused her favourite Marshal d’Ancre to be killed,
and chose for his minister the famous Cardinal Riche¬
lieu. In 1620, a new war broke out between the
Catholics and Protestants, which was carried on with
the greatest fury on both sides; and we may judge of
the spirit which actuated both parties by what hap¬
pened at Negreplisse, a town in Quercy. This place
was besieged by the king’s troops, and it was resolved
to make an example of the inhabitants. The latter,
however, absolutely refused to surrender upon any
terms. They defended themselves, therefore, most
desperately ; and the city being at last taken bv storm,
they were all massacred, without respect of rank, sex,
or age, except ten men. When these were brought
into the king’s presence, he told them they did not
deserve mercy : they answered, that they would not
receive it $ that the only favour they asked, was to be
hanged on trees in their own gardens 5 which was
granted, and the place reduced to ashes. Both par¬
ties soon became weary of such a destructive war j and
a peace was concluded in 1621, by which the edict of
Nantz was confirmed. This treaty, however, was of no
long duration. A new war broke out which lasted till
the year 1628, when the edict of Nantz was again con¬
firmed ; only the Protestants were deprived of all their
cautionary towns, and consequently of the power of de¬
fending themselves in time to come. This put an end
to the civil wars on account of religion in France.
Historians say, that in these wars above a million of
men lost their lives, that 150,000,000 livres were spent
in carrying them on 5 and that 9 cities, 400 villages,
2000 churches, 2000 monasteries, and 10,000 houses,
were burnt or otherwise destroyed during their conti¬
nuance. The next year, the king was attacked with a
slow fever which nothing could allay, an extreme de¬
pression of spirits, and prodigious swelling in his sto¬
mach and belly. The year after, however, he recover¬
ed, to the great disappointment of his mother, who
had been in hopes of regaining her power. She was
arrested; but found means to escape into Flanders,
where she remained during the rest of his reign!
Richelieu, by a masterly train of politics, though him¬
self was next to an enthusiast for popery, supported the
Fiance.
154
Louis XIV.
FRANCE.
Protestants of Germany and Gustavus Adolphus against
the house of Austria ; and after quelling all the rebel¬
lions and conspiracies which had been formed against
him in France, he died some months before Louis
XIII. in 1643.
Louis XIV. surnamed le Grand, succeeded to the
throne when he was only five years of age. During
his minority, the kingdom was torn in pieces under
the administration of his mother Anne of Austria, by
the factions of the great, and the divisions between
the court and parliament, for the most trifling causes
and upon the most despicable principles. The prince
of Conde flamed like a blazing star j sometimes a pa¬
triot, sometimes a courtier, and sometimes a rebel.
He was opposed by the celebrated Turenne, who from
a Protestant had turned Papist. The nation of France
was involved at once in civil and domestic wars j but
the queen mother having made choice of Cardinal Ma¬
zarine for her first minister, he found means to turn
the arms even of Cromwell against the Spaniards, and
to divide the domestic enemies of the court so effectu¬
ally among themselves, that when Louis assumed the
reins of government into his own hands, he found
himself the most absolute monarch that had ever sat
upon the throne of France. He had the good for¬
tune, on the death of Mazarine, to put the domestic
administration of his affairs into the hands of Colbert,
who formed new systems for the glory, commerce, and
manufactures of France, all which he carried to a
surprising height. The king himself ignorant and
vain, was blind to every patriotic duty of a king, pro¬
moting the interests of his subjects only that they
might the better answer the purposes of his greatness j
and by his ambition he embroiled himself with all his
neighbours, and wantonly rendered Germany a dismal
scene of devastation. By his impolitic and unjust re¬
vocation of the edict of Nantz in the year 1685, with
the dragooning * the Protestants that followed it, he * See Dm
obliged them to take shelter in England, Holland, and gowning.
different parts of Germany, where they established the
silk manufactories, to the great prejudice of their own
country. He was so blinded by flattery, that he ar¬
rogated to himself the divine honours paid to the Pa¬
gan emperors of Rome. He made and broke treaties
for his conveniency : and in the end he raised against
himself a confederacy of almost all the other princes
of Europe ; at the head of which was King William III.
of England. He was so well served, that he made
head for some years against this alliance j and France
seemed to have attained the highest pitch of military
glory, under the conduct of those renowned generals
Conde and Turenne. (See United Provinces). At
length, having provoked the English by his repeated
infidelities, their arms under the duke of Marlborough,
and those of the Austrians under Prince Eugene, ren¬
dered the latter part of Louis’s life as miserable as the
beginning of it was splendid. His reign, from the year
1702 to 1711, was one continued series of defeats and
calamities j and he had the mortification of seeing
those places taken from him, which, in the former
part of his reign, were acquired at the expence of
many thousand lives. (See Britain, N° 342, &c.)—.
Just as he was reduced, old as he was, to the desperate
resolution of collecting his people and dying at their
head, he was saved by the English Tory ministry de¬
serting.
95
9r>
FRANCE.
France.
*53
Loui» XV.
Admiai-
Orleans.
serting the cause, withdrawing from their allies, and
concluding the peace ot Utrecht in 1^3’ ®ee ®RI"
TAIN, N° 371, &c.
The last years of Louis XIV. were also embittered
by domestic calamities j which, added to those he had
already endured of a public nature, impressed him with
a deep melancholy. He had been for some time at-
flicted with a fistula; which, though successfully cut,
ever afterwards affected his health. The year betore
the peace, his only son, the duke of Burgundy, died,
together with the duchess and their eldest son ; and the
only remaining child was left at the point of death.
The king himself survived till the month of Septem¬
ber 1715; but on the 14th of that month expired,
leaving the kingdom to his great grandson Louis, then
a minor. . , , , j
By the last will of Louis he had devolved the re¬
gency during the minority of the young king, upon
a council, at the head of which was the duke of Or-
stration of ieans> That nobleman, however, disgusted with a
the dukd of jj ;ition which gave him only a casting vote, appeal¬
ed to the parliament of Paris, vyho set aside the will
of the late king, and declared him sole regent. His
first acts were extremely popular, and gave the most
favourable ideas of his government and character. He
restored to the parliament the right which had been
taken from them of remonstrating against the edicts
of the crown, and compelled those who had enriched
themselves during the calamities of the former reign
to restore their wealth. He also took every method
to efface the calamities occasioned by the unsuccesstuL
wars in which his predecessor had engaged j promoted
commerce and agriculture ; and, by a close alliance
with Great Britain and the United Provinces, seemed to
lay the foundation of a lasting tranquillity. This hap¬
py prospect, however, was soon overcast by the in¬
trigues of Alberoni the Spanish minister, who had
formed a design of recovering Sardinia from the em¬
peror, Sicily from the duke of Savoy, and of esU-
blishing the Pretender on the throne of Britain, io
accomplish these purposes, he negotiated with the Ot¬
toman Porte, Peter the Great of Russia, and Charles
XII of Sweden j the Turks intending to resume the
war against the emperor j the two latter to invade Great
Britain. But as long as the duke of Orleans retained
the administration of France, he found it impossible
to bring his schemes to bear. To remove him, there¬
fore, he fomented divisions in the kingdom. An in¬
surrection took place in Brittany; and Alberoni sent
small parties into the country in disguise, in order to
support the insurgents, and even laid plots to seize the
regent himself. All of a sudden, however, the Spa¬
nish minister found himself disappointed in every one
of his schemes. His partizans in France were put to
death •, the king of Sweden was killed at I rederick-
sliall in Norway j the Czar, intent on making new re¬
gulations, could not be persuaded to make war upon
Britain •, and the Turks refused to engage in a war
with the emperor, from whom they had lately suffer¬
ed so much. The cardinal, nevertheless, continued
his intrigues *, which quickly produced a war betwixt
Spain on the one part, and France and Britain on the
other. The Spaniards, unable to resist the union ot
two such formidable powers, were soon reduced to the
necessity of suing for peace j and the terms were dic¬
tated by the regent of France*, and of these the dis- sva„ft,
mission of Alberoni the Spanish minister was one. A -v—.
double marriage was now set on foot: the duke of
Orleans gave his own daughter, Mademoiselle Mont-
pensier, to Don Lewis prince of Asturias, while the
infanta of Spain was betrothed to her cousin the king
of France. From this time the house of Bourbon con¬
tinued united; both princes being convinced, that it
was their interest not to waste their strength in wars
against each other. _ 155
The spirit of conquest having now in a great measure Destnw |
subsided, and that of commerce taken place through-project n
out the world in general, France became the scene ofJo*IlLi'-
as remarkable a project in the commercial way as ever
was known in any country. One John Law, a Scots¬
man, who had been obliged to leave his own
country, laid the plan of a company which might by
its notes pay off the debt of the nation, and reim¬
burse itself by the profits. Law had wandered through
various parts of Europe, and had successively endea¬
voured to engross the attention of various courts. The
proposal was made to A ictor Amadeus king of Sicily ;
but he dismissed Law with a reply, that “ he was not
rich enough to ruin himself:” but in France it was
looked upon in a more favourable light; the nation be¬
ing at this time involved in a debt of 200 millions,
and the regent, as well as the people in general, very
fond of embarking in new schemes. The bank, thus
established, proceeded at first with some degree of
caution ; but having by degrees extended their credit
to more than 80 times their real stock, they soon be¬
came unable to answer the demands made upon them ;
so that the company was dissolved the very same year
in which it had been instituted. The confusion into
which the kingdom was throne by this fatal scheme,
required the utmost exertions of the regent to put a
stop to it; and scarcely was this accomplished when ^
the king, in 1723, took the government into his ownxiiekinj
hands. The duke then became minister; but did not takes the
long enjoy this post. His irregularities had broken^6™'
his constitution, and had brought on a number of ma- ^
ladies, under which he in a short time sunk, and
was succeeded in his administration by the duke of
Bourbon Conde. The king, as we have already re¬
marked, had been married, when very young, to the
infanta of Spain, though by reason of his tender years
the marriage had never been completed. The prin¬
cess, however, had been brought to Paris, and for
some time treated as queen of France ; but as Louis
grew up, it was easy to see that he had contracted an »5J
inveterate hatred against the intended partner of his The inta:
bed. The minister, therefore, at last consented that the ®enlPbl<!!
princess should be sent back ; an affront so much re¬
sented by the queen her mother, that it had almost pro¬
duced a war betwixt the two nations.
The dissolution of the marriage of Louis was the
last act of Conde’s administration ; and the procuring
of a new match was the first act of his successor Car¬
dinal Fleury. The princess pitched upon was the
daughter of Stanislaus Lesczinski, king of Poland, 15J
who had been deposed by Charles XII. of Sweden. Mama?
The princess was destitute of personal charms, but °f'vltllbt'
an amiable disposition; and though it is probable that^"ngit!>1
she never possessed the love of her husband, her excel-hing „f
lent qualities could not but extort his esteem; and theianfl.
birth
Fniuce. birth of a prince soon after their marriage removed all
' the fears of the people concerning the succession.
Cardinal Fleury continued the pacific schemes pur¬
sued by his predecessors} thopgh they were somewhat
interrupted by the war which took place in the year
1733. Notwithstanding the connexion betwixt that
monarch and the French nation, however, Fleury was
so parsimonious in his assistance, that only 1500 sol¬
diers were sent to relieve Dantzic, where Stanislaus
himself resided, and who at that time was besieged by
the Russians. This pitiful reinforcement was soon
overwhelmed by a multitude of Russians } and Stani¬
slaus was at last obliged to renounce all thoughts of the
crown of Poland, though he was permitted to retain
the title of king: and that this title might not be
merely nominal, the king of France consented to be¬
stow upon him the duchies of Bar and Lorrain} so
that, after the death of Stanislaus, these territories
were indissolubly united to the dominions of France.
Fleury steadily pursued his pacific plans, and the dis¬
putes between Spain and England in 1737 very little
affected the peace of France} and it must be remem¬
bered to his praise, that instead of fomenting the
quarrels betwixt the neighbouring potentates, he la¬
boured incessantly to keep them at peace. He recon¬
ciled the Genoese and Corsicans, who were at war}
and his mediation was accepted by the Ottoman Porte }
who at that time carried on a successful war with the
emperor of Germany, but made peace with him at
the intercession of the cardinal. All his endeavours
to preserve the general peace, however, proved at last
ineffectual. The death of the emperor Charles VI. in
1740, the last prince of the house of Austria, set all
Europe in a flame. The emperor’s eldest daughter,
Maria Theresa, claimed the Austrian succession, which
comprehended the kingdoms of Hungary and Bohe¬
mia, the duchy of Silesia, Austrian Suabia, Upper
and Lower Austria, Stiria, Carinthia, Carniola; the
four forest towns ; Burgaw } Brisgaw } the Low Coun¬
tries ; Friuli} Tyrol} the duchy of Milan } and the
duchies of Parma and Placentia. Among the many
competitors who pretended a right to share, or wholly
to inherit, these extensive dominions, the king of
France w^as one. But as he wished not to awaken the
jealousy of the European princes by preferring directly
his own pretensions, he chose rather to support those
of Frederick HI. who laid claim to the duchy of Sile¬
sia. This brought on the war of 1740; and of which
an account is given under the articles Britain and
Prussia. It was terminated in 1748 by the treaty
of Aix-la-Chapelle } but to this Louis, who secretly
meditated a severe vengeance against Britain, only con¬
sented, that he might have time to recruit his fleet,
and put himself somewhat more upon an equality with
this formidable power. But while he meditated great
exploits of this kind, the internal tranquillity of the
59 kingdom was disturbed by violent disputes betwixt the
ifutes clergy and parliaments of France. In the reign of
ixttheUouis XI\. there had been violent contests betwixt
imeutsthe Jansenists and Jesuits concerning free will and other
ergy‘ obscure points of theology} and the opinions of the
Jansenists had been declared heretical by the celebra¬
ted papal bull named Unigenitus; the reception of
which was enforced by the king, in opposition to the
parliaments, the archbishop of Paris, and the body of
Vql. IX. Part I. J ^
FRANCE.
97
France.
the people. The archbishop, with 13 other prelates,
protested against it as an infringement of the rights of
the Gallican church, of the laws of the realm, and an
insult on the rights of the people themselves. The
duke of Orleans favoured the bull by inducing the
bishops to submit to it} but at the same time stopped a
persecution which was going on against its opponents.
Lhus matters passed over till theconclusionof the peace ;
a short time after which, the jealousy of the clergy was
awakened by an attempt of the minister of state to
inquire into the wealth of individuals of their order.
To prevent this, they revived the contest about the bull
Unigenitus } and it was resolved, that confessional notes
should be obtained of dying persons} that these notes
should be signed by priests who maintained the autho¬
rity of the bull} and that, without such notes, no
person could obtain a viaticum, or extreme unction.
On this occasion the new archbishop of Paris, and the
parliament of that city, took opposite sides ; the latter
imprisoning such of the clergy as refused to administer
the sacraments excepting in the circumstances above
mentioned. Other parliaments followed the example
of that of Paris } and a war was instantly kindled be¬
twixt the civil and ecclesiastical departments of the
state. In this dispute the king interfered, forbade the
parhaments to take cognizance of ecclesiastical pro¬
ceedings, and commanded them to suspend all prose¬
cutions relative to the refusal of tbe sacraments : but
instead of acquiescing, the parliaments presented new
remonstrances, refused to attend any other business,
and resolved that they could not obey this injunction
without violating their duty as well as their oath.
Ihey cited the bishop of Orleans before their tribunal}
and ordered all writings, in which its jurisdiction was
disputed, to be burnt by the executioner. By the
assistance of the military, they enforced the administra¬
tion of the sacraments to the sick, and ceased to dis¬
tribute that justice to the subject for which they had
been originally instituted. The king, enraged at their Parliament
obstinacy, arrested and imprisoned four of the mem-°^Pans
bers who had been most obstinate, and banished the
remainder to Bourges, Poictiers, and Auvergne } while,
to prevent any impediment from taking place in the
administration of justice by their absence, he issued let¬
ters patent, by which a royal chamber for the prosecu¬
tion ot civil and criminal suits was instituted. The
counsellers refused to plead before these new' courts }
and the king, finding at last that the whole nation was
about to fall into a state of anarchy, thought proper
to recal the parliament. Jhe banished members en¬
tered Paris amidst the acclamations of the inhabitants }
and the archbishop, who still continued tc encourage
the priests in refusing the sacraments, was banished to
his seat at Conflans } the bishops of Orleans and Troves
were in like manner banished, and a calm for the pre¬
sent restored to the kingdom.
The tranquillity thus established was of no long du-
ration. In the year 1756, the parliaments again fell puUs bet
under the displeasure of their king by their imprudent twist the
persecution of those who adhered to the bull Unige- kin£. and
nitus. They proceeded so far in this opposition as to Parliamcct-
refuse to register certain taxes absolutely necessary for
the carrying on of the war. By this Louis was so
provoked, that he suppressed the fourth and fifth cham¬
bers of inquests, tbe members of which had distin-
N guished
160
FRA
o’uislied themselves by their opposition to his will. He
commanded the bull Unigenitus to be respected, and
prohibited the secular judges from ouleru.g the adrm-
nlstration of the sacraments. On th.s 15 counsellors
of the great chamber resigned their offices, and 1 4
members of the different parliaments followed then-
example; and the mo^t grievous discontents took place
throughout the kingdom. An attempt was made by
a fanatic, named Damien, to assassinate him ; and the
king was actually wounded, though slightly, between
the°ribs, In the presence of his son and in the mi s
of his guards. The assassin was put to the most ex¬
quisite tortures ; in the midst of which he persisted
in the most obstinate manner, to declare that he had
no intention to kill the king but that h.s design was
only to wound him, that God might touch his heart,
and incline him to restore peace to his dominions, &c.
These expressions, which undoubtedly indicated insani¬
ty had no effect on his merciless judges who consigned
him to one of the most horrid deaths the ingenuity or
cruelty of man could invent. This attempt, however,
seems to have had some effect upon the king j for he
soon after banished the archbishop of Pans who had
been recalled, and once more accommodated matters
event of tte of W
compact brought the nation to the brink of rmn, when Lome
between Jmplored the assistance of Spam J and on this occasion
France and ‘ celebrated Family Compact was signed j by which,
Spain esu- ;ii fivr.ention of the American trade, th<
bltsued
162
Family
compact
suits.
the celeoraieu " , . 1 n
with the single exception of the American trade ti e
subjects of France and Spain are naturalized 111 both
kingdoms, and the enemy of the one sovereign is in¬
variably to be looked upon as the enemy of the other
At that time, however, the assistance of Spain availed
very little ; both powers were reduced to the lowest
ebb! and the arms of Britain were triumphant in every
quarter of the globe. See the article Britain.
The peace concluded at Paris in the year 1763,
though it freed the nation from a most destructive and
bloody war, did not restore its internal tranquillity.
l6, The parliament, eager to pursue the victory they had
Fcpulion formerly gained over their religious enemies now di-
of the Je- rected their efforts against the Jesuits, who had obtain¬
ed and enforeed the bull Umgemtus That mice
powerful order, however, was now on the brink of de¬
duction. A general detestation of its members had
taken place throughout the whole world. A conspi¬
racy formed by them against the king of Portugal,
and from which he narrowly escaped, had roused the
indignation of Europe, and this was still fart'iel in"
flamed by some fraudulent practices of which they had
been guilty in France. Le Valette, the chief of their
missionaries at Martinico, had, ever since the peace of
Aix-la-Chapelle, carried on a very extensive commerce,
insomuch that he even aspired at monopolizing the
dole West India trade when the war with Britain com-
mpnced in ms- Leonay and Gouffre, merchants at
Marseilles, ^expectation of receiving merchandise to
the value of two millions from him, had accepted of
bills drawn by the Jesuits to the amount of a million
and a half. Unhappily they were disappointed by
the vast number of captures made by the British ; in
conseuuence of which they were obliged to apply to
Um Society of Jesuits at large: but they, either igno¬
rant of th/ir true interest, or too slow in giving assist-
2
N C E.
ance suffered the merchants to stop payment •, and thus France,
not only to bring ruin upon themselves, but to in-
volve, as is usual in such cases, a great many others
in the same calamity. Their creditors demanded in-
demnification from the Society at large •, and on their
refusal to satisfy them, brought their cause before the
parliament of Paris. That body, eager to revenge
themselves on such powerful adversaries, carried on the
most violent persecutions everywhere against them. In
the course of these, the volume containing the con¬
stitution and government of the order itself was ap¬
pealed to, ami produced in open court. It then ap¬
peared, that the order of Jesuits formed a distinct body
in the state, submitting implicitly to their chief, who
alone was absolute over their lives and fortunes. It
was likewise discovered that they had, after a former
expulsion, been admitted into the kingdom upon con¬
ditions which they had never fulfilled j and to which
their chief had obstinately refused to subscribe ; con¬
sequently that their existence at that time m the na¬
tion was merely the effect of toleration. The event
was, that the writings of the Jesuits were pronounced
to contain doctrines subversive of all civil government,
and imurions to the security of the sacred persons ot
sovereigns: the attempt of Damien against the king
was attributed to them, and every thing seemed to prog¬
nosticate their speedy dissolution. In this cntieal mo¬
ment, however, the king interfered, and by his royal
mandate suspended all proceedings against them for a
year ; a plan of accommodation was drawn up, and
submitted to the pope and general of the order: but
the latter, by his ill-timed haughtiness, entirely over¬
threw the hope of reconciliation. The king withdrew
his protection, and the parliament redoubled their ef¬
forts against them. The bulls, briefs, constitutions,
and other regulations of the Society, were determined
to be encroachments on authority, and abuses of go¬
vernment ; the Society itself was finally dissolved, and
its members declared incapable ot holding any clerical
or municipal offices; their colleges were seized; their
effects confiscated, and the order annihilated ever
• 164
smce. ~
The parliament having gained this victory, next Cam*
made an attempt to set bounds to the power ol the "*^
king himself. They now refused to register an ediet^,
which Louis had issued for the continuance of some l[mWl
taxes which should have ended with the war, and like¬
wise to conform to another by which the king was en¬
abled to redeem his debts at an inadequate price. I he
court attempted to get the edicts registered by force,
but the parliaments everywhere seemed inclined tp re¬
sist to the last. In 1766, the parliament of Brittany
refused the crown a gift of 700,000 livres ; in conse¬
quence of which they were singled out to bear the
weight of royal vengeance ; but while matters \vere on
the point of coming to extremities, the king thought
proper to drop the process altogether, and to publish a
general amnesty. The parliaments, however, now af¬
fected to despise the royal clemency; which exasperated
the king to such a degree, that he ordered the counsel-
lor« of the parliament of Brittany (who had refused
to resume the functions of which he deprived them;
to be included in the list of those who were to be
drafted for militia ; and those upon whom the lot tell
were immediately obliged to join their respective regi-
snents %
F K A
France,
uon
merits j the rest being employed in forming the city
1 guard. The parliament of Paris remonstrated so freely
upon this conduct of the king, that they also fell under
his censure j and Louis in the most explicit manner
declared, that he would suffer no earthly power to in¬
terfere with his will; and the parliaments were for the
present intimidated into submission.
The interval of domestic tranquillity which now
took place, was employed by the king in humbling the
pride of the pope, who refused to recal a brief he had
published against the duke of Parma. On this the
French monarch reclaimed the territories of Avignon
and Venaissin j and while the pontiff denounced his
unavailing censures against him, the marquis de Roche-
couart, with a single regiment of soldiers, drove out the
troops of the pope, and took possession of the territories
in question.
A more formidable opposition was made by the natives
of the small island of Corsica j the sovereignty of which
had been transferred to France by the Genoese, its for¬
mer masters, on condition that Louis should reinstate
them in the possession of the island of Caprala, which the
Corsicans had lately reduced. These islanders defended
themselves with the most desperate intrepidity ; and it
was not till after two campaigns, in which several thou¬
sands of the bravest troops of France were lost, that they
could be brought under subjection,
istressed The satisfaction which this unimportant conquest
165
iand of
srsica
luced.
166
|3bLVO»VUl * TV •JAV/ll U II L 11J l bCl U W JJ Vj U tJO L
ite of the might afford to Louis, was clouded by the distress of
the nation at large. The East India Company had to¬
tally failed, and most of the capital commercial houses
in the kingdom were involved in the same calamity.
The minister, the due de Choiseuil, by one desperate
stroke, reduced the interest of the funds to one half,
and at the same time took away the benefit of the sur¬
vivorship in the tontines, by which the national credit
was greatly affected *, the altercation betwixt the king
and his parliaments revived, and the dissensions became
worse than ever. The due de Choiseuil attempted in
vain to conciliate the differences j his efforts tended
only to bring misfortunes upon himself, and in 1771
he was banished by the king, who suspected him of fa¬
vouring the popular party too much ; and this was soon
after followed by the banishment of the whole parlia¬
ment of Paris, and that by the banishment of a num¬
ber of others j new parliaments being everywhere cho¬
sen in place of those who had been expelled. The
people where by no means disposed to pay the same re¬
gard to these new parliaments that they had done to
the old ones ; but every appearance of opposition was
at last silenced by the absolute authority of the king.
In the midst of this plenitude of power, however, which
he had so ardently desired, his health daily declined,
and the end of his days was evidently at no great
distance. As he had all along indulged himself in sen¬
sual pleasures to the greatest excess, so they now proved
the immediate means of his destruction. His favourite
mistress Madame de Pompadour, who for a long time
governed him with an absolute sway, had long since
been dead, and the king had for some time been equally
enslaved by the charms of Madame du Barre. At last
even her beauty proved insufficient to excite desire ;
and a succession of mistresses became necessary to rouse
the languid appetites of the king. One of these, who
N C E* 99
was infected with the smallpox, communicated the Fi-unce,
disease to the king j who in a short time died of it, ^   '
notwithstanding all the assistance that could be given I<5/
him by the physicians. Louis*XV
The new king Louis XVI. grandson to the former, xss
ascended the throne in the year 1774, in the 20th yearReizn of
ol his age ; and to secure himself against the disease kouis XVf.
which had proved fatal to his predecessor, submitted to
inoculation, with several others of the royal family.
Their quick and easy recovery contributed much to ex¬
tend that practice throughout the kingdom, and to remove
the prejudices which had been entertained against it.
The king had no sooner regained his health, than he
applied himself diligently to extinguish the differences
which had taken place betwixt his predecessor and the
people. He removed those from their employments
who had given cause of complaint by their arbitrary
and oppressive conduct j and he conciliated the affec¬
tion of his subjects by removing the new parliaments
and recalling the old ones.
But though the prudence of Louis had suggested
to him these compliances, he endeavoured still to pre¬
serve pure and entire the royal authority. He explain¬
ed his intentions by a speech in the great chamber
of parliament. “ The step that he had taken to en¬
sure the tranquillity and happiness of his subjects, ought
not (be observed) to invalidate his own authority 5 and
he hoped, from the zeal and attachment of the present
assembly, an example of submission to the rest of his
subjects. Their repeated resistance to the commands
of his. grandfather had compelled that monarch to
maintain his prerogative by their banishment $ and they
were now recalled, in the expectation that they would
quietly exercise their functions, and display their gra¬
titude by their obedience.” He concluded with de¬
claring, “ 1 hat it was his desire to bury in oblivion all
past grievances ; that he should ever behold with ex¬
treme disapprobation whatever might tend to create
divisions and disturb the general tranquillity ; and that
his chancellor would read his ordinance to the assem-
bly, from which they might be assured he would not
sufier the smallest deviation to be made.” That ordi¬
nance was conceived in the most explicit terms, and
was immediately registered by the king’s command.
I he articles of it limited within very narrow bounds
the pretensions of the parliament of Paris : The mem¬
bers were forbidden to look upon themselves as one
body with the other parliaments of the kingdom, or
to take any step, or assume any title, that might tend
towards or imply such an union : They were enjoin¬
ed never to relinquish the administration of public ju¬
stice, except in cases of absolute necessity, for which
the first president was to be responsible to the kinij;
and it was added, that on their disobedience the grand
council might replace the parliament, without any
new edict for the purpose. They were still, however,
permitted to enjoy the right of remonstrating before
the registering of any edicts or letters patent which
they might conceive injurious to the welfare of the
people, provided they preserved in their representations
the respect due to the throne. But these'remonstrances
were not to be repeated 5 and the parliament, if they
proved ineffectual, were to register the edict objected
to within a month at farthest from the first day of its
N 2 being
2775-
169
Humane
edict in
farour of
deserters.
17a
Suppres¬
sion of the
mousque-
laires.
being published. They were forbidden to issue any
arrets which might excite trouble, or in any manner
retard the execution ot the king’s ordinances j and they
were assured by the king himself, at the conclusion of
this code for their future conduct, that as long as they
adhered to the bounds prescribed, they might depend
upon his countenance and protection. In short, the
terms on which Louis consented to re-establish the pai-
liaments were such, that they were reduced to mere
cyphers, and the word of the king still continued to be
the only law in the kingdom. The archbishop of Paris,
who had likewise presumed to raise some commotions
with regard to the bull Unigenitus, was obliged to sub¬
mit : and severely threatened it he should afterwards
interfere in such a cause.
The final conquest of the Corsicans, who, provoked
by the oppression of their governors, had once more
attempted to regain their former liberty, was the first
event of importance which took place after this resto¬
ration of tranquillity : but the kingdom was yet filled
with disorder from other causes. A scarcity of corn
happening to take place just at the time that some
regulations had been made by M. lurgot the new
financier, the populace rose in great bodies, and com¬
mitted such outrages, that a military force became ab¬
solutely necessary to quell them ; and it was not till
upwards of 500 of these miserable wretches were de¬
stroyed that they could be reduced. The king, hovy-
ever, by his prudent and vigorous conduct on this
occasion, soon put a stop to all riots, and eminently
displayed his clemency as well as prudence in the me¬
thods he took for the restoration of the public tran¬
quillity.
The humanity of Louis was next shown in an edict
which he caused to be registered in parliament, senten¬
cing the deserters from his army in future to work as
slaves on the public roads, instead of punishing them as
formerly with death j and with equal attention to the
general welfare of his subjects, he seized the moment of
peace to fulfil those promises of economy which on his
accession he had given to the people. Various regula¬
tions took place in consequence $ particularly the sup¬
pression of the mousquetaires and some other corps,
which being adapted move to the parade of guarding
the royal person than any real military service, were
supported at a great expence, without any adequate re¬
turn of benefit to the state.
Particular attention was also paid to the state of the
marine j and the appointment of M. de Sartine in
1776 to that department did honour to the penetra¬
tion of the sovereign. That minister, fruitful in re¬
sources, and unwearied in his application, was inces¬
santly engaged in augmenting the naval strength of
bis country ; and the various preparations that filled
the ports and docks created no small uneasiness to the
British court.
The next appointment made by the king was equal¬
ly happy, and in one respect singular and unprece¬
dented. M. Turgot, though possessed of integrity and
industry, had not been able to command the public
confidence. On his retreat, M. Clugny, intendant ge¬
neral of Bourdeaux, had been elevated to the vacant
post: but he dying in a very short space, M. Taboureau
des Beaux was appointed his successor ; and the king
soon after associated with him in the management of
3
Fianee,
FRANCE.
the finances M. Neckar, by birth a Swiss, and by re-
Ugion a Protestant. That gentleman, in the pieced-
ing reign, had been chosen to adjust some differences Appo]nl
between the East India Company and the crown *, and ment 0f ^
171
ueiYvccu mv. Ajcvou *   r v ■ j i "u
had discharged his trust in a manner which gained the Neckartol
approbation of both parties. Possessed of distinguish-the direc.
ed abilities, his appointment would have excited no sur-
prise, had it not been contrary to the constant policy
of prance, which had carefully excluded the aliens of
her country and faith from the controul of her revenue.
It now stood forward as a new instance of enlargement
of mind and liberality of sentiment $ and will to po¬
sterity mark the prominent features of the icign of
Louis XVI.
Although the French monarch was of a pacific dis¬
position, and not destitute of generosity of sentiment;
yet his own and the public exultation had been openly
and constantly proportioned to the success of the Ame¬
ricans in their contest with Britain t the princes of the (
blood and the chief nobility were eager to embark in^eFien
support of the cause of freedom j and the prudence ofP"!*™?
the king and his most confidential ministers alone re-AmericaI1
strained their ardour. The fatal events of the former war in their
were still impressed on the mind of Louis j and he could contest
not readily consent to expose his infant marine in a con- ^ Br>*
test with a nation who had so frequently asserted the ’
dominion of the seas, and so lately broken the united
strength of the house of Bourbon. At the same time,
he was sensible that the opportunity of humbling those
haughty islanders, should not be entirely neglected, and
that some advantages should be taken of the present
commotions in America. Two agents from the Unit¬
ed States, Silas Deane and Dr Benjamin Franklin,
had successively arrived at Paris : and though all audi¬
ence was denied them 111 a public capacity, still they
were privately encouraged to hope that I ranee only
waited the proper opportunity to vindicate in arms
the independence of America. In the mean while,
the American cruisers were hospitably received into
the French ports : artillery and all kinds of warlike
stores were freely sold or liberally granted to the dis¬
tress of the colonists j and French officers and engi¬
neers, with the connivance of government, entered into
their service.
Some changes were about this time introduced into
the different departments of state. The conduct of" M.
Neckar in the finances had been attended with univer¬
sal approbation ^ and M. Taboureau des Beaux, bis col¬
league, had resigned his situation, but still retained the
dignity of counsellor of state. To afford full scope to
the genius of M. Neckar, Louis determined no longer
to clog him with an associate : but, with the title of
Director General of the Finances, submitted to him the
entire management of the funds and revenue of France.
In the ensuing year, the count de St Germains, secre¬
tary at war, died ; and the prince de Montbarey, who
had already filled an inferior situation in that depart¬
ment, was now appointed to succeed him.
In the mean time, Louis’s negotiations with foreign
courts were not neglected. He concluded a new trea¬
ty of alliance with Switzerland j vigilantly observed
the motions of the different princes of Germany on the
death of the elector of Bavaria ; and when closely
questioned by the English ambassador, Lord Stormont,
respecting the various warlike preparations which were
diligently
11
1 Ik
F R. A
"ranee.
diligently continued through the kingdom, he replied,
That at a time when the seas were covered with English
fleets and American cruisers, and when such armies
were sent to the New World as had never before ap¬
peared there, it became prudent for him also to arm
for the security of the colonies and the protection of
the commerce of France. The king was not ignorant
at the same time, that the remonstrances of Great Bri¬
tain, and the importunities of the agents of the United
States, would soon compel him to adopt some decisive
line of conduct. This was hastened by a new event
jy. disastrous to Britain j the failure of General Burgoyne’s
i;i at last exPedition, and the capture of his army. The news
« nlyac- of that event was received at Paris with unbounded ex-
1 Tnde-6 u^at’on* ®art*ne» the marine superintendant, was
I idence e3Ser to measure the naval strength of France with
c.heUnit-that, or Great Britain; the queen, who had long se-
< States, conded the applications of the American agents, now
espoused their cause with fresh ardour; and the pacific
inclinations of Louis being overborne by the suggestions
of bis ministers and the influence of the queen, it was
at length determined openly to acknowledge the inde¬
pendence of the United States.
Dr Franklin and Silas Deane, who had hitherto
acted as private agents, were now acknowledged as
public ambassadors from those states to the court of
^ ersailles ; and a treaty of amity and commerce was
signed between the two powers in the month of Febru-
ary I77^- 1 he duke of Noailles, ambassador to the
court of London, was in the month of March in¬
structed to acquaint that court with the above treaty.
At the same time he declared, that the contracting
parties had paid great attention not to stipulate any
exclusive advantages in favour of France, and that the
United States had reserved the liberty of treating with
every nation whatever on the same footing of equality
and reciprocity. But this stipulation was treated by
the British with contempt; and the recal of Lord
Stormont, their ambassador at Versailles, was the sig¬
nal for the commencement of hostilities.—The events
produced by this war are related under the articles
America, Britain, and Indostan. Here our
chief business is with domestic transactions, the mea¬
sures of the cabinet, and the internal economy of the
state.
In the year 1780 new changes in the French mini¬
stry took place. M. Bertin had resigned the office
of secretary of state; the prince de Montbarey had re¬
tired from the post of secretary at war, and was suc¬
ceeded by the marquis de Segur. But the most im¬
portant removal was that of M. Sartine, who had for
R-fiuval of
M.
*in<
Sat. sev€ral years presided over the marine department, and
Wiinsp nntirooi'fc.d o_ 1 *i■ ^ i i • ,
_ «r * ^ v*v- blj IJ t j CtlJU
whose unwearied application and ability had raised the
naval power of France to a height that astonished Eu¬
rope : but his colleagues in the cabinet loudly arraigned
a profusion, which would have diverted into one chan¬
nel the whole resources of the kingdom ; and his re¬
treat opened a road to the ambition of the marquis de
Castries, who was appointed to supply his place.
This year, the king fixed on the anniversary of his
birth day to render it memorable by a new instance of
humanity : and be abolished for ever the inhuman cu¬
stom ol putting the question, as it was called, by torture ;
a custom which had been so established by the practice
or ages, that it seemed to be an inseparable part of
N C E.
the constitution of the courts of justice in France. At
the same time, to defray the charges of war, he conti¬
nued to diminish his own expenditure ; and sacrificing
his magnificence to the ease of his subjects, dismissed
at once above 400 officers belonging to his court. X75
Unhappily, however, the popular discontents were ^*snhssi°n
excited next year by tbe dismission of their favourite01
minister, M. Neckar. He had conceived the arduous^ec!iar‘
but popular project of supporting a war by loans with¬
out taxes ; and the rigid economy which he had intro¬
duced into all the departments of the royal household,
and the various resources that presented themselves to*
his fertile genius, had supported him amidst the diffi¬
culties that attended this system. But his austerity of
temper had not rendered him equally acceptable to the
sovereign and his subjects ; and the repeated reforms
he had recommended were represented as inconsistent
with the dignity of the crown: he was therefore in
1781 dismissed from his office of comptroller-general;
and M. Joli de Fleuri, counsellor of state, was appoint¬
ed to that important department. The defeat of the
count de Grasse happened next year, and impressed the
kingdom with general grief and consternation. Im¬
mense preparations were, how'ever, made for the opera¬
tions of 1783; and in conjunction with the courts of
Madrid and the Hague, Louis was determined this year
to make the most powerful efforts to bring the war to a
conclusion. Lut in the midst of these preparations, the
voice of peace was again heard ; and Louis was induced ,,,
to listen to the proffered mediation of the two first po- Peace eon-
tentates in Europe, the emperor of Germany and thec*uded.
empiess ol Bussia. The count de Vergennes, who still
occupied the post of secretary of foreign affairs, was
appointed to treat with Mr Fitzherbert the British
minister at Brussels, but who had lately proceeded to
Paris to conduct this important negotiation. The
way was already smoothed for the restoration of public
tranquillity, by provisional articles signed at the con¬
clusion of the last year between the states of America
and Great Britain, and which were to constitute a
treaty of peace finally to be concluded when that be¬
tween France and Great Britain took place. Prelimi¬
nary articles were accordingly agreed upon and sign¬
ed at Versailles : these were soon after succeeded by a
definitive treaty ; and France, throughout her exten¬
sive dominions, beheld peace once more established.
Though the late war had been attended by the most
brilliant success, and the independence of America
seemed to strike deep at the source of her rival’s power,
yet I lance herself had not been entirely free from in¬
convenience. The retreat of M. Neckar, had, as we
have aheady observed, diminished the public confidence;
three different persons who had since transiently occu¬
pied his post, increased the jealousies of the people ; Of the7
and the failure of the celebrated Caisse d’Escompte Caisse
completed the universal consternation. d'Bseoniplc.
That bank had been established in the year 1776.
The plan of it was formed by a company of private
adventurers, and its capital was fixed at 500,000!.
sterling. The professed design of the Company was
to discount bills at short dates, af the rate of four per
cent, per annum : but as this interest could never be an
equivalent for the capital sunk by the proprietors, they
were intrusted with the additional power of issuing
notes to the amount of their capital, which, as they
weres ^
102
F ranee.
FRA
were capable at any time of being converted into specie,
might be often voluntarily taken by their customers
from mere convenience. The reputation of the bank
soon caused its stock to sell above par : and its credit
was still at the highest, when to the astonishment of the
nation it suddenly stopped payment on toe 2d o. Octo¬
ber 1*785. The cause assigned was an uncommon seal-
d,v of specie : But the public suspected that the fa.lurc
arose from a loan secretly made to government, and
what confirmed the suspicion was, that government a-
bout the same time stopped payment of the bills drawn
upon them by their army in America. .
Whatever was the cause of this event, the king was
prevailed on to extend his protection to the Company.
Bv four successive edicts the banks, m Tans were
ordered to receive the notes of the Caisse d Escompte
as currency ; and a lottery with a stock of one million
sterling, redeemable in eight years, being established,
the tickets were made purchasable m notes of the Caisse
d’Escompte. By these expedients the public confi¬
dence in that bank was revived, its business increased,
and its stock rose to above double the original subscrip¬
tion ; the bills from America were at the same time pu-
in a train of payment, and public credit was restored
throughout the'kingdom. Some compensation also
for the expences that had been incurred during he late
war. was drawn from a treaty with the United Slates
of America. These engaged to reimbiirse France m
the sum of 18 millions of hvres, which had been ad¬
vanced in the hour of their distress 5 and Louis con¬
sented to receive the money, as more convenient to the
States, in the space of 12 years, by 12 equa. and an-
^The general peace was soon after followed by a par-
tweeu ticular treaty between France and Holland, which ^
France a,,d effected with great address by the Count de Yergennes.
HoUamt. ir inclu(lpd ali the principles which can serve to ce¬
ment in the closest union distinct nations under distinct
governments; and by which they may
pate, in peace or in war, of good or of cmI , and in
all cases administer the most perfect aid, c°unSe!>
succour to each other. It also prescribed, if then
united good offices for the preservation of peace should
prove ineffectual, the assistance they were to afford
each other by sea and land. 1 ranee was to furnish
Holland with 10,000 effective infantry, 2000 cavafiy
with 12 ships of the line and 6 frigates. Their high
Mightinesses, on the other side, in case of a ™aUl_
^ar, or that France should be attacked by sea, were to
contribute to her defence six ships of the line and three
frigates} and in case of an attack on the territory of
France, the States General were to have the option ol
furnishing their land contingent either m money or
troops, at the estimate of 5000 infantry and 1000 ca¬
valry. Further, If the stipulated succours should be
insufficient for the defence of the party attacked, or
for procuring a proper peace, they engaged to assist
each other with all their forces, if necessary j it being
however agreed that the contingent of troops to be fur-
nished bv the States General should not exceed 20,000
infantry'and 4000 cavalry. It was further added,
that neither of the contracting powers should disarm,
or make or receive proposals of peace or truce, with¬
out the consent of the other: they promised also not
to contract any future alliance or engagement what-
N C E.
ever, directly or indirectly, contrary to the present Fmr«e
treaty and on any treaties or negotiations being pro- v—
posed which might prove detrimental to their joint in¬
terest, they pledged their faith to give notice to each
other of such proposals as soon as made.
Thus was Holland now converted into the firm ally
of that power against whose encroaching spirit she had
formerly armed the most powerful kingdoms of Eu¬
rope ; while France having asserted the independence
of America against Great Britain, and having con¬
verted an ancient and formidable foe into an usefu,
friend, seemed to have attained an influence over the
nations of the earth that she had never before been pos¬
sessed of. ....
But however exalted her present situation might ap¬
pear, the seeds of future commotion were alreadyiap-
parent to an attentive observer. The applause that
had attended the parliament of Paris in their struggles
with the late king might be considered as the first dawn
of freedom $ the language of that assembly had boldly
inculcated to their countrymen their natural rights,
and taught them to look with a less enraptured eye on 179
the lustre that encompassed the throne. The war in
America had contributed to enlarge the political ideas France
of the French : they had on that occasion stood forth from hei
as the champions of liberty, in opposition to regalinterfe-
power; and the officers, who had acted on that conspi-jence be
power j aim me       . , "tween El
cuous theatre, accustomed to think and speak without .n a]
• .1 8 . *    4.^- 4-O G 1 1
17S
Treaty be
twaeM
cuous . ptam
restraint, on their return imparted to the provinces ot^,,,,^
France the flame of freedom which had been kindled iouies.
the wilds of America. From that moment the French,
instead of silently acquiescing under the edicts of their
sovereign, canvassed each action with bold and rigid im¬
partiality ; while the attachment of the army, which
has ever been considered as the sole foundation of des¬
potism, gave way to the noble enthusiasm of liberty.
We have already noticed the public dissatisfaction
that had attended the dismission of M. Neckar ; Ins
transient successor, M. de Fleury, had retired from
the management of the finances in I783> an(^ n]or^
transient administration of M. d’Ormesson had expired
in the same year that gave it birth. On his retreat, jjg
M. de Calonne, who had successively filled with acknow- Appoint
ledged reputation the office of intendant of Mentz, and“^
letigea reputation me,   — ----—. > measure
afterwards of the provinces of Flanders and Artois, was ^ de c
. . . 1 j r  i. 11 .c,/-»■»»*■» 1 in 1 g .
aitervvaius ui tuc    ,
nominated to the post of comptroller-general.. lhislcmnei
p-entleman, flexible and insinuating, eloquent in con¬
versation, and polished in his manners, fertile in resour¬
ces and liberal in the disposal of the public money,
soon rendered himself acceptable to the sovereign. But
he did not enter upon this new and arduous station fa¬
voured by the breath of popularity: he was reported
to be more able than consistent, and not to.have tem¬
pered the ardour of his spirit by the severity of deep
research ; and the people, amidst repeated loans, re¬
gretted that severe simplicity which had characterized
the administration of M. Neckar.
It was the bold and judicious measures of Calonne,
however, that restored credit to the Caisse d’Escompte,
which had stopped payment a few weeks before his ac¬
cession. His next measure, in 1784, the establishment
of the Caisse d’Amortissement, or sinking fund, was en¬
titled to a still higher degree of applause. The plan
of that fund was simple and moderate : It was to pay
annually by government, into the hands of a board set
FRA
ance. apart for that purpose, the entire interest of the nation-
-y——' al debts, whether in stock or annuities, together with
an additional sum of I20,00cl. The annuities that
would he extinguished every year were estimated at
50,000!.; and in that proportion, the sum set apart for
the redemption of the national debt would annually in¬
crease. The operation of this new fund was limited to
the term of 25 years; and during that term the annual
receipt of the Caisse d’ Amortissement is declared unal¬
terable, and incapable of being diverted to any other
object.
The principal measure of the next year was the
establishment of a new East India Company, (the con¬
stitutions of which have been already detailed : see
Company) ;—a measure not equally commendable
with the preceding, and which did not fail to excite
violent complaints. The time, however, was now' ap¬
proaching, when the necessities of the state would com¬
pel him to measures still more unpopular, and destined
to undergo a severer scrutiny. Although peace had
been re-established throughout Europe for three years,
yet the finances of France seemed scarce affected by
this interval of tranquillity, and it was found requisite
to close every year with a loan. The public expen¬
diture of 1785 might probably seem to sanction this
measure. It had been thought proper to fortify
Cherbourg upon a large and magnificent scale ; the
claim of the emperor to the navigation of the Scheldt
had obliged the French to increase their land forces,
either to form a respectable neutrality, or to assist
effectually their Dutch allies; and the marquis de
Castries, fond of war, and profuse in his designs, had
not suffered the navy, which M. Sartine had surren¬
dered into his hands, to decline during the interval of
peace. The treaty of commerce concluded in the year
1786 with Great Britain was a new source of discon¬
tent.—Though regarded by the English manufacturers
as far from advantageous, it excited in France still
louder murmurs. It was represented as likely to ex¬
tinguish those infant establishments, which were yet
unable to vie with the manufactures of England that
had attained to maturity ; and the market that it held
out for the wines and oils of France was passed over in
silence, while the distress of the artisan was painted in
the most striking colours. But when the edict for
registering the loan at the conclusion of the last year,
and which amounted to the sum of three millions three
hundred and thirty thousand pounds, was presented to
the parliament of Paris, the murmurs of the people,
through the remonstrances of that assembly, assumed a
more legal and formidable aspect. The king, however,
signified to the select deputation that were commissioned
to convey to him their remonstrances, that he expected
to be obeyed without further delay. The ceremony
of the registering accordingly took place on the next
day ; but it was accompanied with a resolution, im¬
porting, “ that public economy was the only genuine
source of abundant revenue, the only means of pro¬
viding for the necessities of the state, and restoring
that credit which borrowing had reduced to the brink
of ruin.”
The king was no sooner informed of this step, than
he commanded the attendance of the grand deputa¬
tion of parliament; when he crazed from their records
N C E. IC
the resolution that had been adopted ; and observed, France,
that though it was his pleasure that the parliament w--v—
should communicate, by its respectful representations,
whatever might concern the good of the public, yet
he never would allow them so far to abuse his clemency
as to erect themselves into the censors of his govern¬
ment. At the same time, more strongly to mark his
displeasure at their expostulations, he superseded one
of their officers, who had appeared most active in for¬
warding the obnoxious resolution.
M. de Calonne, however, though gratified bv the
approbation of his sovereign, could not but feel him¬
self deeply mortified by the opposition of the par¬
liament. His attempts to conciliate that assembly had
proved ineffectual: and he experienced their inflexible
aversion at the critical juncture when their acquiescence
might have proved of the most essential service. An
anxious inquiry into the state ol the public finances
had convinced him that the expenditure by far exceed¬
ed the rev'enue. In this situation, to impose new taxes
was impracticable; to continue the method of borrow¬
ing was ruinous ; to have recourse only to economical
reforms, would be found wholly inadequate ; and he
hesitated not to declare, that it would be impossible to
place the finances on a solid basis, but by the reforma¬
tion of whatever was vicious in the constitution of the
state.
To give weight to this reform, M. de Calonne was
sensible that something more was necessary than the
royal authority ; he perceived that the parliament was
neither a fit instrument for introducing a new order
into public a flairs, nor would submit to be a passive
machine for sanctioning the plans of a minister, even
if those plans were the emanations of perfect wisdom.
Though originally a body of lawyers, indebted for
their appointments to the king, there was not an attri¬
bute of genuine legislative assembly but what they
seemed desirous to engross to themselves ; and they had
been supported in their pretensions by the plaudits of
the people, who were sensible that there was no other
body in the nation that could plead their cause against
royal or ministerial oppression. To suppress, therefore,
the only power of controul that remained, and to ren¬
der the government more arbitrary, was deemed too
perilous a measure: yet to leave the parliament in the
full possession of their influence, an influence that the
minister was convinced would be exerted against him,
was at once to render his whole system abortive.
In this dilemma, the only expedient that suggested
itself was to have recourse to some other assembly^ more
dignified and solemn in its character, and which should
in a greater degree consist of members from the vari¬
ous orders of the state and the diflerent provinces of
the kingdom. This promised to be a popular mea¬
sure ; it implied a deference to the people at large,
and might he expected to prove highly acceptable.
But the true and legitimate assembly of the nation, the
States General, had not met since the year 1614; nor
could the minister flatter himself with the hope of ob¬
taining the royal assent to a meeting which a despotic
sovereign could not but regard with secret jealousy.
Another assembly had occasionally been substituted in AjsembI
the room of the States General : this was distinguished of the Jfot-
by the title of the Notablesi and consisted of a num-ahle*.
ber
I Si
Splendid
project of
M. de Ca-
lonne.
FRA
ber of persons from all parts of the kingdom, chiefly
selected from the higher orders of the state, and nomi¬
nated by the king himself. This assembly had been
convened by Henry XV. again by Louis XIII. and
was now once more summoned by the authority ot
Louis XVI. , ,
The writs for calling them together were dated on
the 2Qtli of December 1786 5 and they were addressed
to seven princes of the blood, nine dukes and peers ot
France, eight field mareschals, twenty-two nobles, eight
counsellors of state, four masters of requests eleven
archbishops, and bishops, thirty-seven of the heads oi
the law, twelve deputies of the paijs d'etats, the lieute¬
nant civil, and twenty-five magistrates of the ditterent
towns of the kingdom. The number of members was
144 j and the 29th of January 1787 was the period
appointed for their meeting. .
Upon the arrival of the notables at Paris, however,
the minister found himself yet unprepared to submit
his system to their inspection, and postponed the
opening of the council to the 7th of February. A
second delay to the 14th of the same month was oc¬
casioned by the indisposition of M. de Calonne him¬
self, and that of the count de Vergennes president ot
the council of finance and first secretary of state j and
a third procrastination was the necessary result ot the
death of the count on the day previous to that fixed
for the opening of the meeting. He was succeeded
in the department of foreign affairs by the count de
Montmorin, a nobleman of unblemished character.
But his loss at this critical juncture was severely felt
by M. de Calonne j he alone, of all the ministers, hav¬
ing entered with warmth and sincerity into the plans
of the comptroller general. The chevalier de Miro-
xnesnil, keeper of the seals, was avowedly the rival and
enemy of that statesman. The mareschal de Castries,
secretary for the marine department, was personally
attached to M. Neckar ; and the baron de Breteml, se¬
cretary for the household, was the creature of the queen,
and deeply engaged in what was called the Austrian
^ It was under these difficulties that M. ue Calonne,
on the 22d of February, first met the assembly 01 the
notables, and opened his long-expected plan. He began
by stating, that the public expenditure had for centu¬
ries past exceeded the revenue, and that a very
derable deficiency had of course existed ; that the Mis¬
sissippi scheme of 1720 had by no means, as might have
been expected, restored the balance j and that under
the economical administration of Cardinal I leury the
deficit still existed; that the progress of this derange¬
ment under the last reign had been extreme j the deti-
ciency amounting to three millions sterling at the ap¬
pointment of the Abbe Terray J who, however, redu¬
ced it to one million six hundred and seventy-five thou¬
sand pounds j it decreased a little under the short admi¬
nistrations that followed, but rose again in consequence
of the war, under the administration of M. Neckar j
and at his own accession to office, it was three millions
three hundred and thirty thousand pounds.
In order to remedy this growing evil, M. Calonne
recommended a territorial impost, m the nature of the
English land tax, from which no rank or order of
men were to be exempted j and an inquiry into the
N C E.
possessions of the clergy, which hitherto had been deem¬
ed sacred from their proportion of the public burdens :
the various branches of internal taxation were also to
undergo a strict examination 5 nnd a considerable re-
source^was presented in mortgaging the demesne lands
of the crown.
The very necessity for these reforms was combated
with a degree of boldness and force of reasoning that
could not fail of deeply impressing the assembly ; and
instead of meeting with a ready acquiescence, the
comptroller general was now launched into the bound¬
less ocean of political controversy. M. Neckar, pre¬
vious to his retirement, had published his Compte ren¬
du an Roy, in which France was represented as pos¬
sessing a clear surplus of 425,000 pounds sterling:
Erp nee
this performance had been read with avidity, and pro-got,.
bably contributed to estrange from the author the royal nd ^
countenance ; but the credit of it was ably vindicated sll0p of
by M. de Brienne archbishop of Thoulouse. _ Tboulom
M. de Calonne met with a still more formidable ad¬
versary in the count de Mirabeau. This extraordinary
man, restless in his disposition, licentious in his morals,
but bold, penetrating, and enterprising, had occasionally
visited every court in Lurope. He had been admitted
at one time to the confidence of the minister 5 and had
been directed, though in no ostensible character, to ob¬
serve at Berlin, the disposition of the successor of the
great Frederick. In this capacity he was frequently ex¬
posed to neglect and disappointment", his letters were
often left unanswered ; disgust succeeded to admiration ;
and he who had entered the Prussian court the intimate
friend, returned to Paris the avowed enemy, of M. de
Calonne : While the archbishop arraigned, the under¬
standing, the count impeached the integrity, of the
comptroller general.
The eloquence of M. de Caionne, however, might
have successfully vindicated his system and reputation
against the calculations of Brienne, and the invectives
of Mirabeau ; but he could not support himself against
the influence of the three great bodies of the nation. ^4
The ancient nobility and the clergy bad ever been and by 1
free from all public assessments j and had the evil
gone no farther, it might have been still perhaps borne
with patience j but through the shameful custom 01 magj.
selling patents of nobility, such crowds of new noblesse strates,
started up, that every province in the kingdom was
filled with them. The first object with those who had
acquired fortunes rapidly, was to purchase a patent;
which, besides gratifying their vanity, afforded an ex¬
emption to them and their posterity from contributing
proportionably to the exigencies of the state ; the ma¬
gistracies likewise throughout the kingdom enjoyed
tfieir share of the exemptions •, so that the whole
weight of the taxes fell on those who were least able to
bear them. * ,
The minister’s design, then, of equalizing the pub¬
lic burdens, and by rendering the taxes general dimi¬
nishing the load borne by the lower and most useful
classes of people, though undoubtedly great and pa¬
triotic, at once united against him the nobility, the
clergy, and the magistracy ; and the event was such as
might be expected : the intrigues of those three bodies
raised against him so loud a clamour, that finding it
impossible to stem the torrent, he not only resigned his
■ place
*
«w.
Vance
Ca!onnePubllc 0* Holland, his new and close ally. The prince
i. rv ix
place on the 12th of April, but soon after retired to
England from the storm of persecution.
In the midst of these transactions at home, Louis’s
attention was also called to the state of affairs in the re-
1N Kj XL,. I O£
gineers were also directed to proceed silently and in F..
H mm 11 cp* fnwar/lc A o 4-^ • a • . » ^ ‘
„ gns. of Orange had been stripped of all authority by the
rSd aristocratic party ; and, retiring from the Hague, main-
'iturban- tained the shadow of a court at Nimeguen. His bro-
in Hol-ther-in-law, however, the new king of Prussia, exerted
J- his endeavours to promote the interests of the stadt-
holder; and, having offered, in concert with France,
to undertake the arduous task of composing the differ¬
ences which distracted the republic, the proposal was
received with apparent cordiality by the court of Ver¬
sailles^, At the same time it could scarce be expected
that I ranee would become the instrument of restoring
the prince ©f Orange to that share of power which he
had before occupied, and thus abandon one of the
longest and most favourite objects of her policy, the
establishing a supreme and permanent controul in the
affairs ot Holland. In fact, the conditions which were
framed by the Louvestein faction, as the basis of re¬
conciliation, were such as plainly indicated their design
to reduce the influence and authority of the stadtholder
within very narrow limits. On his renouncing his
right of filling up the occasional vacancies in the town
senates, he was to be restored to the nominal office of
captain general : but he was to be restrained from
marching the troops into or out of any province, with¬
out leave from the respective provinces concerned j
and he was also to subscribe to a resolution passed some
time before by the senate of Amsterdam, that the
command should at all times be revocable at the
pleasure of the states. Had the prince acquiesced
in these preliminaries, France would have complete¬
ly attained the object of her long negotiations, and
by means of the Louvestein faction have acquired
the ascendency that she had repeatedly sought in
the councils of Holland. But under the difficul¬
ties that surrounded him, the prince of Orange was
admirably supported and assisted by the genius, the
spirit, and the abilities of his consort: she firmly re¬
jected every measure tending to abridge any rights
that had been attached to the office of stadtholder; and
M. de Rayneval, the French negotiator, having in
vain endeavoured to overcome her resolution, broke
off the correspondence between the Hague and Nime¬
guen, and returned to Paris about the middle of Janu¬
ary 1787.
But the republican party were totally disappoiut-
FrHito v *n- t*1Cir ,10Pes from France. The court of
*«mulle^ersailles .liat| in^eed long trusted to the natural
ican strength of this party, and had been assiduous dur¬
ing the whole summer in endeavouring to second
them by every species of succours that could be
privately afforded. Crowds of French officers arrived
daily in Holland j and either received commissions in
the service of the states, or acted as volunteers in their
troops. Several hundreds of tried and experienced
soldiers were selected from different regiments; and
being furnished with money for their journey, and as¬
surances of future favour, were despatched in small
parties to join the troops, and help to discipline the
urghers and volunteers. A considerable corps of en-
Vol. IX. Part I. 1 f
disguise towards Amsterdam, and to assist in strength- 
ening the works of that city. These aids, which mfght
have proved effectual had the contest been confined
to the states of Holland and the stadtholder, were over¬
whelmed in the rapid invasion of the Prussians; and
the court of Berlin had taken its measures with so
much celerity, and the situation of the republicans was
already become so desperate, that it was doubtful
whether their affairs could be restored by any assist¬
ance that France was capable of immediately admi¬
nistering. Yet on Great Britain fitting out a strong
squadron of men of war at Portsmouth to give confi^
dence to the operations of the king of Prussia, the
court of Versailles also sent orders to equip 16 sail
of the line at Brest, and recalled a small squadron
which had been commissioned on a summer’s cruise
on the coast of Portugal. But in these preparations
Louis seemed rather to regard his own dignity, than
to be actuated by any hopes of effectually relieving
his allies. All opposition in Holland might be al¬
ready considered as extinguished. The states assem¬
bled at the Hague had officially notified to the
court of Versailles, that the disputes between them
and the stadtholder were now happily terminated ;
and as the circumstances which gave occasion for their
application to that court no longer existed, so the suc¬
cours which they had then requested would now be un¬
necessary.
Under these circumstances, France could only wish
to extricate herself from her present difficulty with
honour. She therefore readily listened to a memorial
from the British minister at Paris : who proposed, in
order to preserve the good understanding between the
two crowns, that all warlike preparations should be
discontinued, and that the navies of both kingdoms
should be again reduced to the footing of a peace
establishment. This was gladly acceded to by the court
of Versailles; and that harmony which had been tran¬
siently interrupted between the two nations was re¬
stored.
iSS
ance.
V~—
All pig
of t
Though the French king could not but sensibly feel Domestic
the mortification of thus relinquishing the ascendencyconcerns °f
which he had attained in the councils of Holland, the ^IaI1Ce•
state of his own domestic concerns and the internal si¬
tuation of his kingdom furnished matter for more se¬
rious reflection. The dismission of M. de Calonne had
left France without a minister, and almost without a
system; and though the king bore the opposition of
the notables with admirable temper, yet the disap¬
pointment that he had experienced sunk deep into his
mind. Without obtaining any relief for his most ur¬
gent necessities, he perceived too late that he had
opened a path to the restoration of the ancient consti¬
tution of I ranee, which had been undermined bv the
crafty Louis XL and had been nearly extinguished by
the daring and sanguinary counsels of Richelieu under
Louis XIII. The notab] es had indeed demeaned
themselves with respect and moderation, but at the
same time they had not been deficient in firmness.
The appointment of the archbishop of Thoulouse, the
vigorous adversary of M. de Calonne, to the office of lS9
comptroller-general, probably contributed to preserve
the appearance of good humour in that assembly j yet tables dw°."
0 the solved.
ic6
France.
190
Refusal of
the parlia¬
ment to re
gister the
new taxes.
191
The mem
hers ba¬
nished.
FRA
the proposed territorial impost, or general land tax,
which was an object so ardently coveted by the court,
was rejected. Louis, therefore, deprived of any fur¬
ther hope of rendering the convention subservient to his
embarrassments, determined to dissolve the assembly }
which he accordingly did, with a very model ate
and conciliatory speech to the members on their dis^
mission.
Thus disappointed of the advantage which he had
flattered himself he would have drawn from the acqui-
•escence of the notables, the king was obliged now to
recur to the usual mode of raising money by the royal
edicts-, among the measures proposed for which purpose
were the doubling of the poll-tax, the re-establishment
of the third twentieth, and a stamp duty. But the
whole was strongly disapproved by the parliament of
Paris j and that "assembly, in the most positive terms,
refused to register the edict. Louis was obliged to ap¬
ply, as the last resort, to his absolute authority j and,
by holding what is called a bed of justice, compelled
them to enrol the impost.
The parliament, though defeated, were far from
subdued 5 and on the day after the king had held his
bed of justice, they entered a formal protest against the
edict 5 declaring, “ that it had been registered against
their approbation and consent, by the king’s express
command that it neither ought nor should have any
force 5 and that the first person who should presume
to attempt to carry it into execution, should be ad¬
judged a traitor, and condemned to the galleys.”—
This spirited declaration left the king no other alter¬
native, than either proceeding to extremities in support
of his authority, or relinquishing for ever after the
power of raising money upon any occasion without the
consent of the parliament. Painful as every appearance
of violence must have proved to the mild disposition
of Louis, he could not consent to surrender, without
a struggle, that authority which had been so long
exercised by his predecessors. Since the commence¬
ment of the present discontents, the capital had been
gradually filled with considerable bodies of troops j
and about a week after the parliament had entered
the protest, an officer of the French guards, with a
party of soldiers, went at break of day to the house
of each individual member, to signify to him the
king’s command, that he should immediately get in¬
to his carriage, and proceed to Tlroyes, a city of
Champagne, "about 70 miles from Paris, without
writing or speaking to any person out of his own
house before his departure. These orders were served
at the same instant ; and before the citizens of Paris
were acquainted with the transaction, their magi¬
strates were already on the road to their place of ba¬
nishment.
Previous to their removal, however, they had pre¬
sented a remonstrance on the late measures of govern¬
ment, and the alarming state of public affairs. In sta¬
ting their opinions on taxes, they declared, that nei¬
ther the parliaments, nor any other authority, except¬
ing that of the three estates of the kingdom collective¬
ly assembled, could warrant the laying of any perma¬
nent tax upon the people j and they strongly enforced
the renewal of those national assemblies, which had
rendered the reign of Charlemagne so great and il¬
lustrious.
Francej
N C E. •
This requisition of the parliaments to re-establish
the national council, or states general, was the more
honourable, as the former assemblies must have sunk
under the influence of the latter, and returned to their
original condition of mere registers and courts of
law. The confidence and attachment of the peo¬
ple of consequence rose in proportion to this instance
of disinterestedness ; their murmurs were openly ex¬
pressed in the streets of the capital, and the geneial
dissatisfaction was augmented by the stop that was
put to public business by the exile of the parlia¬
ment.
The cabinet at the same time was apparently weak,
disunited, and fluctuating: and continual changes took
place in every department of the state. Louis, averse
to rigorous counsels, wished to allay the growing dis¬
content by every concession that was consistent with
his dignity; but it was generally believed, that the
queen strongly dissuaded him from any step that might
tend to the diminution of the royal authority. The
influence of that princess in the cabinet was undoubt¬
edly great : but the popularity which once had accom¬
panied her was no more $ and some imputations of pri¬
vate levity, which had been rumoured through the ca¬
pital, were far from rendering her acceptable to the
majority of the people ; while the Count d’Artois, the
king’s brother, who had expressed himself in the most
unguarded terms against the conduct of parliament,
stood exposed to all the consequences of popular
hatred.
Nor was it only in the capital that the flame of li¬
berty once more burst forth j it blazed with equal
strength in the provincial parliaments. Among va¬
rious instances of this nature, the parliament of Gre¬
noble passed a decree against lettres de cachet, the
most odious engine of arbitrary power; and declared
the execution of them within their jurisdiction, by any
person, and under whatever authority, to be a capital
crime.
The king had endeavoured to soothe the Parisians
by new regulations of economy, and by continual re¬
trenchments in his household : but these instances of
attention, which once would have been received with
the loudest acclamations, were now disregarded under
their affliction for the absence of their parliament. His
majesty, therefore, in order to regain the affections of
his subjects, consented to restore that assembly ; aban- R£Cai]eii.
doning at the same time the stamp duty, and the terri¬
torial impost, which had been the sources of dispute.
These measures were, however, insufficient to establish
harmony between the court and the parliament. The
necessities 01 the state still continued j nor could the
deficiency of the revenue be supplied but by extraor¬
dinary resources, or a long course of rigid frugality.
About the middle of November 1787, in a full meet¬
ing of the parliament, attended by all the princes of
the blood and the peers of France, the king enter¬
ed the assembly, and proposed two edicts for their ap¬
probation : one was for a new loan of 450 millions,
near 19 millions sterling: the other was for the re¬
establishment of the Protestants in all their ancient
civil rights 5 a measure which had long been warmly
recommended by the parliament, and which was pro¬
bably now introduced to procure a better reception to
the loan.
On
A
ranee.
F R
On this occasion, the king delivered himself in a
speech of uncommon length, filled with professions of
regard for the people, but at the same time strongly
expressive of the obedience he expected to his edicts.
Louis probably imagined, that the dread of that ba¬
nishment from which the members had been so lately
recalled would have ensured the acquiescence of the
assembly j but no sooner was permission announced for
every member to deliver his sentiments, than be was
convinced that their spirits remained totally unsubdued.
An animated debate took place, and was continued
I93 for nine hours j when the king, wearied by perpetual
( osetlieopposition, and chagrined at some freedoms used in
c tfora their debates, suddenly rose and commanded the edict
*,1‘ to be registered without farther delay. This measure
was most unexpectedly opposed by the duke of Or¬
leans, first prince of the blood j who, considering it as
an infringement of the rights of parliament, protested
against the whole proceedings of the day as being
thereby null and void. Though Louis could not con¬
ceal his astonishment and displeasure at this decisive
step, he contented himself with repeating his orders ;
and immediately after, quitting the assembly, retired
to Versailles. On the king’s departure, the parliament
confirmed the protest of the duke of Orleans j and de¬
clared, that as their deliberations had been interrupted,
they considered the whole business of that day as of no
effect.
It was not to be supposed that Louis would suffer
so bold an attack on his power with impunity. Ac¬
cordingly, a letter was next day delivered to the duke
of Orleans, commanding him to retire to Villars dot¬
terel, one of his seats, about 15 leagues from Paris,
and to receive no company there except his own fami¬
ly ; at the same time, the Abbe Sabatiere and M. Fre-
teau, both members of the parliament, and who had
distinguished themselves in the debate, were seized
under the authority of lettres de cachet, and con¬
veyed, the first to the castle of Mont St Michael in
.j. Normandy, the last to a prison in Picardy. This act
mo ra*. of despotism did not fail immediately to rouse the feel-
ces the ing3 0f the parliament. On the following day they
par ment#waited on the king, and expressed their astonish¬
ment and concern that a prince of the blood royal
had been exiled, and two of their members imprison¬
ed, for having declared in his presence what their
duty and consciences dictated, and at a time when
his majesty had announced that he came to take the
sense of the assembly by a plurality of voices. The
answer of the king was reserved, forbidding, and
unsatisfactory 5 and tended to increase the resentment
of the parliament. At the same time, it did not
prevent them from attending to the exigencies of the
state; and convinced of the emergency, they con¬
sented to register the loan for 450 millions of livres,
which had been the source of this unfortunate dif¬
ference. This concession contributed to soften the
mind of the king, and the sentence of the two magi¬
strates was in consequence changed from imprisonment
to exile *, M. Freteau being sent to one of his country
seats, and the Abbe Sabatiere to a convent of Bene¬
dictines.
The parliament, however, was not to be soothed by
that measure to give up the points against which they
had originally remonstrated. In a petition conceived
Di of
Of ns
an ,vo
me ers
bar ted.
Str
'5
N C E.
with freedom, and couched in the most animated lan¬
guage, they boldly reprobated the late acts of arbitrary
violence, and demanded the entire liberation of the
persons against whom they had been exerted. We
have already noticed the fluctuating counsels of the
court of Versailles; and that Louis, as often as he
was left to pursue his own inclinations, adopted mea- dA9*
sures of reconciliation. On the present occasion, in Orleans re-
the beginning of the year 1788, he recalled the called,
duke ot Orleans to court, who soon after obtained
leave to retire to England ; and he permitted the re¬
turn ot the Abbe Sabatiere and M. Freteau to thg ca¬
pital.
The parliament, however, had not confined their
demands to the liberation of those gentlemen ; but had
also echoed the remonstrances of the parliament of
Grenoble, and had loudly inveighed against the execu¬
tion o\ lettres de cachet. 'Ihese repeated remonstran¬
ces, mingled with personal reflections, seconded most
probably the suggestions of the queen, and Louis was
once more instigated to measures of severity. Mess. New re-
d Espremenil and Monsambert, whose bold and point- woastran-
ed harangues had pressed most closely on the royal dig-068,
mty, were doomed to experience its immediate resent¬
ment. While a body of armed troops surrounded the
hotel in which the parliament were convened, Colonel
Degout entered the assembly, and secured the per¬
sons of the obnoxious members, who were instantly
conducted to different prisons. This new instance
ot arbitrary violence occasioned a remonstrance from
parliament, which in boldness far exceeded all the
former representations of that assembly. They de¬
clared they were now more strongly confirmed, bv
every proceeding, of the entire innovation which was
aimed at in the constitution. “ But, Sire,” added
they, “ the French nation will never adopt the de¬
spotic measures to which you are advised, and whose
eltects alarm the most faithful of your magistrates ;
we shall not repeat all the unfortunate circumstances
which afflict us ; we shall only represent to you with
respectful firmness, that the fundamental laws of the
kingdom must not be trampled upon, and that yowr au¬
thority can only be esteemed so long as it is tempered
with justice d'
Language so pointed and decisive, and which assert-Assembly
ed the controlling power of the laws above the regal of the Ne.'
authority, could not fail ot seriously alarming the^a^e8‘
king; and with a view to diminish the influence of
parliament, it was determined again to convene the no¬
tables. Accordingly, about the beginning of May,
Louis appeared in that assembly: and after com¬
plaining of the excesses in which the parliament of
Paris had indulged themselves, and which had drawn
down his reluctant indignation on a few of the mem¬
bers, he declared his resolution, instead of annihi¬
lating them as a body, to recal them to their duty
and obedience by a salutary reform. M. de la
Moignon, as keeper of the seals, then explained his
majestys pleasure to establish a cour plenier or su¬
preme assembly, to be composed of princes of the
blood, peers of the realm, great officers of the crown,
the clergy, mareschals of France, governors of pro¬
vinces, knights of different orders, a deputation of
one member from every parliament, and two members
from the chambers of council, and to be summoned as
O 2 often
FRANCE.
199
Opposition
to the
king’s pro¬
posals.
often as tlie public emergency, in the royal opinion,
should render it requisite.
If the assembly of the notables listened in silent de¬
ference to the project of their sovereign, the parliament
of Paris received it with every symptom of aversion.
That body strongly protested against the establishment
of any other tribunal ; and declared their final resolu¬
tion not to assist at any deliberations in the supreme
assembly which his majesty prepared to institute. A
more unexpected mortification occurred to the king in
the opposition of several peers of the realm ; these ex¬
pressed their regret at beholding the fundamental prin¬
ciples of the constitution violated j and while they were
lavish in the professions of attachment to the person
of their sovereign, concluded with apologizing lot not
Fiar.ee
of that assembly to the side of the court; and having
employed them to establish some degree of regularity
in the finances, and to curb the spirit of the parlia¬
ment, that he would again have dismissed them to ob¬
scurity. 200
Under these impressions an arret was issued in Au-Arr€tfor
gust, fixing the meeting of the states general to the!”"1™11'
first of May in the ensuing year; and every step wasg^(eige_
taken to secure the favourable opinion of the public neral. “
during the interval. New arrangements took place in
the administration; and M. Neckar, whom the con¬
fidence of the people had long followed, was again
introduced into the management of the finances; the
torture, which by a former edict had been restricted
in part, was now entirely abolished ; every person ac-
of their sovereign, conciuaea wun apoiugiz.iiiS — r—^ *
entering on those functions assigned them in the pie- cused was allowed the ass,stance of counsel, and per-
b . , • : Intftrests nutted to avail himself of any point of law ; and it was
nary court, as being inconsistent with the true interests
of his majesty, which were inseparable from those of
the nation.
The flame quickly spread throughout the more di¬
stant provinces ; at Rennes in Brittany, and Gre¬
noble in Dauphine, the people broke out into acts ot
the most, daring outrage. In the latter city several
hundred of the inhabitants perished in a conflict with
the military ; they yet maintained their ground against
the regulars; and the commanding officer, at the en¬
treaties of the first president, readily withdrew his troops
from a contest into which he had entered with reluc¬
tance. The different parliaments of the kingdom at
the same time expressed their feelings in the most glow¬
ing language ; and strongly urged the necessity of call-
ino- together the states general, the lawful council of
the kingdom, as the only means of restoring the pub¬
lic tranquillity.
Louis now plainly, saw, that a compliance with
the public wishes for the re-establishment of the states
general was absolutely necessary, in order to avoid
The calamities of a civil war, which impended upon
his refusal. In that event he must have expected
to have encountered the majority of the people, ani¬
mated by the exhortations and example of their ma¬
gistrates; the peers of the realm had expressed the
strongest disapprobation of his measures ; nor could he
even depend any longer on the support of the princes
of his blood: but what afforded most serious matter
of alarm was the spirit lately displayed among the
military, who, during the disturbances in the pro¬
vinces, had reluctantly been brought to draw their
swords against their countrymen, and many of whose
officers so recently engaged in establishing the free¬
dom of America, publicly declared their abhorrence of
despotism.
It was, not, however, till after many a painful struggle
that Louis could resolve to restore an assembly, whose
influence must naturally overshadow that of the crown,
and whose jurisdiction would confine within narrow
limits the boundless power he had inherited from his
predecessor. In the two preceding reigns the states
ireneral had been wholly discontinued, and though
the queen regent, during the troubles which attended
the minority of Louis XIV. frequently expressed her
intention of calling them together, she was constantly
dissuaded by the representations of Mazarin. It. is
probable that the present monarch still flattered him-
»elf with the hope of being able to allure the members
mitted to avail himself of any point of law ; and it was
decreed, that in future sentence of death should not
be passed on any person, unless the party accused should
be pronounced guilty by a majority at least of three
judges.
The time appointed for the convention of the states
general was now approaching; and the means cf as¬
sembling them formed a matter of difficult deliberation
in the cabinet. The last meeting, in 1614, had been
convened by application to the bailiwicks. But this
mode was liable to several strong objections; the
bailiwicks had been increased in number and jurisdic¬
tion, several provinces having since that period been
united to France ; and (lie numbers and quality of the
members were no less an object of serious attention;
it was not till the close of the year, therefore, that the
proposal of M. Neckar was adopted, which fixed the
number of deputies at 1000 and upwards, and ordain¬
ed that the representatives of the third estate or com¬
mons should equal in number those of the nobility and
clergy united.
The eyes of all Europe were now turned on the
states general; but the moment of that assembly’s
meeting was far from auspicious: The minds of the
French had long been agitated by various rumours;
the unanimity that had been expected from the differ¬
ent orders of the states was extinguished by the jarring
pretensions of each ; and their mutual jealousies were
attributed by the suspicions of the people to the in¬
trigues of the court, who were supposed already to re¬
pent of the hasty assent which had been extorted. A
dearth that pervaded the kingdom increased the general
discontent; and the people, pressed by hunger, and in¬
flamed by resentment, were ripe to revolt. The sove¬
reign also, equally impatient of the obstacles he con¬
tinually encountered, could not conceal his chagrin;
while the influence of the queen in the cabinet was
again established, and was attended by the immediate
removal of M. Neckar. The dismission of that mini-
ster, so long the favourite of the public, was the signal . sur,^j
of open insurrection ; the Parisians assembled in my- reT#iBii0[
riads; the guards refused to oppose and stain their
arms with the blood of their fellow citizens ; the Count
d’Artois and the most obnoxious of the nobility
thought themselves happy in eluding by flight the fury
of the insurgents; and in a moment a revolution was
accomplished, the most remarkable perhaps of any re¬
corded in history.
But before we proceed in our narration, and detail
FRANCE,
"ranee, tlie transactions which have marked the progress of this
“ ( singular and terrible revolution, it may be worth while
to take a short view of the internal situation of France
previous to this period, and the more obvious political
causes, the operation of which seems to have contributed
to the production of this great event.
The moral history of man is always more important
than the mere recital of any physical occurrences that
may take place in his lot. It is not the fall of a mighty
monarch and the dispersion of his family; it is not the
convulsions of empires, and the oceans of human blood
which have been shed, that render the French revolution
peculiarly interesting. Such events, however deplorable,
are far from being without example in the history of
mankind. In the populous regions of the east, where
superstition and slavery have always prevailed, they are
regarded as forming a part of the ordinary course of
human affairs ; because an intrepid and skilful usurper
finds it easy to intimidate or ensnare millions of weak
and credulous men. In Europe the case is very dif¬
ferent ; no adventurer can advance far without encoun¬
tering thousands as artful and as daring as himself.
Events are not the result either of blind hazard or of
individual skill; conspiracies or plots produce little
effect. Like other arts, the art of government has been
brought to much perfection ; and an established consti¬
tution can only be shaken by the strong convulsion pro¬
duced by national passions and efforts. The wonderful
spectacle which we are now to contemplate, is that of
a mild and polished people becoming in an instant
sanguinary and fierce j a well established government,
celebrated for its dexterity and skill, overturned almost
without a struggle ; a whole nation apparently uniting
to destroy every institution which antiquity had hallow¬
ed or education taught them to respect; a superstitious
people treating the religion of their fathers with con¬
tempt 5 a long-enslaved people, whose very chains had
become dear to them, occupied in their public councils
in the discussion of refined and even visionary schemes
of freedom : in short, 25,000,000 of persons suddenly
treading under foot every sentiment and every prejudice
that they themselves had once regarded as sacred and
I ;i venerable.
Like the other nations of Europe, France was an¬
ciently governed by a barbarous aristocracy, whose dif-
luu. foent members were feebly united by the authority of
ari cracy.a succession of kings destitute of power or influence.
The nobles, within their own territories, enjoyed privi¬
leges entirely royal: they made peace and war 5 they
coined money j they were judges in the last resort;
their vassals were their slaves, whom they bought and
sold along with the lands; the inhabitants of cities, al¬
though freemen, were depressed and poor, depending
for protection upon some tyrannical baron in their
neighbourhood. At length, however, by the progress
of the arts, the cities rose into considerable importance
and their inhabitants, along with such freemen of low
rank as resided in the country, were considered as enti¬
tled to a representation in the states-general of the king¬
dom, under the appellation of tiers etat, or third estate;
the clergy and the nobles forming the two first estates!
by abolishing the pernicious privileges of the nobles and
elevating the commons ; but by skilful encroachments,
by daring exertions of prerogative, and the use of a
powerful military force. In France, therefore, the
monarch was absolute, yet the nobles retained all
their feudal privileges, and the ecclesiastical hier¬
archy did the same. The following was, in a few
Fnee
for- rly
ualif a
bai rous
words, the state of that country during these two last
centuries.
The kingdom of France, previous to the revolution, Was never
vyas never reduced to one homogeneous mass. It con-rc<hlccd
sisted of a variety of separate provinces acquired by dif-V110 one
ferent means ; some by marriage, some by legacy, and
others by conquest. Each province retained its ancient
laws and privileges, whether political or civil, as ex¬
pressed in their capitularies or conditions by which they
were originally acquired. In one part of his dominions
the French monarch was a count, in another he was a
duke, and in others he was a king; the only bond
which united his vast empire being the strong military
force by which it was overawed. Each province hail
its barriers; and the intercourse betwixt one province
and another was often more restrained by local usages
than the intercourse of either with a foreign country.
Some of the provinces, such as Bretagne and°Dauphind,
even retained the right of assembling periodically their
provincial states; but these formed no barrier against
the power of the court.
. Th.e clergy ^rmed the first estate of the kingdom T},/-i4
jn point of precedence. They amounted to 130,000. formed^he
he higher orders of them enjoyed immense revenues 5 first estate
but the cures or great body of acting clergy seldom*" lhe
possessed more than about 281. sterling a-year, and their k,D8<3c”T5"
vicaires about half that sum. A few of their dig¬
nified clergy were men of great piety, who resided
constantly in their dioceses, and attended to the duties
of their office; but by far the greater number of them
passed their lives at Paris and Versailles, immersed
m all the intrigues and dissipation of a gay and
corrupted court and capital. They were almost ex¬
clusively selected from among the younger branches
of the families of the most powerful nobility, and
accounted it a kind of dishonour to the order of bishops
for any persons of low rank to be admitted into it.
The lower clergy, on the contrary, were persons of
mean birth, and had little chance of preferment. At
the same time, we find several respectable exceptions
to this last rule. The clergy, as a body, independent
oi the tithes, possessed a revenue arising from their
property in land, amounting to four or five millions
sterling annually ; at the same time they were exempt
from taxation. The crown had of late years attempted
to break through this privilege. To avoid the danger
the clergy presented to the court a free gift of a sum of
money somewhat short of a million sterling every five
years. 0 -
The nobility was nominally the second order of the™ 2°5f
state, but it was in reality the first. The nobles amount-lit/the se.
ed to no less than 200,000 in number. The title andcond.
rank descended to all the children of the family, but
the property to the eldest alone : hence vast multitudes
Bni • 1 • j-i 1  Fiupcny uie emest alone : hence vast mu titudes
But the sovereign having speed,ly become despotic, of them were dependent on the bounty of the court
allte ant'hor ve 9'ate.rgene7' 7” laid aslde- Tl>i» They regarded the useful and commerJl arts as dishu-'
acunireii h.° t?’ - Tr , P , t, of tlle cr°"n> i™s not nourable, and even the liberal professions of the law and
1 e , as it was in England by the house of Tudor, physic as in a great measure beneath their dignity, dis-
daining
no
FRANCE.
France. (1 ait!ing to intermarry with the families of their profes¬
sors. The feudal system in its purity was extremely
11 , *'1 1 i * _£*    ^«nr»lifioC 111
favourable to the production of respectable qualities in
the minds of those who belonged to the order of the
nobles ; but the introduction of commerce has rendered
its decline equally unfavourable to that class of men.
Instead of the ancient patriarchal attachment between
the feudal chieftain and his vassals, the nobility had.be-
come greedy landlords in the provinces, that they might
appear in splendour at court and in the capital. 1 here,
lost in intrigue, sensuality, and vanity, their charac¬
ters became frivolous and contemptible. Such of the
Trench noblesse, however, as remained in the provinces,
regarded with indignation this degradation of their or¬
der, and still retained a proud sense of honour and of
courage, which has always rendered them respectable.
The order of the nobles was exempted from the pay¬
ment of taxes, although the property of some of them
was immense. The estates of the prince of Conde, for
example, were worth 200,0001. a-year, and those of the
duke of Orleans nearly twice as much. The crown had
indeed imposed some trifling taxes upon the noblesse,
which, however, they in a great measure contrived to
, elude.
The par- Next to the nobles, and as a. privileged order posses-
liament the sing a secondary kind of nobility of then own, we. may
third. mention the parliaments. These were large bodies of
men, in different provinces, appointed as courts of law’
for the administration of justice. In consequence of the
corruption of the officers of state, the members purcha¬
sed their places, which they held for life; but the son
was usually preferred when he offered to purchase his
father’s place. Inconsequence of this last circumstance,
the practising lawyers had little chance of ever beco¬
ming judges. Courts thus constituted, consisted of a
motfev mixture of old and young, learned and. igno¬
rant, men. Justice was ill administered. The judges
allowed their votes in depending causes to be openly
solicited by the parties or their friends. No wise
man ever entered into a litigation against a member of
one of these parliaments j no lawyer would undertake
to plead bis cause j it never came to a successful issue,
and usually never came to any issue at all. After
the states-general had fallen into disuse, the parlia¬
ments acquired a certain degree of political conse¬
quence, and formed the only check upon the abso¬
lute power of the crown. Phe laws, ox royal edicts,
before being put in force, were always sent to be regi¬
stered in the books of the parliaments. . Taking ad¬
vantage of this, in favourable times and circumstances,
they often delayed or refused to register the royal edicts,
and presented remonstrances against them. This was
done under a kind of legal fiction : for they pretended
that the obnoxious edict being injurious to the public
happiness, could not be the. will of the king, but. must
either be a forgery or an imposition by the ministers.
These objections were got the better of, either by a po¬
sitive order from the king, or by his coming in person
and ordering the edict to be registered. The parlia¬
ments, however, often carried their opposition very far,
even to the ruin of themselves and their families as in¬
dividuals. This rendered them extremely popular with
the nation, and enabled them to embarrass a .weak ad¬
ministration. After all, however, the opposition of the
parliaments was so feeble, that it was never thought
worth while to abolish them entirely till towaids the France, j
end of the reign of Louis XV.; but.they were restored v—*
as a popular measure, at the beginning of the reign of
Louis XVI. ijj
The tiers etat, or commons, formed the lowest order Ttie com.
of the state in France, and they were depressed and mi-J11®115^
serable in the extreme. To form a conception of their
situation, it is necessary to observe that they bore the 0ppre5sivJ
whole pecuniary burdens of the state: They aloneUurdenscd
were liable to taxation. An expensive and ambitious them,
court; an army of 200,000 men in time of peace, and
of twice that number in war j a considerable marine es¬
tablishment, public roads and works, were all supported
exclusively by the lowest of the people, lo add to
the evil, the revenues were ill collected. Ihey were
let out to farmers-general at a certain sum, over and
above which they not only acquired immense fortunes
to themselves, but were enabled to advance enormous
presents to those favourites or mistresses of the king or
the minister, by means of whom they procured their
places. To raise all this money from the people,
they were guilty of the cruellest oppression, having it
in their power to obtain whatever revenue laws they
pleased, and executing them in the severest manner.
Tor this last purpose they kept in pay an army oi
clerks, subalterns, scouts, and spies, amounting to
80,000 men. These men were indeed detested by the
king, whom they deceived and kept in poverty: by
the people, whom they oppressed j and by the ancient
nobility, as purse-proud upstarts. But the court of
Trance could never contrive to manage without them.
The peasants could be called out by the intendants oi
the provinces, in what they called corvees, to work upon
the high roads for a certain number of days in the
year, which was a source of severe oppression, as the
intendant had the choice ol the time and place of their
employment, and was not bound to accept of any com¬
mutation in money. They were moreover subject to
the nobles in a thousand ways. The nobles retained
all their ancient manorial or patrimonial jurisdictions.
The common people being anciently slaves, had ob¬
tained their freedom upon different conditions. In
many places they and their posterity remained bound
to pay a perpetual tribute to their feudal lords. Such
tributes formed a considerable part of the revenue of
many of the provincial nobles. No man could be
an officer of the army, by a late regulation, who did
not produce proofs of nobility for four generations.
The parliaments, although originally of the tiers
etat, attempted also to introduce a rule that none but
the noblesse should be admitted into their order. In
such a situation, it will not be accounted surprising
that the common people of France were extremely su¬
perstitious and ignorant. They were, however, pas¬
sionately devoted to their monarch, and whatever con¬
cerned him. In 1754, when Louis XV. was taken ill
at Metz, the whole nation was truly in a kind of des¬
pair. The courier and his horse that brought the news
of his recovery to Paris were both almost suffocated by
the embraces of the people.
f(»'
joS
We have said that the French monarch was despo-Despotic
tt•  e.. u., oDowei'O'
tic. His power was supported by his army, and by aP°w^
watchful police, having in pay an infinite host of spiesttie
and other servants. In France no man was safe. The
secrets of private families were searched into. Nothing
was
■at’03
was unknown to the jealous Inquisition of the police.
Men were seized by Icttres cle cachet when they least
expected it, and their families had no means of disco¬
vering their tate. The sentence of a court of law
against a nobleman was usually reversed by the minister.
No book was published without the license of a censor-
generaTappointed by the court, and the minister was
accountable to none but the king. No account was
given of the expenditure of the public money. Enor¬
mous gratifications and pensions were given as the
reward of the most infamous services. The supreme
power of the state was usually lodged with a favourite
209 mistress, and she was sometimes a woman taken from
Sfiidour public prostitution. This was not indeed the case
one court under Louis XVI. but it was nevertheless one of the
FRANCE.
were called men of letters, or persons who gave this
account of the manner in which they spent their time.
Cats of
theevo-
lulis
misfortunes of his life that lie was far from being ab¬
solute in his own family. Still, however, with all its
faults, the 1 rench court was the most splendid and
polished in Europe. It was more the resort of men of
talents and literature of every kind, and there they
met with more ample protection, than anywhere else.
1 he court was often jealous of their productions, but
they met with the most distinguished attention from
men of fortune and rank ; insomuch that for a cen¬
tury past the French have given the law to Europe
in all questions of taste, of literature, and of every
polite accomplishment. The gay elegance that pre¬
vailed at court diffused itself through the nation ; and
amidst much internal misery, gave it to a foreigner the
appearance of happiness, or at least of levity and va¬
nity.
Such as it was, this government had stood for
ages, and might have continued, had not a concur¬
rence of causes contributed to its overthrow. The in¬
ferior orders of clergy, excluded from all chance of
preferment, regarded their superiors with jealousy and
envy, and were ready to join the laity of their own
rank in any popular commotion. The inferior provin¬
cial noblesse beheld with contempt and indignation the
vices and the power of the courtiers, and the higher
nobility wished to diminish the power of the crown.
The practising lawyers, almost entirely excluded from
the chance of becoming judges, wished eagerly for a
change of affairs, not doubting that their talents and
professional skill would render them necessary amidst
any alterations that could occur. Accordingly, they
were the first instruments in producing the revolu¬
tion, and have been its most active supporters. The
moneyed interest wished eagerly for the downfal of the
ancient nobility. As for the great mass of the com¬
mon people, they were too ignorant, too superstitiously
attached to old establishments, and too much depres¬
sed, to have any conception of the nature of political
liberty, or any hope of obtaining it. We have al¬
ready stated the leading circumstances which led to
the French revolution (see N° 184, &c.) j but there
were other circumstances which contributed in an
equal degree both to its commencement and its pro¬
gress.
For 40 years the principles of liberty had been disse¬
minated with eagerness in France by some men of great
talents, as Rousseau, Helvetius, and Raynal, to whom
the celebrated Montesquieu had led the way. Besides
these, there was in France a vast multitude of what
... . they spent ...w. ...ut.
All these were deeply engaged on the side of some kind
0 Political reform. The men of letters in Paris alone
are said to have amounted to 20,000. One of the last
acts of the administration of the archbishop of Thoulouse
was, on the jth July 1788, to publish a resolution of
the king in council, inviting all his subjects to give him
their advice with regard to the state of affairs. This
was considered as a concession of an unlimited liberty
or the press; and it is scarcely possible to form an idea
0 tbe infinite variety of political publications which
10m that period diffused among the people a dissatis¬
faction with the order of things in which they had
hitherto lived.
The established religion of France had for some time
past been gradually undermined. It bad been solemnly
assaulted by philosophers in various elaborate perform¬
ances 5 and men of wit, among whom Voltaire took the
ead, bad attacked it with the dangerous weapon of
ridicule. J he Roman Catholic religion is much exposed
in this respect, in consequence of the multitude of false
miracles and legendary tales with which its history
abounds. Mithout discriminating betwixt the respect¬
able principles on which it rests, and the superstitious
lollies by which they had been defaced, tbe French
nation learned to laugh at the whole, and rejected in¬
stead of reforming the religion of their fathers. Thus
the first order in the state had already begun to be
xegai ded as useless, and the minds of men were pre¬
pared for important changes.
The immense population of the city of Paris, a-
mounting to upwards of 800,000 souls, 'rendered it an
important engine in the hands of the conductors of the
revolution. An overgrown capital has always proved
dangerous to a government that is or attempts to be
despotic, as appears from the history of ancient Baby-
on and,Rome, as well as of modern Constantinople, of
London under Charles I. and Paris under several of its
kings.
M e cannot here avoid mentioning a physical event,
which assisted not a little in producing many of the
convulsions attending the revolution, a general scarcity
of grain, which occurred about that period. On Sun-
day the 13th of July 1788, about nine in the triornin«-
without any eclipse, a dreadful darkness suddenly over¬
spread several parts of France. It was the prelude of
such a tempest as is unexampled in the temperate cli¬
mates of Europe. Wind, rain, hail, and thunder, seem¬
ed to contend m impetuosity j but the hail was the
great instrument of ruin. Instead of the rich prospects
of an early autumn, the face of nature in the space of
ail hour presented the dreary aspect of universal winter,
ine soil was converted into a morass, the standing
corn beaten into the quagmire, the vines broken to
pieces, the fruit trees demolished, and unmelted hail
lying in heaps like rocks of solid ice. Even the robust
forest trees were unable to withstand the fury of the
tempest, xhe hail was composed of enormous, solid,
and angular pieces of ice, some of them weighing
ironi eight to ten ounces. The country people, beat-
en down in the fields on their way to church, amidst
this concussion of the elements, concluded that the last
day was arrived j and scarcely attempting to extricate
themselvesj
FRA
themselves, lay despairing and half suffocated amidst
the water and the mud, expecting the immediate disso¬
lution of all things. The storm was irregular in its
devastations. While several rich districts were laid
entirely waste, some intermediate portions of country
were comparatively little injured. One of 60 square
leagues had not a single ear of corn or fruitot any kind
left. Of the 66 parishes in the district of Pontoise, 43
were entirely desolated, and of the remaining 23 some
lost two-thirds and others half their harvest.. I ne Isle
of France, being the district in which Paris is situated,
and the Orleannois, appear to have suffered clue y.
The damage there, upon a moderate estimate, amount¬
ed to 80,000,000 of livres, or between three and
four millions sterling. Such a calamity must at any
Period have been severely felt;, but occurring on the
eve of a great political revolution, and amidst a gene¬
ral scarcity throughout Europe, it was peculiarly un¬
fortunate, and gave more embarrassment to the govern¬
ment than perhaps any other event whatever. . IN um¬
bers of families found it necessary to contract their mode
of living for a time, and to dismiss their servants, who
were thus left destitute of bread. Added to the pub¬
lic discontent and political dissensions, it produced
such an effect upon the people in general, that the na¬
tion seemed to have changed its character ; and in¬
stead of that levity by which it had ever been distin¬
guished, a settled gloom now seemed fixed on every
5ix countenance. • 1 r 1
Attempt to The spring of the year 1789 was a period of much
reduce ths political anxiety in France. The superior orders wished
poweP°f tQ redtice the power of the crown, but were jealous
of their own privileges, and determined to retain them 5
■’ while the popular philosophers and others were endea¬
vouring to render them odious, and to rouse the people
to a love of freedom. Still, however, the great body
of the common people remained careless spectators ot
the struggle, and unconscious of the approaching com¬
motion.0 Such was their indifference, that few of them
took the trouble even to attend and vote at the elections
of the deputies to the states-general. In many places,
vfnere a thousand voters were expected, not fifty came
forward ; but such of them as did appear showed that a
seed was sown which might one day rise into important
fruits In the instructions which they gave to their
deputies, the British constitution was in general the
model of what they wished their government to be.
They demanded equal taxation, the abolition of letires
de cachet or arbitrary imprisonment, the responsibility
of ministers, and the'extinction of the feudal privileges
of the nobles*, but they wished that the whole three
orders of the state should sit and vote in one house, well
knowing that their nobility were not prepared to act
the moderate part of a British house of lords. The
nobles, on the contrary, although willing to renounce
some of their pecuniary privileges, and. to sacrifice the
power of the crown, were most decisively resolved
neither to surrender their feudal prerogatives nor the
right of sitting in three separate assemblies *, by means
of which each of the orders could easily resist the
encroachments of the other two. M- Ncckar has
been improperly censured for not deciding this last
important question previous to the meeting of the
atates-general; but it must be observed, that the very
3
SU !
1739.
N C E.
purpose of calling that assembly was to overturn the France,
unjust privileges of the higher orders through its * ^
medium, and without any direct interposition on the
part of the ministers. Had the king positively de¬
cided in favour of three chambers, the nobles and the
clergy would have retained all those ancient abuses
established in their own favour, of which it was his
wish to deprive them, and the crown and its prero¬
gatives would have been the only objects of sacri¬
fice. It was therefore thought safer to leave.the tiers
etat to fight its own battle j nor was it yet imagined
that the commons of France, depressed and poor., and
dispersed by situation over a multitude of provinces,
could ever unite in enterprises dangerous to the so¬
vereign.   411
The states had been summoned to meet
sailles on the 27th of April, and most of the deputies moned to
arrived at that time*, but the elections for the citymeeUt
of Paris not being concluded, the king deferred the
commencement of their sessions till the 4th of May.
During this period, the members, left in idleness,
began to find out and form acquaintance with each
other. Among others, a few members from Brittany
(Bretagne) formed themselves into a club, into which
they gradually admitted many other deputies that
were found to be zealous for the popular cause, and
also many persons who were not deputies. . ihis so¬
ciety, thns originally established at Versailles, was
called the Comite Breton; and was one day destined,
under the appellation ot the Jacobin Chib, to give
laws to France, and to diffuse terror and alarm through¬
out Europe. On the other side, the aristocratic party
established conferences at the house of Madame Polig-
nac, for the purpose, it is said, of uniting the nobles and
the clergy. # . _ . 213
An event occurred at this time winch all parties ^ pop,^
ascribed to some malicious motive. In the populous riot in tin
suburb of St Antoine, a M. Beveillon carried on a suburb of
great paper manufactory. A false report was spread31 a
that he intended to lower the wages of his work-
and that he had declared bread was too good
men,
for them, and that they might subsist very well on
potato-flour. A commotion was raised, be was burnt
in effigy, and his house was thereafter burnt and pil¬
laged by the mob, who were not dispersed till the
military had been called in, and much carnage en¬
sued. The popular party asserted that the commo¬
tion had been artfully excited by the party of the
queen and the Co.unt D’Artois, to afford a pretence
for bringing great bodies of the military to the
neighbourhood to overawe the states-general, or in¬
duce the king more decisively to resolve on assembling
that body at Versailles, in preference to Paris, where
they and the popular minister M. Neckar wished it to
be held. ,, , . *14
On the 4U1 of May the states general assembled at Tlie stat<
Versailles. They commenced business by going in a General
solemn procession, preceded by the clergy, and fol-c0®”^
lowed by the king, according to ancient custom, toy‘r3aiiiei
church, to perform an act of devotion. The nobles
were arrayed in a splendid robe, and they and the
higher clergy glittered in gold and jewels. The
commons appeared in black, the dress belonging to
the law. The assembly was thereafter opened by a
short
J*.
k
FRA
ranee
789
21S
T ir de-
besand
ini livity,
•■’api.-itv
ofti ;
*r ck
short speech from the throne, in which the king con¬
gratulated himself on thus meeting his people as¬
sembled ; alluded to the national debt, and the taxes,
which were severely felt because unequally levied;
he took notice of the general discontent and spirit
of innovation which prevailed, but declared his con¬
fidence in the wisdom of the assembly for remedying
every evil. “ May an happy union (added he) reign
in this assembly ; and may this epocha become ever
memorable for the happiness and prosperity of the
country. It is the wish of my heart 5 it is the most
ardent desire of my prayers *, it is, in short, the price
which I expect from the sincerity of my intentions and
my love for my people.”
M. Barretin, the keeper of the seals, next addressed
the assembly in a congratulatory and uninteresting
speech. He was followed by the popular minister M.
Neckar, who spoke for three hours. Though much ap¬
plauded on account of the clear financial details which
his speech contained, he encountered a certain degree of
censure from all parties, on account of the cautious am¬
biguity which he observed with regard to the future
proceedings of the states-general.
Next day the three orders assembled separately.
The deputies of the tiers etat amounted to 600 in
number, and those of the nobles and clergy to 300
each. During their first sittings much time was spent
in unimportant debates about trilling points of form j
but the first important question, that necessarily be¬
came the subject of their discussion, was the verified*
tion of their powers, or production of the commissions
of the members, and investigation of their authenti¬
city. The commons (tiers etat') laid hold of this as
a pretext for opening the grand controversy, whether
the states-general should sit in one or in three sepa¬
rate chambers P They sent a deputation inviting the
nobles and the clergy to meet along with them in
the common hall for the purpose of verifying their
powers in one common assembly. In the chamber of
the clergy 114 members voted for the performance of
this ceremony in the general assembly; and 133 against
it. But in the more haughty order of the nobles, the
resolution for the verification in their own assembly
was carried by a majority of 188 against 37. The
commons paid no regard to this. They were con¬
ducted by bold and skilful leaders, who discerned the
importance of the point in contest, and resolved not
to abandon it. Aware of the exigencies of the state,
they knew that the crown'was nearly verging upon
bankruptcy ; and that such were the deficiencies of
the revenue, that only a short delay was necessary to
accomplish the absolute dissolution of the government.
They suffered five weeks to pass away therefore in
total inactivity. During this period proposals were
made on the part of the ministry for a pacification
between the three orders, and conferences were open¬
ed by commissioners from each. But no art could
seduce the commons from their original purpose, or
prevail with them to enter upon the business of the
state.
The nation had expected much from the assembling
of the states-general, and learnt the news of their in¬
action with no small degree of concern. The tiers
etat was naturally popular, and the public censure
could not readily devolve upon that favourite order.
Vol. IX. Part I. +
1789.
N C E.
Moreover, from the first period of their assembling,
the commons made every effort to augment their own
natural popularity. They admitted all persons pro¬
miscuously into the galleries, and even into the bodv
of their hall. No restraint ^vas attempted to be laid
upon the most vehement marks of popular applause
or censure. Lists ol the voters names were publicly
taken and sent to Paris upon every remarkable occa¬
sion ; and the members suddenly found themselves be¬
come, according to their political sentiments, the ob¬
jects of general execration or applause. The new
and bold notions of liberty that were daily advanced
by ihe leaders of the tiers etat were received with
acclamation by their hearers. The capital became
interested in the issue of every debate ; and the poli¬
tical fervor was eagerly imbibed by the nation with
that vivacity which is so peculiar to the French.
The commons accused the nobles of obstinately im¬
peding the business of the state, by refusing to verify
their powers in one common assembly, The accusa¬
tion was swallowed by the multitude, who saw not,
or were unwilling to see, that the attack was made
by their own favourite order. In the mean time
the nobles became rapidly more and more unpopular.
Their persons were insulted, new publications daily
came forth, and were greedily bought up, which re¬
viled their whole order, and represented them as an
useless or pernicious body of men, whose existence'
ought not to be tolerated in a free state. Whoever
adhered to them was branded with the odious appel¬
lation of Aristocrat. The clergy, from the influence
ot the parish cure's or parsons, seemed ready to desert
their cause. They were even opposed by a minority
ot their own body, which derived lustre from having
at its head the duke of Orleans the first prince of the
blood. Still, however^ the majority of the nobles re¬
mained firm; well aware, that if they once consented
to sit in the same assembly, and to vote promiscuously,
with the ambitious and more numerous body of the
commons, their whole order, and all its splendid privi¬
leges must speedily be overthrown.
The leaders of the commons saw the change that T.kin'J ad
was takmg place the minds of men; and they atT.mage.f
length regarded the period as arrived when they ought t^!,s l’0?”'
to emerge from their inactivity, and execute the daring,a*'Itr: liey
project of seizing the legislative authority in theirS'm'.
country. I hey declared that the representatives ofatfSh"
the nobles and the clergy were only the deputies of
particular incorporations whom they would allow to
sit and vote along with themselves; but who had no
title m a collective capacity to act as the legislators of
.trance, tor conducting business with more facility
they appointed 20 committees. I„ consequence of
a proposal by the Abbe Sieyes, a final message was
sent to the privileged orders, requiring their attendance
as individuals and intimating that the commons, as the
deputies of 96 out of every hundred of their country¬
men, were about to assume the exclusive power of le¬
gislation. None of the nobles obeyed this summons;
but three cures, Messrs Cesve, Ballard, and Jailot, pre¬
sented their commissions, and were received with loud
acclamations. They were next day followed by five
more, among whom were Messrs Gregoire, Dillon, and
Bodineau. After some debate concerning the appella¬
tion which they ought to assume, the commons, with
^ such
114 FRA
France. enc^ the clergy as had joined them,^ solemnly voted
1789.
Frnrtt!
ii3
and assert
their own
sovereign¬
ty.
st9
themselves the sovereign legislators of their count! y,
under the name of the National Assembly. Ihe lesult
of the vote was no sooner declared, than the hall re¬
sounded with shouts from the immense concourse of
spectators, of “Vive le roi et vivel’assemhlee nationale,’
Long live the king and the national assembly. M. Bailly
was chosen president for four days only, Messrs Camus
and Pison de Galand secretaries, and the assembly pro¬
ceeded to business. # .
Its first acts were decisively expressive of its own
sovereignty. All taxes imposed without the consent
of the representatives ot the people were declared to
be null and void ; but a temporary sanction was given
to the present taxes, although illegal, till the dissolu¬
tion of the assembly, and no longer. It was added,
that “ as soon as, in concert with his majesty, the
assembly should be able to fix the principles ot national
regeneration, it would take into consideration the na¬
tional debt, placing, from the present moment, the
creditors of the state under the safeguard and honour ot
the French nation.” r .
Majority of The popular cause now gained ground so tast that
the clergy on the 19th of June a majority of the clergy voted tor
unite with ^ verification of their powers in common with the
the,a- national assembly, and they resolved to unite with them
on the following day. . . ,,
year* of Affairs were now come to a crisis, and the nobles
the noble*, perceived that they must instantly make a decisive
stand, or yield up their cause as final y lost. Such
was their alarm, that M. d’Espremem proposed, at
one of the sittings of their order, to address the king,
intreating him to dissolve the states-general. Hither¬
to that prince had gone along with M. Neckar in fa¬
vouring the popular cause in opposition to the aristo¬
cracy. But every art was now used to alarm his
mind upon the subject of the late assumptions of power
on the part of the commons, and these arts were at
length successful. Repeated councils were held ; M.
Neckar was absent attending a dying sister, and the
king was prevailed upon to act agreeably to the advice
of the leaders of the nobles. But the first measure
which they adopted was so ill conducted as to a fiord
little prospect of final success to their cause. On the
20th of June, when the president and members were
about to enter as usual into their own ball, they found
it unexpectedly surrounded by a detachment ot the
guards, who refused them admission, while the heralds
„„T at the same time proclaimed a royal session. A armed
Koyal ses- by this unforeseen event, the meaning of which they
mo. pro- knew not, but apprehending that an immediate dissolu¬
tion of the assembly was designed, they instantly retir¬
ed to a neighbouring tennis court, where, in the
vehemence of their enthusiasm, they took a solemn
oath “ never to separate till the constitution ol their
country should be completed.” .
On the 2 2d a new proclamation intimated that the
royal session was deferred till the following day. It
was now found that the assembly had been excluded
from their hall merely because the workmen were occu¬
pied in preparing it for the intended solemnity. Ihis
information was ill calculated to excite favourable ex¬
pectations of the measures about to be adopted at a
royal session, ushered in by such circumstances ot mark¬
ed disrespect for the representatives of the people. 1 he
N C E.
assembly, after wandering about in search of a place
of meeting, at length entered the church of bt .Louis,
and were immediately joined by the majority of the
clergy, with their president, the archbishop of Vienne,
at their head. Two nobles of Dauphine, the marquis^,*
de Blacon and the count d’Agoult, presented their com-in the
missions at the same time. Encouraged by these events, church 0
and by the applauses of surrounding multitudes, the as-St Loiiii
sembly now expected with firmness the measures about
to be adopted. , - 2,3
The royal session was held in the most splendid torm,DHcouiM
but altogether in the style of the ancient despotism, of the k ,
Soldiers surrounded the hall. The two superior orders
were seated, while the representatives of the people,
left standing a full hour in the rain, were in no humour,
when at last admitted, to receive with much compla¬
cency the commands of their sovereign. The king
read a discourse, in which he declared null and void the
resolutions of the 17th, but at the same time presented
the plan of a constitution for France. It contained
many good and patriotic principles, but preserved the
distinction of orders, and the exercise of letters de ca¬
chet ; it said nothing about any active share in the le¬
gislative power to be possessed by the states-general, and
was silent both about the responsibility of ministers and
the liberty of the press. The king concluded by com¬
manding the deputies immediately to retire, and to as¬
semble again on the following day. He then withdrew,
and was followed by all the nobles and a part of the
clergy. The commons remained in gloomy silence on
their seats. It was interrupted by the grand master of 111 recw
the ceremonies, who reminded the president of the
tentions of the king. Instantly the vehement count
de Mirabeau, starting from his seat, exclaimed with in¬
dignation, “ The commons of France have determined
to debate. We have heard the intentions that have
been suggested to the king-, and you, who cannot be
his agent with the states-general, you who have here
neither seat nor voice, nor a right to speak, are not
the person to remind us of his speech. Go tell your
master that we are here by the power of the people,
and that nothing shall expel us but the bayonet. Ihe
applause of the assembly seconded the enthusiasm ot the
orator, and the master of the ceremonies withdrew in
silence* • • mmj h
M. Camus then rose ; and in a violent speech indig- Debitei1
»4
21J
nantl'y stigmatized the royal session by the obnoxious ter the^
appellation of a bed of justice ; he concluded by moving*^.
- * . il 1 1 1 ^ si 11 <1 I I fl n u H n P •* *■
•laimed.
appellation ox a oea oj   ° parWie.
that the assembly should declare their unqualified adhe-1"
rence to their former decrees. This motion was fol¬
lowed by another, pronouncing the persons ol the de¬
puties inviolable. Both were supported by Messrs Fe-
tion, Barnave, Glaizen, the Abbes Grego.re, Sieyes,
and many others, and were unanimously decreed, i he
assembly, therefore, continued their sittings in the usual
form. On the following day the majority of the clergy
attended as members j and on the 25th the duke of
Orleans, along with 49 of the deputies belonging to
the order of nobles, joined them also. The remaining
nobles, as well as the small minority of the clergy, now
found themselves awkwardly situated. Whether on this
account, or because their leaders had by this time form¬
ed a plan for carrying their point not by peaceable
means but by the aid of a military force, the king,
on the 27tb, invited by a pressing letter both order#
.■aT!@e'
789.
1126
/tunng
1 ution of
V
N erous
MO OUS
pu ;a-
iis
to join the commons. This request was immediately
complied with, although many of the nobility disappro¬
ved of the measure.
The situation of France was now become truly alarm-
1, in§' Wh en the king retired from the assembly after
I! ice at the royal session, he was followed by more than 6000
I period, citizens, from whom loud clamours and every mark of
disapprobation broke forth. All Versailles was speedily
in an uproar. M. Neckar had repeatedly solicited his
dismission, and the report of this had increased the po¬
pular clamour. The court was in consternation. The
king probably discovered, with no great satisfaction,
that his minister was more popular than himself. At
six o’clock in the evening the queen sent for M. Nec¬
kar. When he returned from the palace, he assured the
crowd that waited for him that he would not abandon
them; upon which they retired satisfied. At the same
time the news of the royal session had thrown the city
of Paris into violent agitation. The peace of that ca¬
pital was at this time deranged by a variety of causes.
A dreadful famine raged through the land, which in a
great city is usually most severely felt. This prepared
the minds of men for receiving unfavourable impres¬
sions of their political state. Every effort was more¬
over made to disorganize the government, and pro¬
duce a dislike to the ancient order of things. The
press poured forth innumerable publications, filled with
new and seducing, though generally impracticable, theo¬
ries of liberty. These were distributed gratis among the
bulk of the people of Paris, and dispersed in the same
manner through the provinces. Philip duke of Or¬
leans) presumptive heir to the crown, failing the chil¬
dren and brothers of the king) is with good reason be¬
lieved to have supplied this expence out of his more
than royal revenues. In the gardens of the Palais
Royal at Paris, which belonged to him, an immense
multitude was daily assembled, listening from morning
to night to orators who descanted upon the most violent
subjects of popular politics. Many of these orators
were suspected to be in his pay. It was even believed
that his money found its way into the pockets of some
of the most distinguished leaders in the national as¬
sembly.
But the government was, if possible, still more dan-
WrjrnUl1" gerousIy assaulted by the methods now generally used
to seduce the military. Every officer of the French
army belonged to the order of the nobles ; and from
that quarter, therefore, it might have been imagined
that there was little danger. But this very circum¬
stance became the means of disorganizing that great
engine of despotism. As the soldiers could not avoid
imbibing some of the new opinions, their own officers
became the first objects of their jealousy ; especially in
consequence of that impolitic edict of Louis XVI.
which required every officer to produce proofs of four
degrees of nobility ; and thus insulted, by avowedly
excluding the private men from promotion. Perhaps
with a view to what might happen, the instructions to
the deputies of the tiers etat had recommended an in¬
crease of the pay of the soldiers. And now at Paris
every art was used to gain them to the popular cause.
They were conducted to the Palais Royal, and were
there caressed and flattered by the populace, while they
listened to the popular harangues. These arts were
sucpessful. On the 23d of June they first refused to
FRANCE. U5
fire on the mob in a not. Some of them were on the France
30th reported to be in confinement for this offence ; a ^
I
Sec.ition
crowd instantly collected, and rescued them, the dra- *789*
goons that were brought to suppress the tumult ground¬
ing their arms. A deputation of the citizens solicited
of the assembly the pardon of the prisoners. The as¬
sembly applied to the king, who pardoned them accord-
ingly'
All these events, together with the tumultuous state'Fhe mil:-
of the capital, which was daily increasing, made it ne-tm'y called
cessary for the king to call out the military force to0111,
restore, if possible, the public peace. That his inten¬
tions were pure, the then state of affairs will permit
no man but a democrat to doubt; but the aristocracy,
with the Count d’Artois at their head, were bringing
forward other measures, which ultimately contributed
to the ruin of themselves, the king, and the kingdom.
Crowds of soldiers were collected from ail parts of the
kingdom around Paris and Versailles. It was ob¬
served that these consisted chiefly of foreign merce¬
naries. Camps were traced out. Marshal Broglio,
a tried veteran, was sent for and placed at the head of
the army. The king was supposed to have entirely
yielded to new counsels, and every thing bore the
appearance of a desperate effort to restore the energy
of the ancient government. This is the most impor¬
tant period of the French revolution ; yet the specific
designs of the leading actors have never been clearly
understood. It was rumoured at the time, that Paris
was to be subdued by a siege and bombardment; that
the assembly was to be dissolved, and its leaders put
to death. These are incredible exaggerations; but
the crisis of French liberty was universally regarded
as at hand, and also the existence of the national as¬
sembly as an independent body ; or at least upon any
other footing than that proposed by the king on the 23d
of June.
An able and eloquent address to the king against the Th^assem-
assemblage of foreign troops in their neighbourhood Wy addre««
was brought forward by Mirabeau, and voted by thelhe king to
assembly. The king properly replied, that the state of[!^ve
the capital was the cause of assembling the troops, andwhichi»
offered to transfer the states-general toNoyons or Sois-refused,
sons. “We will neither remove (exclaimed Mirabeau)
to Noyons or to Soissons ; we will not place ourselves
between two hostile armies, that which is besieging Pa¬
ris, and that which may fall upon us through Flanders
or Alsace; we have not asked permission to run away
from the troops ; we have desired that the troops should
be removed from the capital.”
Thirty-five thousand men were now stationed in the
neighbourhood of Paris and Versailles. The posts were
occupied which commanded the city, and camps were
marked out for a greater force. The Count d’Artois
and his party regarded their plans as ripe for execu¬
tion ; and M. Neckar received a letter from the king,
requiring him to quit the kingdom in 24 hours. That
popular minister took the route of Brussels on the
following day, when his departure was made public.
Jn his dismission the popular, or, as it was now called,
the democratic party, thought they saw the resolution 2~,
adopted to accomplish their ruin. The assembly again Tiiey again
addressed the throne ; they requested anew the removal address
of the troops, offering to be responsible for the public >
peace, and to proceed in a body to Paris to encoun-
P 3 ter
n<5
FRANCE.
France.
789.
and are
aga:n re¬
fused.
SJ3
Decree of
the assem¬
bly in con-
sequence.
234
Consterna¬
tion in Pa¬
ris on Nec-
kar’s re¬
treat.
235
Cruelty of
the Praice
De I.a in-
besq.
X36
Terror in
the eity
universal.
ter personally every clanger that might occur. But
they were coolly told, that the king was the best judge
of the mode of employing the troops, and that the pre¬
sence of the assembly was necessary at Versailles. From
a sovereign who doubtless recollected the proceedings
of the long parliament oi England, a different re¬
ply could not in reason be expected. On receiv¬
ing it, however, it was instantly decreed, on the mo¬
tion of the marquis de la layette, that the late mi¬
nistry had carried with them the confidence of the as¬
sembly ; that the troops ought to he removed ; that the
ministry are and shall be responsible to the people
for their conduct j that the assembly persisted in all its
former decrees 5 and that as it had taken the public
debt under the protection of the nation, no power in
France was entitled to pronounce the infamous word
bankruptcy.
The city of Paris was thrown into deep consterna¬
tion by the news of M. Neckar’s retreat. His bust
and that of the duke d’Orleans were dressed in mourn-
inc, and carried through the streets. T-he royal Alle-
mandj a German regiment, broke in pieces the busts,
and dispersed the populace. The prince de Lambesq,
orand ecuyer of France, was ordered to advance with
his regiment of cavalry, and take post at the Thuille-
ries. Being a man of a violent temper, and enraged
by the appearances of disapprobation which were visible
around him, he furiously cut down with his sword a
poor old man who was walking peaceably in the gar¬
dens. The consequences of this act of inhumanity were
such as might have been expected j a shout of execra¬
tion instantly arose •, the cry to arms was heard ; the
military w’ere assaulted on all sides ', the Irench guards
joined their countrymen, and compelled the Germans,
overpowered by numbers, and unsupported by the rest
of the army, to retire.
All order was now at an end, and as night approach¬
ed an universal terror diffused itself through the city.
Bands of robbers were colleciing ; and from them or
from the foreign soldiery a general pillage was expected.
The night passed away in consternation and tumult. It
was found in the morning that the hospital of St La-
zare was already plundered. T he alarm bells were rung j
the citizens assembled at the Hotel de Vibe, and adopt¬
ed a proposal that was there made, of enrolling them¬
selves as a militia for general defence, under the appel¬
lation of the national guard. This day and the succeed-
in(T night were spent in tolerable quietness, without
anv attempt on the part of the army. On the morn¬
ing of the memorable 14th of July, it was discovered
that the troops encamped in the Champs Elisees had
moved off, and an immediate assault was expected.
The national guard now amounted to 150,000 men j
but they were in general destitute of arms. T hey had
assumed a areen cockade ; but on recollecting that
this was the livery of the Count d’Artois, they adopted
one of red, blue, and white. M, de la Salle was na¬
med commander in chief, officers were chosen, and de¬
tachments sent round in quest of arms. In the Hotel
des Invalides upwards of 30,000 stand of arms were
found, along with 20 pieces of cannon •, a variety oi
weapons was also procured from the garde meuble de
la couronne, and from the shops of armourers, cutlers,
The celebrated fortress of the Bastile was an object
of much jealousy to the Parisians. At 11 0 clock in Franc?,
the morning, TVL de la liosiere, at the head ol a nume- -
rous deputation, waited upon INI. de Eaunay the go-
vernor, who promised, along with the ofliceis of 237
garrison, that they would not fire upon the city unless^***-,
they should be attacked. But a report was soon spread ed .
through Paris, that M. de Launay had, in a short time
thereafter, admitted into the fortress a multitude of
persons, and then treacherously massacred them. The
cause of this piece of perfidy has never been explained.
The fact itself has been denied ; but it was attested at
the time by the duke of Dorset, the British ambassa¬
dor at the court of France. The effect of the report
was, that a sudden resolution was adopted of assaulting
the Bastile $ an immense and furious multitude rushed
into its outer, and soon forced their way into its inner
courts, where they received and returned a severe fire
for the space of an hour. The French guards, who
were now embodied into the national guard, conducted
the attack with skill and coolness •, they dragged three
waggons loaded with straw to the foot of the walls,
and there set them on fire; the smoke of these broke
the aim of the garrison, while it gave no disturbance
to the more distant assailants. Jbe besieging multi¬
tude pressed the attack with incredible obstinacy and
vigour , for the space of four hours ; the garrison was
in confusion ; the officers served the cannon in per¬
son, and fired their muskets in the ranks ; the governor,
in despair, thrice attempted to blow up the fortress. ^
A capitulation, when at last sought, was refused to thean(}sljN
garrison, and an unconditional surrender took place, rendered
The governor, and M. de Losme Salbrai his major, a uncondi-
gentleman of distinguished humanity and honour, be- Iona J'
came victims of popular fury in spite of every effort
that could be made for their protection ; but the French
guards succeeded in procuring the safety of the garrison.
Only seven prisoners were found in the Bastile. A
guard was placed in it, and the keys were sent to the
celebrated M. Brissot de Warville, who a few years
before had inhabited one of its caverns.
The remaining part of this eventful day was spent
at Paris in a mixture of triumph and alarm. In the
pocket of the governor of the Bastile a letter was found,
enconraging him to resistance by the promise of speedy
succours, written by M. de Flesselles, the prevot des
marchands, or chief city magistrate, who had pretend¬
ed to be a most zealous patriot. This piece of trea¬
chery was punished by instant death ; and his bloody
head was carried through the city on a pole, along with
that of M. de Launay. At the approach of night a
body of troops advanced towards the city, at the Bar-
riere d’Enfer. The new national guard hurried thither,
preceded by a train of artillery, and the troops withdrew
upon the first fire : barricadoes were everywhere form¬
ed, the alarm-bells were rung, and a general illumina¬
tion continued during the whole of this night of confu¬
sion.
. . . . • 2JJ
In the mean time, it was obvious that the new mini- A new s
stry were entering upon a difficult scene of action, nistryap-
where one false step might lead to ruin, and where pointcd'
their own plan of conduct ought to be maturely digest¬
ed. Marshal Broglio was made minister of war, the
baron de Breteuil president of finance, M. de ia Gale-
ziere comptroller-general, M. de la Porte intendant of
the war department, and M. Foulon intendant of the
navy;
FRA
navy, but these were only meant to act as ofiicial men,
under the Count d’Artois, and the other leaders of the
aristocracy. To these leaders there did not even remain
a choice of difficulties •, no resource was left but that of
overawing by military power the national assembly and
the capital, and of risking the desperate measure of a
national bankruptcy, which the court had not formerly
dared to encounter, and to avoid which it had convok¬
ed the states-general. No trace remains, however, of
any attempts to put this criminal, but last resource, in
execution. The evening after the departure of M.
Neckar was spent by the court of Versailles in feasting
and joy, as if a victory had been gained. The courtiers
of both sexes went round among the soldiery, striving
to secure their fidelity by caresses, largesses, and every
species of flattering attention. The ministry not only
failed to support the Prince de Lambesq in the post
which he had been sent to occupy, but they suffered
the whole of the 13th to pass in indecision, while the
capital was in a state of rebellion, while an army was
formally mustering within its walls, and the names of
the principal nobility were put up in lists of proscrip¬
tions. They received the news of the capture of the
Bastile with confusion and dismay, which were increa¬
sed, if possible, by information given by Marshal Brog-
lio, that the troops refused to act against Paris or the
national assembly. In this perplexity they adopted the
miserable device of concealing from the king the state
of public aflairs •, and that unfortunate prince was thus
• perhaps the only person out of millions around him who
remained ignorant of the convulsions in which his coun¬
try was involved.
At length, at midnight, the duke de Liancourt
forced his way into the king’s apartment, and told him
of the revolt of his capital, of his army, and of the sur¬
render of the fortress of the Bastile. The Count d’Ar-
tois, who was present, still attempted to retain the mo¬
narch under his fatal delusion; but the duke de Lian¬
court turning round, exclaimed, “ As for you, Sir,
your life can only be saved by instant flight; I have
seen with horror your name in the bloody list of the
proscribed.” Accordingly the count, with the mem¬
bers of his short-lived administration and their adhe¬
rents, fled to the frontiers. And thus an emigration
commenced, the source of that terrible contest which
has covered Lurope with bloodshed and mourning.
This ministry had, no doubt, many difficulties to con¬
tend against j but an accurate attention to their con¬
duct excites a suspicion which, while it exculpates them
from many intended crimes that have been laid to their
charge, at the same time does little honour to their ta¬
lents. It is this, that they had come into office with¬
out having formed any clear plan of conduct; that they
were men acting without decision and at random, and
consequently became the sport of those events which
they wanted skill and vigour to direct or controul. By
their introduction into office, and their misconduct while
m it, the royal authority fell prostrate before the popu¬
lar party in the national assembly. The nobles and
the clergy still remained, but confounded in one assem¬
bly with the more numerous order of the tiers etat; and
no longer rallying round a throne that was too feeble
to afford protection, they soon yielded to that fierce
and levelling spirit of democracy that now rose around
them.
N C E.
^ But the person of the monarch was still beloved. 
Early next morning the king went to the assembly, but
with none of the usual solemnities. He “regretted the 1789.
commotions of the capital, disavowed any knowledge 'z4l
Ot an intention against the persons of the deputies, and king'
intimated that he had commanded the removal of the
troops.” A deep and expressive silence prevailed fora0 ^ )’
few moments ; this was succeeded by vehement and uni¬
versal shouts of applause. 'I be king rose to depart,
and instantly the whole assembly crowded around, and
attended him to his palace. The queen appeared at a
balcony with the dauphin in her arms; the music play¬
ed the pathetic air of Or/ pent on etre nueux c[u\iu seiu
de sa famille. The enthusiasm of loyalty communicated
itself to the surrounding multitudes, and nothing was
heard but acclamations of joy. 15
. 0n th? following day, the king declared his resolu- And "next
tion to visit the city of Paris in person. Accordingly day visits
that prince, who never wanted personal courage, how-the .cit.y ot
ever deficient he might be in political stedfastness, set
out, attended by some members of the assembly and by ' ’
the militia of Versailles. He was met by the celebra¬
ted M. de la Fayette, at the bead of a body of the na¬
tional guard, of which he had now been chosen com¬
mander in chief. M. Bailly, in whose person the an¬
cient office of mayor of Paris had been revived, recei¬
ved the king at the gates, and delivered to him the
keys. All this while no shout was heard from the crowd
of innumerable spectatoi's but that of Vive la nation.
The king advanced to the Hotel de Ville, where the
new cockade was presented to him, which he put on,
and presented himself with it at the window. At the
sight of tills badge of patriotism an universal shout of
Vive le Roi burst forth from every quarter ; and he re¬
turned to Versailles amidst general triumph and ap¬
plause. r
Much confusion still prevailed in the capital; but in which
there was more appearance of regularity than could have much co11-
been expected at the conclusion of such important fns,on.sli11
events. This arose from a casual concurrence of cir-pievai!c<i*
cumstances. To conduct with ease the elections to the
states general, Paris had been divided into 60 districts,
each of which had a separate place of meeting. The
people did not elect the members to the states-general ;
but they chose delegates, who under the name of elec¬
tors, voted for the members. At the commencement
of the disturbances, the electors, at the request of their
fellow-citizens, assumed a temporary authority; of which
however they were soon weary, and as soon as possible
procured the public election of 120 persons as munici¬
pal officers for the government of the city. The citi¬
zens having got the habit of assembling in their districts,
grew fond of it: they assembled frequently, made rules
for their own government, and sent commissioners to
communicate with other districts. The tumultuous na¬
ture of these meetings, and the vehemence of debate
which prevailed in them, will best be conceived from
the ludicrous contrivance of one of their presidents
who stationed a drummer at the back of his chair, and
when the confusion and noise became altogether ungo¬
vernable, gave the signal for beating the drum, which
speedily overpowered every other noise. These meet¬
ings, however, gradually ripened into clubs, in which
much dexterity and intrigue were exerted.
The whole of the late ministx-y escaped excepting M.
Foulmu
118
FRANCE.
Fiance.
1789.
444
Fate of M
F oulon,
»ud I?er-
thier.
Neckar’
return.
Foulon. His character, it may well be imagined, was
extremely unpopular; for he is said to have asserted,
that he would “ make the people of Paris eat hay.
He had retired to the country, but was seized by bis
own vassals, and brought to Paris with a bundle ot bay
tied on his back. In spite of every effort made by M. M.
Bailly and Payette to procure him a fair trial at least,
he was carried to the Place de Greve, and hanged at a
lamp-iron by the enraged multitude. His son-in-law,
M. Berthier, attempting to defend himself against a
similar fate, fell, covered with wounds. Their heads
were carried round on poles ; and thus the populace
became habituated to the sight of blood and murder :
they were even taught by popular songs to glory in
such actions, and particularly by the well known song
Ca-ira. ... r 1 > • tvt
Consequen- l'1 consequence of an invitation from the king, M.
ee* of iVI. Neckar returned to France. He was received by the
assembly with great applause, and in Paris with infinite
solemnity and triumph. He here, however, committed
a political error that made some noise. In deploring
the late excesses and murders, and taking notice of
the arrest of M. Bezenval, an officer of the Swiss
guards, he requested of the electors at the Hotel de
Ville, in a solemn harangue, that the past should be for¬
gotten ; that proscriptions should cease, and a general
amnesty be proclaimed. In a moment of enthusiasm
this was agreed to, and the electors decreed what un¬
questionably exceeded their powers. The districts of
Paris were instantly in commotion; the electors alarm¬
ed, declared that they only meant that “ henceforth the
.people would punish no man but according to law
and at the same time, to prove that they themselves
were free from ambition, they formally renounced all
their own powers. The assembly took up the question.
Bally Tolendal, Mounier, Clermont Tonnerre, Garat
junior, and others, declared that no person ought to be
arrested without a formal accusation ; while Mirabeau,
Kobespierre, Barnave, and Gleizen, alleged, on the
contrary, that the people were entitled to lay hold of
any man who had publicly appeared at the head of
their enemies. The debate ended, by admitting the
explanation of the electors, and by a declaration that it
was the duty of the assembly to see justice executed in
nil cases.
The commotions and enthusiasm of the capital were
speedily communicated to the provinces. In every
&e. of the qUarter the people seized upon all the arms that could
-Pital foun(j, and the military uniformly refused to act
ororinces against them. Many acts of outrage were committed
V in Brittany, at Strasburg, in the Lyonnois, and else¬
where, in which the nobility were the sufferers. The
mischiefs that occurred were usually magnified at a dis¬
tance ; but that very circumstance was an additional
evil. For example : It was stated in the National As-
- sembly that M. de Mesrnay, lord of Quincey, invited a
number of patriots, among whom were the officers of a
neighbouring garrison, to a splendid entertainment at
his house, to celebrate the happy union of the three
orders : That in the midst of the feast the master of the
house contrived to withdraw unnoticed, and to set fire
to a train previously laid, which communicated with a
quantity of gunpowder in the cellars, in consequence
of which, the whole company, by a sudden explosion,
were blown into the air. It was found on inquiry,
:S!i
*47
146
The com¬
motions.
that there was not one word of truth in the whole story.
But before this inquiry could be made, all France
had resounded with accounts of the pretended bloody
tragedy ; and the whole nobility of the kingdom suffer¬
ed in a less or greater degree, from the prejudices ex¬
cited by this unhappy report, the origin of which has
never been well explained. It would be\ain to state all
the idle rumours to which at this time the blind credu¬
lity of the multitude gave currency. At one time, the
aristocrats were cutting down the green corn ; at an¬
other time they were burying flour in common sewers,
or casting loaves into the Seine. One report was no
sooner proved to be false than another arose, and the
whole nation was agitated by suspicion and alarm. The
National Assembly were engaged in framing their cele¬
brated declaration" of the rights of man, which was to
form the basis of the new constitution, when the alarm¬
ing accounts received from all quarters, of the state of
anarchy into which the kingdom was falling, obliged
them suddenly to turn their attention to objects of prac¬
tical necessity. The privileged orders found themselves
become the objects of universal jealousy and hatred ;
and that something must instantly be done to save their
families and property, which were menaced on every
side with persecution and pillage. Begarding the po¬
pular torrent as now become irresistible, to save some¬
thing they resolved to sacrifice a part.
On the afternoon sitting of the 4th of August, the Viscount:
Viscount de Noailles, seconded by the Duke d’Aguil-NoaiUe.
Ion, opened one of the most important scenes in the 1
French Revolution, or in the history of any country.pr0p019
These noblemen stated, that the true cause of the com-that
motions which convulsed the kingdom existed in the mi¬
sery of the people, who groaned under the double op-
pressien of public contributions and of feudal services.
“ For three months (said M. de Noailles) the people
have beheld us engaged in verbal disputes, while their
own attention and their wishes are directed only to
things. What is the consequence? They are armed to
reclaim their rights, and they see no prospect of obtain¬
ing them but by force.” He therefore proposed to do
justice, as the shortest way of restoring tranquillity, and
for that purpose to decree, that henceforth every tax tie taiei
should be imposed in proportion to the wealth of thesio^*1-
contributors, and that no order of the state should be
exempted from the payment of public burdens; thatweaithoi
feudal claims should be redeemed at a fair valuation ;thec8iw
but that such claims as consisted of personal services onbston.
the part of the vassal should be abolished without com¬
pensation, as contrary to the imprescriptible rights of
man. The extensive possessions of the noblemen who
made these proposals added much lustre to the disinte¬
rested sacrifice which they afforded. Their speeches
were received with the most enthusiastic applauses by
the Assembly and the galleries, and their proposals
were decreed by acclamation without a vote. No na¬
tion is so much led by the influence of sudden emotions
as the French. The patriotic contagion now spread
fast through every breast, and a contest of generosity
ensued. The hereditary jurisdictions possessed by the
nobles within their own territories were next sacrificed,
All places and pensions granted by the court were sup-
pressed, unless granted as the reward of merit or of ac» The ^
tual services. The game laws, which condemned the
husbandman, under severe penalties, to leave his proper- aW'1 {
ty
14S
FRANCE.
ranee.
450
•ny an-
ty a prey to infinite multitudes of animals reserved for
pastime, had always been numbered among the severe
grievances of the French peasantry. These were there¬
fore renounced, along with the exclusive rights of rab¬
bit warrens, fisheries, and dovecots. The sale of offi¬
ces was abolished, and the fees exacted from the poor,
together with the privilege of holding a plurality of
ni} livings, were relinquished by the clergy. The deputies
at priri- of the. Pais d'Etat, or privileged provinces, with the
esare deputies of Dauphincat their head, next came forward,
render^ ant^ °^ere^ a surrender of their ancient privileges, re¬
questing that the kingdom might no longer remain par¬
celled out among Dauphinois, Bretons, Piovengaux, &c.
hut that they should all form one great mass of French
citizens. They were followed by the representatives of
Paris, Marseilles, Lyons, Bourdeaux, Strasbourg, &c.
who requested leave to renounce all their separate pri¬
vileges as incorporations, for the sake of placing every
man and every village in the nation upon a footing of
equality. Thus the assembly proceeded, till every
member had exhausted his'imagination upon the subject
of reform. To close the whole, the Due de Liancourt
proposed that a solemn Te Deum should be performed,
that a medal should be struck in commemoration of the
events of that night; and that the title of Restorer
of Gallic Liberty should be bestowed upon the
reigning monarch. A deputation was accordingly ap¬
pointed to wait upon the king, respectfully to inform
,jj him of the decrees.
1i« and Several succeeding days were necessary to form into
r« tmes of laws the decrees of the 4th August, and committees were
UAagy appointed to make out reports for that purpose. One of
w“ " these reports having included the tithes and revenues of
the clergy among the abuses that were to be done away,
and having proposed in lieu of them to grant a certain
stipend to the different ministers of religion to be pay¬
able by the nation, the clergy attempted to make a
stand in defence of their property, and violent debates
ensued. In these they were ably supported by the Abbe
Sieyes: but as the clergy had formerly deserted the
nobles, so they were now in their turn abandoned to
their fate by the hereditary aristocracy. The popular
party had long regarded the wealth of the church as
an easy resource for supplying the wants of the state.?—
Never was there a more complete proof of the influence
of opinion over the affairs of men. The Catholic
clergy of France, though possessed of more property
than they enjoyed at the time when princes took up
arms or laid them down at their command, now found
so few defenders, that they were terrified into a volun¬
tary surrender of all that they and their predecessors
had possessed for ages. In their overthrow, they scarce¬
ly enjoyed even the barren honour of having fallen the
last of those privileged orders that so long had ruled
over this ancient kingdom. They and the nobles, and
the king, still possessed their former titles and nominal
dignity; but all of them were now subdued, and at the
mercy of the commons of France, who speedily dis¬
missed them at their pleasure.
As a short season of tranquillity In the Court and the
National Assembly succeeded these great popular sacrL
ices, the king laid hold of it as a fit opportunity for
^ appointment of a new ministry. They consisted
ointli j tl,e archbishop of Vienne, the archbishop of Bour¬
deaux, M. Neckar, the Count de St Priest, Count de
lr9
Montmonn, the Count de la Luzerne, and the Count Franrr
de la four du 1 in Paulin. M. Neckar, as minister of
finance, having stated the distressed situation of the re- I 789.
venue, presented the plan of a loan of thirty millions *53
of livres. But M. Mirabeau, from a spirit of rivalship Who fi0'1
as it would seem, to M. Neckar, prevailed with the as-r^1 dl1’
sembly to alter and to narrow the conditions of it in raUingrao-
such a degree that very few subscribers were found, and «ey.
the loan could not be filled up. This failure involved
the assembly in a considerable degree of unpopularity :
m consequence of which they allowed M. Neckar to
prescribe his own terms for the purpose of obtaining a
loan of eighty millions. But the happy instant of pub¬
lic confidence had been allowed to pass away, and this
loan was never more than half filled up. Recourse was
next had to patriotic contributions j and great numbers
of gold rings, silver buckles, and pieces of plate, were
presented to the assembly. The royal family them¬
selves sent their plate to the mint, either to give counte¬
nance to these donations, or, as M. Neckar has since
asserted, through absolute necessity, for the purpose of
supporting themselves and their family. The confusion
into which the nation had been thrown by the late
events had produced a suspension of the payment of all
1 jlere existed, in iact, no efficient government;
and if society escaped entire dissolution, it was merely
in consequence of those habits of order which are pro¬
duced by a state of long continued civilization. The
business of government could not be transacted without
money, and many vain efiorts were made by the mini¬
stry to procure it. At length M. Neckar was driven
to the desperate resource of proposing a compulsorxj loan
or that every individual possessed ofproperty should ad¬
vance to the state a sum equal to one-fourth of his an¬
nual income. This bold proposition was supported by
Mirabeau, and adopted by the assembly; but it does
not appear to have ever been effectually executed.
. th.e mefn time* the assembly was busily occupied Discustioa
in framing the celebrated declaration of the Rights ofon ‘he
Man, which was afterwards prefixed to the new consti- RighU °f
tution. This was followed by the discussion of a pointMO”’
of much delicacy and difficulty ; viz. What share of le¬
gislative authority the king ought to possess under the
new constitution : whether an absolute negative or veto,and^be
a suspensive veto, or no veto at all ? This questinn opera- king’* veto.
ted like a touchstone for trying the sentiments of every
person ; and the assembly, consisting of 1200 men,
was now seen to arrange itself into two violent contend¬
ing tactions. The debates were vehement and tumul¬
tuous, and continued for many days. As the assembly
satin public, and as multitudes of people of all descrip¬
tions were admitted into the galleries, and even into
the body of the hall among the members, many inde¬
cent scenes took place in consequence of the interfe¬
rence of the spectators to applaud or censure the senti¬
ments which were delivered. Thus the public at large
became speedily interested in the discussion ; the city
of Paris took a side in opposition to the veto, and the
whole empire was thrown into agitation by new and
speculative questions. The distinguished place which
Fiance holds among the nations of Europe rendered
these singular events and discussions the object of uni¬
versal attention. The contagious love of novelty spread
rapidly abroad, and gave rise to that well-founded jea¬
lousy on the part of the monarchs of Europe, which
was
I 20
FRANCE.
F ranee.
1789.
was speedily to burst forth in a bloody tempest.—In
the present case, the people of Paris became most eagei-
ly interested. Rumours of plots were spread through
the country, and a new storm was obviously gathering,
when the question was thus got quit of. M. Mouniei
remarked, that the executive power could possess no
negative against the decrees of the present assembly,
which had been nominated by tbe nation with supreme
powers for the express purpose of framing a constitu¬
tion, which was to remain binding over all orders ot men
in the state •, and with regard to future legislatures, the
king declared by a message, that he wished to possess
no more than a suspensive veto. It is remarkable that
the popular Mirabeau concluded a speech in favoui o^
the absolute veto of the crown with these words,
“ That it would be better to live in Constantinople,
than in France, if laws could be made without the
royal sanction.” This political adventurer is, however,
accused of having taken care to circulate in Pans a re¬
port that he had opposed the veto with all his influ¬
ence ; and to give credit to the story, he is said to have
quitted the assembly just before tbe division, that his
vote might not appear on record against it.
The month of August was spent in the debates about
v-6 the veto; and in the beginning of September a new
Discussion constitutional question was presented to the assembly by
about the one 0f jts numerous committees. This was, Whether
legislative the leg;siative body, ought to consist of one or of two
K'"11'- chambers? Mourner, Lally Tollendal, Clermont Ton-
ought to nerre, and others, who were zealous lovers ot tree-
consist of dom upon what were then accounted moderate prin-
one or two • |es SUpp0rted eagerly the idea of establishing two
chambers. indep’ndent chambers in imitation of the British con¬
stitution •, but they were deserted both by the democra¬
tic and aristocratic parties. The first of these regarded
an upper house or senate as a refuge for the old aristo¬
cracy, or as the cradle of a new one j while the higher
nobles and clergy feared lest such an arrangement might
prevent the future re-establishment of the ancient divi¬
sion into three orders. Of 1000 members who voted,
only 89 supported the proposal for dividing the legisla¬
ture into two chambers.
The royal Soon after this the king gave his sanction to the
dilating a report that a plot for conveying the king to ^ France,.
Metz was already ripe for execution. v—.
From the period of tbe defection of the French 1789,
guards, who were now in the pay of the capital, the 259
protection of the royal family had been entrusted to
the militia or national guard of Versailles, together miUualt.|
with the regiment of the gardes du corps, which was louties.
composed entirely of gentlemen. Upon the circula¬
tion of the report of the intended flight of the king,
the French guards began to wish to be restored to
tbeir ancient employment of attending his person, for
the purpose of preventing any attempt of this nature.
This idea was eagerly cherished by the capital; and,
in spite of every effort used by M. de la Fayette, the
obvious appearance of approaching disturbances could
not be prevented. The popular party saw the advan¬
tages which they would derive from placing the assem¬
bly and the king in the midst of that turbulent ^metro-
polis which had given birth to the revolution, and
upon the attachment of which they could most securely
depend. Every encouragement was therefore given
by the most active leaders of what was now called the
Democratic party to the project of establishing the court
at Paris. The ministry were under no small degree of
alarm; and the count d’ Estaing, who commanded the
national guard of Versailles, requested the aid of an
additional regiment. The regiment of Flanders was
accordingly sent for: its arrival caused no small de¬
gree of anxiety 5 and every effort was instantly made
to gain over both officers and soldiers to the popular
cause.
On the first of October the gardes du corps, probably
for the purpose of ingratiating themselves with the new¬
ly arrived regiment, and perhaps to attach them more
steadily to the royal cause, invited the officers of the
regiment of Flanders to a public entertainment. Seve¬
ral officers of the national guard, and others of the mi¬
litary were invited. The entertainment was given in
the opera house adjoining to the palace j several loyal
toasts were drank: hut it is asserted, that when the fa¬
vourite popular toast The Nation was given, it was
rejected by the gardes du corps. In ordinary cases,
such a trifling circumstance as this, or even any other
sanotion
important decrees 0^71^ August, but not with- of the transactions of a night of festivity, would justly
important    • JV. , . nf •, i,e regarded as unworthy of notice in recording the
of the 4th
August,
See'.
granted to oufc Some hesitation, and expressing doubts ot the wis
the decrees dom of some 0f them in a letter to the assembly. At
.w -ti’ same time tbe inviolability of the person of the mo¬
narch was decreed, the indivisibility of the throne, and
its hereditary descent from male to male in tne reigning
family. But we shall not here attempt to enter into a
detail of the various articles of the new constitution as
connected with the circumstances under which they be¬
came the subject of debate. We shall only state those
more remarkable circumstances which tend to ascertain
the peculiar changes which the sentiments of the nation
underwent in the progress of a revolution the most re¬
markable that occurs in human history.
In consequence of the debates upon the questions of
the veto and the two chambers, the minds of parties
had become much irritated. Paris wore the same
threatening aspect that it had done in the months of
June and of July preceding j and every thing seemed
tendino- towards an important crisis. rlhe aristocratic
party accused their antagonists of a design to excite
new insurrections $ and the charge was retoited, by cir-
3
*55
State of
parties 4U
.Paris.
be regarded as unworthy of notice in recording the
more remarkable events in the history of a great na¬
tion j but such was now the singular state of affairs,
that the most trivial occurrences were instrumental, by
their combination, in the production of important con¬
sequences. The queen, having seen from a window of
the palace the gaiety which prevailed among the mili¬
tary, prevailed with the king, who was just returned
from hunting, to visit them along with herself and the
dauphin. Their sudden appearance in the saloon kin¬
dled in an instant the ancient enthusiasm of French
loyalty. The grenadiers of the regiment of Flanders
along with the Swiss chasseurs, had been admitted to
the dessert *, and they, as well as their officers, drank
the health of the King, Queen, and Dauphin, with their
swords drawn. The royal family having bowed with po¬
liteness to the company, retired. Of all nations, the
French are most liable to the influence of sudden im¬
pressions : the music played the favourite air, 0, Ricard-
O monRoi!Vuniverst'abandonne, ‘^O Richard! O my
king! the world abandons thee.”
In the eagerness of
loyalty
121
France.
loyalty, the national cockade, which had been adopted
- by some of the gardes du corps, was thrown aside, and
white cockades were supplied as quickly as they could
be made by the ladies of the court.
When these events were next day reported at Paris,
accompanied by a multitude of exaggerations, they
gave rise to the most violent alarm. The capital was
at that time suffering all the horrors of famine ; and in
such a situation, the news of a feast which others have
enjoyed, seldom gives much pleasure to hungry men.
To the former report of an intended flight on the part
of the royal family, it was now added, that a counter
revolution was speedily to be attempted by force of
arms •, and that the present scarcity was artificially cre¬
ated by the court for the purpose of reducing the peo¬
ple to submission. Their aristocratic antagonists have
since asserted, that the famine was indeed artificial j but
that it was created by a portion of the violent party in
the national assembly, which was then denominated the
Caia/, whose object was to excite commotions as the
means of procuring an opportunity of setting the duke
of Orleans at the head of the state, either as regent, or
in some other form. To this last party Mirabeau is
said to have belonged. »
For four days no notice was taken in the assembly
of what had passed at the entertainment given by the
gardes du corps. On the 5th of October M. Petion
mentioned it for the first time, and a violent debate
ensued ; during which Mirabeau rose and exclaimed,
Declare that the king’s person alone is sacred, and I
myself will bring forward an impeachment}” thereby
alluding to the conduct of the queen. While this de¬
bate was proceeding at Versailles, the city of Paris was
in commotion. A vast multitude of women of the
lowest rank, with some men in women’s clothes, had
.ubjvvcsi assemkled at the Hotel de Vide, and were calling aloud
ra march ^or arms and bread. They resolved to proceed instantly
^ Versailles to demand bread from the king and from
the national assembly. Da Fayette opposed them in
FRANCE.
789.
to lay their complaints before the king. His majesty France
received the whole with great politeness, and readily ' 
agreed to go into any measures for the supply of the
capital that could be suggested. The report of this
behaviour had such an effect upon the multitude col¬
lected around the palace, that they began to disperse ;
but they were speedily succeeded by another crowd not
less numerous. A sudden resolution of flight seems
now to have been proposed by the court; for the king’s
carriages were brought to the gate of the palace which
communicates with the orangery: but the national
guard of Versailles refused to allow them to pass, and
the king himself refused to remove, or to allow anv
blood to be shed in his cause.
162
La Fayette with his army at length arrived about La Favettc
10 o clock at night, and found the assembly in a verv "ith his
! :5o
A :lti-
tu of
wten of|
tli west
to
sai x
vain
for his own soldiers refused to turn their bayonets
against the women. Upon this one Stanislaus Mail-
lard, who had distinguished himself at the taking of the
Bastile, offered himself as a leader to the insurgents.
He had the address to prevail with them to lay'aside
such arms as they had procured ; and he set out for
Versailles about noon with as much order among his fol¬
lowers as could well be expected from such an assem¬
blage. Either because the passion for going to V
’«d M,d
1 def
ion t t!ie
issent
sailles had suddenly become too infectious to be resist¬
ed, or because the multitude already gone thither was
^r> a(-C0Unte^ ^'JS61'0118* the mayor and municipality
of Paris thought fit to give orders to La Fayette in¬
stantly to set out for that place at the head of the na¬
tional guard.
In the mean time, Maillard approached Versailles
with his tumultuous troop ; he arranged them in three
divisions, and persuaded them to behave with tolerable
decency. The king was hunting in the woods of
Mendon when he was informed of the arrival of a most
formidable band of women calling aloud for bread.
Alas (replied he) if I had it, I should not wait to
be asked.” Maillard entered the assembly accompa¬
nied by a deputation of his followers to state the ob¬
ject of their journey. The assembly, to pacify them,
sent a deputation of their own number along with them
' OL. 1A. Part I. j.
_ 0 .   —^..,bly in a very
unpleasant situation. Their hall and galleries were arn'y
crowded by the Parisian fish-women and others of the vaCh<m
mob who, at every instant, interrupted the debates.
La Fayette waited upon the king, and informed him
of the proceedings of the day, planted guards in every
quarter; and after a scanty banquet had been procured
for the multitude, he prevailed with the assembly to
close their sitting for the night. In this last part of
lus conduct M. la Fayette has been much censured,
and probably not without reason ; for it could scarcely
be expected that such a night would be spent in peace
by the immense assemblage of turbulent characters that
were now brought together. All was quiet, however, Desperate
till about six in the morning of the 6th, when a great atten.pt on
number of women and desperate persons rushed forwardt,]e <lueen-
to the palace, and attempted to force their way into it.
Two of the gardes du corps were killed ; the crowd
ascended the stair leading to the queen’s apartment
but were bravely resisted by M. Miemandre a sentinel’
who gave the alarm, and defended his post till he fell
covered with wounds, of which, however, he afterward?
fortunately recovered. The ruffians, reeking with his
blood, rushed into the chamber of the queen, and pier¬
ced with bayonets and poniards the bed whence this
persecuted woman had but just time to fly almost naked,
and, through ways unknown to the murderers, had es¬
caped to seek refuge at the feet of the king, who was
already alarmed, and had gone to seek her. ,,.,4
.The tumult became more violent every moment, and The royal
sudden death seemed to threaten the royal family ; but s:i'
La Fayette was by this time at the head of his troops !ed hy
whom be beseeched earnestly to save the gardes du 'eUe’
corps from massacre. In this he was successful ; some
that had been taken prisoners were surrounded by the
grenadiers of the French guards, who protected them
and the retreat of the whole corps was easily secured.’
Hie crowd was speedily driven from the different quar¬
ters of the palace, which they were already beginning
to pillage ; and the royal family ventured to show theni^
selves at a balcony. A few voices now exclaimed,
Le Hoi a Pans, “ the King to Paris.” The shout be¬
came general; and the king, after consulting with Lit
Fayette, declared that he had no objection to take up
ins residence at Paris, provided he was accompanied by
the queen and his children. When the proposal • was
reported to the assembly, the popular leaders expressed
much satisfaction. They ordered a deputation of ico
members to attend the king thither ; they voted the na¬
tional assembly inseparable from the king. His majesty
-Q set
1 22
Fra»ce
17S9.
its
Are car¬
ried priso¬
ners to Pa
ris.
166
Triumph
of the po¬
pular par-
267
The assem¬
bly holds
its first ses¬
sion at Pa¬
ris.
FRA
set out at two o’clock a prisoner in the custody of the
mob. Two gentlemen were selected from his body¬
guard, and, with all the parade of an execution, be-
headed in the court of his palace. 'Iheir heads were
stuck upon spears, and led the procession •, whilst the
royal captives who followed in the train, and beheld
this spectacle, were conducted so slowly, that a short
iourney of twelve miles was protracted to six hours.
The king, the queen, and their children, were lodged
in the old palace of the Louvre, while Monsieur went
to reside at the Luxemburg. The city was iliumma-
ted, and the evening spent in triumph by the Pari¬
sians. nr. . J 1 „
The removal of the king to Pans was regarded as a
triumph by the popular party. The higher order ot
nobles considered it as completely ruinous to then
hopes ; and even many men of talents, such as Mourner
and Tally Tollendal, whom we cannot avoid regarding
as friends to the popular cause in its outset, now re¬
garded every prospect of attaining a happy constitution¬
al freedom as at an end, as the national representatives
muse be for ever exposed to the insults and overawed
by the influence of a turbulent capital. _ Many mem¬
bers of the assembly took refuge in foreign countries,
and used every effort to excite the other nations of Lu-
rope to hostility against France. As the duke of Or¬
leans had been regarded as a chief agent in promoting
the late disturbances, the marquis de la Fayette waited
upon him, and insisted upon his leaving the kingdom
for a time. The duke was overawed, and, on pretence
of public business, went to England, where he remained
for several months. _ _ . , . ,,
On the iQth of October, the National Assembly
held its first session in Paris. The king was closely
guarded in his own palace*, and no apparent opposition
now stood in the way to prevent the popular party from
giving to their country such a constitution as they might
indue expedient. Much, however, was yet to be done,
amf many difficulties remained, resulting from the ha¬
bits of men educated under a very different order 0
things. Two days after the assembly came to Pans,
a baker was publicly executed by the mob uP°» a false
accusation of having concealed a quantity °* bread.
While the assembly was at a distance, evt-IJt'' of
nature had been little attended to, and the leading paity
avoided attempting to check these ebollitions 0 popular
violence, from which they had der.ved so much advan¬
tage ; but that party was now all powerful, and so a
grant an ofl'ence committed against the law was regard¬
ed as an insult upon the sovereignty of the National
Assembly. Two leaders of the mob were therefore
tried and publicly executed, and a severe aw was
nassed of the nature of the British not act, authorising
fhe magistrates to act by military force against any mul¬
titude ^of persons that should refuse to disperse, ihus
the peace of the capital was secured for several months 5
but in the country at large no small degree of anxie y
and trouble still subsisted. The same suspicious temper
wffich had prevailed at Paris agitated the provinces
Jith the dread of plots and monopolies of grain. Add
tn this that the noblesse in the country were by no
niean« satisfied with the liberality with which their re-
presentatives had on the 4th of August voted away
their privileges and their property. This produced
violent jealousies between the peasants and their lords,
ad 9
N C E.
and gradually conveyed to every corner of the kingdom Fwnte
the political ferment which had commenced at I arts. ' 
The National Assembly being now, however, m to- 17S9,,
lerable security, proceeded in the arduous attempt °f
forming a free constitution for the gieat empire o t|oin
France. The Abbe Sieyes presented a plan tor divid-^jj jnto
inn- the kinndom into 83 departments, of about 32483 depaii
square leagues, and each department into several
tricts. and each district was subdivided into cantons oi
four square leagues in extent. Thus the whole ot, the
ancient divisions of the kingdom into governments, ge¬
neralities, and bailiwicks, was in an instant obliterated.
An attempt was also made to simplity in an equal de¬
gree the relative situation of individuals in civil hie,
by a decree which put an end to all distinction of or¬
ders and immunities, so far as any privileges whatever
was concerned. At the same time, a bold and most
important measure was adopted, which has since proved
the organ of those terrible efforts which France has
been enabled to make against tbe rest of Europe. 1 l..s Tie
was tbe confiscation of the whole of the lands Wong-1™"
ing to the church, for the purpose of supplying the exi¬
gencies of the state. In this transaction, all regard to
justice was thrown aside. The lands of the church
were as certainly the property of the then possessors ot
them as any entailed estate among us is the property ot
him who occupies it. The state may have had a right
to appropriate to itself the church lands upon the death
of the incumbents ; but it might with equal justice, and
perhaps greater propriety, have seized the enormous
revenues of the duke of Orleans, as have conhscated a
single acre belonging to the most useless abbot without
his own consent. This nefarious measure was pro¬
posed by the bishop of Autun, M. Talleyrand Fen-
gord, a man of no religion, who had been promoted to
the bench in a most irregular manner to serve this very
purpose. The mode in which this property was to be
expended was by issuing assignments {assignats) upon
it; which assignments were to be received by the state
for the payment of taxes, or for the purchase of church
lands when set up to sale. A provision was at the
same time made for the national clergy, who were lor
the future to be paid by the state. On the day ollow-
inu that on which this important measure was adopted,
a decree was passed, suspending the parliaments oi the
kingdom from the exercise of their functions. ?7c
Decrees, in which the interests of so vast a multitude I’m*
of individuals were involved, could not be carried >«toofth/p
effect without much murmuring and opposition. llie]i;mie|ll
parliaments, in particular, began to exert themselves
with vigour, and, by protests and other publications,
attempted to invalidate the decrees of the assembly as
illegal ; but these privileged bodies, who had otten
been accustomed to contend with some success against
the despotic administration of their country, and on
that account had been for ages the objects of public ap¬
plause, now found themselves utterly forsaken, and un¬
able to resist the mandate of a popular assembly. A -
ter a few fruitless struggles, they were all ot them un¬
der the necessity of submitting to their fate. _
Nothing remarkable now occurred for some time. ^UBjCi
The assembly proceeded to organize the kingdom by ikiese
the establishment of municipalities, and by reforming blub
the jurisprudence of the country. It is to be observed,
however, that when the parliament of Pans was alio-
E
Hi
Ik
k
*
i k
Vance
'79°
7*
M iste ■
ne:np-
*n heir
kib con
*s( ed.
Urch
: th
Tbttld
B«»or
*'8t pen-
lion mi
^onilons,
pabi^ed.
FRA
lislied, the Chatelet, being the second court in that
city, was retained for the purpose of trying those per¬
sons who had become most obnoxious by their attach¬
ment to the royal cause. This court had the spirit to
acquit the Baron de Bezenval, Marshal Broglio, and
the I rince de Xjambesq. But having incurred much
popular odium on this account, they were guilty of the
unworthy meanness of condemning to death the Mar¬
quis de 1'avres, for a pretended conspiracy (of which
no tolerable proof was ever brought) to massacre La
Fayette, Bailly, and Neckar, and to convey the king
to Peronne.
During the whole of this winter the king had been
very strictly watched by numerous guards placed round
his palace, insomuch that the other nations of Europe
considered him as in a state of captivity. To do away
this impression, if possible, and to make their king ap¬
pear a voluntary agent in the measures that had lately
been adopted, was now regarded as a matter of some
importance. Every effort was therefore made to pre¬
vail with him to come to the assembly suddenly, and,
as it were, of his own voluntary motion, there to de¬
clare his adherence to the measures which had lately
been adopted. For some time he resisted this propo¬
sal ; but at length, on the 4th of February, be did
suddenly appear in the national assembly, where he
complained of the attempts that had been made to shake
the new constitution. He declared his wish “ that it
should be universally known that the monarch and the
representatives of the nation were united, and their
wishes were the same; that he would defend the con¬
stitutional liberty of the state $ that, in conjunction with
the queen, he would early form the sentiments of his
son for that new order of tilings which the circumstan¬
ces of the empire had introduced.” This declaration
dispirited the aristocratic party in no small degree, and
increased that unhappy tendency of looking for aid from
foreign countries which they had always been too apt to
indulge.
On the 13th of February, monastic establishments
were suppressed, and their lands confiscated ; but the
present friars and nuns were allowed pensions for their
subsistence, and to continue the observance of their mo-
n as tic vows, if they thought fit. We may observe here,
that, in consequence of the evacuation of the monaste¬
ries, it is probable that about this time the Breton com¬
mittee began to assume the appellation of the Jacobin
Club, from the hall belonging to the Jacobin friars at
Paris, in which their meetings were now held.
An event occurred at this time which tended in no
small degree to increase the odium under which the old
government already laboured. This was the publication
of the Red Book, or list of pensions and donations grant¬
ed by th« crown. In consequence of the most pressing
instances, it had been communicated by M. Neckar to
a committee of the assembly, after many entreaties,
and the most solemn promises of secrecy. It afforded
however, too striking an advantage to the popular party
not to be made use of, and in a few days M. Neckar,
to his no small surprise, saw this register publicly sold*
by every bookseller in Paris. He ought not, indeed,
to have been surprised •, and the giving up of this list is
one of the many proofs which the transactions of that
period afiord of bis great unfitness for the office which
ie held. With much indignation, however, he de-
N C E.
1 23
Fra iif
179°.
274
Effect of it*
manded why the committee had published it without
the permission of the assembly or the king ? But he
was told by the committee, that “ as to the assembly*
they were sure of its approbation ; and as to the king'
they were not his representatives.” To give an idea of™,.0101
the efleet of this publication, it is only necessary to re-pU^‘1Ca*
mark, that, under the short administration of M. Ca- 1
lonne, the two brothers of the king had received from
the public treasury, independent of their legitimate in¬
come, nearly two millions sterling, and that 6oo,oool.
had been granted to an individual, because be was the
husband ol IMadame de Polignac. M. Neckar's oppo¬
sition to this publication tended in no small degree to
injure his popularity, and the rest of the ministry be¬
gan to lose the confidence of the public. Indeed, at Numerous
this time, fertile causes of alarm prevailed on all sides, sources of
*1 he clergy were attempting to revive in the provinces
the ancient animosities between the Roman Catholics
and the Protestants, ascribing the late decrees of the
assembly to the latter. The German princes who pos¬
sessed properly in the north of France were complain¬
ing loudly of the violation of their rights by the aboli¬
tion of the feudal system, although the national as¬
sembly had voted to them a compensation. The most
melancholy intelligence was received from their colonies
in the West Ind.es. In regulating these, the assembly
had not recognized the right of the free negroes to en¬
joy the same privileges with other citizens ; at tha
same time, they did not go the length of denying these
privileges. This uncertain conduct produced infinite
calamities. The whites contended with those common¬
ly people of colour. Ihese again sometimes stood
in opposition to the free negroes, or to the slaves; and
hence it sometimes happened that no less than three ho¬
stile assemblies were held at the same time in the same
colony, which made war upon each other with the most
inveterate fury. Each party found protectors in the
national assembly of the parent state. Those who
favoured or opposed the existence of distinctions at
home, in general followed out the same principle with
regard to the colonies.
On the 14th of May, M. de Montmorency commu-on
nicated to the national assembly the preparations for the royal"
wai in which England and Spain were engaged. This power to
brought forward the constitutional question, “ Whotlec,a,e
ought to possess the power of declaring peace and war ? Peace and
The Count Clermont Tonnerre, Messrs de Serent, Vi-War‘
neu, and Dupont, supported the royal prerogative ;
while on the other side, the exclusive right of the legis¬
lative body to exercise this important prerogative was
supported by Messrs d’Aiguillon, Garat, jun. Freteau,
Jellot, Charles Lambeth, Sillery, Petion, Robespierre,
&c. M. Petion proposed a decree “ that the French
nation renounced for ever all idea of conquest, and con¬
fined itself entirely to defensive war j” which was passed
with universal acclamation. The Count de Mirabeau
at length successfully proposed that peace and war should
be declared by the king and the legislative body in con¬
junction $ and the decree that was passed on the subject
is a strange farrago of contradictious and absurdities. It
enjoined the king to “ guard the state from external
attacks.” But how could this be done without repel¬
ling any attack that might be made upon it ? This,
however, he could not do, without previously inform¬
ing the national assembly j and if that body chanced
Q 3 not
277
l*arce act¬
ed in the
•assembly
by a Prus¬
sian refu¬
gee, &c.
27S
FRA
not to be sitting at the time, he was bound to let the
enemy advance without opposition, till he had convened
his orators, dispersed over 20,000 square leagues, and
listened to their metaphysical quibbles in Paris.
On the 16th June, a very singular farce was acted
in the assembly. A Prussian refugee, who called him¬
self Anacharsis Clouts, and who was struggling hard to
bring himself into public notice, on an evening sitting
(which, it is to be observed, was generally ill attended
by the persons of the highest rank), introduced to the
assembly a number of persons dressed in the different
habits of all the. different countries that could be thought
of. In a formal harangue, he told the assembly that
he was come, as the orator of the human race, at the
head of the representatives of all nations, to congratu¬
late them upon the formation of their new constitution.
He was answered by the president with abundance of
solemnity, and retired with his motley groupe. This
fantastical piece of folly, which in any other country
than France would scarcely, perhaps, have excited a
smile, was treated by the assembly in a serious light.
Alexander Lambeth proposed, that the figures of differ¬
ent nations exhibited in chains at the feet of Louis
XIV. should be destroyed as an insult upon mankind.
N C E.
tachment to the new order of things, by collecting into FraBcc
onetplace deputations, for the purpose of swearing fide-
lity to the new constitution. In the middle of the
Abolition ^ Lambel, a lawyer, at this moment proposed the
ot heredita- ,  r ,.7/ titlm Tlp was snnnorted bv
rv titles.
abolition of all hereditary titles. He was supported by
La Fayette, St Fargeau, and the Viscount de NoaiUes.
The decree was passed, along with another suppressing
all armorial bearings. It is our intention at present
rather to state facts than to hazard any political opinion
concerning the wisdom or lolly of the transactions which
we record. It may here, however, be remarked, that
no part of the proceedings of the French national
assembly was received by persons of rank upon the
continent of Europe with so much indignation as this.
  The feudal system had been overturned, and the
property of the church wrested from it, with little com¬
parative notice ; but when those nominal distinctions
were attacked which antiquity had sanctioned^and per¬
sonal vanity rendered dear, the surrounding nations were
instantly alarmed, and beheld with terror the levelling
precedent. We may likewise add, that no part ot
their proceedings was more inimical to rational and prac¬
tical freedom. To preserve a perfect equality of lanks
is impossible. In a commercial nation, industry will
procure wealth, and wealth will every where procure
dependents. Now nothing more contributes to keep
within some tolerable bounds the insolence of newly ac¬
quired wealth, than the rank attached to birth and no¬
bility, which time and prejudice have conspired to make
respectable. It is not a little remarkable, that of all the
king’s ministers, Neckar alone, a plebeian, a republi¬
can, born and bred in a democracy, advised his majesty
to refuse his assent to this foolish decree, as a violent
but useless encroachment upon the prejudices of a
powerful order of the state.
179 , In the mean time, the capital was entirely engrossed
commemo- by hurry and bustle. M. Bailly had proposed a plan
me the ta- for commemorating the anniversary of the taking ot
king of the the Bastile. It was adopted, because it flattered the
vanity of the people, by presenting them with a splen¬
did spectacle in commemoration of their own exertions.
 The army had been much disorganized *, and it was
resolved to attempt to unite all its branches, as well as
the whole departments of the state, in one common at-
3
.Bastile.
Champ de Mars an altar was erected, at which the ci-
vie oath, as it was called, was to be taken. Around Cmmorn
the altar an amphitheatre was thrown up capable of con-
taining 400,000 spectators : 2000 workmen were em¬
ployed in this operation j and the people of Paris fear¬
ing lest the plan might not be completed, assisted in
the labour. All ranks of persons, the nobles, clergy,
and even ladies, with the eagerness for novelty so pe¬
culiar to that people, united their efforts. Crowds ot
foreigners as well as natives hurried to the capital to be
present at this solemnity, which was called the Confede¬
ration. The long-expected 14th of July at length ar¬
rived. At six o’clock in the morning the procession
was arranged on the Boulevards, and consisted of the
electors of the city of Paris, the representatives of the
commons, the administrators of the municipality, a bat¬
talion of children, with a standard, inscribed “ The
hopes of the nation 5” deputies from the troops of
France wherever quartered, and of every order, along
with deputies from all the departments ; to these were
added immense detachments of the military, and of the
national guards, along with an almost infinite multitude
of drums, trumpets, and musical instruments. The pro¬
cession was extremely splendid, as every district had its
peculiar decorations. The national assembly passed
through a grand triumphal arch, and the king and
queen, attended by the foreign ministers, were placed
in a superb box. After a solemn invocation to God,
the king approached the altar, and, amidst the deepest
silence, took the following oath : “ I the king of the
French do swear to the nation, that I will employ the
whole power delegated to me by the constitutional law
of the state, to maintain the constitution, and enforce
the execution of the law.” The president of the na¬
tional assembly then went up to the altar, and took the
civic oath, <c I swear to be faithful to the nation, the
law, and the king 5 and to maintain with all my powers
the constitution decreed by the national assembly, and
accepted by the king.” Every member of the assembly
standing up, said, “ That I swear.” La l ayette then
advancing, took the oath for himself j the other depu¬
ties of the national guards pronouncing after him,
“ That I swear j” and these words were solemnly pro¬
nounced by every individual of this immense assembly.
Te Deum was then sung. The performance was sublime
beyond the powers of description. Never perhaps be¬
fore was there such an orchestra, or such an audience:
their numbers baffled the eye to reckon, and their shouts
in full chorus rent the skies. It is impossible to enu¬
merate all the means which were employed to add splen¬
dor to this day. It ended with a general illumination,
and no accident disturbed the public tranquillity.
The assembly now proceeded in the formation of the The sol-
constitution with considerable tranquillity •, which, how-dito^,
ever, was disturbed by an unhappy event at Nancy.^j j
Most of the officers of the army were unfriendly to^e
the late revolution, and every means had been employed(.uenc«i.
by them to disgust the soldiers with it. At Nancy, in
particular, necessaries had been denied them, and their
pay was kept back, under pretence that this was the
will of the national assembly. Driven to despair, the
regiments in garrison threw off their allegiance, and de¬
manded
iSi
1 aiice.
790.
FRA
manded loudly the regimental accounts. They seized
> at the same time the military chest, and sent a deputa¬
tion to state their case at Paris to the national assembly.
But the officers were before-hand, and prepossessed the
minister of war against them j upon whose representa¬
tion a decree was passed, authorising the commander in
chief of the province, M. Bouille, to reduce the insur¬
gents by force. This was no sooner known, than the
national guard of Nancy assembled, and sent a depra-
tion to give a fair statement of facts. Butjouille,
without waiting the result of an explanatin, hastened
to Nancy at the head of all the troops b could sudden¬
ly collect ; and having fallen up/i the regiments of
Chateauvieux and Mestre de ^mp, after putting an
immense multitude to thejword, he took 400 pri¬
soners.
1791-.
5:
MMeckar
re: ns,
au eaves
thtn'ntf-
Jo ivitli-
flU eing-
jwted.
r3
Attiipts
tarirga.
«izete
The king’s regiment was prevented from acting
against Bouille by the ifcrepidity of a young officer of
the name of Dessiles, iho, however, died of the wounds
which he received on,ie occasion. The news of these
events filled Paris vaIi indignation. The assembly af¬
terwards reversed ts own decrees against the insurgents
at Nancy. Pubic honours were decreed to the me¬
mory of Dessiles . but Bouille could not be punished,
because he had onlj acted in obedience to authority.
M. Neckar’s popi/q,rJty had been gradually declin-
ing, as he was unwilling to go all the lengths that the
ruling party wished. He gave in his resignation on
the 4th of September, and seedily thereafter left the
kingdom. He was regretted bj no party. He was re¬
gal ded, on the one side, as having conducted the king¬
dom to its ruin, by the concessions which he originally
adv ised the king to make in favour of the tiers etat;
while he was despised by the opposite party as a luke¬
warm politician, of narrow views, and a feeble mind.
He departed, however, with the unblemished reputa¬
tion of strict integrity. M. Neckar does not seem to
have penetrated deeply into the characters of men, or
to have had any conception of the effects of that ter¬
rible and restless energy which is called forth in a na¬
tion which attempts to make important changes in its
ancient manners and government. Having no concep¬
tion of the important era which was about to open up¬
on that country ot which he was the minister, he was
far from being qualified to direct or controul it amidst
the convulsions which it was destined to encounter.
Unable to brook the loss of his popularity, lie peevishly
retired to Swisserland, where he published a work,
which shews to the conviction of every unprejudiced
reader the integrity of the French king, and the wick¬
ed projects ot the leading democrats, whom he himself
had armed with power.
Hie remaining part of this year was occupied in at¬
tempts to introduce some degree of subordination into
the navy of France, which had been much disorganized,
and in farther regulating the affairs of the clergy. It
was now declared, that such clergymen as should not
take the following oath, which had been prescribed
some months before, should be considered as ejected
bom their benefices : “ To watch carefully over the
faithful in the parish or diocese which was entrusted to
his care j to be faithful to the nation, the law, and the
■ng } and to maintain to the utmost of his power the
new constitution of France, and particularly the decrees    
relative to the civil constitution of the clergy.” This Comte.
N C E.
decree rendered the situation oConscientious men ex¬
tremely perplexing ; esne.-a'ily as the pope testified in
marked terms histlisapprobation of the oath. The
people were r.euced to the dilemma of choosing be¬
tween the>new political and their old religious preju¬
dices, ad the result was extremely unfavourable to the
invest of religion. <s-
The assembly commenced the new year with a decree, a ,
announcing the termination of its session, which was topeamnees*
take place as soon as it should have finished the discus-in Germa-
sion of a list of constitutional articles. In the mean ny>
time, on the side of Germany, Spain, Italy, and Savoy,
hostile appearances began to be exhibited, and bodies
of troops advanced around tbe French frontier. The
emperor Leopold was, however, too cautious to an¬
nounce bis intentions ; and the king soon communica¬
ted a letter from him, containing protestations of ami¬
cable dispositions, but adding, that “ the innovations
occasioned by the decrees of the 4th of August ought
to be done away.” Tbe king treated this merely as
an official measure on the part of the emperor, that he
might not appear to renounce the claims of certain Ger¬
man princes connected with Lorrain and Alsace. But
the assembly expressed some alarm, and voted an aug¬
mentation of the national force. About this period
several new efforts were made by the disaffected clergy
in various parts of the kingdom to excite disturbances, 2Ss
which it is unnecessary to mention in detail. On the 20th Departure
of February the public attention was roused by a cir-°f
cumstance that in any other state of affairs would have1^”8’8
been accounted unimportant. The king announced top™!® fWn
the assembly, that his aunts, the daughters of Louis XV.
had that morning left Paris; but as he did not appre¬
hend that the existing laws laid them under any re¬
straint in this respect, he had not opposed their depar¬
ture. After some debate, the assembly agreed that the
king had judged well j and these princesses were left
to pursue their journey to Rome, which they reached
after some delays occasioned by the jealousy of certain
municipalities through which they passed. Thus the
kingdom was gradually deserted by every branch of the
royal family, excepting the king and his eldest brother
Monsieur. The assembly, however, continued its la- ^
hours with considerable quietness. In the end of thej)eat]j of
month of March died the celebrated M. de Mirabeau, Mirabeau.
at the age of 42 years ; a man whose integrity has for
many good reasons been much suspected, but whose po¬
litical address and intrepidity, and whose splendid
powers of eloquence, have been seldom equalled. He
received from his countrymen at his death marks of re¬
spect unparalleled in modern history. During his short
illness, his door was besieged by anxious citizens. A
mourning of eight days was decreed by the assembly,
and also a grand procession, which was attended by all
the public functionaries. He was the first who was
interred in the new magnificent Pantheon, consecrated
to the reception of the remains of illustrious men. But
his ashes were afterwards removed, in consequence of
very clear proofs that he had not been incorruptible by
money.
During the whole of this spring, much fear was en-^M
tertained that some attempts at a counter revolution grant army
were about to be made. The emigrant army assembled assembled
on the borders of Alsace was reviewed by the prince ofon l^e
Their uniform was black, faced with yellow,
with
t26 FRANCE.
Fiance, with a death’s head, wrounded by a laurel wreath, on
1791.
   —    
one culF, and a sword on 'vj.^other ; with the motto,
“ Conquer or die.” The king waslso surrounded by
crowds of nonjuring priests and other’isafl’ected per-
sSSt sons. Thus, that popular jealousy which in eery period
Jealousy of of the revolution has strikingly marked the^rench
the people character, was kept on the alarm. On the i8tl>ol
“ Apr'd> therefore, when the royal family was preparing
the king to g° to St Cloud to pass some days, a report was in-
and his fu- stantly spread that the king was about to fly from the
tnily should country. The carriages were immediately surrounded
emigrate, peopie< La Fayette drew out the national guard,
but they refused to act. “ We know (exclaimed they)
that we are violating the laws, but the safety of our
country is the first law.” The king instantly went to
the assembly, and with much spirit complained ot the
insult. He was answered respectfully by the president,
and continued his journey. As the royal family had
enjoyed a considerable degree ot freedom for some time
past, which was demonstrated by the unsuccessful oppo¬
sition made to this journey—the. present opportunity
was embraced for intimating to foreign courts his ac¬
ceptance of the constitution ; and all obnoxious persons
were dismissed from about his person. The breach ot
discipline on the part of the national guard on this
occasion was so much resented by La Fayette, that he
resigned his command. Paris was thrown into con¬
sternation *, and it was not till after the most universal
solicitation that he was prevailed upon to resume his
office.
Behaviour About this time M. de BouillS, to whom the protec-
of Bouille tion of the frontiers was entrusted, was employing, as
ou the it is now said, every means in his power to render the
frontiers. country defenceless. The garrisons were left unprovid¬
ed 5 disunion was spread among the national troops j
they were removed from the frontiers, and their place
was occupied by foreigners, wherever it could be done.
The emigrants abroad, and their friends at home, were
lying in wait for an opportunity of revolt;—when sud¬
denly, on the 21 st of June, it was announced from the
r Thuilieries, that the king, the queen, the dauphin, with
queen and monsieur and madame, had quitted the palace and the
royal fami- capital, without leaving any information of their inten-
ly, leave tion or their route. The emotion excited by this
Paris. news among the multitude was a mixture of conster¬
nation and rage. The national assembly, however, act¬
ed with much coolness. Ihey instantly took upon
themselves the government, and decreed their sittings
permanent. They sent messengers, at the same time,
2 t in all directions, to attempt to lay hold of the fugitives.
Monsieur These had taken different routes. Monsieur and ina-
and ma- dame arrived safely at Brussels on the 23d* The king,
damear- qUeen? and their children, when they came to a consi-
r^ve at, derable distance from the capital, were furnished by
Brussels, w;tl) a guard 0f dragoons, under pretence of
protecting treasure for the pay of the troops. At the
distance of 156 miles, and when only a few leagues
from the frontiers, they were arrested at St Menehould
bv the postmaster, M. Drouet, formerly a dragoon in
the regiment of Conde. At half past seven o’clock m
the evening the carriages stopt to change horses at Ins
house ; he thought he recollected the queen, and ima¬
gined that the king’s face resembled the impressions
stamped upon assignats. The escort of dragoons in¬
creased the suspicion. He suffered them to depart at
11 o’clock without notice, but taking a companion France I''1
with him, he went by a shorter road to \ arennes, ^
   7 rT t . A  ! 
"With the’assistance of the postmaster there lie gave the 1791.
alarm, and overturned a carriage on the bridge, which ^
alarm, and overturneo a carnage un
detained the royal travellers till the national guai d 0! an(j
the place had assembled, and the arrest was eneeted arr€Stej!(
*i>3
without bloodshed. They were brought back to Varennc
Paris by a deputation from the assembly. At his
de^rture, the king had imprudently left beyond him a
memor.l, in which he declared, that he never had
thought anysacrifice too great for the restoration of
order j but tht the destruction of the kingdom, and
the triumph of anachy, being the only reward of all
his efforts, he thought’t necessary to depart from it.
He then takes a review c the faults of the new. con¬
stitution, the grievances he’as suffered ; and protests
against every thing that he bd, been compelled to do
during his captivity.
Different parties were ‘verydifferently affected, by Consequ-.
this ill-conducted and unforturiie flight of the king.ces oftk:
A small republican party had alrC^y begun to appear,
and during the king’s absence, attePPts were made to
induce the puplic at large to consider the royal au¬
thority as no necessary part of a freeconsfitution. But
the minds of men were by no mea1^ prepared for the
reception of this new doctrine. The idea, however,
havingbeen thus publiclypropo^j^ft some impressions,
which in time contributed to give rise to important
events. By far the greater number of leading men,
however, were at present convinced, that it was impos¬
sible to conduct a great empire like France, well and pro¬
sperously, without * he assistance of an hereditary duel.
They therefore determined to pass over the affair with
as much silence as possible, and to hasten the period
when their new constitution should be complete. But
there is reason to believe, that this journey was at the
lomr-run highly instrumental in producing very fatal ef¬
fects to the personal safety of the monarch.
His flight seemed a signal for emigration. Many
of the aristocratic party sent in resignations of their
seats in the national assembly. Troops were levied on
the frontiers in the king’s name ; who took care, how¬
ever, to disavow any connection with such a procedure.
Bouille emigrated, and afterwards sent to the assembly
a furious threatening letter : “ You shall answer (says
he) for the lives of the king and of the queen to all the
monarchs of the universe. Touch but a single hair of
their heads, and not one stone shall he left upon another
in Paris. I know the roads. I will conduct the fo¬
reign armies. This letter is but the forerunner of the
manifesto of the sovereigns of Europe.”
A considerable calm throughout France followed
these events, and it might be regarded as in a state^ of
tranquillity. It contained, indeed, parties entertaining
much animosity against each other, and many citizens
had withdrawn to foreign countries j but the peace was
not broken, and moderate men hoped that much pros¬
perity would follow from the late agitations. But this
calm was delusive ; and in the midst ot it those projects
were formed which were afterwards to prove so fatal to ^
the peace of France and of Europe. Towards the close Tr£aty0|
of this summer, a convention took place at Pilnitz in piiniti.
Saxony between the emperor Leopold and the king of
Prussia. Its object was not known at the time, but it
gradually came into view, and is now by many under-
FRANCE.
stood to have been intended for the purpose of conclud¬
ing a league for the invasion of France, the new-model¬
ling of its government, and the partition of some of its
fairest provinces. The following paper has been re¬
peatedly published as the copy of a treaty concluded
and signed at Pavia, and is generally understood to have
been identical with, and therefore known by, the name
of the Treaty of Pilnit%. We are far from vouching for
its authenticity. It may have been fabricated by the
French assembly, to unite all parties in the nation against
the foreign powers which threatened to invade them.
But in stating the events of this revolution, it is per¬
haps still more necessary, for the purpose of rendering
the actions of men comprehensible, to give an account
of what was at the time believed to have occurred, than
it now is to ascertain what was actually true.
Partition Treaty between the Courts in Concert, conclud¬
ed and signed at Pavia, in the month of July 1791.
His majesty the emperor will take all that Louis XIV.
conquered in the Austrian Netherlands, will give them
to his serene highness the elector Palatine ; so that
these new possessions, added to the Palatinate, may
hereafter have the name of Austrasia.
His majesty will preserve for ever the property and
possession of Bavaria, to make in future an indivisible
. mass with the domains and hereditary possessions of the
house of Austria.
Her serene highness the archduchess Maria Christina
shall be, conjointly with his serene highness her nephew
the archduke Charles, put into hereditary possession of
the duchy of Lorraine.
Alsace shall be restored to the empire ; and the bi¬
shop of Strasbourg, as well as the chapter, shall recover
their ancient privileges, and the ecclesiastical sovereigns
of Germany shall do the same.
If the Swiss Cantons consent to accede to the coali¬
tion, it may be proposed to them to annex to the Hel-
vetic league the bishopric of Porentrui, the defiles of
Franche Comte, and even those of Tyrol, with the
neighbouring bailiwicks, as well as the territory of
Versoy, which intersects the Pays de Vaud.
Should his majesty the king of Sardinia subscribe to
the coalition, La Bresse, Le Bugey, and the Pays de
Gex, usurped by F ranee from Savoy, shall be restored
to hinri.
In case his Sardinian majesty can make a grand di¬
version, he shall be suflered to take Daupbine, to belong
to him for ever as the nearest descendant of the ancient
dauphins.
His majesty the king of Spain shall have Roussillon
and Bearn, with the island of Corsica; and he shall have
the French part of the island of St Domingo.
Her majesty the empress of all the Russias shall
take upon herself the invasion of Poland, and at the
same time retain Kaminiech, with that part of Podolia
which borders on Moldavia.
. His majesty the emperor shall oblige the Porte to
give up Chocsim, as well as the small forts of Servia,
and those on the river Lurna.
His majesty the king of Prussia, by means of the
above-mentioned invasion of the empress of all the Rus¬
sias into Poland, shall make an acquisition of Thorn
and Dantzic, and there unite the Palatinate on the east
to the confines of Silesia.
I2y
Frftnee.
1791.
eluded by
assem-
His majesty the king of Prussia shall besides acquire
Lusace ; and his serene highness the elector of Saxony
shall in exchange receive the rest of Poland and occupy
the throne as hereditary sovereign.
His majesty the present king of Poland shall abdi¬
cate the throne on receiving a suitable annuity.
. His royal highness the elector of Saxony shall give
his daughter in marriage to his serene highness the
youngest son of his royal highness the grand duke of all
the Russias, who will be the father of the race of the
hereditary kings of Poland and Lithuania. (Signed)
Leopold. Prince Nassau. Count Florida Blan¬
ca. Bischoffswerder.
. In the mean time, the national assembly was hasten-The new
ing fast to the completion of the new constitution. It constitu-
was finished on the 3d of September, and presented totionco11
the king. It begins with the following declaration '
the rights of a man and a citizen: and thereafter fol-b/y
low the different branches; the chief of which are here
translated.
. A11 are born, and remain, free and equal in
rights : social distinctions cannot be founded but on
common utility.
II. Ihe end of all political associations is the pre¬
servation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of
man : these rights are liberty, property, security, and
resistance against oppression.
. HI. The principle of sovereignty resides essentially
in the nation : no body ot men, no individual, can ex¬
ercise an authority that does not emanate expressly from
that source. J
• Liberty consists in the power of doing every
thing except that which is hurtful to another : hence
the exercise of the natural rights of every man has no
other bounds than those that are necessary to ensure to
the other members of society the enjoyment of the
same rights : those bounds can be determined by ths
law only. 1
V. Ihe law has a right to forbid those actions alone
that are hurtful to society. Whatever is not forbidden
by the law, cannot be hindered ; and no person can be
constrained to do that which the law ordaineth not.
VI* The law is the expression of the general will :
all the citizens have a right to concur personally, or by
their representatives, to the formation of the law : it
ought to be the same for all, whether it protect, or
whether it punish. All citizens being equal in the eye
of the law, are equally admissible to dignities, places,
and public offices, according to their'capacity, and
without any other distinction but that of their virtue
and their talents.
\ II. INio man can be accused, arrested, or detained,
except in cases determined by the law, and according
to the forms which the law hath prescribed. Those
who solicit, dispatch, execute, or cause to be executed,
arbitrary orders, ought to be punished ; but every ci¬
tizen that is summoned or seized in virtue of the law,
ought to obey instantly—he becomes culpable by re¬
sistance.
VIII. The law ought to establish such punishments
only as are strictly and evidently necessary ; and no
person can be punished but in virtue of a law esta¬
blished and promulgated prior to the offence, and le»
gaily applied.
IX. Every man being presumed innocent till such
time -
FRANCE.
time as he has been declared guilty, if it shall be deem¬
ed absolutely necessary to arrest a man, every kind of
rigour employed, not necessary to secure his person,
ought to be severely repressed by the law.
X. No person shall be molested for his opinions, even
such as are religious, provided that the manifestation of
those opinions does not disturb the public order establish¬
ed by the law.
XI. The free communication of thought, and ot
opinion, is one of the most precious rights of man.
Every citizen, therefore, may freely speak, write, and
publish, his sentiments ; subject, however, to answer
for the abuse of that liberty, in cases determined by the
law. _
XII. The guarantee of the Rights of Man and Ci¬
tizens, involves a necessity of public force : this force
is then instituted for the advantage of all, and not for
the particular utility of those to whom it is confided.
XIII. For the maintenance of public force, and for
the expences of administration, a common contribution
is indispensably necessary : this contribution should be
equally divided amongst all the citizens, in proportion
to their abilities.
XIV. Every citizen has a right, by himself, or by
his representatives, to decide concerning the necessity
of the public contribution j to consent to it freely 5 to
look after the employment of it 5 to determine^ the
quantity, the distribution, the collection, and duration.
XV. The society has a right to demand from every
public agent an account of his administration.
XVI. Every society, in which the guarantee of
rights is not assured, nor the separation ot powers de¬
termined, has no constitution.
XVII. Property being aright inviolable and sacred,
no person can be deprived of it, except when the pub¬
lic necessity, legally ascertained, shall evidently require
it, and on condition of a just and previous indemni¬
fication. .
The constitution guarantees, as natural and civil
rights,
1. That all citizens are admissible to places and em¬
ployments without any distinction, but that of ability
and virtue.
2. That all contributions shall be divided equally
among all the citizens, in proportion to their means.
3. That the same crimes shall be subject to the same
punishments, without any distinction qt persons.
The constitution in like manner guarantees, as natu¬
ral and civil rights,
Liberty to all men of going, staying, or departing,
without being arrested, or detained, but according to
the forms prescribed by the constitution.
Liberty to all men of speaking, writing, printing,
and “ publishing their thoughts, without having their
writings subjected to any examination or inspection be¬
fore publication and of exercising the religious wor¬
ship to which they are attached.
Liberty to all citizens of assembling peaceably, and
without arms, complying with the laws of police.
Liberty of addressing to all constitutional authorities
petitions individually signed.
The constitution guarantees the inviolability of pro¬
perty, or a just and previous indemnity for that ot
which public necessity, legally proved, shall require the
sacrifice.
A public instruction shall be created and organized, Frai(;
common to all citizens, gratuitous with regard to those -v-,
parts of tuition indispensable for all men, and of which I’yqi:
the establishment shall be gradually distributed in a pro¬
portion combined with the division of the kingdom.
“ The kingdom is one and indivisible 5” its territory
for administration, is distributed into 83 departments,
each department into districts, each district into cantons.
Those are French citizens,
Who are born in France, of a French father.
Who having been born in France of a foreign father,
have fixed their residence in the kingdom.
Who having been born in a foreign country, of a
French father, have returned to settle in France, and
have taken the civic oath :
In fine, who having been born in a foreign country,
being descended in whatever degree from a Frenchman
or Frenchwoman, who have left their country from re¬
ligious motives, come to reside in France, and take the
civic oath.
The right of French citizenship is lost,
1st, By naturalization in a foreign country j
2dly, By being condemned to penalties which in¬
volve the civic degradation, provided the person con¬
demned be not reinstated j
3dly, By a sentence of contumacy, provided the sen¬
tence be not annulled;
4thly, By initiation into any foreign order or body
which supposes either proofs of nobility “ or distinc¬
tions of birth, or requires religious vows.”
f‘ The law considers marriage only as a civil con¬
tract.”
The sovereignty is one, indivisible, “ inalienable, and
imprescriptible,” and it belongs to the nation : no sec¬
tion of the people, or individual, can arrogate the ex¬
ercise of it.
The nation, from which alone flow all powers, can¬
not exercise them but by delegation.
The French constitution is representative : the re¬
presentatives are the legislative body and tbe king.
The National Assembly, forming the legislative body,
is permanent, and consists of one chamber only.
It shall be formed by new elections every two years.
The legislative body cannot be dissolved by the king.
The number of representatives to the legislative body
shall be 745, on account of the 83 departments of
which the kingdom is composed ; and independent ot
those that may be granted to the colonies.
The representatives shall be distributed among the
departmen s, according to the three proportions of land,
of population, and of the contribution direct.
Of the 745 representatives 247 are attached to the
land. Of these each department shall nominate three,
except the department of Paris, which shall nominate
only one.
Two hundred and forty-nine representatives are at¬
tached to the population. rl he total mass ot the active
population of the kingdom is divided into 249 parts,
and each department nominates as many of the deputies
as it contains parts of the population.
Two hundred and forty-nine representatives are at¬
tached to the contribution direct. The sum total of
the direct contribution of the kingdom is likewise di¬
vided into 249 parts ; and each department nominates
as many deputies as it pays parts of the contribution.
In
In order to form a legislative national assembly, the
active citizens shall convene, in primary assemblies, eve¬
ry two years in the cities and cantons.
“ The primary assemblies shall meet of full right on
the first Sunday of March, if not convoked sooner by
the public officers appointed to do so by the law.”
To be an active citizen, it is necessary,
To be a Frenchman, or to have become a French¬
man ;
lo have attained 25 years complete j
To have resided in the city or the canton from the
time determined by the law $
To pay in any part of the kingdom a direct contri¬
bution, at least equal to the value of three days labour
and to produce the acquittance j
Not to be in a menial capacity, namely, that of a
servant receiving wages $
To be inscribed in the municipality of the place of
his residence in the list of the national guards j
To have taken the civic oath.
The primary assemblies shall name electors in the
proportion of the number of active citizens residing in
the city or canton. a
There shall be named one elector to the assembly or
not, according as there shall happen to be present 100
active citizens.
There shall be named two, when there shall be pre-
sent from 151 to 250, and so on in this proportion.
The electors named in each department shall con¬
vene, in order to choose the number of representatives
whose nomination shall belong to their department, and’
a number ot substitutes equal to the third of the repre¬
sentatives. r
The assemblies shall be held of full right on the
last Sunday of March, if they have not been before
convoked by the public officers appointed to do so bv
law.” J
. A11 actIve citizens, whatever be their state, profes¬
sion, or contribution, may be chosen representatives of
the nation.
Excepting, nevertheless, the ministers and other a-
gents of the. executive power, &c.
The members of the legislative body may be re-elect¬
ed to a subsequent legislature, but not till after an in¬
terval ol one legislature.
No active citizen can enter or vote in an assembly if
he is armed. J
The representatives shall meet on the first Monday
ot May, in the place of the sittings of the last legisla-
The royalty is indivisible, and delegated hereditarily
to the race on the throne from male to male, by order
ot primogeniture, to the perpetual exclusion of women
and their descendants.
. ^othir>g is prejudged on the effect of renunciations
mi the race on the throne.
ihe person of the king is inviolable and sacred ; his
only title is king of the French.
‘rtH k'"K Put at or an army, and
“ !' lo'f“s of11 “gainst the nation, or if he do not
.. pose, by a formal act, any such enterprise undertaken
,B 1Ilame! he shall be held to have abdicated
t tae king having gone out of the kingdom, do
letum to it, after an invitation by the legislative
ferix. ra?tpr sha"be fi*ed ‘he p™-
f
FRANCE.
clamation, “and which cannot he less than two months,”
he shall be held to have abdicated the royalty.
. After abdication, express or legal, the king shall be
in the class of citizens, and may be accused and tried
like them, for acts posterior to his abdication.
The nation makes provision for the splendour of the
throne by a civil list, of which the legislative body shall
hx the sum at the commencement of each reign, for the
whole duration of that reign.
The king is a minor till the age of 18 complete:
and during his mindrity there shall be a regent of the
kingdom. °
The regency belongs to the relation of the king
next in degree according to the order of succession to
the throne, who lias attained the age of 25 ; provided
lie be a frenchman resident in the kingdom, and not
presumptive heir to any other crown, and having pre¬
viously taken the civic oath.
The presumptive heir shall bear the name of Panes
Jioyal.
“ The members of the king’s family called to the
eventual succession of the throne, shall add the deno¬
mination of French Prince to the name which shall be
given them in the civil act proving their birth ; and
this name can neither be patronymic nor formed of any
of the qualifications abolished by the present constitu¬
tion.
The denomination of prince cannot be given to
any individual, and shall not carry with it any privilege
or exception to the common right of all French citi¬
zens.
Io the king alone belong the choice and dismission
ot ministers.
“ 1 he members of the present national assembly, and
ot the subsequent legislatures, the members of the tri¬
bunal of appeal, and those who shall be of the high
jury, cannot be advanced to the ministry, cannot receive
any place, gift, pension, allowance, or commission of
the executive power or its agents during the continu¬
ance ot their functions, or during two years after ceas¬
ing to exercise them : the same shall be observed re-
specting those who shall only be inscribed on the list
oi high jurors as long as their inscription shall con¬
tinue.”
. •^v0 order of the king can be executed if it be not
signed by him, and countersigned by the minister or
comptroller of the department.
In no case can the written or verbal order of a king
shelter a minister from responsibility.
. oonstitution delegates exclusively to the leerisla-
tive body the powers and functions following ; °
. '^0 P10P°se and decree laws—The king can only in¬
vite the legislative body to take an object into consi¬
deration 5
^ o fix the public expences;
lo establish the public contributions, to determine
the nature of them, the amount of each soit, the duia-
tion. and mode of collection, &c.
yVar cannot be resolved on but by a decree of the
national assembly, passed on the forma! and necessary
proposition of the king, and sanctioned by him.
During the whole course of war, the legislative body
may require the king to negotiate peace j and the king
is bound to yield to this requisition.
It belongs to the legislative body to ratify ti«aties of
^ peace,
1791.
FRANCE.
peace, alliance, and commerce ; and no treaty shall have
effect hut by this ratification.
The deliberations of the legislative body shall be pub¬
lic, and the minutes ot the sittings shall be printed..
The legislative body may, however, on any occasion,
form itself into a general committee.
The plan of a decree shall be read thrice, at three
intervals, the shortest of which cannot be less than eight
days.
The decrees of the legislative body are presented to
the king, who may refuse them his consent.
In case of a refusal of the royal consent, that refusal
is only suspensive.—When the two following legislatuies
shall successively present the same decree in the same
terms on which it was originally conceived, the king
shall be deemed to have given his sanction.
The king is bound to express his consent or refusal
to each decree within two months alter its presenta-
ti°n* „ , , .
No decree to which the king has refused his consent
can be again presented to him by the same legislature.
The supreme executive power resides exclusively m
the hands of the king.
The king is the supreme head of the land and sea
forces.
The king names ambassadors, and the other agents
of political negotiations.
Me bestows the command of armies and fleets, and
the ranks of marshal of 1 ranee and admiral.
He names two thirds of the rear-admirals, one-half of
the lieutenant generals, camp-marshals,captains ol ships,
and colonels of the national gendarmerie : .
He names a third of the colonels and lieutenant-co¬
lonels, and a sixth of the lieutenants of ships :
He appoints in the civil administration of the marine,
the directors, the comptrollers, the treasurers of the ar¬
senals, the masters of the works, the under masters of
civil buildings, half of the masters of administration,
and the under masters of construction.
He appoints the commissaries ol the tribunals :
He appoints the superintendants in chief of the ma¬
nagement of contributions indirect, “ and the admini¬
stration of national domains:”
He superintends the coinage of money, and appoints
officers entrusted with this superintendance in the ge¬
neral commission and the mints.
The effigy of the king is struck on all the coinage ol
the kingdom. _ .
There is in each department a superior administra¬
tion, and in each district a subordinate administration.
The administrators are specially charged with distri¬
buting the contributions direct, and with superintending
the money arising from the contributions and the pub¬
lic revenues in their territory.
The king has the right of annulling such acts of the
administrators of department as are contrary to the law
or the orders transmitted to them.
He may, in case of obstinate disobedience, or of their
endangering, by their acts, the safety or peace of the
public, suspend them from their functions.
The king alone can interfere in foreign political con¬
nections. , „ , i •
Every declaration of war shall be made in these
terms ; By the king of the French in the name of the
nation.
Fiance,:
The judicial power can in no case be exercised either
by the legislative body or the king.
Justice shall be gratuitously rendered by judges
chosen from time to time by the people, and instituted
by letters patent of the king, who cannot refuse them.
“ The public accuser shall be nominated by the
people.” _ #
*'• The right of citizens to determine disputes defini¬
tively by arbitration, cannot receive any infringement
from the acts of the legislative power.”
In criminal matters, no citizens can be judged except
on an accusation received by jurors, or decreed by tne
legislative body in the case m which it belongs to it to
prosecute the accusation.
After the accusation shall be admitted, the fact shall
be examined, and declared by the jurors.
The person accused shall have the privilege of chal¬
lenging 20, “ without assigning any reason.”
The jurors who declare the fact shall not be fewer
than 12.
The application of the law shall be made by tha
judges.
The process shall he public \ “ and the person accus¬
ed cannot be denied the aid ol counsel.”
No man acquitted by a legal jury can be apprehend¬
ed or accused on account ol the same fact.
For the whole kingdom there shall be one tribunal
of appeal, established near the legislative body.
A high national court, composed of members of the
tribunal of appeal and high jurors, shall take cognizance
of the crimes of ministers, and the principal agents of
the executive power j and of crimes which attack the
general safety of the state, when the legislative body
shall pass a decree of accusation.
It shall not assemble but on the proclamation of the
legislative body ^ “ and at the distance of 30,000 toises
atT least from the place of meeting of the legislative
body.”
The national guards do not form a military body, or
an institution in the state j they are the citizens them¬
selves called to assist the public force.
Officers are chosen lor a time, and cannot again
be chosen till after a certain interval of service as pri¬
vates.
None shall command the national guard of more than
one district.
All the parts of the public force employed for the
safety of the state from foreign enemies are under the
command of the king.
Public contributions shall be debated and fixed every
year by the legislative body, and cannot continue in
force longer than the last day of the following session,
if they are not expressly renewed.
“ Detailed accounts of the expence of the ministe¬
rial departments, signed and certified by the ministers
or comptrollers-general, shall be printed and published
at the commencement of the sessions of each legisla-
ture.
“ The same shall be done with the statements ol the
receipt of the different taxes, and all the public reve¬
nues.”
The French nation renounces the undertaking of any
war with a view of making conquests, and will never
employ its forces against the liberty of any people.^
The constituting national assembly declares, lba*
the
1791,
rrit
Piftuce.
I791
fra
the nation has the imprescriptible right of changing its
constitution } and nevertheless considering that ft is
more conformable to the national interest to employ only
by means provided in the constitution itself, the right
of reforming those articles of it, of which experience
shall nave siiovvn the inconveniences, decrees, that the
proceeding by an assembly of revision shall be regu¬
lated in the form following : °
“ When three successive legislatures shall have ex¬
pressed an uniform wish for the change of any constitu-
tionalartide, the revision demanded shall take place.
Ihe next legislature, and the following, cannot
propose the reform of any constitutional article.
“ Hie fourth legislature, augmented with 240 mem¬
bers, chosen in each department, by doubling the ordi¬
nary number which it furnishes in proportion to its po-
pu.action, shall form the assembly of revision.”
Ihe Irench colonies and possessions in Asia, Africa,
and America, “ though they form part of the French
empire are not included in the present constitution.
V\ ith respect to the laws made by the national as¬
sembly winch are not included in the act of constitu¬
tion, and those anterior laws which it has not altered,
they shall be observed, so long as they shall not be re¬
voked or modified by the legislative power.
iac- n ^ie I3t^1 °f September the king announced, by
ited by a letter to the president of the assembly, his accept-
1 kln* *nce ^ constitution. This event was ordered to
be notified to all the foreign courts, and the assembly
decreed a general amnesty with respect to the events of
the revolution. On the following day the king re¬
paired m person to the national assembly 5 and being
conducted to a chair of state prepared for him at the
sice of the president, he signed the constitutional act,
and took an oath of fidelity to it. He then withdrew,
and was attended back to the Thuilieries by the whole
l57 assembly, with the president at their head. On the
z<)6
M ac-
C1
ta|'' ,-,1 p-Q * , Uieir neaa. Un the
X jis 3°th of September, this national assembly, which has
.«Id!d rl-Cei^een. kn)0Wn i7 tIle name of t,ie Constituent Assem-
y, dissolved itself and gave place to the succeeding
Legislative National Assembly, which had been elected
according to the rules prescribed by the new constitu-
^8 '■ion*
laKter A 0n Se charfc!fr and the labours of the Constituent
^Assembiy we shall only remark, that it contained many
t”tS’ a,nd’ “ f" Ability, a considerable
|y number of men of integrity. Towards the close of its
session it assumed a very striking character of modera¬
tion, and appears to have been completely monarchical,
although its jealousy of the ancient aristocracy pre¬
sented it from sufficiently guarding the throne against
popular violence : for a very striking defect in the new
constitution soon appeared. The king possessed a veto,
negative, upon the resolutions of the legislative body:
u 11s negative he was bound to exercise in person,
lout^responsibility, and without the intervention of
his ministers. He had no senate, or upper chamber, to
nr etween him and popular violence ; and there
was something apparently absurd in setting the vote of
an individual in opposition to the collective wisdom and
OTof£*"°si"*
The new assenjbly was opened by the king on the
N C E. I3I
7th of Oetoher, With much apparent union on all France
sides. Ills speech, recommending unanimity and confi- ~'
deuce between the legislative and executive powers, was 1701.
received with unbounded applause. The character of *99
the men who composed the new national assembly was The ncw
unauspicious to the Cou.t. At the commencement ofZZ^l
the revolution, the great body of the people at a dis-theTit,
tance from the capital were little interested in those pro- Character
jects of freedom which occupied the more enlightened of the
or more turbulent inhabitants of Paris. They had gra- nicn,hers-
dually, however, been roused from their lethargy. The
variety of powers conferred by the new constitution
upon the people at large, and the multiplicity of offices
of winch it gave them the patronage, had kindled in
lie minds of men a love of dominion, and a wish to
interfere in public affairs. This attached them to the
new order of things. The love of power, which is the
least disguised passion in the human heart, and equally
strong in the breast of the meanest and of the highest
0 mankmd, was thus, under the name of liberty be¬
come a leading passion throughout this wide empire.
.y w!10 Altered it most, and were most loud in
praise of the rights of the people, became speedily the
favourites of the public. The consequence of this was,
that the new national assembly was chiefly composed of
country gentlemen, of principles highly democratic, or
of men of letters who had published popular hooks,
or conducted periodical publications. The members of
the constituent assembly had been excluded by their
own decree from holding seats in the new legislature—
16 mernTrS °* t^e latter> therefore, had little reward
for a constitution which they themselves had not framed,
and which was not protected by the venerable sanction
of antiquity.
When this assembly first met, it showed a veryTheh?.- '
ri mg attention to formalities, and a peevish j‘ealousy,0,Isy°f the
of the ministers of the crown. In the mean time, the'Vinistejs of
treaty of Pilnitz, already mentioned, began to
rumoured abroad, and France was thrown into a state
of anxious jealousy for the safety of its newly-acquired
liberties. Although the Prussians and Germans (the
elector of Mentz alone excepted) all continued to
temporize, the northern poivers, Sweden and Russia,
entered into strict engagements to restore the old des¬
potism of France. On the 9th of November, a decree
was passed, that the emigrants, who, after the first of
January next, should be found assembled, as at present
in a hostile manner, beyond the frontiers, should be
considered as guilty of a conspiracy, and suffer death ;
t iat tbe irench princes, and public functionaries, who
should not return before that period, should be punish¬
able in the same manner, and their property forfeited
during their own lives. On the 10th, a series of se¬
vere decrees was also passed against such of the ejected
clergy as still refused to take the civic oath. To both
these decrees the king opposed his veto, or negative -
ihe moderate party, who were attached to the consti¬
tution, rejoiced at this as a proof of the freedom of
their sovereign. But, on the other side, it excited a.
most violent clamour, and became the means of exciting 301
new suspicions of the wishes of the court. At this *>aa*flc an-
time answers were received from the different foreign fiwe“ T
courts to the notification sent them of the king’s ac-fTm fo
ceptance of the new constitution. These were general- reign
ly conceived in a stile of caution, and avoided giving
^ 2 open
1791.
3°2
ButtUe
court is
ttill sus¬
pected.
3°3
The mi¬
nistry
changed
FRA
open offence. The emperor even prohibited all assem¬
blages of emigrants within his states *, and the king
intimated to the assembly that be had declared to the
elector of Treves, that unless the emigrants should
cease before the 15th of January to make hostile prepa¬
rations within his territories, he would be considered as
the enemy of France. All this, however, did not pre¬
serve the court from suspicion j for although the differ¬
ent foreign courts had openly declared pacific inten¬
tions, yet the French emigrants boldly asserted that all
Furope was actually arming in their favour. Accord¬
ingly they ceased not to solicit their equals in rank,
who still remained within the country, to leave it to
join with them in what they called the royal cause.—
The unhappy Louis, placed between a republican
party that was gradually gathering strength, and an
aristocratical party that was rousing Europe to arms
against a nation of which he was the constitutional
chief, and a combination of princes justly suspected of
wishing to seize upon a part of his dominions, stood in
a situation which would have perplexed the most skilful
statesman ; and it is no proof of incapacity that he fell
a sacrifice to circumstances which might have over¬
whelmed any known measure of human ingenuity. Ad¬
dresses were crowding into the assembly, disapproving
the conduct of the court. M. Montmorin resigned j
M. Delessart succeeded him j and M. Cahier de Ger-
ville became minister of the interior. M. du Portail
resigned also, and M. Narbonne succeeded him as mi¬
nister of war. In the month of November, M. Bailly’s
mayoralty terminated j and the once popular La Fayette
appeared as a candidate to succeed him. But he was
successfully opposed by M. Petion, a violent Jacobin,
and a declared republican, who was elected mayor of
Paris by a great majority.
At this period the moderate men, who were friends
of the constitution, attempted to counteract the influ¬
ence of the Jacobin club by the establishment of a si¬
milar one. It derived its name from the vacant con¬
vent of the Feuillans, in which it assembled. The most
active members of the Constituent Assembly belonged
to it, such as M. M. D’Andre, Barnave, the Lameths,
Du Port, llabaud, Sieyes, Chapelier, Thouret, La-
bord, Taleyrand, Montesquieu, Beaumetz, &c. The
Jacobins contrived to excite a riot at the place of their
meeting, which was in the vicinity of the hall of the
National Assembly. This afforded a pretext for ap¬
plying to the assembly for the removal of the new club.
The assembly showed their disposition, by complying
with this request.
At the end of this year, the kingdom of France
was by no means prosperous. The public revenue had
the end of fallen far short of the expenditure. The emigrant no-
1791 and bility had carried out of the kingdom the greater part
of the current coin *, and a variety of manufacturers,
who depended upon their ostentatious luxury, were re¬
duced to much distress. The dispositions of foreign
courts appeared very doubtful. The new year, how¬
ever, opened with delusive prospects of tranquillity.—
The German princes appeared satisfied with the mode
of compensation which the French had offered for the
loss of their possessions in Alsace and Lorraine. The
prince of Lowestein accepted of an indemnification.—
The princes of Hohenlohe and Salm-Salm declared
themselves ready to treat upon the same terms. Prince
304
The Feui!-
lans esta¬
blished to
oppose the
Jacobin
•lub.
33;
State of
Trance in
beginning
of 179*.
N C E.
Maximilian, and the dukes of Wirtemberg and Deux- Frantt,
Fonts, freely negotiated. It is unnecessary to state in v~—
detail the subterfuges employed, in the mean time, by 179I
the crafty Leopold, for amusing the French with the
appearances of peace. M. Delessart, minister for fo¬
reign affairs, fell a sacrifice to them, and probably to
the undecided character of Louis. He was accused by
M. Brissot of not having given timely notice to the Na¬
tional Assembly of the dispositions of foreign powers,
and of not pressing proper measures for securing the ho¬
nour and safety of the nation. A decree of accusation
passed against him in bis absence. He was apprehend¬
ed, tried by the high national court at Orleans, and
executed in consequence of its sentence. -
The sudden death of Leopold on the first of March The dea
gave rise to a transient hope that peace might still be ot ll>e‘‘fc
preserved. A suspicion of poison fell upon the French,
but it was removed by the detail of his disease that was ^
speedily published. On the 16th of the same month, Sweden. >
the king of Sweden was wounded by a nobleman of the
name of Ankerstrom, and died on the 29th. This en¬
terprising prince had overturned the constitution of his
own country, and he bad formed the project of con¬
ducting in person his troops to the frontiers of France,
and of commanding or accompanying the combined ar¬
mies of Europe in their attempt to avenge the cause of
insulted royalty. It was in a great measure to counter¬
act this scheme that he was assassinated. ^
The sudden fall, however, of these two enemies ra-ThetB,p(
ther accelerated than retarded the meditated hostilities.ror’s sue-
The young king of Hungary, who succeeded to thecessor
empire, made no secret either of his own intentions or^^^j
of the existence of a concert of Princes against France, jn.
M. Dumourier was now at the head of the war-office,
M. Boland was minister of the interior, and M. Cla-
viere minister of finance. The Jacobins were all-power¬
ful. The court gave way to the torrent. The pro¬
perty of the emigrants was confiscated, reserving the
rights of creditors. The Imperial minister, Prince
Kaunitz, demanded three things of France ; 1st, The
restitution of their feudal rights to the German princes $
2dly, To restore Avignon to the Pope, the inhabitants
of which had some time before thrown off their allegi¬
ance, and prevailed with the constituent assembly to
receive their country as a part of France ; and lastly,
Prince Kaunitz demanded, that “ the neighbouring
powers should have no reason for apprehension from
the present weakness of the internal government of
France.” On receiving these demands, the king pro¬
posed a declaration of war, which was decreed by the
National Assembly on the 20th of April, against the
king of Hungary and Bohemia.
The French immediately began the war, by attack-And
ing in three different columns the Austrian Netherlands. Au«ni»ii
M. Theobald Dillon advanced from Lisle to Tournay,
where he found a strong body of Austrians ready to re”untocc«!
ceive him. The national troops, unaccustomed to sus-fu]|y»i.
tain the fire of regular soldiers, were instantly thrown tacked ^
into confusion, and fled even to the gates of Lisle. Theffie^r*Bt
cry of treason resounded on all sides 5 and their com¬
mander, an experienced and faithful officer, was mur¬
dered by his own soldiers and the mob. A second di¬
vision of 10,000 men, under Lieutenant-General Biron,
took possession of Quiverain on the 29th, and marched
towards Mons, General Biron was here attacked by
th«
'9
T par-
tit tn Pa¬
ris : this
ptd, and
tin mse
fra
the .A.usti jaj whom lie repulsed# XXchnnpfj however^
of the defeat of Dillon, he retreated. A third party
advanced to f'urnes, but afterwards withdrew. La
Fayette at the same time advanced towards Bouvines
halt way to Namur, from which he afterwards retreated!
The whole of these expeditions were ill contrived, in as
much as they divided the French undisciplined troops,
and exposed them in small bodies to the attack of ve!
teran forces. The Austrians were some time before
they attempted to retaliate. At length, however, on
the nth of June, they attacked M. Gouvion, who
commanded the advanced guard of La Fayette’s army
near Maubeuge. M. Gouyion was killed by a rolling
bullet ; but La Layette himself having come up, the
Austrians abandoned the field. In the mean time,
matters were hastening in Paris towards a violent crisis!
Two parties, both of which were hostile to the present
constitution, had gradually been formed in the state.
'1 he one wished to give more effectual support to the
royal authority, by establishsng a senate or two chant -
Iters, to prevent the king’s vote from being the sole
Ciieck upon popular enthusiasm. The other party
wished to set aside royalty altogether, and to hazard the
bold experiment of converting France into a republic.
These last were supported by the Jacobin club, which
had now contrived to concentrate in itself an immense
mass of influence. Innumerable popular societies were
established in every town and village throughout the
provinces. With these a regular correspondence was
kept up by writing and by emissaries. Thus schemes
and notions were instantaneously propagated through a
gieat empire, and all the violent spirits which it con¬
tained were enabled to act in concert: But the more
immediate engine of the republican party consisted of
the immense population of the metropolis, whom they
now endeavoured to keep in constant alarm. For this
purpose they alleged, that an Austrian Committee, that
is to say, a conspiracy in favour of the enemies of the
country, existed among the friends of the court. M.
M. Gensonne and Brissot even offered in the assembly to
prove the existence of this pretended Austrian com¬
mittee. A report was next circulated, that the king
intended to abscond from the capital on the 23d of
May. His majesty publicly contradicted these accu¬
sations as calumnies, but they made no small impression
upon the minds of the public. New decrees were now
made against the refractory clergy, but these his majesty
refused to sanction. A proposal was also made and de¬
creed in the assembly to form a camp of 20,000 men
under the walls of Paris, and that for this levy every
canton 111 the kingdom should contribute one horseman
and four infantry. The national guard of Paris dis¬
liked the proposal, and the king gave to it his negative.
Indeed at this time the king seems to have come to a
resolution of standing out against the Jacobin party, to
which he had for some time yielded. The ministry
were Gerelore dismissed, excepting M. Dumourier, and
others were appointed in their stead. By this event
iJumourier lost the confidence of the Jacobin club. He
*aw lus error, resigned his office, and joined the army,
in the mean time a decree had been passed, authorising
the manufactory of pikes for the purpose of arming
<*eap|y the lower class of citizens. AH means were
a to render the king odious by inflammatory writings
N C E.
,33
and harangues ; and in both of these the noted incen- r
diary Marat took the lead. . Francc-_f
On the 20th of Jnne, M. Roederer, the procureur 1792.
general syndic informed the national assembly, that 310
contrary to law, formidable bodies of armed men were An amie<*
preparing to present petitions to the king, and to t|)e m°h‘"arch-
national assembly. A part of them speedily appeared tie a7e£
with St Huruge and Santerre a brewer at their head.bly, &«,
I hey marched through the hall in a procession that
lasted two hours, at four o’clock in the afternoon, to
the number of about 4c,00c. They surrounded the
1 builleries. Ihe gates were thrown open ; and on an
attempt to break the door of the apartment where the
king then was, he ordered them to be admitted His
sister the princess Elizabeth never departed from bis
side during four or five hours that he was surrounded
by the multitude, and compelled to listen to every in
dignity. All this while Petion, the mayor of Paris
was unaccountably absent. He at length, however’
arrived, and also a deputation from the assembly. The’
queen, with her children and the princess de Lamballe
were in the mean time in the council-chamber, where’
though protected from violence, they were vet exposed
to much insult. At last, in consequence of the approach
ot evening, and of the entreaties of Petion, the multi¬
tude gradually dispersed.
The indignities suffered on this day hy the royal Th«T.„
family were in some respects not unfavourable to their respectable
cause. A great number of the most respectable inha- ‘"habitants
bitants of the capital were ashamed of such proceedings ^ asbam-
1 hey complained „f them severely in a petition to tbeel,*^ ^
assembly, and addresses to the same purpose were re-
ceived from several departments. The directory of the
department of Paris, at the head of which were M
Kochefoucault and M. Talleyrand, published a declara-
t.on disapproving of the conduct of the mayor, and of
M. Manuel the procureur ol the commune, whom they
afterwards suspended from their offices, although they
were speedily restored by a decree of the assembly. At
the same time, La Fayette leaving his army suddenly
appeared on the 26th at the bar of the national assem-’
y. He declared that lie came to express the indig¬
nation which the whole army felt on account of the
events of the 20th : he called upon the assembly to
punish the promoters of these events, and to dissolve the
factious clubs. Ihe sudden appearance of La Fayette
threw the Jacobins into consternation, and from'that
period they never ceased to calumniate him.
On the 1st of July, on the motion of M. Jean de The^kL
Brie the assembly ordered a proclamation to be made, of Pms.f*
that the country was in danger. On the 6th, the king marcbe*
<ra^o — .i,_. .i_ i_- ‘'T>rnco;„   “against
? ranee.
, j “ f "““.s'-' • me um, me King"1
gave intimation that the king of Prussia was marching af
with 52,000 men to co-operate against France. The
French arms were at this time somewhat successful in
the Austrian Netherlands; but the cabinet speedily
thought it necessary to order the armies to retreat: a
measure which was afterwards publicly censured by
Marshal JLuckner. J
On the 7th, a singular scene occurred in the national ModerL.
assembly. At the instant that M. Brissot was about «pce.h of
to commence an oration, M. Lammourette bishop oftbe b**boP
Lyons requested to be heard for a few minutes. He°^^on,‘
expatiated on the necessity of union among the members
ot the assembly,and of sacrificing their passions and pre¬
judices
>34
FRA
F ranee.
1792.
3H
Manifesto
of the
duke of
indices on the altar of their country. He concluded an
animated address with these words, “ Let all who hold
in equal detestation a republic and two chambers, and
who wish to maintain the constitution as it is, rise .
The words were scarcely pronounced when the whole
assembly started from their seats. Men of all parties
solemnly embraced each other, and protested their ad¬
herence to the constitution. A deputation announced
this happy event to the king; who immediately came
and congratulated them in a short speech, which was
received with infinite applause. The only good eflect,
however, produced by this temporary agreement was,
that the festival of the 14th of July, which was cele¬
brated with the usual magnificence, passed over in tran-
^On^the 25th of July, the duke of Brunswick issued
   at Coblentz his celebrated manifesto. It declared the
duke of nurnose of the intended invasion of Trance to be the re-
Biunnwick. !tor‘at.on of the French king to full authority. It de¬
clared the national guard of France responsible for the
preservation of tranquillity ; and threatened with the
punishment of death, as rebels to their king, these who
should appear in arms against the allied powers. Ail
men holding offices, civil or military, were threatened
in the same manner, as well as the inhabitants o\ ail
cities The city of Paris in particular, and the national
assembly, were declared responsible for every insult
which might be otfered to the royal family. It was de¬
clared, that if they were not immediately placed in sate-
tv the allies were resolved to inflict “ on those who
should deserve it, the most exemplary and ever memo¬
rable avenging punishments, by giving up the city ot
Paris to military execution, and exposing it to total de¬
struction ; and the rebels who should be guilty of ille-
aal resistance should suffer the punishments which they
should have deserved.” This sanguinary and imprudent
manifesto operated as a warrant for the destruction of
the unfortunate Louis XVI. It left no middle party
in the nation. All who wished to preserve freedom in
anv form, and all who loved the independence of their
country, were instantly united. At the same time, the
reproaches cast on the king by the Jacobins now gained
universal credit. The kings of Prussia and of Hungary
told the French nation, that their monarch was secretly
hostile to the constitution ; and the restoration of him
and his family to despotic power was made the sole pre¬
tence for a bloody and dangerous war.
The republican party saw the advantage which they
tageous to had now gained, and resolved upon the deposition 0
tk* republi- tiie kin"-. The chief engine which they meant to em-
can party, , in^this service consisted of about 1500 men, who
who re- V 2 par;s at tke period of the confederation on
re- “ , ITof July, and therefore called/^, anJ ,1.0
were also sometimes denominated Marseil/ois, from the
place from which the greater number of hem came
Next to these, dependence was placed in the populace
Stesuburbs of the capital. The designs of the re¬
publicans were not unknown to the court, and bo h
oarties were forming plans of operation, _ It is said
[hat the royal party intended that the king and his
family should suddenly leave the capital, and proceed to
great a distance as the constitution permitted. Ihe
7 • j In seize the person
Injurious
to Louis.
But advan-
‘‘5 gM-L„s are said to have intended to seize the person
Zhe Sg andTo confine hint in the castle of Yin-
"cl “a national convention should decide upon his
2
N C E.
fate. Both allegations are probably true. Every motive Franc.
which can influence the mind of man must have induced 
Louis to wish to be at a distance from the factious and 179::
sanguinary capital. And the subsequent conduct of the
republicans authorize us to believe them capable ot the
worst crime that was laid to their charge. 317
Various charges had been brought forward in the as-Laj;a}
sembly against La Fayette, and the 8th of August was accused!
appointed for their discussion. In the mean time on
the 3d of August, Fetion the mayor, at the head of a
deputation from the section of Paris, appeared at the
bar, and in a solemn speech demanded the deposition of
the king. The discussion of the accusation against La
Fayette was considered as a trial of strength between
the parties : he was acquitted, however, by a majority
of nearly 200; and the republican party, despairing of
carrying their point by a vote of the national assembly,
resolved to have recourse to insurrection and force. 31
On the evening of the 9th of August, about 1500 Horric
gentlemen, officers of the army, and others repaired to of the,
the palace, resolved to protect the royal family or toV^U*
die in their defence: added to these were 700 Swiss
guards, with a body of cavalry amounting to about
1000 Mandat, the commander of the national guards,
a man who was firmly attached to the constitution, had
procured 2400 of that body and 12 pieces ol cannon.
With such a force, it has been generally thought that,
by vigorous and steady councils, the palace, which is a
kind of castle, might have been successfully defended ;
and what is now called a revolution might have borne
the name of a rebellion. Meanwhile the assembly de¬
clared its sittings permanent. Petion was at the palace
late on the evening of the 9th. Some apprehensions
were entertained, or pretended to he entertained, for his
safety (for the whole of this business was, on the part
of the republicans, the most infernal plot), and a depu¬
tation from the assembly brought him away. At mid¬
night the tocsin or alarm bell was sounded, and the
drums beat to arms through the city. At this instant
a number of the most active leaders of the republican
party assembled, and elected a new common council or
commune. The persons thus irregularly chosen instantly
took possession of the common hall, and drove out the
lawful members; who, with that weakness with which
men are apt to shrink from stations of responsibility m
perilous times, readily gave place to the usurpers. Ihe
new commune sent repeated messages to M. Mandat,
requiring his attendance upon important business, lie
was occupied in arranging the troops in the best order
around the palace ; but suspecting nothing, he went to
the common hall, and was there astonished to find a dif¬
ferent assembly from what he expected. He was
abruptly accused of a plot to massacre the people, an
ordered to prison ; but as he descended the stairs, he
was shot with a pistol, and Santerre was appointed in
his stead to command the national guard.
On this eventful night no person in the palace went
to bed. About six o’clock in the morning of the 10th
the king descended into the gardens to review the
troops. He was received with shouts of Vive le roi, ex¬
cepting from the artillery, who shouted Vive le nation.
The king returned to the palace, and the multitude
continued to collect. The national guard seemed un¬
determined about what they were to do, as they assem¬
bled in divisions near the palace ; and had a steady re¬
sistance
FRANCE.
"> ,
T royal
fs rfly
fo a-fety
to s hall
of i na-
ti< ■ as-
le iy.
h. b .dy
son it in
Ae laco,
n vts eli
nos f the
iwi
!na: are
sas ired.
'he.: a}
JlllCly
'speted,
idriR
iaon .
sistance been made from within, it is probable they
would have joined the royal party. But towards eight
o’clock M. Boederer procured admittance to the pa¬
lace, and told the king that armed multitudes were as¬
sembling in hostile array around the Thuilleries ; that
the national guard was not to he depended upon ; and
that, in case of resistance, the whole royal family would
most certainly be massacred. He therefore advised the
king to seek protection in the ball of the national as¬
sembly. With tins advice the king, with his usual fa¬
cility of temper, was ready to comply ; but the queen
opposed with vehemence the humiliating proposal. Be¬
coming gradually, however, alarmed for the safety of
her children, she gave her consent; and the king and
queen, the princess Elizabeth, with the prince and
princess royal, went on foot to the hall of the assembly.
“ I am come hither (said his majesty) to prevent a
great crime. Among you, gentlemen, I believe myself
in safety.” By an article of the constitution the assem¬
bly could not deliberate in presence of the king. The
royal family were, therefore, placed in a narrow box se¬
parated from the hall by a railing, where they remain¬
ed for 14 hours without any place to which they could
retire for refreshment, excepting a very small closet
adjoining. Here they sat listening to debates, in which
the royal character and office were treated with every
mark of insult.
When the king left the palace of the Thuilleries,
lie unfortunately forgot to order it to he immediately
surrendered. He recollected this as soon as he reached
the assembly, and sent orders for this purpose; but it
was now too late. The insurgents amounted to about
20,000 effective men. They were drawn up in tolera¬
ble order by Westerman a Prussian, and had about 30
pieces of cannon along with them. The gentlemen
within the palace, who had assembled to protect the
king’s person, were now dispirited, and knew not what
part to act. The commander of the Swiss, M. Aifry,
was absent, and the captains knew not what to do ; and
the national guard had no leader in consequence of the
death of IVXandat. About nine o’clock the outer gates
were forced open ; and the insurgents formed their line
in front of the palace. A bloody combat commenced
chiefly between the Marseillois and the Swiss. After
a brave resistance of about an hour, the Swiss were over¬
powered by numbers, and gave way. All of them that
could be found in the palace were massacred ; some
even while imploring quarter on their knees. Others
escaped into the city, and were protected by individu¬
als. Of this brave regiment, however, only 200 survi¬
ved ; hut every human being, even the lowest servants
found in the palace, were put to death. The Swiss
taken prisoners in various quarters were conducted to
the door of the assembly, and taken by a decree under
the protection of the state. But the sanguinary multi¬
tude insisted upon putting them to instant death ; and
the assembly would, in all probability, have been unable
to protect them, had not the Marseillois interfered in
their favour.
The suspension of the royal authority was now de¬
creed, and the nation was invited to elect a Convention
to determine the nature of its future government. On
this uncommon occasion all Frenchmen of 21 years of
age were declared capable of electing, and of being
elected, deputies to the new national convention. Com-
*35
France.
1792.
missioners, were, in the mean time, sent on the same
evening to give to the armies a false and favourable ac¬
count of these transactions. The royal family were
sent to the old palace of the Temple in the midst of the
city, to remain there under a strict guard ; and all per¬
sons of rank who had been attached to them were sei¬
zed and committed to the different prisons.
To give an idea of the temper of the people of Pa- Bloody
ris at this time, it is proper to remark, that at the same temper of
instant when the multitude with a bloody fury was mas-t,le P®0!11®
sacring the menial servants in the palace, and could 1>aris>
scarcely be restrained from offering violence to the C‘
Swiss who were made prisoners, they would suffer no
act of pillage to pass unpunished. Several attempts of
this kind were accordingly followed by the instant
death of the criminals. The plate, the jewels, and
money found in the Thuilleries were brought to the
national assembly, and thrown down in the hall. One
man, whose dress and appearance bespoke extreme po¬
verty, cast upon the table an hat full of gold. But the
minds of these men were elevated by enthusiasm ; and
they conceived themselves at this moment the cham¬
pions of freedom, and objects of terror to the kings of
the earth.
In the mean time, the situation of France was ex-Critical si-
tremely critical, and it appeared very doubtful if the tuation of
new convention would ever be suffered to assemble. t^e whole
La Fayette had accidentally got speedy notice of tlie^n^om“
events of the 10th of August. He advised the magi¬
strates of the town of Sedan to imprison the commission¬
ers from the national assembly when they should arrive
there ; which was accordingly done. He, at the same
time, published an address to his army, calling upon 324
them to support the king and the constitution; but La Fayette
finding that they were not to be depended upon, on the withdraws
19th of August he left the camp in the night, accompa-from ^ie .
nied only by his staff and a few servants. They took jv^te^nd **
the route of Rochefort in Liege, which was a neutral character,
country ; but were met by a party of the enemy, who
took them prisoners, and La Fayette was detained for
several years in Prussian and Austrian dungeons. The
severe treatment of this man was probably a consider¬
able error in policy on the part of the allies. His fide¬
lity to his king is very generally admitted; though some
have entertained strong suspicions of his having acted a
very base part to that unfortunate monarch ; and in the
British house of commons he has been called an abandon¬
ed ruffian. The expression is certainly too strong. His
errors seem to have been those of the head rather than
of the heart; and at all events, he should have been
protected by the allies, if for no other reason than to
encourage subsequent desertions among the officers of
the republican army.
To return from this digression. The commissioners
were soon set at liberty at Sedan, and received with ap¬
plause by the army of La Fayette. General Arthur
Dillon at first entered into the sentiments of La Fayette;
but the politic Dumourier diverted him from his pur¬
pose, and by this means regained his credit with the
Jacobins, and was appointed commander in chief. The
other generals, Biron, Montesquieu, Kellerman, and
Custine, made no opposition to the will of the national
assembly.
Meanwhile, the combined armies of Austria and
Prussia had entered France. The duke of Brunswick’s
army
r
136
France.
1792.
3^5
The com¬
bined ar¬
mies enter
France
in great
farce.
316
Alarm at
Paris on
account of
their suc-
acbs.
3*7
Horrid
intuSiicres
FRA
army was above 50,000 strong. General Clairfait bad
joined him with 15,000 Austrians, and a considerable
body of Hessians, along with 20,000 French emigrants;
amounting in all to 90,000 men. To oppose these,
Dumourier had only 17,000 men collected near the
point from which the enemy were approaching in
Luxembourg. The French emigrants had given the
duke of Brunswick such an account of the distracted
state of their own country, and of the pretended disaf¬
fection of all orders of men towards the ruling faction
in Paris, that no resistance of any importance was ex¬
pected. When the combined troops, consisting either
of steady Austrian or Hungarian battalions, or of those
well disciplined Prussians which the great Frederick
had inured to the best military discipline, were reviewed
in Germany before setting out on their march, it is
said that the spectators, among whom the French cause
was not unpopular, beheld them with anxiety and re¬
gret, and pitied the unhappy country against which
this irresistible force was directed. T. he soldiers and
their officers regarded themselves as departing for a
hunting match, or an excursion of pleasure $ and many
of the usual accommodations of an army were ill attend¬
ed to, such as hospitals, &c. The beginning of their
progress into France justified these expectations. Long-
wv surrendered after a siege of 15 hours, although well
fortified, possessed of a garrison of 3500 men, and de¬
fended by 71 pieces of cannon. The news of this
event irritated the assembly so much, that they decreed,
that, when retaken, the houses of the citizens should
be razed to the ground 5 and, distrustful of the officers
of the army, they decreed that the municipal officers of
a town should hereafter have power to controul the de¬
liberation of the council of war. Verdun was next
summoned *, and here the municipality compelled the
governor M. Beaurepaire to surrender. That officer,
disappointed and enraged, shot himself dead with a
pistol in presence of the council, and on the 2d of
September the Prussian troops entered the town.
The news of this second capture, and of the ap¬
proach of the Prussians, spread an instant alarm
through Paris. It was proposed to raise a volunteer
army, which should set out immediately to meet the
enemy. The common council, which was now led by
Robespierre, Danlon, Marat, and others of the most
sanguinary character, ordered the alarm-guns to be fired,
and the populace to be summoned to meet in the
Champ de Mars to enroll themselves to march against
the enemy. The people assembled, and either in con¬
sequence of a premeditated plan, or, which is not very
probable, of an instantaneous movement, a number of
voices exclaimed, that “ the domestic foes of the na¬
tion ought to be destroyed before its foreign enemies
were attacked.”
Parties of armed men proceeded without delay to
the prisons where the non-juring clergy, the Swiss offi¬
cers, and those confined since the loth of August on
account of practices against the state, were detained in
custody. They took out the prisoners one by one,
gave them a kind of mock trial before a jury of them¬
selves, acquitted some few, and murdered the rest. A-
mong these last was the princess de Lamballe. She
was taken from her bed before this bloody tribunal, and
massacred ; her head was carried by the populace to the
Temple, to be seen by the queen, whose friend she was.
N C E.
These massacres lasted for two days, and upwards of Fran
1000 persons were put to death. There is scarce any 1 ' v"
thing in history that can be represented parallel to 179
them } they were committed, it is said, by less than
300 men, in the midst of an immense city, which
heard of them with horror, and in the vicinity of the
national assembly, which, by going in a body, could
have put an end to them. But such was the confusion
and dismay of these two disgraceful days, that no man
dared to stir from his own house •, and every one belie¬
ved that the whole city, excepting his own street, was
engaged in massacre and Woodshed. Fhe national
guard were all ready at their respective posts, but no
man directed them to act: and there is too much rea¬
son to suspect that Santerre and the chiefs of the com¬
mune connived, at least, at the transaction.
In the mean time, General Dumourier was taking State >
the best measures to protract the march of the enemy the Fie
till the army of Kellerman, consisting of 20,000 men, ^7^
could join him from Lorraine, and that of Bournonville
from Flanders, amounting to 13,0005 together with rier.
whatever new levies Luckner might be able to send
him from Chalons. The forest of Argonne extends
from north to south upwards of 40 miles ; it lay direct-
Iv in the route of the duke of Brunswick, who must
either force his way across it, or make a circuit of 40
miles by the pass of Grandpre on the north, or by Bar-
leduc on the south. The pass that lay directly in his
route was that of Biesme. After surveying Dillon’s
position here, he left a party of 20,000 men to watch
it} and with the main body of his army took the cir- .J?
cuitous route by Grandpre on the north. Here Du-The Pi
mourier waited to receive him, and was attacked on thesiansoi
12th and 13th without success: but on the 14th, the
attack of the Prussians was irresistible, and Dumourier tilo not
retreating, gave up the pass. On his march he was sojOWBp
violently pressed by the advanced cavalry of the Prus-theirac
sians, that his army, at one time, was seized with a pa-^401*?1
nic, and fled before 1500 men j who, if they had push¬
ed their advantage, might have dispersed it. On the
15th, however, Dumourier encamped at St Menehould,
and began to fortify it. Bournonville’s army joined
Dumourier on the 17th. The duke of Brunswick
formed a plan of attacking Kellerman before his junc¬
tion could be completed. That general arrived on the
19th within a mile of Dumourier’s camp 5 the project¬
ed attack took place j the Prussians manoeuvred with
their usual coolness and address ; they attempted to
surround Kellerman’s army, but this could not be ac¬
complished. The French troops preserved excellent
order, while the national vivacity was constantly show¬
ing itself in their shouts and patriotic songs : 400
French were killed, and 500 wounded 5 the loss ol
the Prussians was much greater : and, in the face of
the enemy, Kellerman joined Dumourier at the end oi
the engagement without opposition. At the time that
the attack was made on the army of Kellerman, an at¬
tempt was made to force Dillon’s camp at Biesme by
the 20,000 men that had been left in its vicinity, but
without success 5 and this large detachment was thus
prevented from crossing the forest of Argonne and join¬
ing the duke of Brunswick. It is to be observed, that
in these engagements the French owed their superiority
chiefly to the excellence of their artillery j a circum¬
stance which served to convince their enemies that they
had
.iiess
| fa-
pe.
FRA
jance. co,1tend with regular military bodies, and not
 / with undisciplined multitudes, as they expected.
|:i792. The duke of Brunswick encamped his army at La
j 3.3* Lun, near the camp of Dumourier. And here the
tr ^>russ‘ans to be in extreme distress both from
md by sickness and famine. No temptation could induce the
inhabitants of the country to carry provisions to the
hostile camp, while at the same time the French armv
was abundantly supplied.
Bournonville, with a body of 4000 men, intercepted
several droves of cattle and other convoys of provisions
destined for the Prussians. The rain fell in torrents,
and the roads were uncommonly deep. Exposed to the*
cold, the moisture, and want of provisions, the Prussians
rashiy ate great quantities of the grapes of Champagne.
The consequence of this was, that an epidemical dis¬
temper commenced and spread through the army to such
an extent, that 10,000 men at one time were unfit for
duty. I he duke of Brunswick, however, still com¬
manded a force much more numerous than that of Du-
rnourier; and he has been much censured for not at¬
tacking his camp, and forcing him to engage. It has
been said that the veteran and numerous force which
he commanded would have marched to certain victory
against the raw troops that opposed them 5 that, hav¬
ing defeated Dumourier’s army, there was nothing to
oppose their march to Paris. But the duke of Bruns¬
wick had entered France upon the supposition, that
in its present distracted state no regular army could
be brought into the field against him, and that the
people at large were hostile to the ruling faction. The
contrary of all this had turned out to be true. He
found himself in the midst of an hostile people, and
opposed by skilful military chiefs. A defeat in such a
situation would have brought certain ruin to his armv ;
and even the loss sustained in the acquisition of a victo-
IV might have proved equally fatal. The remains of
the French army would not fail to hang upon his rear;
and from the disposition of the people it appeared im¬
possible to ascertain to what amount that army might
be suddenly increased. After proposing a truce, there¬
fore, which lasted eight days, l e commenced his retreat
towards Grandpre, and no advantage was gained over
bun in the course of it. Verdun was retaken by the
i rench on the 12th of October, and Longwy on the
l8tii; the siege of Thionviile was at the same time
laised. That small, but strong fortress, under the com¬
mand of Genera! Felix Wimpfen, had held in check an
army of 15,000 men.
While the Prussians were advancing from the north-
^nd east, the Austrians under the duke of Saxe Teschen
|ed by ai^ sie£e to ^ ^,e c°uncil-general of the com-
mii- mui,e answered the summons of the besiegers thus: We
lain have just renewed our oath to be faithful to the nation,
and to maintain liberty and equality, or to die at our
post. We will not perjure ourselves.” Such was the
cant of these men, who had already perjured themselves
by contributing to overturn the constitution which they
had repeatedly sworn to defend. The Austrian batteries
began to play upon the town on the 29th, and were
chiefly directed against that quarter which was inhabited
by the lower claBs of citizens, for the purpose of makino-
them mutinous and seditious. This procedure was ill
judged. The lower classes of mankind are always much
accustomed to hardships, and they go farthest in support.
VOL. IX. Part I. ^
N C E.
of any enthusiastic principle they have been persuaded
to adopt. Accordingly, though a great part of the city
was reduced to a hpan   /• T • /
Lis
moi
T|nv
be*i
the
ails
sum-
- . 0 ■'7  o ~ pan hi me ciiv
was reduced to a heap of ruins, the citizens of Lisle
became daily more obstinate. They received each
other into the houses that were still standing, and everv
vault and cellar was occupied. Although upwards of
30,000 red-hot hails and 6000 bombs were thrown
into the city, besides the efforts made by an immense
battering train of artillery, yet the loss both to the
garrison and people did not exceed 500 persons, most of
vvhom were women and children. After a fortnight
ot fruitless labour, the Austrians raised the siege.
War had been declared against the king of Sardinia WaJdt-
on account of the threatening appearances exhibited in dared a-
that quarter. On the 20th of September General‘h«
Montesquieu entered the territories of Savoy, and wasc”!-
reci',ved "I Cliambery and throughout the whole s"oyT»:
country with marks ot unbounded welcome. On thekeu, &e.
29th General Anselm, with another body of troops
took possession ol Nice and the country around it. On
the 30th General Custine advanced to Spires, when he
found the Austrians drawn up in order of battle. He
attacked and drove them through the city, taking 3000
ot them nnsoners. TIip r-u V\ff1r*o A ~   I 1
Prisoners. The capture of Worms succeeded
that of Spires J Mentz surrendered by capitulation ; and
1 ranclort fell into the hands of the French on the 23d.
Out of this last place, however, they were afterwards
driven on the 2d of December.
On the 20th of September the French National CWrh/nn
wntwn, assembled. It was found to contain men of alltional co*-
characters, orders, and ranks. Many distinguishedvenl,<)11 ai*
members of the Constituting Assembly were elected intosembled’
it, and also several that had belonged to the Legislative
Assembly; even foreigners were invited to^ become
Irene!) legislators. The famous Thomas Paine and Dr
1 nestley ol England were elected by certain depart¬
ments ; but the latter declined accepting. Clouts, a
1 russian, whom we formerly noticed as bringing a de¬
putation to the bar of the constituent assembly, consist¬
ing of persons representing all the nations of the earth,
was also chosen. The general aspect of the new con¬
vention showed that the republican party had acquired
a decided superiority. On the first day of meeting
M. Col lot d’Herhois, who had formerly been an actor, ,,5
ascended the tribune, and proposed the eternal abolition
oj royalty in France. rIhe question was carried by ac-crees the
clamation, and the house adjourned. Messages were eternal ab¬
sent to all parts of the country to intimate the decree oIiU?”
and by the influence of the Jacobins they were every-SJe!"
vviieie received with applause. It was next day de¬
creed, that all public acts should he dated by the year
of the French republic ; and all citizens wei-e declared
eligible to all the vacant offices and places. The rage
of republicanism soon went so far, that the ordinary ti¬
tles of Monsieur and Madame were abolished, and the
appellation of Citizen substituted in their stead, as
more suitable to the principles of libertv and equality. 
It may he remarked, that in this last’ trifling circum¬
stance an attachment to the form of speech to which
they had been accustomed appears even in its abolition :
J or, although the Boman orators addressed their coun¬
trymen when assembled by the honourable appellation
ol Citizens, yet they never, in accosting an individual,
called him Citizen Cato, or Citizen Ctesar, according
to the mode now adopted in France.
S
It
1792
3/7
Two oppo-
>jte fac¬
tions in the
cimvenlioD.
35®
Decree a-
gainst the
emigrants,
Battle of
Jemappe,
end surren
dor of the
Austrian
JCetfcw-
l&HvS.
It was soon discovered that the leading republicans
had divided into two opposite factions. fLhe one of
these was called Girondists, because Vergniaud, Cen¬
soring, Gaudet, and some others ot its leaders, were mem¬
bers from the department of La Gironde. 1 he cele¬
brated Condorcet belonged to this party j and they were
sometimes denominated Brissotines, from M. Bnssot de
Warville their principal leader. They supported the
ministry now in office, at the head of which was Ro¬
land and the majority of the convention was obvious¬
ly attached to them. In opposition to these was the
smaller party of the Mountain : so called from its mem¬
bers usually sitting in the convention on the upper seats
of the hall. They were men possessed of less personal
respectability, and fewer literary accomplishments, but
of daring and sanguinary characters, whom the revolu¬
tion had brought into public notice. At the head of
this party were Danton and Robespierre ; and subor¬
dinate to these were Couthon, Bazire, Ihuriot, Mer¬
lin de Thionville, St Andie, Camille Demoulins, Cha-
bnt, Collot D’Herbois, Sergent, Legendre, Fabre
d’Eglantine, Panis, and Marat.
These two parties shewed the diversity of their cha¬
racters in the manner in which they treated the mas¬
sacres of the 2d and 3d of September. The Brissotines,
with the majority of the convention, wished to bring the
murderers to trial j hut the question was always eluded
by the other party, with the assistance of the Jacobin
club and of the populace.
On the 9th of October it was decreed, that all emi¬
grants, when taken, should suffer death 5 and on tiie 15th
of November, in consequence of an insurrection in the
duchy of Deux Fonts, and an application on the part of
the insurgents to the convention lor aid, the following de¬
cree was passed : “ The national convention declare, in
the name of the French nation, that they will grant fra¬
ternity and assistance to all those people who wish to
procure liberty j and they charge the executive power
to send orders to the generals to give assistance to such
people as have suffered, or are now suffering, in the
cause of liberty.” Of this decree foreign nations, with
yreat reason, complained much, as will shortly appeal.
~ To return to the military affairs of the new repub¬
lic. On the 12th of October General Dumourier
-came to Paris, and was speedily sent to commence a
winter campaign in the Netherlands. Lie suddenly at¬
tacked the Austrians at the village of Bossu, and drove
them from their ground. On the 5th of November he
came in sight of the enemy upon the heights of Je¬
mappe. Three rows of fortifications arose above each
other, defended by 100 pieces of cannon. Their right was
covered by the village and a river, and their left by
thick woods. The French were by their own account
30,000, whilst others, with great probability of truth,
compute them at double that number, and the number
of the Austrians was at least 20,000. At seven in the
morning of the following day a heavy cannonade com¬
menced on both sides, and at noon a close attack was
determined on by the French, whose right wing was
commanded by Generals Bournonville and Dampierre,
and the centre by Generals Egalite (son to the duke of
Orleans who hud assumed that name), Stetenboffe,
Desporets,.and Drouet. The music played the popu¬
lar march of the Marsellois, and the soldiers rushed on
with enthusiasm, shouting Vive la nation.” The en-
FRANCE.,
gagement was warm and bloody ; the French were
twice repulsed *, hut their impetuosity was at last lire'
sistihle, and about two o’clock the enemy fled from
their last entrenchments. Jhe loss on both sides
was very great, that of the Austrians amounting to
4000. This victory was decisive of the fate of the
Netherlands. Mens and Brussels surrendered to Du¬
mourier ; Tournay, Malines, Ghent, and Antwerp,
were taken possession of by General Labourdonnaye 5
Louvaine and Namur were taken by General Valence;
and the whole Austsian Netherlands, Luxembourg^on¬
ly excepted, fell into the hands of the French : Liege
was taken on the 28th of November after a successful
engagement, in which the Austrians lost $00 or 600
men and an immense train of artillery. . 340
France was now in a situation not unusual in the hi-Violent
story of those nations that either are free, or are at*^en8ts*
tempting to become soj successful in all quarters abroad,
but distracted by factions at home. The two parties and ^
in the convention were engaged in a struggle, which Mountw,
dally became more implacable. The party called the
Mountain did not hesitate about the nature of the means
they were to employ to bring about the ruin of their
antagonists. They are even suspected of having, through
the medium of Pache the war-minister, retarded the
supply of the armies, to render the ruling party odious
by want of success. They were for some time, how¬
ever, unfortunate in this respect; and the daily news of
victories supported with the public the credit of the
Girondists. A new subject was therefore fallen upon,
which was the question, how the dethroned king was
to be disposed of? The moderate party wished to save
him ; and this was a sufficient reason for their antago¬
nists to resolve upon his ruin. A committee was ap¬
pointed to give in a report upon his conduct. A va¬
riety of accusations were brought against him ; and the
convention infamously resolved to act the part of accu¬
sers and of judges. 341
It was on the nth of December when the ill-fated The kinj
monarch was ordered to the bar of the convention : thcb™gl!tl1
act of accusation was read, and the king was summoned ria'
by the president, Barrere, to answer to each separate
charge.
Bres. “ Louis, the French nation accuses you of
having committed a multitude of crimes to establish
your tyranny, in destroying her freedom. You, on the
20th of June J789, attempted the sovereignty of the
people, by suspending the assemblies of their represen¬
tatives, and expelling them with violence from the places
of their sittings. This is proved in the process verbal
entered at the Tennis-court of Versailles by the mtetn-
bers of the constituent assembly. On the 23d of June
you wanted to dictate laws to the nation ; you surround¬
ed their representatives with troops ; you presented to
them two royal declarations, subversive of all liberty,
and ordered them to separate. Your own declarations,
and the minutes of the assembly, prove these attempts.
What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ No laws were then existing to prevent me
from it.”
Fres. “ You ordered an army to march against the
citizens of Paris. Your satellites have shed the blood
of several of them, and you would not remove this army
till the taking of the Bastile and a general insurrection
announced to you that the people were victorious. The
speeches
»peeche« yoa made on the 9th, 12th, and 14th of July
v—^ to the deputations of the constituent assembly, shew
792. what were your intentions j and the massacres of the
FRANCE.
Tbuilleries rise in evidence against you.-
yon to answer ?”
-What have
Louis. “ I was master at that time to order the
troops to march j but I never had an intention of shed¬
ding blood.”
Pres. “ After these events, and in spite of the promises
which you made on the 15th in the constituent assem¬
bly, and on the 17th in the town- house of Paris, you
have persisted in your projects against national liberty.
You long eluded the execution of the decrees of the
nth of August, respecting the abolition of personal
servitude, the feudal government, and tythes: you
long refused acknowledging the rights of man : you
doubled the number of the life-guards, and called the
regiment of Flanders to Versailles : you permitted, in
orgies held before your eyes, the national cockade to
he trampled under foot, the white cockade to be hoist¬
ed, and the nation to be slandered. At last, you render¬
ed necessary a fresh insurrection, occasioned the death
of several citizens, and did not change your language
till after your guards had been defeated, when yon re¬
newed your perfidious promises. The proofs of these
facts are in your observations of the 18th of Septem¬
ber, in the decrees of the nth of August, in the mi¬
nutes of the constituent assembly, in the events of Ver¬
sailles of the 5th and 6th of October, and in the con¬
versation, you had on the same day with a deputation of
the constituent assembly, when you told them you would
enlighten yourself with their councils, and never recede
from them.—What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ I have made the observations which I
thought just ou the two first heads. As to the cockade,
it is false ; it did not happen in my presence.”
Pres. “ You took an oath at the federation of the
14th of July, which you did not keep. You soon tried
to corrupt the public opinion, with the assistance of Ta¬
lon who acted in Paris, and Mirabeau who was to have
excited counter-revolutionary movements in the provin¬
ces.-—What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ I do not know what happened at that time ;
but the whole is anterior to my acceptance of the con¬
stitution.”
Pres. “ You lavished millions of money to effect this
corruption, and you would even use popularity as a
means of enslaving the people. These facts are the re¬
sult of a memorial of Talon, on which you have made
your marginal comments in your otvn hand-writing, and
of a letter which Laporte wrote to you on the 19th of
April; in which, recapitulating a conversation he had
with Rivarol, he told you, that the millions which you
had been prevailed upon to throw away had been pro¬
ductive of nothing. For a long time you had meditat¬
ed on a plan of escape. A memorial was delivered to
you on the 28th of February, which pointed out the
means for you to effect it; you approve of it by mar¬
ginal notes.——What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ I felt no greater pleasure than that of re¬
lieving the needy: this proves no design.”
Pres. “ On the 28th a great number of the nobles
and military came into your apartments in the castle of
the Thuilleries to favour that escape ; you wanted to
quit Paris on the loth of April to go to St Cloud—
What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ This accusation is absurd.”
Pres. “ But the resistance of the citizens made you
sensible that their distrust was great; you endeavoured
to discard it by communicating to the constituent as¬
sembly a letter, which you addressed to the agents of
the nation near foreign powers, to announce°to them
that you had freely accepted the constitutional articles,
which had been presented to you ; and, notwithstanding,
on the 21st you took flight with a false passport. You
lett behind a protest against these sell-same constitutional
articles ; you ordered the ministers to sign none of the
acts issued by the national assembly ; and yon forbade
the minister of justice to deliver up the seals of state.
1 he public money was lavished to insure the success of
this treachery, and the public force was to protect it
under the orders of Bouille, who shortly before had
been charged with the massacre of Nancy, and to whom
you wrote on this head, “ to take care of his popularity,
because it would be of service to you.” These facts
are proved by the memorial of the 23d of February,
wit.i marginal comments in your own hand-writing ; by
your declaration of the 20th of June, wholly in your
own hand-writing; by your letter of the 4th ofSeptem-'
ber 1790 to Bouille ; and by a note of the latter, in
which he gives you an account of the use he made of
993,000 livres, given by you, and employed partly in
trepanning the troops who were to escort you. What
have you to answer ?”
Louts. “ I have no knowledge whatever of the me¬
morial of the 23d of February. As to what relates to my
journey to Varennes, I appeal to my declaration to the
commissaries of the constituent assembly at that period.”
. Fees. “ Alter your detention at Varennes, the exer¬
cise Oi the executive power was for a moment suspend¬
ed in your hands, and you again formed a conspiracy.
Un the 17th of July the blood of citizens was shed in
the Champ de Mars. A letter, in your own hand¬
writing, written in 1790 to La Fayette, proves that a
criminal coalition subsisted between you and LaFayette,
to which Mirabeau acceded. The revision began under
these cruel auspices ; all kinds of corruptions were made
use of. You have paid for libels, pamphlets, and news¬
papers, designed to corrupt the public opinion, to dis¬
credit the assignats, and to support the cause of the emi¬
grants. The registers of Septeuil shew what immense
sums have been made use of in these liberticide ma¬
noeuvres.—What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ What happened on the 17th of July has no¬
thing at all to do with me. I know nothing of it.”
Pres. “ You seemed to accept the constitution on the
14th of September ; your speeches announced an inten¬
tion of supporting it, and you were busy in overturning
it, even before it was completed. A’convention was
entered into at Pilnitz on the 24th of July, between
Leopold of Austria and Frederic-William of Branden-
burgh, who pledged themselves to re-erect iu France the
throne of absolute monarchy, and you were silent upon
this convention till the moment when it was known by
all Europe.—-What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ I made it known as soon as it came to my
knowledge ; besides, every thing that refers to this sub-i
ject concerns the minister.”
£ 2
1792.
Pres.
I792,
FRANCE.
Pres. “ Arles had hoisted the standard of rebellion *,
you favoured it by sending three civil commissaries,
who made it their business not to repress the counter¬
revolutionists, but to justify their proceedings. What
have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ The instructions which were given to the
commissaries must prove what was their mission } and
I knew none of them when the ministers proposed them
to me.” • • i j
Pres. “ Avignon, and the county of Venaissin, had
been united with France ; you caused the decree to be
executed j but a month after that time civil war deso¬
lated that country. The commissaries you sent thither
helped to ravage it.—What have you to answer ?”
Lottis. “ I do not remember what delay has been
caused in the execution of the decree j besides, this oc¬
currence has no personal reference to me *, it only con¬
cerns those that have been sent, not those who sent
them.”
Pres. “ Nimes, Montauban, Mende, dales, teltgreat
shocks during the first days of freedom. You did nothing
to stifle those germens ol counter-revolution till the mo¬
ment when Saillant’s conspiracy became manifestly no¬
torious.—-What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ I gave, in this respect, all the orders which
were proposed to me by the ministers.^
Pres. “ You sent 22 battalions against the Marseil-
lois, who marched to reduce the counter-revolutionists
of Arles.—-What have you to answer. ?”
Louis. “ I ought to have the pieces referring to this
matter, to give a just answer.”
Pres. “ You gave the southern command to YVit-
genstein, who wrote to you on the 2ist of April 1792,
after he had been recalled : ‘ A few instants more, and
I shall call around the throne of your majesty thousands
of French, who are again become worthy of the wishes
you form for their happiness.’—What have you to an-
$vver
Louis. “ This letter is dated since his recall j he
has not been employed since. I do not recollect this
letter.1’
Pres. “ You paid your late life-guards at Coblentz
the registers of Septeuil attest this ; and general orders
signed'’ by you prove that you sent considerable remit¬
tances to Bouille, Rochefort, Vauguyon, Cho.seul,
Beaupre, Hamilton, and the wife of Folignac.—What
have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ When I first learned that my life-guards
assembled beyond the Rhine, I stopped their pay : as
to the rest, I do not remember.”
Pres. “ Your brothers, enemies to the state, caused
the emigrants to rally under their banners : they raised
regiments, took up loans, and concluded alliances in
your name : you did not disclaim them 5 but at tne mo¬
ment when you were fully certain that you could no
longer cross their projects, your intelligence with them
by a note, written by Louis Stanislaus Xavier, signed
by your two brothers, was conceived in these words:
t 1 wrote to you, but it was by post, and I comd
say npthing. We are two here, who make but one 5
one in sentiments, one in principles, one in zeal ot
serving you. We keep silence ; because were we to
break it too soon, it would injure you : but we shall
sneak as soon as we shall be certain of general support,
and that moment is near. If we are spoken to on the
part of those people, we shall hear nothing hut if on Franc,!
your part, we shall listen : we shall pursue our road 1 ^
straight. It is therefore desired that you will enable us I792
to say something. Do not stand on ceremonies. Be easy
about your safety: we only exist to serve you j we aie
eagerly occupied with this point, and all goes on weA 5
even our enemies feel themselves too much interested in
your preservation to commit an useless dime which
would terminate in their own destruction.
‘ L. S. Xavier and
‘ Charles Philippe’.
“ What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ I disowned all the proceedings of my bro¬
thers, according as the constitution prescribed me to do,
and from the moment they came to my knowledge. Of
this note I know nothing.”
pres. “ The soldiers of the line, who were to be
put on the war establishment, consisted but of 100,000
men at the end of December, you therefore neglected
to provide for the safety of the state from abroad. Nar-
bonne required a levy of 50,000 men, but he stopped
the recruiting at 26,000, in giving assurances that all
was ready j yet there was no truth in these assurances.
Servan proposed after him to form a camp of 20,000
men near Paris j it was decreed by the legislative assem¬
bly $ you refused your sanction.—What have you to
answer ?”
Louis. “ I had given to the ministers all the orders
for expediting the augmentation of the army : in the
month of December last, the returns were laid before
the assembly. If they deceived themselves, it is not
my fault.”
Pres. “ A flight of patriotism made the citizens re¬
pair to Paris from all quarters. You issued a procla¬
mation, tending to stop their march ; at the same time
our camps were without soldiers. Dumouner, the suc¬
cessor* of Servan, declared that the nation had neither
arms, ammunition, nor provisions, and that the posts
were left defenceless. You waited to be urged by a re¬
quest made to the minister Lajard, when the legislative
assembly wished to point out the means of providing
for the external safety of the state, by proposing the
levy of 42 battalions. You gave commission to the
commanders of the troops to disband the army, to force
whole regiments to desert, and to make them pass the
Rhine, to put them at the disposal of your brothers,
and of Leopold of Austria, with whom you had intel¬
ligence. This fact is proved by the letter of Toulou-
geon, governor ol Iranche Comte.—What have you to
answer?”
Louis. “ I know nothing of this circumstance j
there is not a word of truth in this charge.'’
Pres. “ You charged your diplomatic agent, to
favour this coalition of foreign powers and your bro¬
thers against France, and especially to cement the peace
between Turkey and Austria, and to procure thereby a
larger number of troops against France from the latter.
A letter of Choiseul-Gouffier, ambassador at Con¬
stantinople, verifies the fact.—What have you to an¬
swer ?”
Louis. “ M. Choiseul did not speak the truth : no
such thing has ever been.”
Pres. “ The Prussians advanced against our fron¬
tiers : your minister was summoned on the 8th of July
to give an account of the state of our political relations
b with
FRA
lance. With Prussia; you answered, on the loth, that 50,000
—v—' Prussians were marching against us, and that you gave
-792. notice to the legislative body of the formal acts of the
pending hostilities, in conformity to the constitution.—
What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ It was only at that period I bad know¬
ledge of it: all the correspondence passed with the mi¬
nisters.”
Pres. “ You entrusted Dabancourt, the nephew of
Calonne, with the department of war; and such has
been the success of your conspiracy, that the posts of
Longwy and Verdun were surrendered to the enemy at
the moment of their appearance.—What have you to
answer ?”
Louis. “ I did not know that Dabancourt was M.
Calonne’s nephew. I have not divested the posts. I
would not have permitted myself such a thing. I know
nothing of it, if it has been so.”
Pres. “ You have destroyed our navy—a vast num¬
ber of officers belonging to that corps had emigrated ;
there scarcely remained any to do duty in the harbours ;
meanwhile Bertrand was granting passports every day ;
and when the legislative body represented to you his
criminal conduct on the 8th of March, you answered,
that you were satisfied with his services.—What have
you to answer ?”
Louis. “ J have done all I could to retain the offi¬
cers. As to M. Bertrand, since the legislative assembly
presented no complaint against him that might have
put him in a state of accusation, I did not think proper
to turn him out of office.
Pres. “ You have favoured the maintenance of ub-
nolute government in the colonies ; your agents foment¬
ed troubles and counter-revolutions throughout them,
which took place at the same epoch, when it was to
have been brought about in Fiance, which indicates
plainly that your hand laid this plot What have you
to answer ?”
Zottfs. “ If there are any of my agents in the colo¬
nies, they have not spoken the truth : I had nothing to
do with what you have just mentioned.”
Pres. “ The interior of the state was convulsed by
fanatics ; you avowed yourself their protector, in mani¬
festing your evident intention of recovering by them
your ancient power.—What have you to answer?”
Louis. “ I cannot answer to this ; I know nothing
of such a project.”
Pres. 11 The legislative body had passed a decree
on the 29th of January against the factious priests;
you suspended its execution.—What have vou to an-
»wer ? ”
Louis. “ Ihe constitution reserved to me the free
right to refuse my sanction of the decrees.”
Pres. “ I he troubles bad increased; the minister
declared, that he knew no means in the laws extant to
arraign the guilty. The legislative body enacted a fresh
decree, which you likewise suspended. ' What have you
to say to this ?”
[Louis replied in the same manner as in the preced¬
ing charge.]
Pres. “ The uncitizen-like conduct of the guards
whom die constitution had granted you, had rendered it
necessary to disband them. The day after, you sent
them a letter expressive of your satisfaction, and con-
N C E.
tinned their pay. This fact is proved by the treasurer
of the civil list.—What have you to answer ?”
Louis. “ I only continued them in pay till fresh
ones could be raised, according to the tenor of the de¬
cree.”
1 res. “ 1 on kept near your person the Swiss
guards : the constitution forbade you this, and the legis¬
lative assembly had expressly ordained their departure.
—What have you to answer ?”
Loins. “ I have executed all the decrees that have
been enacted in this respect.
Pres. “ You had private companies at Paris, char¬
ge to operate movements useful to your projects of a
counter-revolution. Dangremont and Gilles were two
0 your agents, who had salaries from the civil list.
Ihe receipts of Gilles, who was ordered to raise a com¬
pany of 60 men, shall be presented to you What
have you to answer ?”
. Louis. “ I have no knowledge whatever of the pro¬
jects laid to their charge : the idea of a counter-revolu¬
tion never entered into my mind.”
Pres. “ You wished to suborn, with considerable
sums, several members of the legislative and constituent
assemblies. Letters from St Leon and others evince
the reality of these deeds.—What have you to an¬
swer ?”
. Louis. “ Several persons presented themselves with
similar decrees, but I have waved them.”
Pres. “ Who are they that presented you with those
projects ?”
Louis. “ Ihe plans were so vague that I do not re¬
collect them now.”
Pres. “ Who are those to whom you gave money? ”
Louis. “ I gave money to nobody.”
^ ^r°u suffered the French name to be revil¬
ed in Germany, Italy, and Spain, since you omitted to
lemand satisfaction for the bad treatment which the
French suffered in those countries.—What have you to
Louis. “ The diplomatical correspondence will prove
the contrary ; besides, this was a concern of the mini¬
sters.”
Pres. “ lou reviewed the Swiss on the 10th of Au¬
gust at five o’clock in the morning; and the Swiss were
the first who fired upon the citizens.”
Louis. “ I went on that day to review all the troops
that were assembled about me; the constituted authori¬
ties were with me, the department, the mayor, the mu¬
nicipality ; I had even invited thither a deputation of
the National Assembly, and I afterwards repaired into
the midst of them with my family.”
Pres. “ Why did you draw troops to the castle ?”
Louis. “ All the constituted authorities saw that the
castle was threatened; and as I was a constituted au¬
thority, I had a right to defend myself.”
Pres. “ "Why did yen summon the mayor of Paris
on the night between the oth and 10th of Auirust to
the castle ?”
Louis. ‘ On account of the reports that were circu¬
lated.”
Pres. ” Y on have caused the blood of the French to
be shed.”
Louis. “ No, Sir, not I.”
Pres. “ You authorized Septeuil to carry on a
considerable
I4I
France.
1792.
Kriuu-e considerable trade in corn, sugar, and coffee, at Ham-
  ' burg. This fact is proved by a letter ot Septeuil.”
1792. Louis. “ I know nothing of what you say.”
Pres. “ Why did you affix a veto on the decree
which ordained the formation of a camp of 20,000
men ?”
Louis. “ The constitution left to me the free right
of refusing my sanction of the decrees •, and even from
that period I had demanded the assemblage of a camp
at Soissons.”
President, addressing the convention. “ T. he que¬
stions are done with.” C^-'0 Louis)—“ Louis, is there
any thing that you wish to add ?”
Louis. “ I request a communication of the charges
which I have heard, and of the pieces relating thereto,
and the liberty of choosing counsel for my defence.”
Valaze, who sat near the bar, presented and read to
Louis Capet the pieces, viz. rlhe memoir of Laporte
and Mirabeau, and some other, containing plans of a
counter-revolution.
Louis. “ I disown them.”
Valaze next presented several other papers, on which
the act of accusation was founded, and asked the king
if be recognized them. These papers were the follow-
ValtvzS. “ Letter of Louis Capet, dated June 29th
1790, settling his connexions with Mirabeau and La
Tavette to effect a revolution in the constitution.”
Louis. “ I reserve to myself to answer the con¬
tents” (Valaze read the letter.)—“ It is only a plan,
in which there is no question about a counter-revolu¬
tion ; the letter was not to have been sent.”
Valaze. “ Letter of Louis Capet, of the 22d of
April, relative to conversations about the Jacobins,
about the president of the committee of finances, and
the committee of domains 5 it is dated by the hand ot
Louis Capet.”
Louis. “ I disown it.”
Fa laze. “ Letter of Laporte, of Thursday morn¬
ing, March 3d, marked in the margin in the hand¬
writing of Louis Capet with March 3d 1791, implying
a pretended rupture between Mirabeau and the Jaco¬
bins.”
Louis. “ I disown it.”
Valaze. “ Letter of Laporte without date, in his
hand-writing, but marked in the margin by the hand
of Louis Capet, containing particulars respecting the
last moments of Mirabeau, and expressing the care that
had been taken to conceal from tlie knowledge of men
some papers of great concern which had been deposited
with Mirabeau.”
Louis. “ I disown it as well as the rest.”
Valaze. “ Plan of a constitution, or revision of the
constitution, signed la Fayette, addressed to Louis Ca¬
pet, April 6th 1790, marked in the margin with a line
in his own hand-writing.”
Louis. “ These things have been blotted out by the
constitution.” . .
ValazS. “ Do you know this writing ?
Louis. “ I do not.”
Valaze. “ Your marginal comments ?"
Louis. “ I do not.” . . .,
Valaze. “ Letter of Laporte of the 19th of April
Marked in the margin by Louis Capet April 19. 1791
mentioning a conversation with Rivard.”
N C E.
Louis. “ I disown it.” Frauw
Valazt. “ Letter of Laporte, marked April 16. ■*—
1791, in which it seems complaints are made of Mira-
beau, the abbe Perigord, Andre, and Beaumelz, who
do not seem to acknowledge sacrifices made for their
sake.”
Louis. “ I disown it likewise.”
Valaze. “ Letter of Laporte of the 23d of Febru¬
ary 1791, marked and dated in the hand-writing of
Louis Capet •, a memorial annexed to it, respecting the
means of his gaining popularity.”
Louis. “ I know neither of these pieces.”
Valaze. “ Several pieces without signature, found
in the castle of the Thuilleries, in the gap which was
shut in the walls of the palace, relating to the expence#
to gain that popularity.”
President. “ Previous to an examination on this sub¬
ject, I wish to ask a preliminary question : Have you
caused a press with an iron door to be constructed in the
castle of the Thuilleries, and bad you your papers
locked up in that press ?”
Louis. “ I have no knowledge of it whatever.”
Valaze. “ Here is a day-book written by Louis
Capet himself, containing the pensions he has granted
out of his cofler from 1776 till 1792, in which are
observed some douceurs granted to Acloque.”
Lotiis. “ This I own, but it consists of charitable
donations which I have made.”
ValazS. “ Different lists of sums paid to the Scotch
companies of Noailles, Gramont, Montmorency, and
Luxembourg, on the 9th of July 1791.”
Lotiis. “ This is prior to the epoch when I forbade
them to be paid.”
Pres. “ Louis, where had you deposited those pie¬
ces which you own ?”
Louis. “ With my treasurer.”
Valaze. “ Do you know these pension-lists of the
life-guards, the one hundred Swiss, and the king’s
guards for 1792
Louis. “ I do not.”
Valaze. “ Several pieces relative to the conspiracy
of the camp of Jales, the original of which are depo¬
sited among the records of the department of L’Ar-
d£che.”
Louis. “ I have not the smallest knowledge of
them.”
ValazL “ Letter of Bouille, dated Mentz, bear¬
ing an account of 993,000 livres received of Louis Ca¬
pet.”
Louis. “ I disown it.”
Valaze. “ An order for payment of 168,000 livres,
signed Louis, indorsed Le Bonneirs, with a letter and
billet of the same.”
Louis. “ I disown it.”
Valaze. “ Two pieces relative to a present made
to the wife of Polignac, and to Lavauguyon and Cboi-
seol.”
Louis. “ I disown them as well as the others.”
Valaze. “ Here is a note signed by the two bro¬
thers of the late king, mentioned in the declaratory
act.”
Louis. “ I know nothing of it.”
Valaze. “ Here are pieces relating to the affair oi
Choiseul Gouffier at Constantinople.”
Louis. “ I have no knowledge of them.”
Val&se.
'who?
793
54*
} is al¬
ls d to
g linate
b ;wn
;
a
i rin-.
to
ieat, ;
:®a!
*n'tj
7 a
Vufo%L “ Here is a Jutter of the late king to the
•-hishoffof Clermont, whl: the answer of the latter, of
the l6th of April 1791.”
Louis, “ I disown it.”
I resident, “ l^)o you not acknowledge your writing
and your signet ?”
Louis. “ I do not.”
President. “ Ihe seal bears the arms of France.”
Louis. “ Several persons made use of that seal.”
Valaze'. “ Do you acknowledge this list of sums
paid to Gilles ?”
Louis. “ I do not.”
Ialwze. “ Here is a memorandum for indemnifying
the civil list for the military pensions j a letter of Du-
Iresne St Leon, which relates to it.”
Louis. “ I know none of those pieces.”
VS hen the whole had been investigated in this man¬
ner, the president, addressing the king, said, “ I have
no other questions to propose-—have you any thing more
to add in your defence “ I desire to have a copy of
the accusation (replied the king), and of the papers on
which it is founded. I also desire to have a counsel of
my own nomination.” Barrere informed him, that his
two first requests were already decreed, and that the
determination respecting the" other would be made
known to him in due time.
It would have been an excess of cruelty to refuse a
request so reasonable in itself j it was therefore decreed
that counsel should be allowed to the king, and his
choice fell upon M. M. Tronchet, Lamoignon, Male-
sherbes, and Deseze *, he had previously applied to M.
Target, who excused himself on account of his age and
infirmity. On the 26th of December, the king ap¬
peared for the last time at the bar of the convention ;
and M. Deseze read a defence which the counsel had
prepared, and which was equally admired for the solidi¬
ty of the argument and the beauty ol the composition.
When the defence was finished, the king arose, and
holding a paper in his hand, pronounced in a calm man¬
ner, and with a firm voice, what follows : “ Citizens,
you have heard my defence ; I now speak to you, per¬
haps for the last time, and declare that my counsel have
asserted nothing to you but the truth ; my conscience
reproaches me with nothing. I never was afraid of
having my .conduct investigated j but I observed with
great uneasiness, that I was accused of giving orders for
shedding the blood of the people on the 10th of August.
The proofs I have given through my whole life of a
contrary disposition, I hoped would have saved me from
such an imputation, which I now solemnly declare is en¬
tirely groundless.”"
The discussion vyas fatally closed on the 16th of Ja¬
nuary. After a sitting of near 34 hours, the punish¬
ment of death was awarded by a small majority of tho
convention, and several of these differed in opinion from
the rest, respecting the time when it should be inflicted ;
some contending that it should not be put in execution
till after the end of the war, while others proposed to
take the sense of the people, by referring the sentence
to the primary assemblies.
M. Deseze then solemnly invoked the assembly in
the name of his colleagues, to consider by what a small
majority the punishment of death was pronounced
against the dethroned monarch. “ Do not afflict
ranee (added this eloquent advocate) by a judgment
that will appear terrible to her, when five voices only
FRANCE.
179.1 ■
were presumed sufficient to carry it.” He appealed to
eternal justice, and sacred humanity, to induce the con¬
vention to refer their sentence to the tribunal of the
people. “ You have either forgotten or destroyed (said
the celebrated M. Tronchet) the lenity which the law
allows to criminals, of requiring at least two-thirds of
the voices to constitute a definitive judgment.”
Jhe sentence was ordered to be executed in twenty-
four hours. J
Ihe king and his family had been for some time kept An<i'ese<
separate from each other; but he was now allowed to seecuted.
them, and to choose an ecclesiastic to attend him. The
meeting, and, above all, the separation from his family,
was tender in the extreme. On Monday the 2ist Ja¬
nuary, at eight o’clock in the morning, the unfortunate
monarch was summoned to bis fate. He ascended the
seafiold with a firm air and step. Raising his voice, be
said, “ Frenchmen, I die innocent; I pardon all my
enemies ; and may France”—at this instant the inhu¬
man Santerre ordered the drums to beat, and the execu¬
tioners to perform their office. When they offered to
bind his hands, he started back as if about to resist;
hut recollected himself in a moment, and submitted..
When the instrument of death descended, the priest ex¬
claimed, “ Son of St Louis, ascend to heaven.” The
bleeding head was held up, and a few of the populace
shouted Pive la Repubhque. His body was interred in
a grave that was filled up with quicklime, and a guard
placed around till it should be consumed.
I bus fell Louis XVTI. He possessed from nature Character
a good understanding, which, however, was blunted byofdusun
the early indulgences of a court. He had a strong sense fortanatc
of justice, and his humanity was perhaps extreme. One U,0,lar0^‘
defect rendered his virtues of little value, which was
the possession of an irresolute and unsteady character.
Unambitious, and easily advised, he was without diffi¬
culty induced to change his purposes, especially by his
queen, whose connexion with the house of Austria had
always tended to render his counsels unpopular. Whe-
thei he was or was not connected with the foreign in¬
vaders of his country, posterity must decide ; but all
men of sense and moderation must be convineed that he
was murdered by a band of ruffians. Indeed a sentence
so infamous, and in all respects unjust, is not to be
found in the records of history. The greater part of
the charges brought against him were trifling. Those
which seem to be of importance relate to conduct autho¬
rized by the constitution under which he acted ; and
tuat constitution declared his person inviolable. The
severest punishment that he could incur by law, was
not death, but deposition ; and there is no doubt, that
in putting him to death the French nation broke the
social compact which their representatives made with
him. In a political view, this tragical event was inju¬
rious to the republican cause throughout Europe. No
man out of France ventured to justify it; and in all
countries it excited the most violent indignation against
the rulers of the new republic.
New enemies were now hastening to join the general ^“i'ture
league against France. We do not mean here to enter
into a detail of the political struggles that occurred in
any other country, than that in the narrative of whose
revolution we are now engaged. It will therefore only
be necessary to remark in general, that the British go¬
vernment at this time thought itself endangered by the
propagation of those speculative opinions which had
overturned *
I793‘
347
FRA
overturned the French monarchy. Almost all the men
of property in the kingdom concurred with the ministry
in thinking a war with France necessary for the pur-
pose of securing the constitution at home. After the
iOth of August the British minister had been recalled ;
but the new republic still suffered the former ambassa¬
dor from France, M. Chauvelin, to remain in England.
Grounds of The ostensible grounds of quarrel on the part of
the quarrel Qreat Britain were chiefly two 5 the decree of the I5t‘1
on the partof November 1792, by which it was truly observed that
encouragement to rebellion was held out to the subjects
of every state, and that war was thereby waged against
every established government. Of this decree the French
executive council gave explanations, denying the fair¬
ness of the interpretation put upon it, and alleging,
that the intention of the convention was only to give
aid to such countries as had already acquired their free¬
dom, and by a declaration of the general will requested
aid for its preservation. But this explanation cannot be
admitted. The decree expressly says, that the French
nation will grant assistance to all who wish to procure li¬
berty; and when it is considered what their notions of li¬
berty are, it cannot be doubted but that their intention
was to excite rebellion in foreign nations. The second
point of dispute referred to the opening of the Scheldt.
This river runs from Brabant through the Dutch ten itory
to the sea. The Dutch had shut up the mouth of it, and
prevented any maritime commerce from being carried
on by the people ot Brabant by means of the^ river, lo
render themselves popular in Brabant, the Irench had
declared that they would open the navigation of the
Scheldt. But Great Britain had some time before bound
herself by treaty with the Dutch to assist them in ob¬
structing this navigation, and now declared to the
French, that the project of opening the Scheldt must be
renounced if peace with Great Britain was to remain.
The French alleged, that by the law of nations navigable
rivers ought to be open to all who reside on their banks ;
but that the point was of no importance either to
France or England, and even of very little importance
to Holland j that if the people of Brabant themselves
chose to give it up, they would make no objection.
It has been thought remarkable, that the Dutch gave
themselves no trouble about the matter. They did not
ask the assistance of England •, and with that coolness
which is peculiar to their character, the merchants in¬
dividually declared, that if the Scheldt was opened,
thev could manage their commerce as well at Antwerp
as 'at Amsterdam. But in all this there is nothing
strange. Among the Dutch were many republicans,
who wished for the downfal of the stadtholder. These
rejoiced at every thing which distressed him, or had a
tendency to render his office useless in the eyes ot the
people. ' Others, who thought differently, were afraid
to speak their sentiments, as Dumourier was in their
neighbourhood with a victorious army. The result of
the whole was, that M. Chauvelin was commanded by
the British government to leave this country. Die
w. -H3 , French executive council gave powers to another mint-
re/asrainstster, M. Maret, to negotiate, and requested a passport
the kinjr of for him j but he was not suflered to land. Ihe haughty
republicans having thus far humbled themselves before
the British government, at last, on the 1st of rebru-
ary I7Q3) on ffie motion of Brissot, the national con¬
vention decreed, among other articles, that “ George
king of England had never ceased since the revolution
Fmo'
34?
F.ngliinfi,
and Studl-
iiolder of
Holland.
N C E.
of the I oth of August 1792 from giving to the
French nation proofs of his attachment to the concert
of crowned heads ; that he had drawn into the same
lake the stadtholder of the United Provinces j that, con¬
trary to the treaty of 1783, the English ministry had
granted protection to the emigrants and others who have
openly appeared in arms against France y that they
have committed an outrage against the French republic,
by ordering the ambassador of France to quit Great Bri¬
tain ; that the English have stopped divers boats and
vessels laden with corn for France, whilst, at the same
time, contrary to the treaty of 1786, they continue the
exportation of it to other foreign countries; that to
thwart more efficaciously the commercial transactions of
the republic with England, they have by an act of par¬
liament prohibited the circulation of assignats. Ihe
convention therefore declare, that in consequence ot
these acts of hostility and aggression, the Irench repub¬
lic is at war with the king of England and the stadt¬
holder of the United Provinces.
The absurdity of pretending that any treaty with
France made in 1783 could be violated by protecting
the emigrants who fled from the fury of the convention,
must be obvious to every reader. The convention was
itself a rebellious usurpation of the government with
which such a treaty was made. The prohibition of
assignats was certainly contrary to no law, and was sanc¬
tioned by every motive of expediency, unless the con¬
vention could prove that all nations were bound by
the law of nature to risk their own credit upon the cre¬
dit of the French republic.
About a fortnight after this absurd declaration against Anda^,
Britain, war was likewise declared against Spain ; andsPain‘
in the course of the summer France was at war with all
Europe, excepting only Swisserlaml, Sweden, Den¬
mark, and Turkey. # 3i3
In the mean time General Dumourier, who was pro-Piogre
ceeding agreeable to his orders, made an attack upon Ibnnoi
Holland ; "but in doing this he dispersed his troops in
such a manner as to expose them much to any attack
on the side of Germany. He commanded General Mi¬
randa to invest Maestricht, while he advanced to block
up Breda and Bergen-op-Zoom. The first of these
places, viz. Breda, surrendered on the 24th of Febru¬
ary j Klundert was taken on the 26th ; Gertruyden-
berg on the 4th of March. But here the triumphs of
Dumourier ended. The sieges of Williamstad and
Bergen-op-Zoom were vigorously but unsuccessfully
pressed. On the 1st of March General Clairfait hav-Heis(j
ing passed the Boer, attacked the French posts, andfeaici
compelled them to retreat with the loss of 2000 men.
The following day the archduke attacked them anew
with considerable success. On the 3d the irench were
driven from Aix-ia-Chapelle, with the loss of 4ocomeu
killed and 1600 taken prisoners.
The siege of Maestricht was now raised, and the
French retreated to Tongres, where they were also at¬
tacked, and forced to retreat to St Trcn. Dumoumr
here joined them, but did not bring his army along
with him from the attack upon Holland. Alter some
skirmishes, a general engagement took place at Iseer-
winden. It was fought on the part of the 1’renck
with great obstinacy ; but they were at length over¬
powered by the number of their enemies, and^ perhaps
also bv the treach’ery of their commander. '1 his de¬
feat was fatal. The French lost 3000 men, and 6oco
immediately
ance.
/' joins
twallK's;
I 'J
In ,s ar-
wj fuse
to 1 with
kin.:
Priuma-
tioi >f the
Imj ial
e»n:jnder
in
Stat t,f
Prai
li‘s: iod.
FRA
immediately deserted and went home to France. Du-
mourier continued to retreat, and on the 22d he was
again attacked near Louvain. He now, through the
medium of Colonel Mack, came to an agreement with
the Imperialists that his retreat should not be seriously
interrupted. It was now fully agreed between him and
the Imperialists, that while the latter took possession
of Conde and Valenciennes, he should march to Paris,
dissolve the convention, and place the son of the late
king upon the throne.
The rapid retreat and successive defeats of General
Dumourier rendered his conduct suspicious. Commis¬
sioners were sent from the executive power for the pur¬
pose of discovering his designs. They dissembled, and
pretended to communicate to him a scheme of a counter¬
revolution. He confessed his intention of dissolving the
convention and the Jacobin club by force, which he said
would not exist three weeks longer, and of restoring
monarchy. On the report of these commissioners the
convention sent Bournonville the minister of war to
supersede and arrest Dumourier, along with Camus,
Biancal, La Marque, and Quinette, as commissioners.
The attempt on the part of these men was at least ha¬
zardous, to say no more of it; and the result was, that
on the first of April Dumourier sent them prisoners to
General Clairfait’s head-quarters at Tournay as hostages
for the safety of the royal family. He next attempted
to seduce his army from their fidelity to the convention 5
but he speedily found that he had much mistaken the
character of his troops. Upon the report that their
general was to be carried as a criminal to Paris, they
were seized with sudden indignation j but when they
found that an attempt was making to prevail with
them to turn their arms against their country, their
sentiments altered. On the 5th of April, two procla¬
mations were issued; one by General Dumourier, and
the other by the prince of Saxe Cobonrg, declaring that
their only purpose was to restore the constitution of
1789, 1790, and 1791, Prince Cobourg announced
that the allied powers wished merely to co-operate with
General Dumourier in giving to France her constitu¬
tional king and the constitution she had formed for
herself, declaring, on his word of honour, that he came
not to the French territory for the purpose of making
conquests. On the same day Dumourier went to the
advanced guard of his own camp at Maulde. He there
learned that the corps of artillery had risen upon their
general, and were marching to Valenciennes ; and he
soon found that the whole army had determined to
stand by their country. Seven hundred cavalry and 800
infantry was the whole amount of those that deserted
with Dumourier to the Austrians, and many of them
afterwards returned.
By the defection of Dumourier, however, the whole
army of the north was dissolved, and in part disbanded,
m presence of a numerous, well disciplined, and victo¬
rious enemy. The Prussians were at the same time ad¬
vancing on the Rhine with an immense force, and about
to commence the siege of Mentz. In the interior of
the republic more serious evils if possible were arising.
In the departments of La Vendee and La Loire, or
the provinces of Brittany and Poitou, immense multi¬
tudes of emigrants and other royalists had gradually
assembled in the course of the winter. They professed
to act in the name of Monsieur, as regent of France.
Vol. IX. Part I. 5 f
1793-
356'
N C E.
About the middle of March they advanced against
Nantz to the amount of 40,000. In the beginning
of April they defeated the republicans in two pitched
battles, and possessed themselves of 50 leagues of coun¬
try. They even threatened by their own efforts to
shake the new republic to its foundation. On the 8th Congress of
of April a congress of the combined powers assembled lhe coin-
at Antwerp. It was attended by the prince of Orange bine<1
and his two sons, with his excellency Vander Spiegel powe,rs-
on the part of Holland j by the duke of York and
Lord Auckland on the part of Great Britain j by the
prince of Saxe Cobourg, Counts Metternich, Staren-
berg, and Mercy Dargenteau, with the Prussian, Spa¬
nish, and Neapolitan envoys. It was here determined
to commence active operations against France. The
prince of Cobourg’s proclamation was recalled, and a
scheme of conquest announced.
Commissioners from the convention now set up theThAepub-
standard of the republic anew, and the scattered bat- bean armr
talions flocked around it. General Dampierre wasa^ainati-
appointed commander, and on the 13th he was able toSCnib,ed‘
resist a general attack upon his advanced posts. On
the 14th, his advanced guard yielded to superior num¬
bers, but on the 15th was victorious in a long and
well-fought battle. On the 23d, the Austrians were
again repulsed, and on the 1st of May General Dam¬
pierre was himself repulsed in an attack upon the ene¬
my. On the 8th, another engagement took place, in
which the French general was killed by a cannon ball.
On the 23d, a very determined attack was made by the
allies upon the I.' rench fortified camp of Famars, which
covered the town of Valenciennes. The French were
overcome, and in the night abandoned their camp. In
consequence of this the allies were enabled to commence
the siege of Valenciennes ; for Conde had been block¬
aded from the first of April.
About the same time General Custine on the Rhine
made a violent but unsuccessful attack upon the Prus¬
sians, in consequence of which they were soon enabled 35S
to lay siege to Mentz. The Corsican general PaoliRcvo4t »f
revolted at this period 5 and the new republic, assault- ^aod‘
ed from without by the whole strength of Europe, was
undermined by treachery and faction within.
M bile the country was in a state verging upon utter State of
ruin, parties in the convention were gradually waxing Parties in
more fierce in their animosity ; and regardless of whatFrance-
was passing at a distance, they seemed only anxious for*11^
the extermination of each other. In the month of ary trib#-'
March, the celebrated 13evolutionary Jlrtbunal was es-nal esta-
tablished for the purpose of trying crimes committed
against the state ; and the Girondist party, the mildness
of whose administration had contributed not a little to
increase the evils of their country, began to see the
necessity of adopting measures of seversity. But the
public calamities, which now rapidly followed each other
in succession, were ascribed by their countrymen to their
imbecility or perfidy. This gave to the party of the
Mountain a fatal advantage. On the 13th "of April
the communes of the 48 sections of Paris presented a
petition, requiring that the chiefs of the Girondists
therein named should be impeached and expelled from
the convention. This was followed up on the 1st of
May by another petition from the suburb of St Antoine.
Hie Girondist party in the mean time impeached Ma¬
rat, but he was acquitted by the jury at his trial. The
Mountain
1793-
fra
Mountain, by the assistance of the Jacobin club, had
now acquired a complete ascendancy over the city ot
Paris. The Girondists or Brissotines proposed there¬
fore to remove the convention from the capital ; and to
prevent this, the Mountain resolved to make the same
use of the people of the capital against the Girondist
party that they had formerly done against the monarch
on the IOth of August. It is unnecessary to state m
detail all the tumults that occurred either in Paris or in
the convention during the remaining part of the month
of May. On the 31st, at four o’clock in the morning,
the tocsin was sounded, the generale was beat, and the
alarm guns fired. All was commotion and terror. Ihe
citizens flew to arms, and assembled round the conven¬
tion. Some deputations demanded a decree of accusa¬
tion against 35 of its members. The day, however, was
spent without decision. On the afternoon ot the 1st
of June an armed force made the same demand. On
the 2d of June this was repeated, the tocsin again
sounded, and an hundred pieces of cannon surrounded
the national hall. At last Barrere mounted the tri¬
bune. He was considered as a moderate man, and re¬
spected by both parties ; but now he artfully deserted
the Girondists. He invited the denounced members
voluntarily to resign their character of representatives.
Some of them complied, and the president attempted
to dissolve the sitting •, but the members were now
imprisoned in their own hall. Henriot, commander of
the armed force, compelled them to remain ; and the
obnoxious deputies, amounting to upwards of 90 m
number, were put under arrest, and a decree ot denun¬
ciation against them signed.. .
The Moun- It is obvious, that on this occasion the liberties of
tain party France were trodden under foot. Ihe minority of the
vet the up- national representatives, by the assistance of an armed
per hand. raised the capital, compelled the majority to
submit to their measures, and took the leading members
prisoners. Thus the city of Paris assumed to itself the
whole powers of the French republic; and the nation
was no longer governed by representatives freely chosen,
but by a minority of their members whose sentiments
the city of Paris and the Jacobin club had thought ht to
approve of. Human history is a mass of contradictions.
The Mountain party came into power by preaching li¬
berty, and by violating its fundamental principles.. How
far the plea of political necessity may excuse their con¬
duct, we shall not venture to decide explicitly. Certain
;t is however, that they soon commenced, both at home
and’abroad, a career of the most terrible energy that
is to be found in the annals of nations. .
The first result of their victory in the capital was ca-
lamitous to the republic at large. Brissot and S"™
other deputies escaped, and endeavoured tu kindle the
. 361. . flames of civil war. In general, however, the influence
tiSaadde-of the Jacobin club, and of its various branches, was
partments °ucl„ that the north of France adhered to the eonven-
revolt in as ;t stood; but the southern departments were
speedily in a state of rebellion. The department of
'Lyons declared the Mountain party outlawed. Mar¬
seilles and Toulon followed the example of Lyons, and
entered into a confederacy, which has since been known
by the appellation of Federalism. The departments of
La Gironde and Calvades broke out into open revolt
In short, the whole of France was in a state of violent
convulsion. Still, however, the enthusiastic garrisons
conse¬
quence.
N C E.
of Mentz and Valenciennes protected it against the ini-
mediate entrance of a foreign force, and allowed leisure ' y-
for one of its internal factions to gain an ascendancy, I79.1
and thereafter to protect its independence. In the
mean time, the political enthusiasm of all orders ot per¬
sons was such, that even the female sex did not escape 3^
its contagion. A young woman of the name of Char-Mam
lotte Corde, in the beginning of July, came from the^dl
department of Calvades to devote her life for what she ,,
thought the cause of freedom and of her country, ohe
requested an interview with Marat, the most obnoxious
of the Mountain party. Having obtained it, and con¬
versed with him calmly for some time, she sudden y
plunged a dagger in his breast, and walked carelessly
out of the house. She was immediately seized and
condemned. At the place of execution she behaved
with infinite constancy, shouting Vive la Republique.
The remains of Marat were interred with great spkn-
dour, and the convention attended his funeral. His
party perhaps derived advantage from the manner ot
his death, as it seemed to fasten the odious charge 01
assassination upon their antagonists, and gave them the
appearance of suffering in the cause of liberty. Hie
truth is, that assassination was sanctioned by both par¬
ties under pretence of defending the liberties of the re¬
public. . . c 36
One of the first acts of the Mountain junto after The a
their triumph was to finish the republican constitution, lican t
Previous to their fall, the Girondists had brought for-™
ward the plan of a constitution, chiefly the work
Condorcet; but it was never sanctioned by the conven-laiUt
tion, and was too intricate to be practically useful.
The new constitution now framed, which was after¬
wards sanctioned by the nation, but was never put
in practice, abolished the former mode of electing
the representatives of the people through the medium
of electoral assemblies, and appointed them to be chosen
immediately by the primary astembhes, which were
to consist of from 200 to 600 citizens, each man vo¬
ting by ballot or open vote at his option. T. here vyas one
deputy for every 40,000 individuals, and population was
the sole basis of representation. I he elections were to
take place every year on the 1st of May. Electoral assem¬
blies were, however, retained for one purpose. Every
200 citiz.ens in the primary assemblies named one elector;
and an assembly of all the electors of the department was
afterwards held, which elected candidates for the
council, or ministry of the republic. The legislative body
chose out of all this list of candidates the members of
the executive council. One half of this council was re¬
newed by each legislature in the last month of the ses¬
sion. Every law, after being passed by the legislative
body, was sent to the department. If in more than half
of the departments the tenth of the primary assemblies
of each did not object to it, it became effectual. _ l rial
by jury was established. National conventions might be
called for altering the constitution, and were to be call¬
ed, if required by the tenth of the primary assemblies
of each department in a majority of the departments.
The publication of this constitution procured no
small degree of applause to the convention and the
Mountain party. The rapidity with which it was
formed (being only a fortnight) seemed to cast a just
reproach upon the slowness of their antagonists, and it
was regarded as a proof of their being decidedly se-
>a‘nc5, rioas in the cause of republicanism. No regard, how-
U~v ' ever, was paid to it by the convention, which declared
793. itself permanent, nor indeed did it seem possible to carry
1564 it into execution.
Hi. of We have mentioned that Conde was invested from
I wncieif t!‘e ,)eS‘nn:n" of April. It did not yield till the loth
TIKIen' of July, when the garrison was so much reduced by fa¬
mine and disease, that out of 4000 men, of which it
originally consisted, only 1500 were fit for service. The
eyes of all Europe were in the mean time fixed upon
the siege of Valenciennes. Colonel Moncrieff had con¬
tended, that batteries ought immediately to be placed
under the walls, without approaching it by regular pa¬
rallels 5 but the imperial engineer Mr Ferraris asserted,
that the work of the great Vauban must be treated with
more respect ; and his opinion was adopted by the
council ot war. The trenches were opened on the
14th of June. Few sallies were attempted by the gar¬
rison, on account of the smallness of their number.
The inhabitants at first wished to surrender ; but the
violence of the bombardment prevented their assem¬
bling or giving much trouble on that head to General
Ferrand the governor. Much of the labour of the
siege consisted of mines and countermines. Some of
these having been successfully sprung by the allies, the
town was surrendered on the 27th of July by capitula¬
tion to the duke of York, who took possession of it in
behalf of the emperor of Germany. The siege of
Mentz, was at the same time going on. It suffered much
from famine. At last, after an unsuccessful attempt by
the French army on the Rhine for its relief, it surren¬
dered on the 22d of July.
At the termination of the siege of Valenciennes it
would appear that the allied powers were at a loss how
to proceed next. The Austrian commanders are said
to have presented two plans : The first was to penetrate
to Paris by the assistance of the rivers which fall into
the Seine ; the other was to take advantage of the con¬
sternation occasioned by the surrender of Valenciennes,
and with 50,000 light troops to penetrate suddenly to
Paris, while a debarkation should be made on the coast
of Brittany to assist the royalists. The proposal of the
British ministry was, however, adopted, which was, to
divide the grand army, and to attack West Flanders
^ beginning with the siege of Dunkirk. This determi-
„ 0f’nation proved ruinous to the allies. The French found
■Mision means to vanquish in detail that army, which they could
*' not encounter when united.
It has been said that the duke of York was in secret
correspondence with Omeron the governor of Dunkirk ;
but the latter was removed before any advantage could
be taken of his treachery. On the 24th of August the
duke of York attacked and drove the French outposts
into the town, after an action in which the Austrian
general Dalton was killed. A naval armament was
expected from Great Britain to co-operate in the siege,
hut it did not arrive. In the mean time, a strong re¬
publican force menaced the covering army of the allies,
which was commanded by General Frey tag. He was*
soon attacked and totally routed. The siege was rai¬
sed. The British lost their heavy cannon and baggage,
with several thousand men ; and the convention, belie¬
ving that their general Houchard could have cut off the
duke of York’s retreat, tried and executed him for this
neglect of duty.
'm-
Th illied
pov s di-
tid as to
the
tnro ro- ■
cee £s.
Safi
late unse-
iue! s
:he< i
tftl
ferci
FRANCE.
. Prince Cobourg and General Clairfait in the mean
time unsuccessfully attempted to besiege Cambray and
Bouchain. Quesnoy was, however, taken by General
Claiifait on the 11th of September; and here finally
terminated for the present campaign the success of the
allies in the Netherlands.
A considerable part of the French army of the
north took a strong position near Maubeuge, where
they were blockaded by Prince Cobourg : but upon
tiic 15th and 16th of October he was repeatedly at¬
tacked by the French troops under General Jourdan,
woo succeeded Ftouehard. Ihe Irench had now re¬
covered their vigour. They brought into the field a
formidable train of artillery, in which were many 24
pounders. Commissioners from the convention ha¬
rangued the soldiers, threatened the fearful, and ap¬
plauded the brave. Crowds of women, without con¬
fusion, went through the ranks, distributing spirituous
liquors in abundance, and carrying off- the wounded.
J he attacks were repeated and terrible on both sides ;
but the Austrians had considerably the disadvantage,
and Prince Cobourg retired during the night. The
Irench now menaced maritime Flanders. They took
Furnes and besieged Nieuport. A detachment of Bri¬
tish troops ready to sail to the West Indies were hasti¬
ly sent to Ostend, and prevented for the present the
farther progress of the French.
Such was the multiplicity of the events that now oc¬
curred in France, that it is difficult to state the out¬
lines of them with any tolerable perspicuity. We have
already mentioned the extensive dissensions that occur¬
red throughout the republic in consequence of the tri¬
umph of the Mountain party on the 31st of May. The
department of Calvades was first in arms against the
convention, under the command of General Felix Wimp-
fen ; but before the end of July the insurrection was
quieted, after a few slight skirmishes. But the fcedera- Lyoiit'^be-
lism of the cities of Marseilles, Lyons, and Toulon, still sieged by
remained. Lyons was attacked on the 8th of August t^ie conven
by the conventional troops. Several actions followed,tional
which were attended with great loss both on the part Se?*’^
of the assailants and of the besieged. The city was re-" U'
duced almost to ruins ; but it held out during the
whole month of September. The besieging general
Kellerman was removed from his command, on account
of his supposed inactivity ; and the city surrendered on
the 8th of October to General Doppet, a man who had oS
lately been a physician. Such was the rage of party Unrdent-
zeal at this time, that the walls and public buildings vharac-
of Lyons were ordered to be destroyed, and its nameter of the
changed to that of Ville Affranchie. Many hundredsC011<iuerois’
of its citizens were dragged to the scaffold on account
of their alleged treasonable resistance to the convention.
The victorious party, wearied by the slow operation of
the guillotine, at last destroyed their prisoners In mul¬
titudes, by firing grape-shot upon them. Such indeed
was the unrelenting character of the Mountain at this
time, not only here hut through the whole republic
that they themselves pretended not to excuse it, but
declared that terror was with them the order of the
day.
In the end of July General Cartaux was sent against The^AUi.
Marseilles. In the beginning of August he gained seilfoiR ob.
some successes over the advanced federalist troops. On ,0
the 24th he took the town of Aix, and the Marseillois ,ubniit-
T ^ ? submitted.
1793
37°
Toulon
L'liidilion-
Hood.
FRA
submitted. But the leading people of the important
town and harbour of Toulon entered into a negotia¬
tion, and submitted to the British admiral Lord Hood,
under condition that he should preserve as a deposit the
million town and shipping for Louis XVII. and under the sti-
ailv submitpulation that he should assist in restoring the constitu¬
te Lord tion of 1789. The siege of Toulon was commenced
by General Cartaux in the beginning of September.
It continued without much vigour during that and the
whole of the succeeding month. Neapolitan, Spanish,
and English troops, were brought by sea to assist in its
defencer In the beginning of November, General Car¬
taux was removed to the command ot the army in Italy,
and General Dugommier succeeded him. General O’
Kara arrived with reinforcements from Gibraltar, and
took upon him the command of the town, under a
commission from his Britannic majesty. On the 30th
of November, the garrison made a powerful sally
to destroy some batteries that were erecting upon
heights which commanded the city. The French were
surprised, and the allies succeeded completely m their
object •, but, elated by the facility of their conquest, the
allied troops rushed forward in pursuit of the flying
enemy, contrary to their orders, and were unexpected¬
ly met by a strong French force that was drawn out to
protect the fugitives. General O’Hara now came from
the city to endeavour to biing offhistroops with regulari-
ty. He was wounded in the arm and taken prisoner. -The
total loss of the allies in this aflair was estimated at nearly
one thousand men. The French had now mustered in
full force around Toulon, and prepared for the attack.
It was begun on the 19th of December in the morn¬
ing and was chiefly directed against Fort Mulgrave,
defended by the British. This fort was protected by
an entrenched camp, 13 pieces of cannon, 36 and 24
who i, at pounders, &c. 5 mortars, and 3000 troops. Such was
length oli- the ardour of assault, that it was carried in an hour,
liged to an(] t|ie wl10le garrison was destroyed or taken. 1 he
evacuate it. aljjes now found it impossible to defend the place; and
g in the course of the day embarked their troops, after
having set on fire the arsenal and ships. A scene ot
confusion here ensued, such as has not been known in
the history of modern wars. Crowds of people ot eve¬
ry rank, age, and sex, hurried on board the ships, to
avoid the vengeance ot their enraged countrymen.
Some of the inhabitants began to tire upon their late
allies ; others in despair were seen plunging into the
gea, making a vain effort to reach the ships ; or putting
an end at once to their own existence upon the shore.
Thirty-one ships of the line were found by the British
at Toulon ; thirteen were left behind ; ten were burnt ;
four had been previously sent to the French ports of
Brest and Rochefort, with 5000 republicans who could
not be trusted ; and Great Britain finally obtained
by this expedition only three ships of the line and five
"On the side of Spain the war produced nothing of
importance ; and in the mountainous country of Pied¬
mont it went on slowly. Nice and Chamberry were
still retained by the French ; but more terrible scenes
„ were acting in other quarters. In La Vendee a most
! rhloodv war was persisted in by the royalists. In that
riyalUts in quartlr of the country the language of the rest of I ranee
La Vendee j3 understood. The people were superstitious, and
bad acquired little idea of the new opinions that had
N C E.
.ately been propagated in the rest of the empne. fhey Fran
were chiefly headed by priests, and regarded their cause v
as a religious one. Their mode of warfare usually was,
to go on in their ordinary occupations as peaceable citi-
zeiTs, and suddenly to assemble in immense bands, inso¬
much that at one time they were said to amount to
150,000 men. They besieged Nantz. and the city of
Orleans, and even Paris itself was not thought altoge¬
ther safe from their enterprises. The war was incon¬
ceivably bloody. Neither party gave quarter ; and La
Vendee proved a dreadful drain to the population ot
France. On the 28th of June, the conventional gene¬
ral Biron drove the royalists from Lucon ; and Nantz
was relieved by General Beysser. After seme success,
General Westerman was surprised by them, and com¬
pelled to retreat to Parthenay. In the beginning of
August the royalists were defeated by General Rossig-
nol ; but on the 10th of that month, under Charette
their commander in chief, they again attacked Nantz,
but suffered a repulse. It would lie tedious to give a
minute detail of this obscure but cruel war. The roy¬
alists were often defeated and seemingly dispersed,
but as often arose in crowds around the astonished re¬
publicans. At last, however, about the middle ot Oc¬
tober, they were completely defeated, driven from La
Vendee, and forced to divide into separate bodies. One
of these threw itself into the island of Noirmoutier,
where they were subdued ; another took the road of
Maine and Brittany, where they stru f^F some
time against their enemies, and were at last cut to
pieces or dispersed.
The royalists had long expected assistance from Eng¬
land ; and an armament under the earl of Moira was ac¬
tually fitted out for that service, hut it did not arrive till
too late, and returned home without attempting a land¬
ing. The Mountain party always disgraced their sue-J
cesses by dreadful cruelties. Humanity is shocked, andcrUeltj
history would almost cease to obtain credit, were we totbeMi
state in detail the unrelenting cruelties which were ex-tain P'
ercised against the unfortunate royalists, chiefly by Car¬
rier, a deputy from the convention, sent into this quar¬
ter with unlimited powers. Multitudes of prisoners
were crowded on board vessels in the Loire, after which
the vessels were sunk. No age or sex was spared ; and
these executions were performed with every circum¬
stance of wanton barbarity and insult.
On the side of the Rhine a great variety of eventsProgrei
occurred during the months of August and September.^
Several engagements at first took place, in which the
French were, upon the whole, successful. In Septem¬
ber, however, Landau was invested by the combined
powers ; and it was resolved to make every possible ef¬
fort to drive the French from the strong lines of V\eis-
sembourg, on the river Lauter. On the 13th ot Oc¬
tober, the Austrian general Wurmser made a grand
attack upon these lines. The F rench say that their
generals betrayed them, and suffered the lines to be ta¬
ken almost without resistance. The general of the al¬
lies confessed that the lines might have held out for
several days. The French retreated to Hagenau, from
which they were driven on the 18th; and suffered tw&
other defeats on the 25th and 27th. Some of the prin¬
cipal citizens of Strasbourg now sent a private deputa¬
tion to General Wurmser, offering to surrender the
town, to he preserved as a deposit,to he restored ta,
’ Louis
3)4
FRANCE.
I .175
1 French
a:#:nglh
nct'ftilin
t quar-
(i
Louis XVII. General Wurmser refused to accept of
it upon these terms, insisting upon an absolute surren¬
der to his Imperial Majesty. In consequence of the
delay occasioned by disagreement, the negotiation was
discovered, and the citizens of Strasbourg engaged in
the plot were seized by St Just and Lebas, commission¬
ers from the convention, and brought to the scaffold.
Prodigious efforts were now made by the French to
recover their ground in this quarter. General Irem-
hert was shot at the head of the army on the 9th of
November, upon a charge, probably ill-founded, of
treachery in the affair of the lines of Weissembourg.
On the 14th, however, Fort Louis was taken by the
allies, not without suspicion of treachery in the gover¬
nor. But here the success of General Wurmser might
be said to terminate. On the 2ist the republican ar¬
my drove hack the Austrians, and penetrated almost to
Hagenau. An army from the Moselle now advanced
to co-operate with the army of the Rhine. On the
17th the Prussians were defeated near Sarbruck. Next
day their camp at Bliescastel was stormed, and the
French advanced to Deux Fonts. On the 29th and
30th the French were repulsed with great loss in two
violent attacks made on the duke of Brunswick near
Lautern. But it now appeared that the French had
come into the field with a determination to conquer
whatever it might cost. Every day was a day of battle,
and torrents of blood were shed on both sides. The
allies had the advantage of possessing the ground, which,
in that quarter, at such a late season of the year, is very
strong on account of its inequalities and morasses. In
military skill, the French officers and those of the allies
were perhaps nearly equal; but the French army was
by far the most numerous j and although not a match
in point of discipline, yet it derived no small superiority
from the enthusiasm with which the troops were ani¬
mated. On the 8th of December, under the command
of General Pichegru, the French carried the redoubts
which covered Hagenau by means of the bayonet.
This modern instrument of destruction, against which
no defensive weapon is employed, is always most success¬
ful in the hands of the most intrepid j and it was now a
dreadful engine in the hands of French enthusiasm 
The finest troops that ever Europe produced were un¬
able to withstand the fury of the republicans, which
seemed only to increase in proportion to the multitude
of companions that they lost. On the 22d the allies
were driven with immense slaughter from Hagenau, not¬
withstanding the immense works they had thrown up
for their defence. The entrenchments on the heights
of Reishoffen, Jaudershoffen, &c. were considered as
more impregnable than those of Jemappe. They were
stormed by the army of the Moselle and the Rhine,
under Generals Hoche and Pichegru. On the 23d and*
24th, the allies were pursued to the heights of Wrotte.
On the 26th, the entrenchments there were forced by
the bayonet, after a desperate conflict. On the 27th,
the republican army arrived at Weissembourg in tri¬
umph. General Wurmser retreated across the Rhine
and the duke of Brunswick hastily fell back to cover
Mentz. The blockade of Landau, which had lasted
four months, was raised. Fort Louis was evacuated
W the allies, and Kaiserslatern, Germersheim, and
bpires, submitted to the French.—During this last
month of the year 1793, the loss of men on both sides
in this quarter was immense, and ■ unexampled in the
history ot modern war. It is even said that it might
amount to more than 70,000 or 80,000 men.
Thus far we have attended to the military affairs of
the republic for some time past. Very violent efforts Violenl et~
were in tl,e mean time made at Paris by tl.e new a.lmi-
nistration, established under the auspices of the Jacobin party,
club, and of the party called the Mountain. The new
republican constitution had been presented to the people
in the primary assemblies, and accepted. The business
therefore, for which the convention was called toge¬
ther, that of forming a constitution for France, was
at an end; and it was proposed that they should dis¬
solve themselves, and order a new legislative body to as¬
semble, according to the rules prescribed by that con¬
stitution. This, was, no doubt, the regular mode of
procedure ; hut the ruling party considered it as hazar¬
dous to convene a new assembly, possessing only limited
powers, in the present distracted state of the country,
it was indeed obvious, that France at this time stood in
need of a dictatorship, or of a government possessed of
more absolute authority than can be enjoyed by one
tiiat acts, or even pretends to act, upon'the moderate
principles of freedom. It was therefore determined
that the convention should remain undissolved till the
end ot the war; and that a revolutionary government
to be conducted by its members, should be established5
with uncontrouled powers. Committees of its own
body were selected for the purpose of conducting every
department of business. The chief of these commit¬
tees was called the committee of public safety. It super¬
intended all the rest, and gave to the administration of
i ranee all the secrecy and dispatch which have been ac¬
counted peculiar to a military government, together
with a combination of skill and energy hitherto un¬
known among mankind. A correspondence was kept
up with the all Jacobin clubs throughout the king¬
dom. Commissioners from the convention were sent
into all quarters, with unlimited authority over every
order of persons. Thus a government possessed of infi¬
nite vigilance, and more absolute and tyrranical than
that of any single despot, was established ; and the
whole transactions and resources of the state were
known to the rulers. On the 23d of August, Barrere, France dc-
111 name of the committee of public safety, procuredcreei1 to br
the celebrated decree to be passed for placing the whole in 8 state *
French nation in * state of requisition for the public req,',K,'10n■
service. “ From this moment (says the decree) till that
when all enemies shall have been'driven from the terri-
tory of the republic, all Frenchmen shall be in perma¬
nent readiness for the service of the army. The young
men shall march to the combat; the married men shall
forge arms, and transport the provisions ; the women
shall make tents and clothes, and attend in the hospi¬
tals ; the children shall make lint of old linen; the old
men shall cause themselves to be carried to the public
squares, to excite the courage of the warriors, to preach
hatred against the enemies of the republic; the cellars
shall be washed to procure saltpetre; the saddle-horses
shall be given up to complete the cavalry; the unmar¬
ried citizens, from the age of 18 to 25, shall march
first, and none shall send a substitute; every battalion
shall have a banner, with this inscription, The Frcnoh
nation risen against tyrants.” The decree also regulates
the mode of organizing this mass. A decree more ty-
rannicsj
150
France.
1793-
37s
General
Custine
trit d and
exeauted.
379
Murder of
the queen.
FRA
rannical than this was never made by an eastern despot;
and when it was first published, foreigners were at a loss
whether to regard it as a sublime effort ot a powerful
government, or as a wild project which could produce
nothing but confusion. The effects of it, however,
have been truly terrible. We have already mentioned
some of them in the bloody contest which occurred
upon the Rhine, and Europe was soon destined to bear
witness to still more extraordinary events.
In the end of July, General Custine was brought to
trial, and executed, in consequence of a variety ot ac¬
cusations of infidelity to his trust and disrespect to the
convention. The queen was next brought to trial be¬
fore the revolutionary tribunal, on the 15th of October.
The charges against her were very various } but the
chief tendency of them was to prove that she had always
been hostile to the revolution, and had excited all the
efforts that had been made by the court against it.
On the 16th of October, this beautiful woman, whom
fortune once placed so high, ended her days on a scaffold,
after a mock trial, in which no regard was paid either
to justice or decency. She behaved with much dignity
and composure, and appeared deeply impressed with a
Execution sense of religion. The members ot the convention who
of the heads ijeen at the head of the Girondist party, and had
of the Gi-ie;thpr been detained in prison since the 31st of May, or
party seized in the departments to which they had retired
were afterwards brought to trial. On the 30th ol
October, 21 of them were executed, viz. Brissot,
Vergniaud, Gensonne, Duprat, Lehardi, Ducos, ron-
frede, Boileau, Gardien, Duchatel, Sillery, I auchet,
Dufriche, Duperret, La Source, Carra, Beauvais,
Mainville, Antiboul, Vigee, and Lacaze. Seventy-
3s* one were still detained in confinement. Ihe duke ot
duke°of Or- Orleans was afterwards condemned, on a charge of
793>
3S0
Execution
leans.
5i3243°
5*324
5*3
| 51-3243
5*I3243
having aspired to the sovereignty from the beginning ot
the revolution. His execution gave satisfaction to all
parties. His vote for the punishment of death upon
the trial of the late king had done him little honour
even in the opinion of the Mountain, and had rendered
. him odious to all the rest of mankind. .
Executions The execution of persons of all ranks, particularly
become of priests and nobles, became now so common, that it
prodigious- would be in vain to attempt to give any detail ot them.
iy common. jr v person brought before the revolutionary tribunal
was condemned as a matter of course. The Jacobins
seemed insatiable in their thirst after blood, and the
people at large appeared to regard their conduct with
unaccountable indifference.
33,3iu When the human mind is once roused, its activity
rfTigto extends to every object. At this time a new table of
and mea- weights and measures was established by the conven-
iuresesta- jjon jn which the decimal arithmetic alone is employ-
Wished. ed The court of Spain had the libeiality, notwit i
standing the war, to suffer M. Mechain to proceed in
his operations for measuring a degree of the meridian
in that country. He carried on his series of triangles
from Barcelona to Perpignan •, and place the
mensuration was continued to Pans. M. de Lambre,
and his pupil M. la Francois, also measured a degree ot
latitude in the vicinity of the metropolis. In all, 2
degrees of the meridian xvere measured , of which the
mean is 57027 toises, and by this the universal standard
of measure ^calculated. M. M. de Borda and Cassini
determined the length of a pendulum that swings se-
2
N C E,
conds, in vacuo, and in a mean temperature at Paris, to France
be 3 feet and 8.06 lines. M. M. Lavoisier and Hauy < 
found that a cubic foot of distilled water at the freezing
point weighs in vacuo 70 pounds and 60 gros 1'iench
weight. We shall insert a table of the measures and
weights now established.
Long Measure.
Metres. . French Toises'
10,000,000—a quadrant of the meri¬
dian, which is the prin¬
ciple on which the new
measure is founded
i00,00C=an hundredth part of a
quadrant, or decimal de¬
gree of the meridian
iooo=a mitliare, or mile.
ioo=a stadium 1 Agrarian
io=a perch measure _ _ _
Feet. Inch. Lines
i = a metre, or rectilineal
unit 3
yo or o.l—a decimetre, or palm o
i—^oro.oi^ia centimetre, or di¬
git
tJL_ or 0.001 =a millemetre o
Superficial Measure.
Sq. Metres. . .
10,000—an are, or superficial unit, being
a square the side of which is 100
metres in length
iooo=a declare, or tenth of an are; a
superficies an hundred metres
long, and ten broad
I00=a centiare
Measures of Capacity.
Cub. decimetres. Pans Pints. Paris Bush.
looo=the cubic metre, or cade
11.44
8-344
4-434
•443
Sy. Feet.
94831
9483.!
948.31
lo^if
1054
10-J
G/o
or tun
I yo—dedicade, or setier
\0—centicade, or bushel
1 =1 cubic decimetre, or
Weights
Cub. decimetres
of water.
1000—the weight of a cubic metre, or
cade of water, is called a bar or
millier
100= tts °f a bar, or decibar, or quintal
io=T4<y of a bar, or centibar, or decal
78.9
7.89
.789
.0789
French Pounds.
2044.4
204.44
20.444
i = tbe weight of a cubic
decimetre of wrater
is called 9. grave, or
pound
of a grave, or de-
cigrave, or ounce
.0i=T-o7y of a grave, or
centigrave, or dram
.ooi=the weight of a cubic
centimetre of water,
is named a gravet,
or maille
,oooi=decigravet, or grain
.00001 —ccntigravet
lb. 0%. gros. grains.
2 8 5 49
3 2 12.1
002 44-41
18.841
1.8841
0.18841
A
FRA
794
A k a
ier ir
(ui •().
DfCf: of
,e%n.
A piece of silver coin weighing a centigrave, and a
'franc ol silver, according to the former standard, will
he worth 40 sols io^- deniers. The miUiare, or thou¬
sand metres, is substituted for the mile 5 and the are
for the arpent in land-measure. The latter two are
to each other as 49 to 25. The astronomical circles
with which INI. M. de Borda and Cassini made the ob¬
servations, are divided according to this plan. The
quadrant contains 100 degrees, and each degree 100
minutes. Hence the minute of a great circle on our
globe is equal to a jfiilhare, or new French mile. If,
for the reduction of this measure, we estimate the Paris
toise, according to the comparison made with the stand¬
ard kept in the Royal Society of London, at 6.3925
English feet, the milliare or minute will be equal to
1093.633 yards, and the metre 3.270899 feet.
At the same period a new kalendar was formed.—
By it the year is made to begin with the autumnal
equinox, and is divided into 12 months. These are
called Vindemiaire, Brumaire, Frimaire, Nivose, Ven-
tose, Pluviose, Germinal, Floreal, Prairial, Messidor,
Thermidor, and Iructidor. The months consist of 30
days each, and are divided into three decades. The
days of each decade are known by the names of Primidi,
Huodi, Iridi, &c. to Hecadi 5 and the day of rest is
appointed for every tenth day, instead of the seventh.
The day (which begins at midnight) is distributed into
ten parts, and these are decimally divided and subdi¬
vided. Five supernumerary days are added every year
after the 3(-)^1 Fructidor. Fo these is given the
absurd appellation of Sans Culotides, a word borrowed
from a term of reproach {sans culotte), which had
often been bestowed on the republican party from the
meanness of their rank and fortune ; but which that
party now attempted to render honourable and popular.
The childish folly of this innovation has struck every
person with surprise, as it can serve no good purpose
whatever. It is a wonderful instance of the wayward¬
ness of the human mind, which can occupy itself one
moment with deeds of savage barbarity, and the next
with a matter so unimportant as the artificial division
of time.
The religion of France had been gradually losing its
influence j and on the 7th of November, Gobet, bishop
of Paris, along with a great multitude of other ecclesi¬
astics, came into the hall of the convention, and solemn¬
ly resigned their functions and renounced the Christian
religion. All the clergymen, whether Protestant or
Catholic, that were members of the convention, followed
this example, excepting only Gregoire, whom we for¬
merly mentioned as having been one of the first priests
that joined the Tiers Etat after the meeting of the
States General. He had the courage to profess himself
a Christian, although he said that the emoluments of his
bishopric were at the service of the republic. With the
acclamations of the convention, it was decreed that the
only French deities hereafter should be Liberty, Equa¬
lity, Reason, &c. and they would seem to have conse¬
crated these as a kind of new objects of worship.-—
What political purpose the leaders in the convention
intended to serve by this proceeding does not clearly
appear j unless, perhaps, their object was to render the
French manners and modes of thinking so completely
new, that it should never be in their power to return to
the state from which they had just emerged, or to unite
NCE.
in intercourse with the other nations of Europe. The France.
populace, however, could not at once relinquish entirely 1    
the religion of their fathers. The commune of Paris 1794*
ordered the churches to be shut up, but the convention
found it necessary to annul this order; and Robespierre
gained no small degree of popularity by supporting the
liberty of religious worship on this occasion. Hebert
and Fabre d’Eglantine, who led the opposite party,
hastened their own fall by this ill-judged contempt of
popular opinion.
I or, now that the republic saw itself successful in Quarrels
all quarters, when the Mountain party and the Jacobins between
had no rival at home, and accounted themselves in no^f Moul1-
immediate danger from abroad, they began to split into f1" ®!ul
factions, and the fiercest jealousies arose. The Jacobin JaCObII1S,
club was the usual place in which their contests were
cairied on ; and at this time Robespierre acted the part
of a mediator between all parties. He attempted with
great art to turn their attention from private animosities
to public affairs. He spread a report that an invasion
of Great Britain was speedily to take place. He there¬
fore proposed that the Jacobin club should set themselves
to work to discover the vulnerable parts of the British
constitution and government. They did so : They
made speeches, and wrote essays without number. And
in this way was the most fierce and turbulent band of
men that ever perhaps existed in any country occupied
and amused for a very considerable time. What is no
less singular, a great number of British subjects favour¬
ed the plans of these reforming Atheists, and, under
the specious appellation of the Friends of the People,
acted in concert with the French Jacobins.
Ihe winter passed away in tolerable quietness, andAprovi-
no military enterprise was undertaken either by thesioiial ac-
ailies or by the French. On the 1st of February, |j1I10wlef8e'
Barrere asserted in the convention that the confederate the^epub-
powers were willing provisionally to acknowledge the lie by the
French republic, to consent to a cessation of hostilities ?*hes re-
for two years, at the end of which a lasting peace should Jfctcc*
be ratified by the French people. But this proposal
the convention declared itself determined to reject, as
aflording to the other nations of Europe the means of ,gg
undermining their new government. In the mean time, Vigorous
the revolutionary government was gradually becoming state of the
more vigorous. Thirty committees of the convention revo^ution'
managed the whole business of the state, without shar-ary govem”
ing much of the direct executive government, which
rested in the committee of public safety. These differ¬
ent committees were engaged in the utmost variety of
objects. The ruling party had no competitors for
power. Without confusion or opposition, therefore, the
most extensive plans were rapidly carried into effect.
The convention was little more than a court in which
every project was solemnly registered. In the same ses¬
sion 30 decrees would sometimes be passed upon objects
the most widely different. The finances were under ^
one committee, at the head of which was Gambon.— Manage-
This committee found resources for the most lavish ex-nient of
pendifure. The assignats were received as money^efinan-
throughout the state ; and thus a paper mill was said toces aH^
have become more valuable than a mine of gold. Their
credit was supported by an arbitrary law regulating the the nation,
maximum or highest price of provisions, and by the
immense mass of wealth which had come into the hands
of the convention by seizing the church lands, and by
confiscating
I s 2
Kiancc
1794
FRA
confiscating the property of royalists, emigrants, and
persons condemned by the revolutionary tribunal. So
unequally had property been divided under the ancient
government, that by means of these confiscations about
seven-tenths of the national territory was supposed to
be in the hands of the public. To this was added, the
plunder of the churches, consisting of gold and silver
saints, and utensils employed in divine worship, along
with other articles of less value •, among which may be
mentioned the innumerable church bells, which were re¬
garded as sufficient for the manufacture of 15,000 pieces
of cannon. These resources formed a mass of property
such as never was possessed by any government.
Other committees were engaged in very different ob¬
jects. Highways were constructed, and canals planned
and cut throughout the country. Immense manufacto¬
ries of arms were everywhere established. At Pans
alone 1100 muskets were daily fabricated, and 100
pieces of cannon cast every month. Public schools
were assiduously instituted, "and the French language
taught in its purity from the Pyrenees to the Rhine.
The French convention possessed immense resources,
and they did not hesitate to lavish them upon their
schemes. Every science and every art was called upon
for aid, and the most accomplished men in every pro¬
fession were employed in giving splendour to their coun¬
try. The chemists, in particular, gave essential aid by
the facility with which they supplied materials for the
manufacture of gun-powder j and in return for their
services, Lavoisier, the greatest of them, suffered death
by a most iniquitous sentence. Not fewer than 200 new
dramatic performances w-ere produced in less than two
vears *, the object of which was to attach the people to
the present order of things. The vigour with which
the committees of subsistence exerted themselves is par¬
ticularly to be remarked. As all Europe was at war
with France, and as England, Holland, and Spain, the
three maritime powers, were engaged in the contest, it
had been thought not impossible to reduce France to
great distress by famine, especially as it was imagined
that the country had not resources to supply its immense
population. But the present leaders of that country
acted with the policy of a besieged garrison. They
seized upon the whole provisions of the country, and
carried them to public granaries. They registered the
cattle, and made their owners responsible for them.—
They provided the armies abundantly, and, as the people
were accurately numbered, they dealt out in every district,
on stated occasions, what was absolutely necessary for sub¬
sistence, and no more. To all this the people submitted 5
and, indeed, throughout the whole of the mixed scenes
of this revolution, the calm judgment of the historian is
not a little perplexed. We cannot avoid admiring the
patience with which the people at large endured every
hardship that was represented as necessary to the common
.cause, and the enthusiastic energy with which they la¬
vished their blood in defence of the independence of
their country. At the same time we must regard with
indignation and disgust the worthless intrigues by. means
of which the sanguinary factions in the convention and
the capital alternately massacred each other.
393- During the winter the dissensions of the Jacobins
still increased. They were divided into two clubs, of
eobins ia- which the new one assembled at a hall winch once he-
erease. longed to the Cordeliers. The leaders of it were He-
3
Fra Bee
179h
N C E.
bert, Ronsin, Vincent, and others ; but the old society
retained its ascendency, and Robespierre was now de- <.
cidedly its leader. This extraordinary man had gradu¬
ally accumulated in his own person the confidence of the
people and the direction of the government. As the
committees were above the convention, which was be¬
come little more than a silent court of record, so the
committee of public safety was above the other commit¬
tees. Robespierre was the leader of this ruling com¬
mittee. Barrere, St Just, Couthon, and others of its
members, only acted a secondary part. They laboured
in the business of the state, hut the radical power was
with Robespierre. He surrounded the members of the
convention with spies. He was jealous and implacable,
and set no bounds to the shedding of blood. On the
25th of March he brought to trial the following active
Jacobins, who were condemned and executed on the
following day : Hebert, Ronsin, Momoro, Vincent,
Du Croquet, Koch, Col. Laumur, M. M. Bourgeois,
Mazuel, La Boureau, Ancard, Le Clerc, Proly, Des-
sieux, Anacharsis Cloots, Pereira, Florent, Armand,
Descombles, and Duhuisson. Not satisfied with this, on
the 2d of April he brought to trial nine of those who
had once been his most vigorous associates, Danton,
Fahre d’Eglantine, Bazire, Chabot, Philippeaux, Ca¬
mille Desmoulins, Lacroix, Delaunay d’Angers, He-
rault de Sechelles, who, along with Westerman, were
executed on the evening of the 5th. . ,9I
Still, however, the preparations for the ensuing prepata.
campaign were proceeding with unabated vigour. The Lions fop
committee for military affairs, at the head of which ll)e cam-
were Carnot, La Fitte, d’Anissi, and others, was busy W ^
in arranging along the frontiers the immense force which p/an of^
the requisition had called forth. Plans of attack and allies,
defence were made out by this committee ; and when ap¬
proved by the committee of public safety they were sent
to the generals to be executed. On the other side, the
allies were making powerful preparations for another
attempt to subjugate France. The emperor himself
took the field at the head of the armies in the Nether¬
lands. The plan of the campaign is said to have been
formed by the Austrian colonel Mack. West Flanders
was to be protected by a strong body of men ; the
main army was to penetrate to Landrecies, and getting
within the line of French frontier towns, it was to cut
them off from the interior by covering the country from
Maubeuge to the sea. The plan was bold. It belongs
to military men to judge whether this was not its only
merit. When attempting to put it into execution, the
allies must have been ill informed of the immense force
which the French were collecting against them. Even
the town of Lisle alone, which was capable of contain¬
ing a numerous army within its walls, and which was
to be left in their rear, should have seemed an insur¬
mountable objection to the plan. 39!
On the 16th of April the Austrian, British, anil state of
Dutch armies assembled on the heights above Gateau, the
and were reviewed by the emperor. On the followingarmles‘
day they advanced in eight colums against the French,
drove in their whole posts, and penetrated beyond Lan¬
drecies ; which place the French attempted to relieve,
hut without success. The allied army now amounted
to 187,000 men, who were disposed in the following
manner*, 15,000 Dutch and 15,000 Austrians, under
the prince of Orange and General Latour, formed the
siege
794-
FRA
Vance, siege of Landrecies; 15,000 British, and 15,000 Austri-
—v ' ans, commanded by the duke of York and General Otto,
encamped towards Cambray. The emperor and the
prince of Saxe-Cobourg, at the head of 60,000 Aus¬
trians, were advanced as far as Guise j 12,000 Hessi¬
ans and Austrians under General Worms were station¬
ed near X)ouay and Bouchain } Count ICaunitz with
15,000 Austrians defended the Sambre and the quar¬
ter near ATaubeuge 5 and lastly, General Clairfait, with
40,000 Austrians and Hanoverians, protected Flanders
from Tournay to the sea j 60,000 Prussians, for whom
a subsidy had been paid by Great Britain, were expect*
ed in addition to these, but they never arrived.
The French now commenced their active operations.
On the morning of the 26th of April they attacked
the duke of York near Cateau in great force. After
a severe conflict they were repulsed, and their general
Chapuy was taken prisoner. At the same time they
attacked the troops under his Imperial majesty, but
were there also repulsed in a similar manner ; losing in
all 57 pieces of cannon. On the same day, however,
General Pichegru advanced from Lisle, attacked and*
defeated General Clairfait, took 32 pieces of cannon j
and, in the course of a few days, made himself master
of Vervic, Menin, and Courtray. On the 29th of
April, the garrison of Landrecies surrendered to the al¬
lies. When this event was known in the convention,
it excited a considerable degree of alarm. It was, how¬
ever, the last effectual piece of success enjoyed by the
allies during this disastrous campaign. General Clair¬
fait was again completely defeated by Pichegru in a
general engagement j and it was found necessary to
send the duke of York to his assistance. This move¬
ment was no doubt unavoidable j but the effect of it
was, that it split down the allied army into a variety
of portions, capable of carrying on a desultory war¬
fare, but unfit for the vigorous objects of conquest. On
the 10th of May the duke of York was attacked near
lournay by a body of the enemy, whom he repulsed ;
but he was unable to join Clairfait, upon whose de¬
struction the French were chiefly bent: for at the
N C E.
393
f; Of
I*.Ire'
chi
H
SJi f  7  i/iiiciiy oent : ior at the
Pic aru 8ame ^me ^ie York was occupied by the
1 :3ru
<n ' :8t
Fla ers.
attack upon himself, Pichegru fell upon Clairfait with
such irresistible impetuosity, that he was compelled to
retreat m confusion, and a part of his army appears to
have fled to the neighbourhood of Bruges. ’While Pi¬
chegru was thus advancing successfully in West Flan¬
ders, General Jourdan advanced in East Flanders from
Maubeuge, crossed the Sambre, and forced General
Kaunitz to retreat.. On the 18th, however, General
Kaumtz succeeded in repulsing the enemy in his turn,
and they, re-crossed the Sambre with considerable loss.
. ^ne ;t!lies n°'v ^und that no progress could be made
m France while General Pichegru was advancing suc¬
cessfully and occupying West Flanders in their rear.
Ibe emperor, therefore, withdrew the greater part of
his army to the neighbourhood of Tournay, and resolved
to make a grand effort to cut off the communication
between Courtray and Lisle, thus to prevent complete¬
ly the retreat of Pichegru. On the night of the 16th,
the army moved forwards in five columns for this pur¬
pose. Clairfait was at the same time directed to cross
the Fys, to effect a general junction, if possible, and
complete the plan. The attempt during that eveninir
*eey^ ^f^e^uccessj bat, in the course of next
t
1794-
day, the division under the duke of York was over¬
powered by numbers and defeated. The progress of
the rest of the columns was stopped, and Clairfait
completely defeated. In the confusion of the day
when attempting to rally the different parts of the di¬
vision which he commanded, the duke of York was se¬
parated from his own troops by a party of the enemy’s
cavalry, and only escaped being made prisoner by the
swiftness of his horse. The plan of the allies being
thus frustrated, their army withdrew to the neighbour¬
hood of Tournay.
Pichegru speedily attempted to retaliate against the
allies. On the 22d of May he brought down at day¬
break his whole force against them. The attack was
commenced by a heavy fire of artillery, and all the ad¬
vanced posts were forced. The engagement soon be¬
came general ; the attacks were repeatedly renewed
on both sides $ the whole day was spent in a succession
of obstinate battles. All that military skill could
do was performed on both sides. The French and
the allied soldiers fought with equal courage and
equal discipline. At nine o’clock in the evening the
x rench at last reluctantly withdrew from the attack.
Ihe day on which a vanquished enemy flies from the
held is not always that on which the victory is won.
In this engagement the French were unsuccessful in
their immediate object ; but the weight of their fire,
their steady discipline, and their violent obstinacy of
attack, raised tbeir military character high in the esti¬
mation of the officers and soldiers of the allied army.
It was soon perceived, that in addition to these they
possessed other advantages. Their numbers were im¬
mense j they implicitly obeyed their generals j who,
being men newly raised from the rank of subalterns,
as implicitly submitted to the directions of the com¬
mittee of public safety. A combination of efforts was
thus produced, whose operation was not retarded by
divided counsels. On the other side the numbers of
the allies were daily declining $ their leaders were in¬
dependent princes or powerful men, whose sentiments
and interests were often very hostile to each other, and
their exertions were consequently disunited.
On the 24th the French again crossed the Sambre,
but were driven back with much loss. On the 27th
an attempt was made to besiege Charleroi, but the
prince of Orange on the 3d of June compelled them to
raise the siege. On the 12th a similar attempt was
made, and they were again repulsed. In West Flan-He lays
ders, however, Pichegru was sufficiently strong to com-sie§eto
mence the siege of Ypres. He was soon attacked byYpres’an<1
General Clairfait for the purpose of relieving it, but
without success. A pres was garrisoned by 7000 men j
reinforcements were therefore daily sent from the grand
army to Clairfait for the purpose of relieving it. It is
unnecessary to mention the bloody contests in which
that unfortunate general was daily engaged with the
French. It is sufficient to say, that they were uni¬
formly unsuccessful, and were the means of wasting, , ■$
in a great degree, the armies of the allies. Ypres held take/it.
out till the 17th of June, when it capitulated : and such
was the discipline of the French army at this time, that
no notice could be obtained, for several days, of that
event. But in consequence of this and of other events,
the duke of York found it necessary to retreat to Oude-
nardej for Jourdan, after storming the Austrian camp
^ of
154
France.
1794.
397 .
Charleroi
surrender
defeated.
39s
FRA
of Betignies, now advanced with such strength upon
Charleroi in the east that its immediate fall was fear¬
ed. As this would have enabled the two French ar¬
mies to encircle the whole of Flanders, the prince o
Cobourg advanced to its relief. Charleroi surrendered
TaS'heat discretion on the 25th. This circumstance was not
Austrians6 known by the prince of Cobourg when he advanced on
the 26th to attack in their entrenchments the army that
covered the siege near Fleurus : but the covering army
being by this time reinforced by the accession of the be¬
sieging army, the allies were repulsed. Jourdan then
drew ins men out of their entrenchments ; and, in Ins
turn, attacked the Austrians. He was three times re¬
pulsed, but was at last successful : the loss of the van¬
quished army is said to have been 5 but n«
regular accounts of it have been published. 1 he French
unquestionably exaggerated their own success, when
thev said that it amounted to 15,000 men.
r V The allies now retreated in all quarters. Mieuport,
Further fv tend and Bruges, were taken ; and Tournay, Mons,
successes of UStena, aim ' . a f this
the French Oudenarde, and Brussels, opened their gat •
in Flanders. jas^ p]ace, the French armies of Fast and West x lan¬
ders united. Landrecies, Valenciennes, Conde, and
Quesnoi, were fruitlessly left with garrisons in them.
The allied troops, evacuating Namur, formed a line
from Antwerp to Liege to protect the country behind.
The French advanced in full force, and attacked Ge¬
neral Clairfait, cut to pieces half the troops that
now remained onder him, and broke the line. The allies
retreated before them. The duke of York was joined
by some troops under the earl of Moira that with muc 1
difficulty had made their way to him from Ostend ; and
with these and the Hutch troops he retired to the
neighbourhood of Bergen-op-zoom and Breda for the
protection of Holland. The prince of Cobourg eva¬
cuated Liege, crossed the Maese, and placed a garri¬
son in Maestricht. He soon, however, sent back a part
of his troops to the neighbourhood of Tongres •, for
here to the astonishment of all Lurope, the Frenc 1
armies made a voluntary pause in their career of vic¬
tory, and ceased to pursue their retiring foes, bluys in
Dutch Flanders was the only foreign post that they con¬
tinued to attack, and it surrendered after a siege of 21
399 , ^On the Rhine the war was equally successful on the
And on the - • — • cv aL- —t„tt. anrl r/ith or
N C E.
Rhine.
400
Corsica
subdued
by Great
Britain.
part of the French. On the 12th, 13th, and 14th of
July, repeated battles were fought; in which the
French enjoyed their usual success. They had nume¬
rous armies in every quarter. Their mode of fitting
was to make full preparation for accomplishing their
object, and to fight in great bodies day after day till it
was obtained. The Palatinate was then overrun, and
Treves taken, by General Michaud. F landers and the
Palatinate have always been accounted the grananes of
Germany; and both of them, at the commencement of
the harvest, now fell into the hands of the French.
During the course of this summer Corsica was sub¬
dued by Great Britain j and the whole of the French
West India Islands, excepting a part of Gaudaloupe,
yielded to the British troops under the command of Sir
Charles Grey and Sir John Jarvis. On the 1st of June
the British fleet, under the command of Lari Howe,
gained a most splendid victory over the French fleet to
the westward of Ushant. The French committee of
safety were known to have purchased xn America im¬
mense quantities of grain and other stores. These were Francc
embarked on board 160 sail of merchantmen, convoyed
by six sail of the line. Lord Howe sailed to intercept W
this valuable convoy. The French fleet saiied at the 3^
same time to protect it. On the morning of the 28thvictory ,
of May the fleets came in sight of each other. ^ I he the Britis 1
British admiral had previously dispatched six ships of fleet „n
the line under Admiral Montague to intercept hederLoffJ|
French convoy, while he should engage and detain the
grand fleet. The French dispatched eight sail to de¬
feat this attempt. In the course of the 29th Lord
Howe got to windward of the I/emF fleet, i is
force was 25, and theirs was 26, sail of the line, ihe
following day he bore down upon them, and broke
their line. The engagement was one of the severest
ever fought. The French admiral, in less than an hour
after the close action commenced in the centre, crowded
off with 12 of his ships. The British fleet was so much
disabled, or separated, that several of the French dis¬
mantled ships got away under sails raised on the stump
of their foremasts. Seven sail of the line, however, re¬
mained in possession of the British, and two were un-
questionably sunk. In the mean time, Admiral Mon¬
tague fell in with the French convoy, but it was now
guarded by 14 sail of the line. As he could not en¬
counter such a force, he returned home, and it was safe¬
ly conveyed into port. Thus, by one of those contra¬
dictions which so often occur in human affairs, the Bri¬
tish fleet was victorious, and the French were left in
some measure masters of the sea. As this engagement
however testified that the British seamen had not lost
their ancient superiority on their own element, t ie
nation regarded the present victory as a pledge oi its
independence, and very general rejoicings took place
in consequence of it. . 4®’
In the mean time, the revolutionary system °f g°*Tliehr
vernment in the hands of committees of the convention exe.J
at Paris, and of committees of the popular societies
throughout the country, was arrived at its highest per¬
fection, and proceeded without opposition in its severe
and sanguinary measures. r ,T
On the 10th of May Madame Elizabeth, sister of the
late king, was sacrificed by it, in consequence of a decree
of the revolutionary tribunal. Multitudes of others 01
every rank and sex were daily sacrificed in a similar
manner ; the rich in particular were the great objects
of persecution, because the confiscation of their proper-
ty added to the strength of the ruling powers. But to
neither were the poor safe from the bloody vigilance V
this new and singular government. By the different^,
executions Robespierre had contrived to destroy every
avowed rival. All the constituted authorities consisted
wholly of persons nominated with his approbation ; and
as the committees which conducted the business ot the
state were at his disposal, his will was irresistible through¬
out the republic. He met with no opposition in the
convention-, for that body was no longer the turbulent
popular assembly which it had once appeared ; it was
little more than a name employed to give some sort 0
respectability to such schemes as were proposed to it. g
Amidst this accumulation, however, of seemingly n>VtS
resistible authority, Robespierre was at the brink o r
ruin. The whole of the old Girondist party was indeed
subdued and silent-, but many members of the conven¬
tion still remained attached to it. The party ot the
Mountain,
FRANCE.
iranee. Mountain, by means of vyliom Robespierre had risen to
-y—-' power, with little satisfaction now found themselves
794* not only disregarded, but ready at every instant to fall
a sacrifice to that system of terror which they had con¬
tributed to erect. Even the Jacobins themselves, though
neither timid nor cautious in the shedding of blood, be¬
gan to murmur when they saw that awful privilege con¬
fined exclusively within a few hands, or rather monopo¬
lized by an individual. In this state things remained
for some time j and it appeared how possible it is for an
individual to govern a great nation, even while the whole
of that nation is hostile to his power. The banishment
or imprisonment of all foreigners, which had long been
rigorously practised, prevents us from possessing much
accurate information concerning the internal state of
France at this period j but it is certain that one circum¬
stance in particular tended much to accelerate the fall
of Robespierre. He had procured a decree to be passed,
authorizing the committee of public safety to imprison
at its pleasure, and bring to trial, any member of the
convention. All the individuals of that body found
themselves placed by this decree in the hands of a man
whose severe and suspicious temper they well knew.
Still, however, they were so much surrounded by spies,
that it was difficult to form a party or plan of opera-
tionsj even the majority of the committee of public safe-
# os were among the number of the discontented, but they
Pf culars dared not to withstand their chief. At last, on the 25th
of fait, of July, the convention began to give signs of agita¬
tion. It was understood, that in the course of a few
days Robespierre would sacrifice a number of the mem¬
bers to his suspicions. On the following day the sitting
of the convention was still more tempestuous. In a long
speech Robespierre defended his own conduct against
those who had reproached him with aspiring to the dic¬
tatorship of France. He attacked the party whom he
styled Moderates, as wishing to overturn the revolution¬
ary government, and to restore the feeble system of the
Brissotines. Ihe result of a long debate was, that Ro¬
bespierre was apparently victorious, and bis speech was
ordered to be printed. On the 27th the convention
appeared ripe for a change : St Just, a member of the
committee of public safety, in attempting to defend
Robespierre, was repeatedly interrupted 5 and Billaud
Varennes stood forward, and enumerated the crimes,
and proclaimed the tyranny, of Robespierre. The
speech was received with bursts of applause. Robe¬
spierre in vain attempted to defend himself j he was
silenced by shouts of execration from every part of the
hall. Tallien seconded the former speaker in his ac¬
cusation. The sitting was declared permanent, and a
decree of arrest was passed against Robespierre and a
younger brother of his, along with St Just, Couthon,
and Lebas. These men left the convention, and found
security in the hall of the commune of Paris ; where
the municipal officers agreed to protect and stand by
them. The tocsin was sounded j the armed force was
under their command ; an insurrection was therefore
attempted against the convention : but the sections of
Paris refused their support. Very few of the troops
could be collected, and these were not firm $ the late
tyranny had become odious. TLhe hall of the commune
was therefore speedily surrounded •, and about three
0 clock in the morning of the 28th Robespierre and his
associates were made prisoners. They had been out¬
lawed by the convention on account of their resistance. France
I hey were not therefore tried, unless for the purpose ' ^
of identifying their persons j and, in the course of that 1794.
day, they were executed ; 60 of the municipal officers
were also executed for joining in the rebellion 5 and in
this way a storm passed over, which at one time threat¬
ened to involve the French capital in ruin, and filled all
Europe with astonishment. Thus also terminated the
career of the most extraordinary man that the French
revolution had brought forward. His talents were un¬
doubtedly considerable, and his ambition knew no
bounds, bidding defiance to the ordinary feelings of hu¬
manity. Had Dumourier possessed his coolness and
caution, or had he possessed the military talents ofHu-
mounei, the convention would certainly have been over-
tuined, and vve should have seen a second Cromwell on
the throne of his murdered sovereign.
Alter the fall of Robespierre, the convention exhi-The*sfsiem
bited no small change of appearance. Instead of that of terror
silence which formerly prevailed, all was bustle and'gives place
noise; all accused each other. There was no longert0 that of
any leader, and there was no formed party. The former"!™1*™'
system of terror was declared to be at an end, and a"^
new system of moderatism succeeded. This was carried
to as great a height as the system of terror had former¬
ly been ; and all means were taken to render popular
the fall of their late tyrant. The committees were or¬
ganized anew, and their members ordered to be fre¬
quently changed. The correspondence between the af¬
filiated Jacobin clubs was prohibited, and at last the
Jacobin club itself was abolished. This last event was
accomplished with ease; and that society which had
been the great engine of the revolution, was itself with¬
out resistance overturned. Seventy-one deputies of the
Girondist party, who had been imprisoned since the 31st
of May 1793, were set at liberty. rlhe name ofEyons
was restored to it. Some of the agents of Robespierre
were punished, particularly the infamous Carrier, whose
cruelties in La Vendee we formerly mentioned. Still,
however, the convention appeared so little united and
so little decided with regard to objects of the first im¬
portance, that in all probability they would not have
conducted the important struggle against the nations
of Europe with more success than the Girondist party
had formerly done, if the revolutionary government
and the late system of terror had not already accumu¬
lated in their hands such vast resources, and traced out
such a plan of procedure, as rendered it an easy matter
to preserve their numerous armies in the train of suc¬
cess to which they were now habituated.
. Tlie allies in tfieir retreat had left strong garrisonsTherJnch
in the French towns which had surrendered to them, towns
These were Conde, Valenciennes, Quesnoi, and Lan-strol}S1y
drecies. They now surrendered to the republican ar-saiT|®oned
mies with so little resistance, that the conduct of the em-fies siutoL
peror began to be considered as ambiguous, and he wasder with-
suspected of haying entered into some kind of compro-°«t resist-
mise with the Irench. I his idea proved erroneous ;ance’
and as soon as the army which had besieged these towns
was able to join the grand army under Pichegru and
Jourdan, the operations of the campaign were resumed
after a suspension of almost two months. The French
army divided itself into two bodies. One of these un¬
der Jourdan advanced against General Clairfait, who
had succeeded the prince of Cobourg in the command
1794-
40 S
Further
FRA
in the neighbourhood of Maestricht. On the 15th of
September the French attacked the whole Austrian
posts in an extent of five leagues from Liege to Mae¬
stricht. On that and the following day the losses were
France.
fnearly equal. On the 17th the French with 50 pieces
su«ees*es of _ J ^ - • " • * - —
N C E.
The French, on the contrary, well received, abounding
in every thing, and proud of fighting in a popular cause, t,
now acted with much order, and submitted to the strict- 1794.
est discipline. In addition to all these advantages, the 410
rllCciriY ctlllcil# v>*ii vuv. ... , 1
theV „c£ of cannon attacked General Kray m h« entrenclted
camp before Maestricht. M. de Kray was already re-
tiring when General Clairfait arrived with a strong
reinforcement, and after a severe combat the French
were once more compelled to retire. On the 18th
the French renewed the attack with tenfold fury upon
every part of the Austrian line, and the whole was
compelled to flv to the neighbourhood of Aix-la-Uia-
pelle. General Clairfait now chose a strong position
on the banks of the Roer, where he even declared it to
be his wish that he might he attacked. But by this
time the spirit of his army was humbled, desertions
became numerous, and the want of discipline was ex¬
treme On the first of October the French crossed the
Maese and the Roer, and attacked the whole Austrian
posts from Ruremond down to Juliers. After a bloody
engagement, the brave and active, though unfortunate,
General Clairfait was compelled hastily to cross the
Rhine, with the loss of 10 or 12,000 men. 1 he I rench
general did not attempt to cross that river, but one de¬
tachment of his army took possession of Coblentz, while
others laid close siege to Venlo and Maestricht, which
soon surrendered. . . •
And*their The division of the French army, in the mean ime,
progress in under General Fichegru, came down upon Holland,
the con- n(j attacked the allied army under the duke 01 Yoi k-
between Bois-le-duc and Grave. They forced the ad¬
vanced post of Boxtel. Lieutenant-general Abercromby
was sent to attempt to recover this post on the 15th
of September, but be found the French 111 such force
that he was obliged to retreat. Indeed the French
were discovered to be no less than 80,000 strong in that
neighbourhood. The duke of York was unable to con¬
tend against a force so superior, and retired across the
Maese with the loss of somewhat less than 1500 men.
Pichegru immediately laid siege to Bois-le-duc. On the
/. n . 1 „ r«n t«toC taKPII- aFKl liOiS-lC-
est discipline, in aouiuou vu > ..Conduct
French leaders had the dexterity to persuade the world
iieucu iciiucia iiau v..^   j --ir . ..discipli
that new and unknown arts were employed to give aid and
•late
to their cause. At this period the telegraph was first of the
used for conveying intelligence from the frontiers to French
the capital, and from the capital to the frontiers. (See*™**-
Telegraph). Balloons were also used by the French
during this campaign to procure knowledge of the po¬
sition of the enemy. An engineer ascended with the
balloon, which was suffered to rise to a great height,
but prevented from flying away by a long cord. He
made plans of the enemy’s encampment j and during
an attack he sent down notice of every hostile move¬
ment. In the affairs of men, and more especially in
military transactions, opinion is of more importance
than reality. The French soldiers confided in their
own officers as men possessed of a kind of omniscience,
while the allied troops, no doubt, beheld with anxiety a
new contrivance employed against them, whose import¬
ance would be readily magnified by credulity and igno¬
rance. With all these advantages, however, after the
capture of Nimeguen, they once more made a halt m
their career, and abstained from the attack of Holland,
which now seemed almost prostrate before them. 41J
While these events occurred in the north, the I rench Theiimc
arms were scarcely less successful on the side °f Spam-ces^nii
quest of
Holland.
icnegi u MiuiK-uK.vv-.j —c, , r> • 1
.,0th of September, Crevecoter v,at taken; andjio.s-e
2QU1 01 aeuicmut-*, ~    ; n ,
due surrendered in 10 days thereafter. In it 408 French
emigrants were taken prisoners •, and these, as well as
-760 that had been taken at Nieuport, 500 at Sluys, and
1100 at Valenciennes, were all put to death, agreeable
to the rigorous law formerly made by the convention.
The French now followed the duke of York across the
Maese. Upon this the greater part of the allied army
under his royal highness crossed the Rhine and took post
at Arnheim. The remaining part of the army fol¬
lowed soon after, and Nimeguen was occupied by the
Trench on the 6th of November. The duke of Biuns-
wick was at this time requested to take the comm ant
of the allied army, to protect Holland, if possible. He
came to Arnheim for that purpose;, but after examining
the state of things there, he declined the undertaking.
The allied troops had now so often fled, before their
victorious and almost innumerable enemies, they bad
so often been in want of every necessary, and had
been received so ill by the inhabitants of the countries
through which they passed, among whom the French
cause was extremely popular, that they had lost that
regularity of conduct and discipline which alone can
afford a secure prospect of success in military a airs.
arms were     • s •
Bellegarde was taken; in the Western Pyrenees, Fon-^1 •
tarabia surrendered, and also St Sebastian ; the whole
kingdom of Spain seemed panic struck. That feeble
government, with an almost impregnable frontier, and
the most powerful fortresses, could make little resistance;
and the difficult nature of their country was their only
protection. The history of this war is only a history ot
victories on the part of the French. In the F.astern
Pyrenees, on the 17th November, the French general
Dugomrnier was killed in an engagement, in which
his army was successful. On the 20th of that month
the French again attacked the Spaniards, and routed
them by means of the bayonet, without firing a single
musket-shot. Tents, baggage, and cannon, for an ar¬
my of co,000 men, fell into the hands of the conquerors,
along with a great part of the province ot Navarre.
Towards the end of the year, an army of 40,000 Spa¬
niards, entrenched behind 80 redoubts, the labour of six
months, suffered themselves to be completely routed ;
their general Count de la Union was found dead on
the field of battfo, and the whole Spanish artillery was
taken. In three days thereafter, the fort Fernando
de Figuieres, containing a garrison of 9107 men, sur¬
rendered, although it mounted 171 pieces of cannon,
and possessed abundance of provisions. I be French
continued their conquests; Rosas was taken, and tie
whole province of Catalonia was left at the mercy of the
invaders. , „ , . . jp
The successes of this wonderful campaign were notThec^i
vet terminated ; and the last part of them is perhaps the quest
most important, although no great eftort was necessary co9)pl{|(
to its execution. The winter now set in with uncom¬
mon severity. For some years past the seasons ot Lu-
rope had been uncommonly mild; there had been lit¬
tle frost in winter, and no intense heat in summer. But
during the late season the weather had long been re-
& markably
jl,
4111 iij,
FRA
| finca, markably dry till the latter part of harvest, when there
U.-v fell a considerable, though by no means unusual, quan-
i '95. tity of rain. Towards the end of December a severe
frost bound up the whole of the rivers and lakes of
Holland. The Waal was frozen over in the beginning
of January; a circumstance which had not occurred for
14 years past. Taking advantage of this, the French
crossed that river, and with little opposition seized the
important pass of Bommell, which at other seasons is
so strong by its inundations. The allied army had been
joined by 17,000 Austrians, and had received orders to
defend Holland to the last. They did so, and were
successful in repulsing the French for some days between
the Waal and the Leek; but the republican army,
amounting to 70,000 men, having at last advanced in full
force, the allied troops were compelled to retire across
the Yssel into Westphalia. In the course of their march
through this desert country, in the midst of severe frost
and a deep snow, they are said to have suffered incredi¬
ble hardships, and to have lost a very great number of
men. Ihe French, in the mean time, advanced rapidly
across the country to the Zuyder sea, to prevent the in¬
habitants from flying, and carrying off their property.
On the 16th of January 1795, a party of horse, without
resistance, took possession of Amsterdam. The other
towns surrendered at discretion. In consequence of an
order from the states general, the strong fortresses of
Bergen-op-zoom, Williamstadt, Breda,&c.opened their
gates to the French. The fleet and the shipping were
fixed by the intense frost in their stations, and fell a prey
to the enemy ; who thus, with a little effort, made a com¬
plete conquest of this populous and once powerful coun¬
try. The French were well received by the people at
large, fhe power of the stadtholder had been support¬
ed among them merely by the influence of Prussia and
England. Through hatred to this office, which had
now become odious chiefly to the mercantile aristocracy
of Holland, they were little attached to their allies, and
gave them, during the present war, as little support as
possible. The stadtholder and his family now fled to
England. The French declared, that they did not
mean to make subjects but allies of the Dutch, and in¬
vited them to call together popular assemblies for
settling their own government, under the protection of
the French republic.
Thus terminated a campaign, the most astonishing,
perhaps, that has been known in the history of mankind.
In the course of it, even before the conquest of Hol¬
land, the French had taken 2000 pieces of cannon and
60,000 prisoners. After that event, the conquered ter¬
ritories added to them a population of nearly 14 millions
of people. Luxembourg and Mentz were the only
places on this side of the Rhine that resisted them. The
former was closely blockaded, lor the purpose of com¬
pelling it to surrender; the latter was several times
faulted, but successfully held out.
tatiiin ^ thi8 period Europe seemed to be weary of such a
eiob on bloody contest, and the Diet of Ratisbon intimated its
3»ce resolution to adopt such measures as might tend to
bring about a general pacification. A treaty was con¬
cluded between the grand duke of Tuscany and France.
Ihe convention declared their readiness to treat for
peace with any of the powers of Europe upon honour¬
able terms. Great Britain and Austria, however, seem¬
ed to be persuaded, that an honourable and permanent
peace could not be obtained with France, while her France
government was subject to such perpetual changes. For     ^
instance, such was the enmity of the Mountain party 1795*
against the Gironde, that any treaty entered into by
the latter would have been trampled upon by the for¬
mer : and such, it was observed, might continue to be
the aspect of affairs in that distracted country for an in¬
definite length of time.
As the constitution which had been framed in the ^ new^con-
year 1793, during the tyrannical dominion of Robes-stitution.
pierre, vyas justly deemed impracticable, a committee
was appointed to frame one entirely new. It was com¬
posed of Sieyes, Cambaceres, Merlin of Douay, Thi-
baudan, Mathieu, Le Sage of Eure and Loire, and
Latouche. On the report of Cambaceres, the 19th of
April, that the committee thought that a commission
should be appointed for this important business, a num¬
ber of qualified persons were accordingly chosen, while
all citizens were invited to communicate their sentiments
upon the subject, and the committee was to give orders
for the best plans to he published. The feelings of the
nation at large received additional gratification from
the conduct of the convention towards Fouquier Tain-
ville the president, and 15 judges and jurors, of the re¬
volutionary tribunal. They were fully convicted on
the 8th of May, and executed on the 9th, launched in¬
to eternity amidst the just execrations of a vast multi¬
tude of spectators. i ^
Although the Jacobins were defeated on the 1st and In iiUrrec-
2d of April, they did not consider themselves as en-1*0110^8
tirely subdued. They were plotting a more ex tensive Jacobin,•
insurrection, which was not to be confined to the capi¬
tal, and fixed on the 20th of May as the period of
revolt. On the morning of that day, the tocsin was
accordingly sounded, and drums beat to arms in the
suburb of St Antoine, in which the Jacobins had al¬
ways enjoyed the greatest influence. Upon this the
convention met; and although the insurrection was far
from being a secret, the committee of public safety did
not appear to have taken any measures to prevent it.
It was only at the moment when the insurgents were
approaching that General Hoche was appointed to the
command of the armed force, and sent to collect the
military and citizens for the protection of the conven¬
tion. The hall was presently surrounded, the guards
were overpowered, and the mob forced their way into
the midst of the assembly. Ihe multitudes of women
who met upon this occasion shouted for bread, and the
constitution of 1793. Vernier the president, a man far
advanced in years, quitted the chair to Boissy d’Anglas,
who kept it with commendable fortitude during the re¬
mainder of the day. "I he mob had cockades with this
inscription upon them, “ Bread, and the constitution of
1793.” One of the party attached to the convention
imprudently tore off' the hat of one of the insurgents
whom the multitude attacked with swords; and as he
fled towards the chair of the president, he was killed
by a musket shot. The majority of the members gra¬
dually retired from this scene of lawless intrusion, and
left the multitude masters of the hall. Four of the
members who remained espoused the cause of the in¬
surgents, whose triumph, however, was of very short
continuance. A large body of the military and the
peaceable citizens vanquished them in the evening, the
powers of the majority were restored, and the four de¬
puties s
158
FRA
France.
puties who espoused the cause of the mob were ar-
It would appear that the convention and the citizens
416 of Paris now believed their triumph to be complete, as
Mean com- mt;asures were adopted by them sufficient to pi event
pliaace of { ^petition of a similar outrage. The Jacobins,
theconven- e . . , • 1 ..
lion.
however, were not yet determined to view their cause
as desperate, for next day they collected in the suburbs,
and in the afternoon made a second attempt. The
Carousal was taken by them without opposition, when
they pointed some pieces of cannon against the hall of
the convention, the members of which being wholly
unprotected, endeavoured to gain over the mob by flat¬
tery,—by promising them bread, and the constitution of
1793, or whatever else they thought proper to demand ;
and the president even gave the deputation the frater¬
nal embrace. On the 23d, the citizens assembled, and
went to the Thuilleries to defend the convention from
insult and violence. The military collected in consider¬
able force ; and the convention was at length encour¬
aged to act on the offensive. It was decreed that it the
suburb of St Antoine did not immediately sin-render its
arms and cannon, with the murderer of Ferrand, it
would be declared in a state of rebellion. The generals
of the convention received orders to reduce it by force ;
and the insurgents finding themselves unequal to the
conflict, were forced by the inhabitants to make an un¬
conditional surrender, to preserve their property from
the depredations of the military. The soldiers found
among the prisoners were put to death, on which oc¬
casion six of the members were tried and condemned by
a military commission. Three of them were guilty of
suicide, and the other three were publicly executed.
In the southern parts of France, the Jacobins were
eoually turbulent as their brethren in Paris, and form¬
ed an insurrection at Toulon on the 20th of ilay,
seizing on the gates, upon which they^planted cannon •,
thev set at liberty such of their associates as had been
incarcerated, and detained the fleet which was about to
put to sea. From Toulon they proceeded to Marseilles,
Ht which time they were 300Q strong, and had 12 pieces
of cannon. On their march they were opposed by
Generals Charton and Pactod, by whom they were de¬
feated, 300 of them being sent prisoners to Marseilles,
and Toulon was liberated. _ .
-T'~ The Mountain party, who were anxious to revive the
Hope tebe c . n and measures 0f Robespierre, were now
.uccessfui. much reduced, and exposed in many places to
violent persecution. Associations were formed for the
purpose of avenging the crimes they committed during
the continuance of their power. When we reflect on
the character of Robespierre’s government and what all
ranks of men suffered under it, we must consider it
4i7
Defeat of
the Jaco¬
bins.
418
truly astonishing that any number of men should hazard
.1 • i* oiif.mntincr its restoration. Ihe party
their lives in attempting its restoration. The party
was of course gradually abandoned by its adherents on
the fall of its tyrant, and it sunk in the estimation of
every one who examined it with attention. Still, how¬
ever, a small party remained, the members of which
were men of superior activity and enterprise. Ihey
consisted of ferocious republicans, who thought they be¬
held the revival of royalty and aristocracy in every at¬
tempt to establish a mild, sober, and regular govern¬
ment Yet, amidst the universal odium cast upon them,
the Jacobins expected to rise once more into power j
N C E.
but what is most singular, the revival of their strength
is to be dated from their unsuccessful insurrection just v
now mentioned. Their want of popularity began to
affect the convention, as the people remembered how
tamely that body submitted to the tyranny of Robes¬
pierre, of whose power the majority of the members
had been the servile instruments. The press, therefore,
being now free, the most hideous picture of their con¬
duct was held up to the public, jhe greater part of
them now began to repent of their victory over the
Jacobins, as they foresaw that the consequences in the
end might prove fatal to themselves.
On the 23d of June, Boissy d’Anglas presented the New c«
report of the committee relative to the plan of a new ^itutiot,
constitution. It was, like its predecessors, prefaced with
a declaration of the rights of man, consisting besides of
14 chapters on the following subjects —the extent of
the republican territories, the political state of citizens,
primary assemblies, electoral assemblies, the legislature,
the judicial authority, the public force, public instruc¬
tion, the finances, foreign treaties, the mode of revising
the constitution, and an act that no rank or superiority
should exist among citizens, but what might arise from
the exercise of public functions. . ^
The legislature was composed of two assemblies, the made Up
council of the Ancients, consisting of 250 members, as two as*
none but married men and widowers turned of 40
could be chosen members of it; the other council con¬
sisted of 500 members, and enjoyed the exclusive privi¬
lege of proposing the laws, while the council of Ancients
might reject or oppose, without having power to alter
the decrees. The executive power was intrusted to
five persons who were to be 40 years of age at least,
and to be denominated the Executive Directory. The
two councils had the power of electing its members,
the council of five hundred proposing 10 times as many
candidates as could be chosen, and the council of two
hundred and fifty selected the five members from among
these 50 candidates. One member of the directory was
to go annually out of office, by which they were all
changed in the course of five years. In enacting laws
the directory had no vote, being appointed purely to
superintend the execution of them, regulated the coining
of money, and had the disposal of the armed force.
The treaties made by the directory with foreign courts
were not binding without the sanction of the legislature,
and war could not be made without a decree of the
two assemblies. The whole articles of the new con¬
stitution underwent a separate discussion, when they
were to be transmitted to the primary assemblies for
their approbation. Prior to this event, however, it was
agreed on by a majority of the convention, in order to
avert the danger which now threatened themselves,
from the loss of public favour, that at the approaching
general election, the electors should be bound to return
two-thirds of the present members, and if this failed,
that the convention themselves might fill up the va¬
cancies. These decrees accompanied the constitution ;
but at Paris the idea of re-electing two-thirds of the
old members was rejected with contempt, and the ab¬
surdity of it pointed out with every expression of acri-
, The convention, in the mean time, did not fail
publish the approbation of the decrees by the primary^
assemblies, as well as of the constitution, although it is^j,
certain
»;
411
F E A N C E.
.iiice,
12
Ja >ins
coi ed by
thei liven-
tio:
« 3
Stnrle
beh :n
th« iven
tiou ad
Paf "mg;
certain that vast numbers had confounded the two to¬
gether, and given their approbation accordingly. Such
was the rage of many against the convention in conse¬
quence of the decrees already mentioned, that it was
even proposed to try the whole members before a new
revolutionary tribunal, and punish each in proportion
to his crimes. The sections remonstrated against the
decrees to the convention, and the more eager they ap¬
peared in the business, the more persuaded was the con¬
vention of its own imminent danger. Every remon¬
strance, however, was disregarded, and the contend¬
ing parties formed the resolution of settling it by force
of arms. About lOO electors of Paris met in the hall
of the theatre in the suburb of St Germain before the
day of meeting which had been appointed by the con¬
vention, and having chosen De Nivernois for their pre¬
sident, began their debates, absurdly concluding that
the sovereignty was vested in the hands of the electors,
after these had been chosen by the primary sections. A
body of troops was sent to dissolve them as an illegal
assembly, which was accomplished without any diffi¬
culty, the citizens not having been unanimous in their
sentiments respecting it.
This, however, did not prevent the sections from
presuming that by steady perseverance they would be
finally victorious, having always found that the party
favoured by the co-operation of the Parisian populace,
had carried their point ever since the commencement of
the revolution. The armed force with which the con¬
vention was surrounded gave the people very little
alarm, as they endeavoured to persuade themselves that
the military could never be brought to act against the
citizens. As the members of the convention also ap¬
peared to suspect their fidelity, they applied for assist¬
ance to those very Jacobins whom they had humbled
on the 24th of May. If the sections of Paris detested
the members for their connexion with the atrocities of
Robespierre, the Jacobins admired them from this very
circumstance 5 a set of restless, bloody men, who were
never satisfied with wars abroad nor revolutions at
home. Hundreds of them were released from prison,
and put in a state of requisition for assisting the legis¬
lative body.
The sections of Paris having beheld the convention
surrounded by men who had justly obtained the ap¬
pellations of terrorists and men of blood, they exhibited
a desire of engaging them which was altogether un¬
bounded. Their leader designed to make the members
prisoners, till they could be conveniently brought to
trial, and in the interim conduct public affairs by com¬
mittees of the sections, till a new legislative body could
be chosen. General Miranda was to have the com¬
mand of the armed force after the overthrow of the
convention, but as it was still problematical which party
would be triumphant, he retired to the country till the
event should declare it, resolving to have the reward
of a conquest to which he was to contribute nothing.
The superior officers of the convention were unfaithful,
yet the subalterns and soldiers might have continued
firm, to which they would, no doubt, be strongly ex¬
horted by their Jacobin auxiliaries. What was greatly
in favour of the convention was, that the first moments
of enthusiasm were permitted to pass away, after which
the sections exhibited a conduct both undecided and
weak.
Barras was appointed on the 4th of October by the
convention to the command of the troops, Generals
Menon, Raffet and some others, having been dismissed
from office. Barras called in the aid of the most able
officers, among whom we find Brune and Bonaparte, ^*r^as ^
and made speedy preparations for a vigorous defence.chief
Troops with cannon were placed in every avenue lead-command
ing to the Thuilleries, and masked batteries were placed of the na-
in situations of a more retired nature, if any of these t‘ona*
should happen to be forced. The precaution was also^00**8*
taken of transporting the provisions and military stores
to St Cloud, if the convention should be obliged to re¬
treat from Paris. On the 5th of October both parties
continued on the defensive for several hours, but about
three o’clock in the afternoon, overtures were made
by the general of the insurgents, Danican, in which he
declared that the intention of the citizens was for peace,
only they apprehended a massacre was to be begun by
the armed teri'orists surrounding the convention, and
that if these were removed they would return to their
duty $ but it was resolved to try the issue of the dis¬
pute at the point of the sword, as the Jacobin party in
the convention were now more fully persuaded of ulti¬
mate success. On this occasion the armed Jacobins
without are generally understood to have been the first
aggressors. The citizens on the south side of the river
made an effort to reach the convention by the Quay
de Voltaire, but were completely prevented by the
cannon of the convention, while the conflict was ex¬
tremely obstinate on the other side of the river, near
the convention. After an engagement of four hours
continuance, the sections were repulsed, and driven to
the post of St Roche, which being also taken after an
obstinate resistance, the insurgents fled to their head
quarters at the section of Pelletier ; but the troops of
the convention were, about midnight, in possession of
the whole city. ^
The victors attributed this insurrection to the in- The violent
fluence of the royalists $ and whether they were right Jac°bins
in their judgment or not, it is certain that the cause talte
royalty was now become less odious to the people in ge- ' *
neral than the bloody extravagance of republicanism j
but the mob in fact seemed to have looked no farther
than the disarming of the Jacobins, and obtaining new
representatives. The attempt failed, and the Mountain
were again at the head of the state. The sittings of
the convention were terminated on the 27th of Octo¬
ber, and was succeeded by the new legislature in terms
of the constitution. Among its last decrees, was one
granting a general amnesty for all crimes and pro¬
ceedings of a revolutionary nature, but the emigrants^
transported priests, and every one concerned in the last
insurrection, were excluded from the benefit of it. The
agents of Rohespieri'e in Paris and the departments were
liberated from prison, and promoted to lucrative offices
under the new government.
The next step of the new legislature was to divide Measures
itself into two councils, and proceed to the election of°ftlie,,ew
an executive directory. The council of five hundred *e£*slalurc«
was bound to present to the other council 50 candi¬
dates, of which a list was accordingly made out, con¬
sisting of no more than five whom they wished to be
chosen, the other 45 consisting of obscure persons, far¬
mers and peasants, which left no more power to the
council of ancients than the form of an election, which
must
i6o
France.
1795-
4*7
Treaty of
F R
must fall on Sieyes, Barras, Rewbell, La Reveillere
Lepaux, and Letourneur de la Manche, none of the
rest being qualified for the office. The intriguing
Sieyes, however, did not deem it prudent to venture
on the possession of power •, and on his declining to ac¬
cept of this new dignity, Carnot was appointed in his
stead. The form of government now established did
not promise to be productive of much happiness or tran¬
quillity, as the most important offices in the state were
filled by men whom the people could not endure. 1 he
members too of the executive directory, except only
Reveillere Lepaux, had always been connected with the
Mountain party, and they employed the Jacobins in
almost every official department, which could not fail
to render the government peculiarly obnoxious. It was
feared that a directory chosen by the Jacobins, and new
legislators appointed by the people, might one day be
the means of totally subverting the constitution, which
actually took place.
On the loth of April a treaty of peace with the
peace with king of Prussia was presented to the convention, in or-
Prus*ia. jer to be ratified. By virtue of this treaty, it was
agreed that the republican troops should be immediate¬
ly withdrawn from the territories of Prussia on the right
bank of the Rhine, having power to retain, till a ge¬
neral peace, the teritories which France then possessed
on the left bank of that river. There was to be a mu¬
tual exchange of prisoners of war, and the intercourse
between the two countries was to be placed in its for¬
mer situation. Measures were also adopted to shift the
theatre of hostilities from the northern parts of Ger¬
many. At the same time the king of Sweden acknow¬
ledged the French republic, whose ambassador was re¬
ceived at Paris with great solemnity. Another treaty
was concluded with Prussia in the month of May,
which had a special reference to the line of neutrality.
The cantons of Switzerland followed the example of
the king of Sweden, and a treaty of peace was con¬
cluded at Basle on the 22d of July, between the repub¬
lic and the court of Spain, in consequence of which
France gave up all the conquests she had made in that
country, and the original frontier was restored ; in re¬
turn for which the republic received all the Spanish part
of St Domingo. In this treaty the Dutch republic was
included, and the mediation of the king of Spain, in
favour of Portugal and the Italian princes, was accept¬
ed by France.
On the 9th of June, the dauphin, the heir to the
throne of the unfortunate Louis XVI. and his only son,
died in the prison of the Temple, where he was confined
with his sister since the death of the king. Some think
that his death was the consequence of disease, although
it is much more probable that he was poisoned, since
there is no crime in the annals of human depravity
which the French rulers would have trembled to per¬
petrate, of which the numerous murders already detail¬
ed afford indubitable evidence. His death, however,
interested the French nation so deeply in favour of his
barbarously used family, that the convention found it
prudent to liberate the princess. The committee of
public safety proposed to the emperor to give her up in
exchange for the commissioners whom Dumourier had
sent prisoners to the Austrians, together with Semon-
ville and Marat, who were seized on their way to Tur¬
key as envoys extraordinary from the French republic.
3
IVaiic:
428
Death of
Louis
XVII.
A N C E.
The proposal was agreed to, and the exchange took
place at Basle in Switzerland.
If Britain was unfortunate in her affairs on the con¬
tinent, she still retained her superiority on the watery - -
element. A fleet under Admiral Hotham engaged aperiorbj
French fleet on the 14th of March, and took two sail6ea
of the line, the Ca Ira and Censeur ; but this was
nearly counterbalanced by the loss of the Berwick and
Illustrious. Three French ships of the line were cap¬
tured by Lord Bridport on the 23d of June, in an at¬
tack on the enemy’s fleet off Port L’Orient, the rest of
the fleet effecting its escape. As Britain thus evinced
upon all occasions her superiority by sea, advantage was
taken of this circumstance to send assistanceto the royal¬
ists in the western departments, which unfortunately
for them came too late, for the convention had offered
them a treaty, which was accepted and signed atXantz
on the 3d of March, on the one part by deputies from
the convention, and on the other by Charette, Sapi-
neau, and other chiefs of the insurgents of La Vendee,
and by Cormartin, as representatives of the party called
Chouans or night owls. Stofflet submitted to the repub¬
lic on the 20th of April. The countenance given by
Britain to the royalists made them disregard these trea¬
ties. The troops sent to their aid were composed of
emigrants in the pay of Great Britain, and a number
of prisoners who agreed to join the royal cause. Puisaye
commanded this motley army, and Count de Sombreuil
afterwards joined him with an inconsiderable reinforce¬
ment. This expedition arrived in the bay of Quiberon
on the 25th of June. Arms were put into the hands
of the inhabitants of the country, but it was soon found
that they could not be of much advantage to regular
troops. A resolution was therefore adopted to withdraw
the emigrant army within the peninsula of Quiberon,
the fort of which name was taken on the 3d of July,
the garrison of which consisted of about 600 men, and
was afterwards occupied by the emigrants. All the
posts without the peninsula were carried by an army
under General Hoche, the emigrants and Chouans es¬
caping into the boats of the British fleet, or flying for
protection under the cannon of Quiberon fort. The re¬
publicans then began to erect formidable works on the
heights of St Barbe, which commanded the entrance of
the peninsula. To prevent these operations, a sally on
the 7th was made from the fort, but without effect,
and another with still greater force had no better suc¬
cess. The whole forces in the peninsula amounted, in¬
cluding Chouans, to about 12,000 men, 5000 of whom
were sent to make an attack on the heights of St Barbe,
where the republicans were entrenched in three camps,
two of which were taken without difficulty ; but as the
emigrants rushed forward to attack the third, a masked
battery was opened upon them with grape shot, in con¬
sequence of which a dreadful slaughter ensued, and very
few of the emigrants would have effected their escape,
had not the fire from the British ships compelled the
republicans to abandon the pursuit.
It was now evident that a complete and ultimate fat- Fjutart
lure would be the fate of this expedition, and desertion
among the emigrants became very frequent, especially^
those who had been liberated from prison on condition
of serving against the republic. The weather was very
tempestuous on the evening of the 20th, which induced
the emigrants to indulge in a fatal security. The troops
* 1*
4,
41°
FRANCE.
ance. ^ie republic were contlacted in silence along an
i(.-v—unguarded quarter of the shore, and surprised one of
I 795. ihe posts, where they found the artillerymen asleep.
They extinguished the lanthorn which was intended to
give the British fleet the alarm, and seized on their
matches. Some of the emigrants threw down their
arms and joined the republicans, while others maintained
an obstinate contest before they surrendered. Count de
Sombreuil was taken and put to death, together with
the bishop ol Dol and his clergy, none being spared
but such as pretended that their appearing against the
republicans was purely owing to compulsion.
Cc inefital But to return to the affairs on the continent. The
a!! s. fort of Luxembourg surrendered on the 7th of June,
after having been besieged since the preceding cam¬
paign, which put the French in possession of the whole
left bank ol the Rhine, Mentz only excepted, because
the Austrians could conveniently supply it with every
necessary from the opposite bank of the river. The re¬
publicans therefore determined to cross the river, to in¬
vest it on every side ; but lor some time the attempt was
delayed, till the result of the Quiberon expedition should
be fully known. The passage of the Rhine at Dussel-
dorf was effected by General Jourdan in the month of
August, as commander of what was denominated the
army ol the Sambre and Meuse. Having driven three
Austrian posts before him, he crossed the Maine, and
invested Mentz and Cassel, and Pichegru at the same
time took possession of Manheim, having crossed the
river near that city with the army of the Rhine and
Moselle. A strong detachment of this army having
driven Marshal Wurmser from an important post, began
to plunder, and consequently run into confusion, of which
the Austrians took a proper advantage, returned to the
charge, and the republicans were vanquished. Jourdan
was pursued by Clairfait to Dusseldorf, where the for¬
mer general made a stand, and Pichegru recrossed the
Rhine near Manheim, leaving a garrison in that city
of 8000 men, which, after a vigorous siege, surrendered
to the Austrians; and the republicans were driven from
the vicinity of Mentz. Little more was either lost or
won by the contending parties at this time, and they
L mutually agreed to an armistice of three months.
The landgrave of Hesse Cassel entered into a treaty
5fr* of peace with France on the 28th of August, which
nine w?s agreed to, on condition that he would furnish Bri¬
tain with no more troops during the war. Peace upon
similar terms was granted to the elector of Hanover :
and the duke of Wirtemberg and some other princes of
the German empire began to treat ; but the negotia¬
tions were broken off’ in consequence of the reverse of
4 lortune which the French now experienced.
directory, however, still resolved to prosecute
f"dTof the war vyith vigour, and therefore made vast prepara-
c' tions during the winter for another campaign. The
Mountain party being again possessed of power, soon
hegan to discover their restless, turbulent disposition,
which could not long submit peaceably to any govern¬
ment whatever, and became disgusted with that very
directory which they themselves had established. They
were perpetually disturbing the public tranquillity.
he people of Paris, after the 5th of October, durst not
openly avow their abhorrence of the Jacobins, but it
was understood that their wearing green cravats was a
token of contempt. This piece of dress was prohibited
Vol. IX. Part I. ' f
I 6l
France.
by the directory as a mark of attachment to royalty.
Of this they were soon ashamed, and recalled their edict
in a few weeks. In the southern parts of France, the
present authority of the Jacobins produced very serious
effects. Freron, by whom they bad been abandoned
after the death of Robespierre, returned to their cause
before the 5th of October, and was sent to Toulon with
full powers of administration. He dismissed the muni¬
cipality which had been chosen by the people, restored
the Jacobin clubs, and every person whom be suspected
be caused to be imprisoned. The directory was alarm¬
ed at the numerous complaints which were made from
every quarter against the conduct of those turbulent
and bloody men, and resolved to obtain the confidence
and affections ol the people by deserting them entirely.
Ireron was recalled irom Toulon, and more moderate
men were made choice of to succeed the restless, sangui¬
nary Jacobins.
The directory also made a public declaration that its which takes
confidence bad been abused. The police minister was measures
charged with the removal from Paris of the members “sai"Btti,e
of former revolutionary tribunals, and such as were ac-JaC° m*'
tive leaders of the Jacobins. Ten thousand men, called
the legion of police, who acted against the Parisians on
the 5th of October, and were decidedly the favourers
of the Jacobins, received orders from the directory and
legislative body to join the armies on the frontiers,
which orders they refused to obey, but were compelled
to submit by the interference of other troops brought
from a distant quarter to provide agaiost that event.
This led the violent Jacobins to concert a plan for the
ruin of the directory and the majority of the councils,
who had now abandoned them. Rut as they were a
considerable time in being ready for action, their de¬
signs were discovered and completely defeated. The
guards were increased on the 10th of May, and bodies
cavalry were stationed round the Luxembourg and
Ihuilleries. J be council of five hundred was inform¬
ed by the directory, that a terrible plot was ready to
burst forth on the ensuing morning. The conspirators,
at the ringing of the morning bell, were to proceed in
small parties of three or four men each, to the bouses
of those persons whom they had singled out for destruc¬
tion. Having murdered these, they were then to unite
in one body against the directory, rvbose guard they
conceived themselves qualified to vanquish. The Jaco¬
bins in the mean time had nominated a new directory
and legislature, from among the most turbulent and
abandoned of their own persuasion. Some of the lead¬
ers of this conspiracy were arrested, among whom was
Drouet the postmaster of Varennes, who stopped the
unfortunate Louis on his way to the frontiers, and with
him ten others, who were condemned at Vendome, but
Drouet made his escape. ^ ,.
These defeats which the Jacobins experienced, and Moderate
the disgrace into which they were again brought, de-Party*
termined the moderate party in the two councils to at¬
tempt to procure the repeal of the concluding decrees
of the convention, which had granted them an amnesty,
and confirmed the laws against emigrants, excluding
their friends from succeeding them. A number of
days were employed in the discussion of these topics,
but the moderate party gained nothing in favour of the
emigrants, and nothing against the jacobins but this,
that such as owed their preservation to the amnesty,
X should
162
France.
[796.
427
National
institute a n
established. °
FRA
should not be deemed competent to hold any public
office.
Another matter of no less a serious nature now called
4.1^ i for the attention of the republican government, which
^Hte^i^tln'vvas the deplorable state of the finances. While the
finances, tyrannical usurpation of Robespierre continued, terror
supported the credit of the assignats, which joined to
the sale of the church lands, and the property of the
emigrants, furnished ample resources in the mean time -,
and no provision was at all thought ot for future exi¬
gencies. If money was wanted, more assignats were
fabricated, and no enquiry was made concerning the
public expenditure, as no taxes were demanded from
the people. The directory complained to the councils
of the great distress under which they laboured, and of
the want of sufficient funds to meet the unavoidable ex-
pences of the ensuing campaign. A law was in conse¬
quence passed on the 25th of March, giving authority
to dispose of the remainder of the church lands at the
value formerly fixed on them, which was 22 years pur¬
chase. A new paper currency, termed mandats, was to
he received in payment, hut government had now lost
its credit. These rapidly lost a great part of their va¬
lue, which increased the demand for national property j
and to prevent this, the legislature decreed that one-
fourth of every purchase should he paid in cash, which
prevented the sale of the national property, and the cir¬
culation of mandats.
During their preparations for the approaching cam¬
paign, the directory attempted to render themselves po-
'pular at home, by the establishment of the National
Institute, or society of men of letters under the protec¬
tion of government. Every man of erudition who had
escaped the bloody persecution of the Mountain party,
was invited to he a member. It was opened on the
4th of April, in the hall of the Louvre, when the am¬
bassadors of Spain, Prussia, Sweden, Denmark, Hol¬
land, America, Tuscany, Genoa, and Geneva, were
present, and the members of the directory in their robes
of state. The president expressed the determination of
the executive power to afford every encouragement to
the improvement of literature and the arts ; and the pre¬
sident of the institute replied that it was the determina¬
tion of the members to endeavour to give lustre to the
republican government by the exercise of their talents,
and by publications. The speeches were enthusiastical¬
ly applauded by 1500 spectators, and the general ex¬
pectation was, that France was now to enter on a career
of glory and prosperity wholly unprecedented,
p About this time an approach towards a negotiation
"cM>y~ with France was made on the part of Great Britain, by
Britain, Mr Wickham, ambassador to the Swiss Cantons *, and on
the 8th of March, a note was communicated toM. Bar-
thelemy, ambassador from the French republic. It was
•asked, whether France would be willing to send ministers
to a congress to negotiate peace with his Britannic ma¬
jesty and his allies ? Whether France would be inclined
to communicate the general grounds on which she would
he willing to conclude peace, that his majesty and his
■.{lies might consider them in concert? Lastly, whether
France would desire to communicate any other mode of
accomplishing a peace ? Whatever answer should be re¬
turned was to he transmitted to the British court; but it
was at the same time declared that Mr Wickham had
no authority to discuss these subjects. An answer was
Franc;
43!
N C E,
returned on the 26th of the same month, by Barthelemy
in the name of the directory, complaining of the insin¬
cerity of the British court, as its ambassador had no au¬
thority to negotiate, and that the proposal of a congress
made negotiation endless. It stated the wish of the di¬
rectory to obtain peace, but that no portion of territory
would he relinquished, which formed part of the repub¬
lic by the constitutional decree. To this note no reply
was made; hut it was complained of to the foreign mi¬
nisters resident at the court of London, and considered
as leaving Britain no other alternative than the prose¬
cution of the war, at once both just and necessary. ^
During the winter season, the directory found means Royali.™
to reduce the western departments to proper subjection.*11 tta-
The expedition from England had tempted the royalistssubtlue
once more to try their fortune in the field of battle j but
after a number of defeats, their leaders Charette and
Stofflet were apprehended, and put to death on the 29tfi
of March, which tended to suppress the insurgents in
every quarter. Domestic enemies being thus subdued,
the republican government was enabled to make the
more vigorous exertions on the frontiers. Their mili¬
tary force was divided into three armies; the army of
the Samhre and Meuse under Jourdan was principally
stationed about Dusseldorf and Coblentzj the army ot
the Rhine and Moselle, commanded by the celebrated
General Moreau, stationed on the Upper Rhine, and
from Landau to Treves •, and the third army occupied
the Italian coast from Nice tov.rards Genoa, the com¬
mand of which was bestowed on Bonaparte, a native of
Corsica, and one of the most extraordinary men that
ever lived in any country, as our readers will perceive
in the sequel. ^
The army of Italy about this time was 56,000 strong, Bonaf
which Bonaparte, at his arrival, found very ill equipped,takeili
and in a state of mutiny for want of pay and necessaries.®”®®1*
Wishing them to prepare for immediate action, he ad-ofjla!j
dressed them in the following manner: “ If we are to
be vanquished, we have already too much, and if we
conquer, we shall want nothing.” He was anticipated
by the enemy. The Austrians employed in the defence
of Italy under Beaulieu were more numerous than the
army of Bonaparte, to which were added 60,000 re¬
gular troops belonging to his Sardinian majesty, the
militia of the country, and a^out 2500 Neapolitan ca¬
valry. On the pth of April the campaign was opened
by General Beaulieu, who attacked a post called Voltri,
in the possession of the republicans, six leagues from
Genoa. They defended themselves till the evening,
after which they retreated to Savona. Next day Beau¬
lieu succeeded in all his attempts, till he reached Mon-
tenotte, the last republican entrenchment, which con¬
tained 1500 men. Rampon, their commander, prevail¬
ed with them in a moment of enthusiasm, to swear that
they would not surrender, in consequence of which they
succeeded in arresting the progress of the Austrian ge¬
neral for the remaining part of the day. The right
wing of the French army was, during the night, station¬
ed in the rear of the redoubt of Montenotte, under La
Harpe, while Bonaparte, Massena, Berthier and Sali-
cetti, advanced by Altara, to take the enemy on their
flank and rear. Powerful reinforcements were in the
mean time sent to Beaulieu, who, on the morningof the
nth, again made an attack on La Harpe j but the ap¬
proach of Massena soon made the Austrians and Sardi-
■ance
I 44i
' les of
fcesimo
fi 1 ::d by
Anereau.
.2
Dej lc-
tak ' by
Boi uarte
nians give way on ail sides. Two of tlieir generals
were wounded, 2500 were made prisoners, and the re¬
publicans pursued them beyond Cairo, which, on the
following day, fell into their hands.
General Angereau, on the 13th, forced the defiles of
Millesimo . and by a rapid movement General Provera
was surrounded at the head of 1500 grenadiers j but
instead of surrendering, this brave officer forced his way
through the enemy, and entrenched himself in the ruins
of an old castle at the top of the hill. Angereau, with
his artillery, endeavoured to dislodge him ; after which
he arranged his troops into four columns, and made an
attempt to carry Provera’s entrenchments by storm,
which proved unsuccessful, but the French had two
generals killed, and Joubert was wounded. The ad¬
verse armies faced each other on the 14th, while a di¬
vision was left to continue the blockade of Provera.
The Austrians made an unsuccessful attack on the re¬
publican centre, while Massena turned the left flank of
their left wing in the vicinity of Dego, and La Harpe
turned the right flank of the same wing. One column
kept in check the centre of the Austrians, another at¬
tacked the flank of their left wing, and a third column
gained its rear. The republicans took 8oco prisoners,
and General Provera at last surrendered.
General Beaulieu, after lie was defeated at Millesimo,
made an effort similar to those which have been fre¬
quently found to change the fortune of war. With
7000 of his best troops he made an attack upon the
village of Dego, where the republicans after their
success were indulging in security. He made himself
master of the village, and the troops having rallied
under Massena, that general employed the greater part
of the day in his efforts to retake it. The republicans
were three times repulsed, but Bonaparte having ar¬
rived in the evening with reinforcements, the post was
retaken, and 1400 men were made prisoners. Bona¬
parte was now, by design, between the Austrian and
Sardinian armies, his right wing being secured by the
village of Dego against the eflbrts of" Beaulieu, while
he could act against the Piedmontese troops with the
greater part of his force. Angereau powerfully se¬
conded his exertions, who had opened a communication
with the Tanaro, where Serrurier was approaching the
town of Ceva, in the vicinity of which there was a
Piedmontese entrenched camp of 8000 men. The re¬
doubts covering this camp were, on the i6tb, attacked
by General Angereau, capturing the greater part of
them, on which the Piedmontese evacuated Ceva during
flip ninlit an/1 nn fKo TtotK _ __ 1.
FRANCE.
1796.
were unquestionably humiliating. The duchy of Savoy Fran
was given up to France for ever, as were also the ceun- ‘
ties of Nice, Jende, and Bretueil. An amnesty was
granted to all his subjects who were persecuted for poli¬
tical opinions, and he agreed that the French troops
should have free access to Italy through his territory.
He was to erect no fortresses on the side of France, to
demolish those of Brunette and Susa, and confess that
his conduct to the last republican ambassador had been
disrespectful.
The republican army, in the mean time, advanced A fWJ
towards the Po ; but Beaulieu was deceived respecting ,ieaty-
one article of the armistice, which granted permission
to Bonaparte to cross that river at Valentia. Con¬
cluding that the republican chief seriously intended to
cross at this place, lie made every possible preparation
to oppose him, while Bonaparte hastily penetrated into
Lombardy, and on the 7th of May, was 60 miles down
Uie river to Placentia before the enemy could obtain
information of his route. He passed the river without
difficulty. Six thousand infantry and 2000 cavalry
were dispatched by Beaulieu to oppose the passage of
Bonaparte across the river when it was too late, by
whom they were met and defeated on the following
day, at the village of Fombio. As 5000 more ad¬
vanced to the assistance of these, they were repulsed by
La Harpe, at which time that officer was killed. An
armistice was granted by General Bonaparte on the 9th
to the duke of Parma, on condition that he paid
2,000,000 of French money, and delivered 10,000
quintals of wheat, 5000 quintals of oats, and 2000 oxen
for the use of the army. He likewise agreed to give up
20 of his best paintings, to he made choice of by the
republicans. This last measure was strongly objected
to by several men of literature and artists as soon as it
was known ; hut the directory disregarded every remon¬
strance, and gave orders for similar stipulations to he
inserted in every subsequent treaty.
As General Beaulieu was forced to abandon the Po, v- -
he crossed the Adda at Lodi, Pizzighitine, and Cre- *
mona, leaving some troops to defend the approaches to
Lodi, which were attacked by the advanced guard of
the republicans on the 10th, who drove them into the
town, and pursued them so rapidly, that there was no
time left to break down the bridge over the Adda.
Here the Austrians defended the passage with 30 pieces
of cannon, and the republican officers, after holding a
consultation, were of opinion that the bridge could not
be forced. Bonaparte, however, having demanded of
l6
• . ! . . .I 0 • , O J-rvilrtpai IGj HUWCVCl, UciVIliH iiClIicinClCU Ol
he night, and, on the 17th, Serruner entered it in his grenadiers whether thev were willing to make the
trinirmh. V I i vormlcoH k^****.^.^*. 4.i__ .i . .t i . 0
44:
finish
ith f
nia.
triumph. Count Colli repulsed Serrurier on the 20th
Lit Bonaparte, on the 22d, defeated him at Mondovi!
The flying army endeavoured to make a stand at Fos-
sano, its wings being at Coni and Cherasci, which latter
place was taken by Massena on the 25th, when Fossano
was taken by Serrurier, and Alba by Angereau.
Prior to these movements, an armistice was requested
by Count Colli on the 23d, which General Bonaparte
granted, on condition that the fortresses of Coni, Ceva
and Tortona, should he given up to him, with their
magazines and artillery, and that he should have per¬
mission to cross the Po at Valentia. The armistice was
signed on the 29th of April, and a definitive treaty was
concluded at Paris on the 17th of May. The condi¬
tions, in so far as they concerned his Sardinian majesty,
attempt, they commended the proposal, on which he
formed them into a close column, when they availed
themselves of the darkness occasioned by the smoke of
the enemy’s artillery, and reached the middle of the
bridge unperceived, where 700 of them perished by the
Austrian cannon : hut a number of republican officers
flew to the head of the column, urged on the brave
soldiers, broke into the Austrian ranks, and made them
fly in all directions.
It appears that nothing more was expected from the An/ttnse-
campaign of Bonaparte in Italy, than to induce the dif-quences of
ferent princes and states to abandon the coalition against^-
France, which every one of them assisted either with
troops, or with money and provisions. He made him¬
self master of Ferarra, Bologna, and Urbino, granting
N, 2 to
447
Success of
in Ger¬
many
FRA
to his Holiness and the duke of Modena an armistice
on the usual terms, we mean large contributions, paint¬
ings, and curiosities. The Neapolitan cabinet was so
terrified in consequence of his march into the Roman
territory, that it requested a peace and Bonaparte
agreed to an armistice without any ol the humiliating
conditions demanded from the other states o ta y.
He next proceeded to Leghorn, in the neutral state ot
Tuscany, in order to drive out the English, and confis¬
cate their property. In this manner did he finish the
task assigned him, before the commencement ot the
campaign on the Rhine. It is true that Mantua was
still‘in possession of the Imperial troops j but it was
in a state of siege, and the rest of Italy was submissive
to the French republic.
Success Ot With a view to lessen the exertions of the republicans
the Frenchjn Italy, the contest in Germany was renewed by the
ci..-- AustrianSt General Jourdan was of consequence in¬
formed, that the armistice would terminate, and the war
be renewed, on the 31st of May. Jourdan at this time
bad to contend with General Wartensleben, while the
archduke was at the head of the army in the Himds-
ruck, ter oppose General Moreau on the Upper Rhine.
A singular stratagem distinguished the commencement
of the campaign on the part of the French, with a view
to decoy the whole of the Austrian forces to the Lower
Rhine,’that an opportunity might thus be afforded to
General Moreau of suddenly entering Swabia, and car¬
rying the war to the hereditary territories of Austria.
Jourdan began to make vigorous exertions, and Moreau
remained inactive. The lines of Dusseldort were left
on the 31st of May by the lelt wing ot Jourdan s army,
under the command of General Kleber, who defeated
the Austrians in marching towards the bieg. A -
vancing with his centre and right wing, Jourdan forced
the Austrian posts on the Nahe, effected the passage
of the Rhine, blockaded Elirenbreitstein, and hastened
forward as if he designed to form the siege ot Mentz.
These movements brought the archduke into the pe¬
rilous situation of having Moreau in his front, and
Jourdan in his rear. He therefore crossed the river in
haste, leaving the fortresses of Mentz and Manheim 0
retard the progress of Moreau. The archduke attacked
the advanced guard of General Jourdan, which, after
an obstinate and bloody conflict, he forced, to retire.
Jourdan, upon this retired to his former positions j and
Kleber, on the 20th, entered the lines of Dusseldoil,
from which he had taken his departure.
The archduke had no sooner withdrawn from the
Palatinate to force Jourdan down the Rhine, than Mo¬
reau marched speedily towards Strasburgh, by which
the hostile armies seemed as fast as possible to be flying
from each other. The passage of the river opposite to
Kehl was effected by Moreau on the 24th of June,
-which was attended with considerable difficulty, a sudden
swell having prevented the Austrians from being taken
by surprise, which appears to have been the primary
intention of the republican commander. The entrench¬
ments on the islands occupied by troops were instantly
carried at the point of the bayonet, and 2600 republi¬
cans effected a landing on the opposite shore, where
they were exposed to the Austrian cannon from the
camp of Wilstedt, and to the cannon of the fort , still,
however, they maintained their ground, and likewise
acted oa the offensive, till tl e boats leturned with rem-
Franc?<
796.
449
448
Defeat of
the arch¬
duke
Charles.
N C E.
forcements, when the fort and redoubts were earned
by storm, and the Austrians retreated towards Ollen-
bUInhconsequence of the archduke’s departure to the
Lower Rhine in pursuit of General Jourdan, and the^te
detachments sent to Italy to check the victorious careerby ^
of Bonaparte, General Moreau was in a situation for
entering Swabia with a superior force. On the 26th 01
June he succeeded in compelling the Austrians to aban¬
don their camp at Wilstedt, and next day proceeded
with his army in three columns, against another body of
1 c 000 men before Offenburgh. A detachment from
General Wurmser was sent to their assistance, but these
were defeated 011 their march by two republican co¬
lumns, and Offenburgh was evacuated during the night.
The mountain of Knubis was seized on the 2d of July
by a body of French under General Laroche. I his is
the loftiest point in that ridge of mountains denominated
the Black Forest. The Austrians were next day driven
from the pass of Friedenstadt, after an obstinate resist¬
ance, by which their communication with the emigrants
under the Prince of Conde was entirely cut off. l ie
Austrians were attacked at Rastadt on the 8th by the
left wing of the republican army, commanded by the
gallant General Dessaix, and, after a most obstinate
resistance, were obliged to retreat to Lttmgen. ^
The archduke now arrived with his army on tfieT}!eF]ei!
Lower Rhine, leaving Wartensleben to check the pro-enter
gress of General Jourdan, who began to act upon the Franfcfot;
offensive as soon as the archduke departed. General
Kleber, as before, set off from the lines of Dusseldort,
and the centre and right wing crossed the Rhine in the
vicinity of Coblentz. The French forced the posts of
Ukareth and Altenkirchen, and the whole army under
General Jourdan crossed the Lahn on the 9th ot July,
and next day Wartensleben was defeated with great
slaughter, and the loss of 500 men taken prisoners j and
the republicans entered I rankfort on the 12th. I he
two imperial armies were now not far from each other,
beino' in the centre between those of Moreau and Jour¬
dan.0 Had the archduke found it practicable to resist
for a little one of these two armies of the French by a
detachment, while he rushed upon the other with the
main body of his army, it is not improbable, that an end
might thus have been put to any further invasion of the
Germanic empirebut the activity of the republican
officers was not so easily checked, nor could their pro¬
gress be arrested by any partial exertions. His last re¬
source, therefore, was to give battle to Moreau which
was most obstinately fought on both sides. 1 he I rencli,
in their endeavours to force the heights of Rollensolhe,
were four times repulsed, and, after a most terrible
slaughter, they carried the field at the point of the
ba Inconsequence of the loss they sustained at the battle The aak
of Ettingen, the two imperial armies retired eastward, ^
the archduke retreating through Swabia towards tiro,^
where he had magazines. At every post of any strength Swabtf.
he made a stand, in order to obstruct General Moreau s
progress as much as possible. Wartensleben, in his re¬
treat through Franconia, made a similar opposition to
the march of Jourdan. The archduke was forced by
Moreau to cross the Neckar, and afterwards the Da¬
nube, by which means the whole circle of, Swabia was
iu the rear of the republicans. Wartensleben was forced
45J.
FRA
I ,.ancet to retreat through Aschaffenbourg, Wartsburg, Schwein-
i, ■/furt; and was obliged to cross the Rednitz, in order
H 796. to shun the army of Jourdan, which was pressing on his
rear. Jourdan continued to advance, till his right
wing, commanded by General Bernadotte, was posted
at Neumarck, his advanced posts at Teining, and the
main body of the army pursued Wartensleben beyond
the Nab, having arrived at Amberg on the 22d of
II August.
(I at The three republican armies commanded by Moreau,
a, min Bonaparte, and Jourdan, were possessed of the whole
( many, country from the frontiers of Bohemia, to the Adriatic,
excepting only a part of the mountains of Tyrol,
which caused an alarm through the whole of Ger¬
many. The payment of 4,000,000 of French money
procured a peace for the duke of Wirtemberg ; and the
circle of Swabia obtained it, on condition of paying
12,000,000 ot livres, and delivering 8400 horses,
5000 oxen, 100,000 quintals of wheat, 50,000 quintals
of rye, ! 00,000 sacks of oats, 100,000 pairs of shoes,
and a large quantity of hay. Peace was granted to the
margrave of Baden upon similar terms. Negotiations
were also entered into by the elector of Bavaria and the
circle of Franconia, having offered large sums in order
to procure it. Even the diet of Ratisbon sent a depu¬
tation to the republican generals to treat for a neu¬
trality. Spain made a treaty with France, both offen¬
sive and defensive, and war was in consequence soon
after declared against Great Britain.
T1 j^Ise Bonaparte was detained still in Italy, whereas had it
of■ istria been in his power to cross the Tyrol at Inspruck, and
ia nger. ranch the Danube, it is more than probable that the
emperor of Germany would have been obliged to accept
of a peace upon any terms which the conquerors thought
proper to propose. He was now abandoned by every
member of the coalition, Britain alone excepted, whose
pecuniary aid enabled him to extricate himself from
the dangers which surrounded him. A command of
money raised one army after another to check the
. career of Bonaparte in Italy, while his German armies
were recruited by extensive levies, and mercenary
troops belonging to the states which had made peace
4 with France.
Ab] bon- The archduke Charles having received strong rein-
^ 1 tlie forcements, came to the resolution of opposing Moreau
I ^ at Umersheim. A desperate battle was of consequence
fought, of 17 hours continuance, when one of the wings
of the Austrian army succeeded in gaining about four
leagues of territory in the rear of the republican army ;
but as the archduke was informed that Wartensleben
could not maintain his ground against the efforts of
General Jourdan, he deemed it prudent to retreat, and
adopt new measures. On the 17th of August, he left
Genera 1 La T our to be a check upon Moreau, and
crossing the Danube at Ingolstadt, he marched to the
relier ot General Wartensleben, and with united forces
determined to fall upon Jourdan. On the 23d he made
an attack upon Bernadotte at Teining, whom he com¬
pelled to retreat towards Nuremberg. The archduke
was now on the right of Jourdan, and Wartensleben
was in front of him, which induced the French com¬
mander to retreat on the 24th. Such was the state
of the French finances at the beginning of this cam-
paign, that the armies of Jourdan and Moreau were
under t^e necessity of plundering wherever they came,
N C E. l65
to supply their immediate wants. This was particu- prance.
larly the case with Jourdan’s army, which, when it be- 1 v j
gan to retreat, suffered almost as much from the ex- 1796.
asperated inhabitants as from the opposing army. The
archduke and Wartensleben having united their forces,
the former was enabled to dispatch General Nauendorf
with reinforcements to La Tour, to keep Moreau in
check, while he continued his pursuit of Jourdan to¬
wards Wartzburg, where the French made a stand, and
a severe engagement took place on the 3d of September.
In this, General Jourdan was the greatest sufferer, and
he continued his retreat during the night. Having
crossed the Lahn, lie made a feeble resistance, and
marched along the banks of the Rhine, till his army, on
the. 17th, arrived at Coblentz and Dusseldorf, from
which it had formerly departed.
The army of Moreau was now in a situation ex-Moreau's
tremely perilous, yet he maintained his position till thesituatioa
17th of September, the very day on which Jourdan cri-
reached Dusseldorf 5 but lie was obviously in a waver-*'ca*‘
ing condition as to bis future movements, and one of
the greatest generals Europe ever beheld was now at
a loss what step to take. Fie made an unsuccessful ef¬
fort to draw the archduke from the pursuit of Jourdan.
Many attacks were made upon him, but without effect j
and the Austrian generals gave way to.him wherever
he turned. But finding that the retreat of Jourdan
was irretrievable, and that General Bonaparte was still 456
detained in Italy, lie finally resolved to retreat. To His un¬
prepare for this arduous undertaking, he had crossed the Paral]#:e<i
Lech, which lie suddenly repassed, as if fully determin-rctreat‘
ed to penetrate farther into Austria, and compelled La
Tour to fall back to Lansberg. Having thus obtain¬
ed a free passage for his future movements, he began his
ever memorable and unexampled retreat, passing be¬
tween the Danube at Ulm and the lake of Constance,
while La Tour continued pressing upon his rear. The
passes of the Black Forest were occupied by numerous
bodies of Austrians and armed peasantry, while his
right flank was harassed by Generals Nauendorf and
Petrasch, at the head of 24,000 men. He turned once
mort upon La Tour with terrible impetuosity, defeated
him, and took 5000 prisoners, whom he was able to
carry to France. He after this continued his retreat,
checking Nauendorf and Petrasch with the right wing
of his army under General Dessaix, and the rest of the
army cleared the passages in front, till he reached the
Valley of Hell, a narrow defile extending for some
leagues between lofty mountains, and in particular parts
of it not more than a few fathoms broad. This passage
was forced by the centre of his army in a mass, and the
wings opposed the enemy under Nauendorf and La
Jour. After this dreadful effort, he arrived at Fri¬
bourg on the 13B1 of October. The archduke, on his
arrival from the pursuit of Jourdan, forced him to aban¬
don his positions on the Swabian side of the Rhine,
Kehl excepted, and a temporary fortification at Hun-
ingen, called a bridge-head. 457
As the French frontier at this time was in a defence-French
less situation, the Imperial troops took advantage of it homier at
to cross the Rhine at Manheim, and march in
detachments to Weissemburg, Seitz, Hagenau, and]esg,
nearly to the very gates of Strasburgh, levying
contributions, and demanding hostages wherever they
came. When these detachments were recalled, the
archduke
i66
France.
1 ——y—■
1796.
45S
Bonaparte
victorious
in Italy.
459
Siege of
Mautita,
FRANCE.
archduke formed the resolution of terminating the
campaign by the reduction of Kehl and the fortification
at Huningen, which he found to be no easy task. At
both these places a communication was open with the
French side of the river, and the divisions of General
Moreau’s army did duty at them alternately. Muc 1
of the winter wras spent by the Austrians in endeavour-
inn; either to carry them by storm, or to reduce them
in consequence of a regular siege. The French at last
agreed to evacuate Kehl on the loth of January, aru
the fortification at Huningen was surrendered in the
month of February. > .
Although the republicans in Germany experienced
very considerable reverses ot fortune, as we have just
now seen, yet Bonaparte in Italy continued victorious.
Having laid all Italy under contribution, he enjoyed
the means of preserving a secure and steady discipline
over a well paid army. The mode of fighting which
he adopted in all desperate cases, was that of the close
column ; the favourite method of Epaminondas and
Gustavus Adolphus. The style, too, in which he ad¬
dressed his army before any great action, was well a-
dapted to inspire them with enthusiasm. His speech to
his army when he first entered Lombardy, deserves to
be remembered. <4 Soldiers, you have, rushed like a
torrent from the summit of the Appenines, you have
driven back and dispersed all who opposed your march.
Your fathers, your mothers, your wives, your sisters,
your sweethearts, rejoice in your success, and boast with
pride of being related to you. But remains there no¬
thing more for you to effect ? Shall posterity reproach
us with having found a Capua in Lombardy P But I
already see you rushing to arms 5 an unmanly repose
fatigues you, and the days lost to glory are lost to your
felicity. But let the people be tranquil; we are the
friends of all nations, and more particularly of the des¬
cendants of the Brutuses, the Scipios, and the illustrious
personages whom we have chosen as models. To re¬
store the capitol, to replace with honour the statues of
the heroes who rendered it renowned, and to rouse the
Roman people, become torpid by so many ages of sla¬
very, such will be the fruit of your victories 5 they will
form’ an epoch to posterity, and you will have the im¬
mortal glory of renovating the fairest portion of Eu¬
rope. The French nation, free and respected by all
the world, will give to Europe a glorious peace. You
will then return to your homes, and your fellow-citi¬
zens, who, when pointing to you, will say, “ He was
of the army of Italy.” , „ , ,
Bonaparte took up the first partof the month ot July
in commencing a regular siege against Mantua, expect¬
ing to be master of that city towards the end ot the
month. In this, however, he proved too sanguine, for
the military efforts of Austria were very great, and the
pecuniary aid of Britain was not refused. Twenty
thousand troops were sent from the Rhine, besides vast
numbers from different quarters, so that he was obliged
to raise the siege, and provide for his own safety in the
best manner he could. Massena was driven from his
post at La Corona on the 29th of July, while 15,000
Austrians drove the republicans from Salo, and next
from Brescia, with the whole of the stores and maga¬
zines belonging to the army of General Bonaparte.
The Imperial troops, however, committed a fatal blun¬
der in their plap of operations, by dividing into two
F ranee,
parts an army which, when united, was a match for the
enemy, and placing Bonaparte between them. Of this
blunder the republican chief was fully aware, and did
not fail to take advantage of it. He unexpectedly rai¬
sed the siege of Mantua, and leaving a small body of
troops to check the Austrians, he marched rapidly west¬
ward and retook Brescia, with the magazines and hos¬
pitals, on the 1st of August. As he had the mass ot
his armv with him, he exceeded his enemies in numbers
wherever he attacked them. Forming a large body of
bis troops into close columns, the Austrians extended
their line with the view of surrounding him, being not
yet acquainted with his manner of fighting, by which
means he penetrated their line in all directions, and
threw them into the greatest confusion. He made.40CO
prisoners, and took 20 pieces of cannon. A division of
them finding Salo in possession of the republicans,
wandered about in search of a road, by which to make
their escape, when they summoned Lonado to surrender,
believing that the bulk of the French army |iad gone in
search of Wurmser to give him battle. Ihis was in¬
deed the case ; but Bonaparte was in Lonado with no
more than 1200 men. Although this event no doubt
gave him much uneasiness, yet with great presence of
mind he threatened to destroy their whole division for
insulting the French army, by summoning its com-
mander in chief to surrender. The Austrian officers
believed that the whole army was in the place, so that
by this singular stratagem 4000 men were induced to
throw down their arms.
Marshal Wurmser was attacked by Bonaparte on the DefeaUf
5th and 6th, and driven from Pesehiera and the river Wurrastr
Mincio. The Austrians were obliged to quit \ erona
«n the 7th, and again to betake themselves to the
if1
mountains of Tyrol j losing in a contest of six days up¬
wards of 20,000 men, but fortunately three-fourths of
them were prisoners. The siege of Mantua was again
begun by the French, whose works the enemy had de¬
stroyed in their absence, and taken 140 pieces of can¬
non into the city which they had left behind. By.this
loss, the French could not undertake, a regular siege,
and General Wurmser was in a condition to attempt the
relief of it by the beginning of September. Bonaparte
having been apprised of his approach, left troops behind
him to carry on the blockade, while he directed his
march northward with the main body of his army, drove
the Austrians from St Marco and Eoveredo to the pass
of Galliano, where they made a stand. Here an en¬
gagement ensued, in which the Austrians lost 6000
men taken prisoners, and the French entered I rent in
triumph. Instead of retiring from the hero who had
vanquished him, Wurmser threw himself into Bassano,
upon the flank and rear of Bonaparte, and then march¬
ed with rapidity towards IVIantua. He endeavoured to
make a stand at Bassano, but was defeated with the loss
of 5000 men taken prisoners. He crossed the Adige
at Porto Legnago, and entered Mantua with no more
than 8500 men, infantry and cavalry. Great as this
veteran’s loss was, it had the effect of detaining Bona¬
parte in Italy, to watch the numerous garrison of Man¬
tua. He expected that its numbers would very soon
reduce it by famine to the necessity of capitulating, but
in this he found himself disappointed, as the flesh of the
4500 horses which Wurmser carried into it, afforded
subsistence to the troops for a long time.
FRANCE.
ince.
•’96.
:61
R it of
d'fca
fr Bri-
ta
Tl Aus-
triis par.
tia suc-
ue tl.
Such was the ftiine of Bonaparte as a general, on
1 account of the victories he obtained over the Austrians,
that his countrymen, the Corsicans, discovered an in¬
clination to throw off the British yoke, and be united
to trance. I hey became of course, so mutinous, that
the viceroy deemed it necessary to evacuate the island,
the submission of Italy to the republic having greatly
diminished its value. The imperial subjects of Italy, to¬
gether with the inhabitants of Bologna, Ferrara, and
Modena, now began to form themselves into republics,
under the patronage of General Bonaparte j they sent
deputies to the convention, raised troops, and abolished
all orders of nobility.
The emperor soon after endeavoured to relieve Man¬
tua, by sending another army into Italy, under the
command of General Alvinzi, who having crossed the
Piava, was met by the republicans, and compelled to
repass the river. Davidovich with his division having
driven the French down the Adige towards. Verona,
General Bonaparte found it necessary to concentrate his
forces. He therefore left General \aubois as a check
to the progress of Davidovich, and marched in person
against General Alvinzi, and was met by the Austrians
at the village of Arcole. As this village could not be
turned speedily, on account of a canal, the French
were obliged to attempt the passage of a narrow bridge
in the face of the Austrian fire. Their officers rushed
to the head of the column which had undertaken it, hut
in vain endeavoured to rally them. Angereau advan¬
ced to the end of the bi’idge with a standard j but he
was followed by none, when the commander in chief
hastened to the bridge and exclaimed, Grenadiers, fol¬
low your general! They followed till within 30 yards
of the bridge, when they were intimadated by the tre¬
mendous fire of the Austrians, and Bonaparte judged
it proper to fall hack. In the evening General Guieux
took the village at the head of 20C0 men, but again
left the Austrians in possession of it. On the 16th
of November a desperate engagement look place in the
vicinity of Arcole ; and next day the Austrians pressing
on the centre of the republican army, were unexpected¬
ly taken on their flank by the left wing of the enemy,
which was lying in ambuscade. Bonaparte sent a party
of horse and 25 trumpeters round to the rear of the
Austrians, who concluded from the terrible noise, that
they were surrounded, and fled on all sides in the ut¬
most confusion.
Having driven Alvinzi across the Brenta, Bonaparte
returned ; the positions of Rivoli and La Corona were
resumed, and Davidovich driven back into Tyrol. Ge¬
neral Wurmser still defended Mantua during the re¬
maining part of the year; so that nothing farther may
be said to have been gained by so many victories, hut
to consider Bonaparte as their only invincible com¬
mander.
During these transactions in the field of battle, Great
Britain made a laudable effort to negociate with France.
Passports were obtained from the directory, and Lord
on honourable terms. It was proposed by Lord Malmes¬
bury, that the principle of mutual restitutions should he
agreed upon as the basis of the treaty, and the directory
wished that the objects should be specified. Lord
Malmesbury therefore said, that the French should give
up the Austrian Netherlands, for which Britain would
give up the foreign settlements belonging to the repub¬
lic. Many of the Dutch possessions abroad were also
to be relinquished, on condition that the authority of
the stadtholder should be acknowledged. He was next
required to give in the ultimatum of his conditions in 24.
hours; and on complaining of this demand, he was in¬
formed on the 19th of December, that the directory
would agree to no conditions repugnant to the French
constitution ; and he was informed that his farther resi¬
dence was unnecessary.
During this year Great Britain maintained her ac¬
customed superiority at sea.
167
France.
1796.
464
j   2 he Cape of Good Hope Good Hope
was taken by Admiral Elphinstone on the 16th of Sep-taken by
tember 179L which the Dutch were extremely anxious ^ ®r‘*
tish.
4f
v<go)i.
ions),
3 md ;rSI,°riS W€re 0Dtaine(1 rrom the directory, and Lo
Vaac,' Malmesbury set out as ambassador to Paris. He began
the negotiation with De la Croiz, the minister forfo-
reign aflairs ; hut his lordship soon found that the di¬
rectory had no serious intention of concluding a treaty
with Britain. While the British ministry,as individuals,
t,ld not approve of a peace at that time, yet officially
they considered it as proper, if it could be obtained up.
to recover, for which purpose they advanced money to
the French to fit out a squadron to combine with them
.11 an attempt to reduce it. Seven ships of war were
sent to retake the Cape, under the command of Admi-
lal Lucas, but having been caught between two fires,
he could not effect his escape, and therefore he surren¬
dered to the British admiral without firing a gun.
. Ai^”ugh ^r‘ta*n was superior by sea, yet an inva-TheFtench
sion of Ireland was attempted by the French in the end make an 
or 1796? but as folly seemed to have concerted theunsuccess~
plan, it was of consequence abortive. The whole wasful attemPt
committed to one man, General Hoche, without any °U Ireland*
second to occupy his place in the event of an accident.
1 he disaffected party in Ireland had received no infor¬
mation of their approach, and the fleet was sent towards
a part of the country where the people were not very
much disposed to receive them. In this expedition iS
sail of the line, 13 frigates, 12 sloops, and transports
with. 25,000 men, were employed. It was detained for
some time when ready for sailing, in consequence of a
mutiny. Hoche set sail on the lOth of December, but
in working out of Brest, a ship of the line was lost, and
some more of them considerably damaged. The frigate
which had on hoard the commander in chief was sepa-
lated fiom the fleet by a gale of wind, in consequence
of which, wnen most of the fleet arrived at Bantry
Bay, they were without instructions how to proceed.
I he officers and troops wished to land, but Admiral
Bouvet refused to comply. After remaining for some
oays on tne coast, he sailed for France, and reached
Brest with part of the fleet on the 31st. General
Hoche reached Bantry Bay when it was too late, and
consequently could not land. One ship of the line and
two frigates foundered at sea, a frigate was captured by
ti.e British, and a ship of tne line was run ashore, to
prevent her from being taken.
In the beginning of the year I797> ^ie archduke Advantage®.
Charles was still employed in his endeavours to reduce Sained by
Kehl, and the fortifications opposite to Huningen,
reau being still his antagonist. General Hoche was ap-tnaHS*
pointed to succeed Jourdan on the Rhine, and Bona¬
parte was still engaged in the siege of Mantua, while
powerful efiorts were making to recruit the army of
Alvinzi. The youth of Vienna were requested to grant
their assistance, when 6000 of them volunteered their
services
I797*
467
They are
defeated.
FRAN
services for Italy. General Alvinzi’s army was now
50,000 strong, with which he continued to alarm the
republicans in all directions, in order to conceal from
them the plan of his future operations. Bonaparte was
still at Bologna, to prevent the escape of General YVurm-
ser by that quarter, which he understood, by an inter¬
cepted letter, was his design. Having been informed
of the approach of the Austrian army, he hastened to
Mantua, and from that city to Verona, where the
centre of his line was opposed to Alvinzi 5 but as the
Austrians continued to attack all quarters at once, he
could not penetrate the design of their commander. On
the 14th of January the movements of the enemy be¬
came more serious on the lower part of his line near
Porto Legnagoj but in the evening being informed
that the upper extremity of it under Joubert, had been
attacked by vastly superior numbers, there he concluded
that the Austrians were in greatest force. Still the
Austrians persisted in the absurd plan of dividing their
army an absurdity which melancholy experience had
not taught them to correct. Ten thousand troops, in¬
cluding the Vienna volunteers, received orders to pro¬
ceed to Mantua by Porto Legnago, at the lower end
of the republican line, while Alvinzi in person advanced
against Joubert, who was forced to retreat, and was re¬
duced to such a situation, that the capture of his whole
division on the following day (the 14th) seemed highly
probable. > # _ .
Bonaparte having received information respecting the
state of affairs, left Verona on the 13th, having order¬
ed Massena to follow him with the centre to liivoli as
fast as possible. On the 14th, at the break of day, the
division of Joubert made an attack on the Austrians, at
which they were very much surprised, not knowing
that Bonaparte had arrived with reinforcements. The
superior numbers of the Austrians defeated all the en¬
deavours of the French troops to turn their divisions *,
and the two wings of the republican army were driven
back upon the centre in considerable confusion. Al-
vinxi engaged the centre, which with difficulty main¬
tained its ground 5 and the Austrian wings advancing
on both sides, entirely surrounded the French. The
victory seemed already won, and it is even repoited
that General Alvinzi sent a courier to ^ ienna, to an¬
nounce the approaching capture of Bonaparte and all
his army. There can be no doubt that the republican
chief was now greatly alarmed, yet he still considered
it in his power to make a last eflort. lorming three
strong columns, he dispatched them against the right
wing of the Austrians, which they penetrated at various
points, and made it fly in such confusion, that, having
met a party of republicans which had not arrived in
time to join the army, 4000 Austrians laid down their
arms, and surrendered themselves prisoners of war.
Bonaparte apprehending that this part of his line was
no longer in danger, left Joubert to prosecute the vic¬
tory, and went to oppose the march of liovera. A
party under General Murat having continued their
march all the night of the J41I1 after the battle, seized
on Montebaldo in the rear of the position at Corona, to
which part of the Austrians retreated, while Joubert
on the following morning attacked them in front. Be¬
ing thus surrounded, they were thrown into confusion,
6000 of them were taken prisoners, and numbers pe-
C E;
During this bloody conflict on the upper part of the Franc(
river, General Provera forced his passage across the
lower part of it near Porto Legnago, and obliged the
republican general Guieux to retreat to Ronco. As
republican general Guieux to retreat to Ronco. As
Provera was marching rapidly to Mantua, General An-
gereau came up with his rear, and made 2000 prison¬
ers j but the Austrian general reached the neighbour¬
hood of that city on the 15th, which was blockaded at
St George and La Favourite. He summoned the re-
publican3commander here to surrender, but he having
refused to comply, Provera endeavoured, without suc¬
cess, to carry it by assault. He next made an attack
upon La Favourite, and was seconded by Wurmser with
the troops in the garrison, who had perceived his arri¬
val j but as Bonaparte had arrived with reinforcements,
General Wurmser was defeated, and Provera being
surrounded by the French, surrendered himself and his
troops as prisoners of war. In consequence of these en¬
gagements at Rivoli and Mantua, the Austrians lost
23,000 men taken prisoners, and 60 pieces ot cannon.
The surrender of Mantua was now inevitable, on ac¬
count of absolute famine, and therefore it capitulated
on the 2d of February. That Bonaparte might allow
the French emigrants to escape, he allowed General
Wurmser to select and take out of the garrison 700
men who w'ere not to be examined, nor viewed as pii-
soners of war, and the general himself was to depart
unconditionally.
Inn
icoiiuiuuuaiiy.
The most active and vigorous preparations were mak- The\^ .
 J T? rvvmntmnrr . 1 1,
ing by the emperor and the French, for recommencing corces
their bloody contest on the German frontiers, and there-dued.
fore it was*of importance for Bonaparte to leave Italy
in his rear in a state of tranquillity. He sent General
Victor on the 1st of February, together with the Lom¬
bard legion, to enter the papal territories j and after
the surrender of Mantua, General Bonaparte followed
In person. The Lombard legion, after storming the
entrenchments of the Pope’s troops, made 1000 of them
prisoners, and took all their cannon. General Colli
had carried away most of the treasure from the chapel
at Loretto; but the republicans still found articles of
gold and silver worth a million of livres, and the image
of the virgin was sent to Paris as a curiosity. At lo-
lentino the republican chief was met by a messenger
from the pope with an overture of peace, and a treaty
was concluded on the 19th. The pope promised to
pay 15,000,000 of livres, and to deliver 800 cavalry
horses, with a like number of draught horses and oxen.
He also agreed to pay 300,000 livres to the family 0;
the French ambassador Basseville, whom the rabble had
murdered at Rome, and to make an apology by Ins mi¬
nister at Paris for that event. . . 4"3
The French having been so unfortunate in their in-geiniorci
vasion of Germany by the rvay of Swabia and
coma, now determined to make their principal at-t.
tempt from Italy under the command of General Bona¬
parte Vast bodies of troops were therefore detached
by the directory from those who had served under Me.
reau, and sent as secretly as possible towards Italy by
the way of Savoy. The impending danger was how¬
ever perceived bv the court of \ ienna, and therefore
gave the command on the side of Italy to the archduke
Charles, he being the only Austrian who had hitherto
been successful against the republicans. The war was
rished in attempting to cross the Adige.
3
now about to be carried into new territories, where^a
anc&.
797-
71
E !■ of
th ourt
uf euna.
FRA
foe had scarcely ever been seen by the house of Austria.
1 It was necessary that Bonaparte should once more force
his way over the Alps, that immense chain of moun¬
tains which rises in the neighbourhood of Toulon, and
stretching northward, obtains the names of Piedmont
and Savoy. It then takes an easterly direction, form¬
ing the countries of Switzerland, Tyrol, Carinthia, and
Carniola. The three last of these passing along the
Adriatic, constitute the frontier, in this quarter, of the
hereditary states of Austria. The fertile and level
country, which belonged to Venice, lies between the
mountains and the sea. It is crossed by many streams
which are increased by the melting snows of the Alps,
and whose peculiar characteristic is this, that they are
greatest in summer, and least in winter.
The archduke, instead of making a stand in the de¬
files of the mountains, was sent into the plain to guard
the passages of the rivers ; a very important blunder
which entered into the plan of defence adopted by the
mfii council of war at Vienna.
Pr ■ ess of While Bonaparte continued to advance to the terri-
Bo carte's tories of the pope> the arrangement of tjie Austrian
army was going forward along the eastern bank of the
Piava. The republicans were on the opposite side, and
Bonaparte, after quitting the papal territories, hastened
to join them. Having effected the passage of the Piava
on the 12th of March, the Austrians retired, skirmish¬
ing for some days, till they crossed the Tagliamento,
where they halted with their whole force. The repub¬
lican army reached, on the 17th, Valvesone, on the
opposite side of the river, which after some hesitation
they determined to cross. The stream having been di¬
minished by the frost, the French crossed it in columns
at different points. Joubert with the left wing received
orders to pass along the valley of the river Drave, be¬
yond the highest chain of the None Alps. Massena, at
the head of the centre division, passed into the defiles of
these mountains, and the right division, commanded by
Bonaparte, marched along the coast of the Adriatic.
On the 19th, the town of Gradisca, on tne river
N C E.
169
Saraider
*<G iisca. r ■ ' '\ 1 1 . . — **•'*'*
.Lisonza, surrendered to the right wing of the army ;
and its garrison, consisting of 3000 men, were made
prisoners. The same division entered Goritz on the
2rst, where it found the principal magazines and hos¬
pitals belonging to the Austrians. Trieste was taken
I on the 23d, and materials worth 2,000,000 of livres
were sent off by the French from the quicksilver mines
of Ydria. On the 24th a large body of Austrians
was confined by Massena, and a part of the right wino-
commanded by General Guieux ; but they having pro¬
cured reinforcements from the archduke, engaged the
French next day, and were defeated, having lost 5000
prisoners and 400 baggage waggons. Equal success
attended the left wing under Joubert, Baraguay D’
Hilliers, and Delmas. Four thousand Austrians were
taken on the banks of the Eavis, and they were defeat¬
ed at Clauzen, with the loss of 1500 prisoners. This
division then directed its march eastward, along the val¬
ley of the Hrave, towards Clagenfurt, the metropolis of
Carinthia, whereat was met by General Massena, that
officer having obliged the archduke to evacuate his head-
quarters, and proceed nearer to the capital of the em¬
pire, which now began to be in danger. In 1 5 days
General Bonaparte took 20,000 prisoners, and effected
the passage of the Alps, after which there was no place
Vol. IX. Part I. ^ +
of sufficient strength to arrest his progress to Vienna,
Yet it must be confessed that his own situation was not * j
tree from danger, and therefore he prudently embraced 1797.
this moment of unprecedented success to make over¬
tures of peace. He wrote to the archduke on the 31st
of March, deprecating the continuance of the war, and
entreating him to use his influence for putting a period
to its ravages. This prince evasively replied, that it
dhl not belong to hjm to investigate the principles on
which the war was carried on, and "that he had no power
to negotiate.
I he Austrians raised the peasantry in the Tyrol, to Parfillsuc-
haiass the rear of the French army, by which theycess °Glie
gained some advantages under General Laudohn, and Ausllians-
drove out the republican troops which had been left at
Botzen and Brixen. The people of the Venetian states
acted a similar part against the troops left in them, and
with the assistance of 10 Sclavonian regiments, they
murdered every Frenchman they could find, not sparing
even the sick in the hospitals, of whom 500 were mas¬
sacred at Verona. The Austrians attempted to sur¬
round the invading army j but Bonaparte knew that
the embarrassment of the court of Vienna was at least
equal to his own. He was at the head of 95,000 men,
hitherto irresistible j and the Austrians could not but
know that to surround his army was not to vanquish it,
on which account he persisted in advancing. On the
2d of April, after a bloody conflict, he forced the
strong defiles between Freisach and Newmark, making
600 prisoners. His advanced guard reached Hunsmark
on .tlm 4th, where they again defeated the Austrians,
which induced the cabinet of Austria to treat for peace,
there being no place where the army of the archduke
could make a stand, till it came to the mountains in
the neighbourhood of Vienna. Bellegarde and Mor-
veld requested a suspension of hostilities from Bona¬
parte, while care was taken to remove the public trea¬
sure and effects into Hungary. The French command¬
er consented, on condition of getting possession of
Gratz and Leoben, about 50 miles from Vienna. This
was on the 7th of April, and the armistice, which was
to expire on the 13th, was afterwards renewed for a
longer period. A preliminary treaty followed this on
the 19th, by which the French were to retain the
Austrian Netherlands, and the republic of Lombardy
should be called the Cisalpine republic, comprehending
the Milanese, Mantua, Modena, Ferrara, and Bolog¬
na. Bonaparte consented to return to Italy, if his army
should be supplied with provisions during its march, and
all farther disputes were to be settled by a definitive
treaty of peace. He brought an accusation against the
Venetian government for conniving at the murder of
the I* rench during his absence, and having possessed
himself of the city and territories, he dissolved that
ancient aristocracy.
During the approach of Bonaparte towards Vienna, peacecoa-
the republican armies on the Rhine were pressing on the eluded be-
Austrians, that they might not have it in their powei;twecn
to send reinforcements against him. An armistice was^13”*:6 an<*
offered by the Austrians, but since the French required AD*tri£U
Ehrenbreitstein as a compensation, both parties resolv¬
ed to prosecute the war. The left wing of the army of
General Hoche proceeded from Dusseldorf, while the
centre and right wing crossed the river near Coblentz.
On the 18th of April a fierce contest took place be-
Y tween
1797*
tory.
FRA
tween the hostile armies near the Lahn, in which the
Austrians lost 4000 taken prisoners. General Moreau
having forced the passage of the Upper llhine near
Strasburg, attacked and carried the village of Diersheim.
Next day the conflict was renewed with such vigour
on the part of the republicans, that the fort of K.ehl
was taken, and 5000 Austrians were made prisoners.
They were next pursued towards the Danube, when all
military operations were instantly suspended by messen¬
gers dispatched through Germany from the archduke
and Bonaparte, with "the joyful news that peace was
concluded. On the arrival of these messengers, the
army of General Hoche was making a desperate attack
upon Francfort on the Maine, which General Warnecht
was employing every effort to protect. Both armies
suddenly received the news, the hostile troops threw
down their arms, and congratulated each other on the
476 happy event. >
Changes in A contest of an alarming nature was now last ap-
the direc- proachingbetween the legislative and executive branches
of the French government. A third part of the legisla¬
tive body was now to be changed. On the 19th of
May, Letourneur went out of the directory by lot $ on
the 20th, the new third took their seats, and on the 21st
Barthelemy was chosen a member of the directory in
the room of Letourneur. Pichegru, Jourdan, and Wil-
lot, were among the members of the new third, so that
a decided majority of both councils was of the moderate
party j and two members of the directory, Carnot and
Barthelemy, were understood to be men ot the same de¬
scription. Every measure was adopted which tended to
render the Mountain party odious, or embarrass the
directory.
Gilbert Desmolieres, on the 14th of June, brought
up a report from a committee on the state of the finan¬
ces, in which he inveighed against the prodigality and
profusion of the directory and its agents in the strongest
language. A new plan of finance was proposed by the
same committee on the 18th, which went to take from
the directory the administration of the public money.
On the preceding day Camille Jourdan presented a re¬
port of great length on the subject of religion, wherein
he insisted on the impropriety of forbidding its ceremo¬
nies to be publicly displayed, and the iniquitous nature
of that persecution which its ministers had suffered, be¬
cause they could not take the oaths prescribed by the
legislature. The council of five hundred decreed, on
the 15th of July, that all the laws against refractory
priests should be repealed j and on the following day a
decree requiring from them an oath of fidelity to the
constitution, was carried by a majority of no more than
A78. six members. Emery, a new member, proposed the re¬
measures "n peal of those laws by'which the property of emigrants
favour of had been confiscated, and that their relations should be
the priests, considered as competent to succeed them. Such as had
fled into foreign countries from Toulon and other parts
of the nation, received encouragement to return home,
and allowed to cherish the expectation that their names
would be expunged from the list of emigrants.
The discussion which these topics underwent made
477
New plan
of finance :
479      
The royal- ^ directory and the councils professed enemies to each
fresh eou'e other. The'latter wished the former to be changed be-
rage. fore the expiration of the legal time, and the directory
wished to deprive many new members of their seats who
had been elected by the people. As Barras was rather
N C E.
the most odious member of the directory, an effort was France:
made to deprive him of his seat, under the pretence that1 ■1 ■ v**
he was less than the legal age of 40 ; but his colleagues 1797,
maintained that he was born in the year 1755’ an^ ^
seems no proof of the contrary could be pioduced.
Still the directory did not want a number of adherents.
The resolution of the councils in favour of the priests
had the appearance of a counter-revolution, which in¬
duced the royalists to resume courage, and journals were
rapidly published in defence of their cause. 1 he councils
received information on the 20th of July, that a divi¬
sion of the army under General Hoche was within a
few leagues of Paris, while the constitution declared
that the directory incurred the penalty of ten years im¬
prisonment, if it brought any troops nearer the residence
of the legislative body than twelve leagues without its
consent. An explanation was demanded, when the di¬
rectory declared their ignorance of the march, having
been undertaken without any orders from them, and
purely owing to a mistake of the officer by whom it
was conducted : but the councils paid little regard to
such an allegation. The mutinous suburb of St An¬
toine adhered to the majority of the directory, which
encouraged them so much, that they lost no time in
proceeding to action. General Angereau had been
sent for from Italy, under the pretext of delivering to
the directory some standards taken from the enemy.
The Thuilleries was surrounded by Angereau on the
morning of the 4^1> with a division of the troops, when
the guard of the councils refused to act against them,
and Hamel their commander was made prisoner. On
entering the hall, he found Pichegru and twelve more
of the chiefs of the opposite faction, whom he immedi¬
ately sent prisoners to the Jemple. Carnot made his
escape on the preceding evening, but Barthelemy re¬
mained and was put under arrest. When several mem¬
bers of the councils came to the hall at the usual hour,
they were astonished to find that seals had been put
upon the doors, and that they could not find admit¬
tance. They were ordered to go to the surgeons hall,
where the directory, it was said, had appointed them to
meet. Of both councils not more than 120 members
assembled, who sent to obtain from the directory an ac¬
count of the late proceedings. They were given to un¬
derstand that what had been done was absolutely neces¬
sary for the salvation of the republic, congratulating the
duped councils on their escape from the machinations of
the royalists. According to the report of Boullay de
la Meurth, a vast royalist conspiracy, the centre of
which was in the bosom of the councils, was endeavour¬
ing to subvert the constitution, but that the indefati¬
gable diligence and activity of the directory had defeat¬
ed all their attempts ! It was proposed to transport the
conspirators without a trial, and the councils were so
completely imposed upon as to vote the transportation
of of their own members, and twelve other persons,
among which number were included the directors Car¬
not and Barthelemy.
During the v/hole of these transactions the city of
Paris remained in a state of tranquillity. Its unfortu¬
nate struggle on the 5th of October had so completely
subdued the ardour of the inhabitants, that they allow¬
ed the national representation to be violated with im¬
punity, and liberty to be trampled under foot, without
a single exertion in its defence. The directory ex-
FRANCE.
cused their conduct to the nation under pretence of the whom they were meant to ruin.
”97
io
Tr ty of
Ca.xi
Fu io.
existence of a royalist conspiracy. General Pichegru,
it was said, had offered to join the emigrants under the
prince of Conde, and the Austrians commanded by
General Wurmser, and with this aggregate force to
march directly to Paris, for the re-establishment of
royalty. There are certain circumstances which lead
us to suspect that this was a fabrication : for at the time
when this supposed correspondence became public, it
was denied to be genuine j and Moreau, who was impli¬
cated in this conspiracy, was afterwards employed in the
service of the republic, to whose military skill and fide¬
lity the French rulers seemed willing to commit the sal¬
vation of the country.
The directory was now very powerful, but its mem¬
bers soon became giddy from the elevated nature of
their situation, and seemed to act under the dangerous
conviction, that there was nothing in which they might
not venture to engage, whatever might be the rapacity
or ambition attached to it. While contending with
the councils, they prolonged the negotiations with Lord
Malmesbury, acting in a similar manner respecting
those which had been entered into between Bonaparte
and the imperial ambassadors at Campo Formio. Great
Britain offered to make peace with France, if permitted
to retain possession of the Cape of Good Hope, together
with the Spanish island of Trinidad. The negotiations
with the emperor were speedily terminated, and on the
17th of October a definitive treaty was signed at Campo
Formio. The Netherlands were given up to the repub¬
lic, the Milanese to the Cisalpine republic, and his
territories in the Brisgaw to the duke of Modena, to
compensate for the loss of his duchy in Italy. It was
likewise agreed by the emperor that the French should
possess the Venetian islands in tfie Levant, namely Corfu,
Zante, Cephalonia, Santa Maura, Cerigo and others.
The emperor was to have the city of Venice with its
remaining territory, from the extremity of Dalmatia,
as far as the Adige and the lake Garda. The Austrians
accordingly left the Rhine, by which means the repub¬
licans were enabled to surround Mentz and Ehrenbreit-
stein, the former of which was captured in a short
time, but the latter required a very tedious blockade
before it would surrender. Venice was at the same
time entered by the Austrians, the French having left
it, and Bonaparte, when about to march out of Italy,
left 23,000 men to garrison Mantua, Brescia, Milan,
and some other places, and to preserve this new republic
in a state of dependence upon France.
It is said that the directory about this time endea¬
voured to force America to purchase a forbearance
from war by a large sum of money, together with a pri¬
vate present of 50,000k to the members of the direc¬
tory. The last part of this charge was denied by the
minister Talleyrand, but the general impression it pro¬
duced could not be effaced, and the directory was thus
very much injured in the estimation of such countries
as were otherwise disposed to view it in a very favour¬
able light. To lessen its reputation still more, it caused
the councils to pass two laws, by which all neutral
ships on their way to Britain, or returning from it, should
be liable to be seized. This, however, produced an
effect very different from that which was intended j for
having put all the trade of the western world into the
power ot the British, they enriched the very people
1798.
48 r
A body of
_ . Britain at this time
held the empire of the seas in such an eminent, and per¬
haps we may add, unprecedented degree, that the re¬
publican fleets lay blockaded in their own ports during
the greater part of the year. The expedition against
Ireland having completely failed, the directory was at p 1
a loss how to dispose of the galley slaves who had made troops land
a part ot Hoche’s army destined against Ireland. It in Wales,
would have been cruel to remand them back to punish¬
ment ; the troops would not serve with them in the ar¬
my, and by the new laws of France they could not re¬
ceive a pardon, neither was it prudent to give so many
criminals liberty. Thus perplexed, the directory at
last determined to send them over to England. They
were landed from two frigates and some small vessels
on the coast of Wales, with muskets and ammunition,
but destitute of artillery. On the evening of the day
on which they landed (23d of February), they were
made prisoners of war by a party of militia, yeomanry,
cavalry, colliers and others, under the command of Lord
Cawdor.
Although the navy of France continued in port, and Defeat of
therefore out of danger, for the remainder of this year,a sPanIS*,
yet the Dutch and Spanish allies of that country sustain-*1°^ ^ir
ed very serious losses by sea. A Spanish fleet of 27 sail^ ‘n Jei'
of the line, opposed to a British fleet of only 15 sail,
under the gallant admiral Sir John Jervis, was complete¬
ly defeated on the 14th of February, off* Cape St Vin¬
cent. The British admiral passed twice through the
enemy’s line, and cut off part of their fleet from the
rest. Four ships were taken, and the admiral’s own
ship made her escape with considerable difficulty. This
fleet was on its way to Brest in order to effect a junc¬
tion with the French fleet, but Jervis’s victory render¬
ed this object unattainable. In consequence of this me¬
morable victory, Sir John was created earl St Vin¬
cent, and had an annuity of 2000I. settled upon him,
receiving at the same time the thanks of both houses of
parliament.
Ihe Dutch, if possible, were still more unfortunate, A Dutch
Admiral Duncan having blocked up the Texel where fleet de-
their fleet lay, during the whole summer, with the as-feate.d by
sistance of which it appears that the French meant «
try the fate of another attack upon Ireland. A resolu- Camper- *
tion having at length been adopted of risking an en-down,
gagement with the British at sea, De AVinter received
positive orders to sail, a step against which he remon¬
strated, but without effect. Admiral Duncan was at
this time refitting at Yarmouth, but on receiving in¬
telligence of the sailing of the Dutch fleet, he set out
in search of, and came up with it on the nth of Oc¬
tober, consisting of a force rather inferior to his own
fleet, which amounted to 16 sail of the line and three
frigates. The British admiral run his fleet immediate¬
ly through the Dutch line, commencing the attack be¬
tween them and their own coast, about nine miles froRi
Camperdown. As the Dutch are desperate fighters
by sea, our readers will naturally conclude that this
was a sanguinary conflict. It lasted for three hours,
at which time the greater part of the Dutch fleet had
struck j but owing to the shallowness of the water on
the coast they could not all be seized. Eight ships of
the line, two of 56 and one of 44 guns, were taken, be¬
sides a frigate afterwards lost near the coast of Britain.
Admiral De Winter was. captured with his ship, and
Y 2 Vice-
1798-
484 _
Great dis¬
turbances
Ht Rome.
FRA
Vice-admiral Rentjies. Admiral Duncan received ho¬
nours similar to those which were bestowed upon Earl
St Vincent, and an annuity to the same amount.
After the ratification ol the treaty with the emperor
at Campo Formio, Joseph Bonaparte, one ol the bro¬
thers of the general, was sent to the city of Borne as
plenipotentiary from the French republic. Ihe pope
having now no expectation ol loreign assistance, sub¬
mitted to every demand for the reduction ol his troops,
and for emancipating every person confined in prison on
account of their political sentiments. On the 26th of
December 1797» three men waited upon the ambassador,
and requested the co-operation of France in bringing a-
bout a revolution which a party at Borne was anxious
to establish. He rejected the proposal, and did every
thing in his power to dissuade them from it; but he ne¬
glected to communicate the intelligence to the papal
government, which was certainly his duty. Fie went
to the secretary of state on the 28th, and shewed him a
list of persons under his protection who had a legal au¬
thority to wear the French cockade, and consented at
the same time that all others wearing it should be pu¬
nished. He oflered to give up six of the insurgents who
had taken refuge in the palace. In the evening of the
28th a more serious tumult happened in the courts and
vicinity of the French ambassador’s palace, with which
the pope, it is believed, was not personally acquainted j
but the governor of the city endeavoured to disperse the
insurgents by parties of cavalry and infantry. General
Duphot, in attempting to make the military desist from
firing upon the insurgents, was shot by a petty officer
belonging to the troops of his holiness. The ambassador
and his other friends now made their escape to the
palace through a bye-way. The Spanish ambassador
having been informed of this event, sent to the secretary
of state, and protested against such a daring violation of
the privileges of plenipotentiaries. TLhe palace of the
French ambassador was still surrounded by the military,
when at last he demanded passports to enable him to
leave the territories of the pope, which were soon grant¬
ed, and accompanied by many protestations of the inno¬
cence of government, and its sorrow that such an un¬
fortunate event should have taken place.
Joseph Bonaparte went to Florence and from thence
to Paris. The protection of Vienna, Spain, Naples,
and Tuscany, was earnestly solicited by the pope, but
cline assist-tjiey a]j seemed disposed to keep at a distance from his
.nor the misfortunes. General Berthier experienced little or no
opposition on his march to Borne, where he subverted
the dominion of the pope, and proclaimed the sove¬
reignty of the Boman people, with too many marks of
wanton, unprovoked insult. The tree of liberty was^
planted on the very day on which the anniversary of
the pope’s election to the sovereignty was celebrated j
intended, no doubt, to make him feel still greater mor¬
tification. While in the Sistine chapel, receiving the
congratulations of the cardinals, the commissioner ge¬
neral, and Cervoni, who commanded the troops within
the city, during this ceremony entered the chapel, and
announced to the sovereign pontiff on his throne, that
his reign was at an end. He was removed to the ter¬
ritory of Tuscany, where he dwelt in great obscurity,
till liis enemies being in their turn driven from Rome,
were pleased to remove him farther from the capital,
to terminate his existence beyond the Alps,
4® 5
The conti¬
nental
powers de
ing the
pops.
N C E,
The greatest curiosities found in Rome were con- France,
veyed to Paris, and sold by public auction, the dnec-
tory having sacrificed national vanity at the shrine of *79 ’
avarice. Passports were offered to the natives of coun¬
tries at war with France, if they inclined to become
purchasers. _
But scenes of a different and sanguinary nature were Conquest
in the mean time exhibited in Switzerland, a countrySwitm-
which had preserved its neutrality during the conflict of law] re-
France with the combined powers, thus defending tbe^ ^0'1
weakest part of her frontiers j and as a grateful retui u [.
for past favours, it was now determined to subjugate
Switzerland. About the end of the year 1797* an
surrection broke out in the Pays de Vaud, subject to the
canton of Berne, which made the government perceive
its critical situation, and issue a proclamation on the
5th of January 1798, requiring the people of the Pays
de Vaud to appear in arms, renew their oath of al¬
legiance, and reform every existing abuse. A com¬
mission of the senate at Berne ivas empowered to ex¬
amine every complaint, and redress every grievance ■,
but their motions were considered as too tardy by po¬
pular impatience, and the insurgents endeavoured to be¬
come masters of the strong places. Troops were sent
against them by the government of Berne, but General
Weiss acted with hesitation, if not even with treachery,
and a body of republicans appeared under General Me¬
nard, who sent an aid-de-camp and two hussars to Ge¬
neral Weiss. As the messengers returned, one of the
hussars was killed, most probably by accident, but it
was instantly magnified into a horrid breach of the law
of nations. The French, therefore, continued to ad¬
vance, and were masters of the whole Pays de Vaud
by the end of January. The government of Berne
prepared for war, while it at the same time used every
effort in order to maintain peace. A truce was entered
into with General Brune, the successor of Menard, and
those who killed the hussar were delivered up. An
army of 20,000 men was collected, the command of
which was given to M. d’Erlach, once a field marshal
in the service of France. But there was a prevailing
disaffection in his army, and the people were far from
being united among themselves. With this circum¬
stance the French were well acquainted, and therefore
they demanded a total change of government, As
M. d’Erlach was apprehensive of a still greater defec¬
tion in his army, he requested permission to put an end
to the armistice. The French now refused to negotiate,
and General Schawenberg on the 2d of March took
possession of Soleure at the head of 13,000 men. Brune
afterwards made himself master of Eriburg, and forced
the Swiss army to retreat. The government of Berne
being now greatly alarmed, decreed the landst/iunn, or
rising of the people in a mass, which their ancient cus¬
toms justified in the time of necessity. The people as¬
sembled, dissolved the government, and offered to dis¬
miss the army, if the republican troops would retire.
This offer was rejected, without admitting a French
garrison into Berne, and therefore they continued to ad¬
vance. About 6000 from the army of M. d’Erlach
had deserted, leaving him at the head of no more than
14,000 men $ and although the rising had abundantly
supplied him with numbers, yet he had not time suffi¬
cient to get them properly arranged. He was attacked
on the 5th of March, and driven from Newenbeg and
Favenbruii,
Thesva
tioD E.
gfF iro-
jeet, by
(be fc-
:ary,
Favenbrun, but having rallied his troops, he made a
stand for some time at Uteren. The conflict was re¬
newed at Grauholtz, from whence they were driven
four miles nearer the capital. Being completely de¬
feated, they murdered many of their officers in a fit of
despair, among whom was their commander in chief.
Berne capitulated to the French, which induced the
more wealthy and populous states to follow the example j
but the poorer cantons made a dreadful effort to pre¬
serve their small possessions, and the independence of
their country. They compelled Schawenberg to retire
with the loss of 3000 men, but were at last totally van-
quished by the superior skill and numbers of the repub¬
lican army. The public magazines were plundered,
and a new constitution was forced upon them after the
model of France.
If the directory made no scruple to violate the inde¬
pendence of other nations, it was very reasonable to
conclude that they would pay little regard to the liber¬
ties of their countrymen at home. A third of the le¬
gislature was changed in the month of April; one mem¬
ber of the directory went out by ballot, and Treilhard
was chosen to succeed him. Nothing was left unat¬
tempted by the directory to influence the election in fa¬
vour of their friends, but their success was not great.
They complained to the council of five hundred on the
2d of May j they complained of plots of royaltsts, by
which it was said that elections had been made to fall
on men who were inimical to the interest of the repub¬
lic. It was proposed on the 7th by the committee who
reported on the message of the directory, that many
electoral assemblies should be annulled ; but General
Jourdan opposed this plan as incompatible with the free¬
dom of election, and as proceeding upon the supposition
of conspiracies which had no existence.
We are now to be presented with the most extrava¬
gant project which perhaps the directory ever attempt¬
ed to execute ;—to send a formidable army to take pos¬
session of Egypt, and from thence to proceed by the
Red sea to the East Indies, to take possession of the
British settlements in that quarter of the globe. After
peace was proclaimed between France and Germany,
the directory made no secret of their determination to
invade Great Britain. Whether this project was of Bo^
naparte’s own devising, or intended as a snare in order
to get rid of him and his victorious army,, seems to be
a matter which our readers must be left to determine
for themselves. It might not be his project, and he
might accept the command of the army of Egypt from
this conviction, that he would be safer abroad in the
most perilous undertaking, than be exposed at home to
the malice of a government become jealous of his repu¬
tation, ana which was far from being scrupulous of its
conduct.
The meditated attack upon Egypt was certainly con¬
ducted with such a degree of secrecy as was calculated
to mislead. Prodigious stories were circulated concern¬
ing rafts of timber, by means of which the army of
k-ngland, as it was called, was to be conveyed over to
Britain ; and to give the greater probability to this re¬
port, General Bonaparte, the commander in chief, made
a journey to the western coast. The fleet was getting
ieady in the harbour of .Toulon, and troops were collect-
cd in its vicinity. But Bonaparte embarked with 40,000
at his veteran troops, and on the 9th of June reached the
FRANCE.
island of Malta. He quarrelled witli tlie grand master,
because he would not permit so large a fleet to water
all at once in his ports. The French commander land¬
ed his troops in different places, and attempted to make
himself master of the island. It is said that many of the
knights belonged to the Illuminati, and were therefore
ready to betray their government. After a very feeble
opposition the grand-master capitulated, and thus gave
up in a few days a fortress which, it is said, might have
held out for weeks against all the troops of the French
republic. Bonaparte left in the island a garrison of
4000 men, and sailed for Alexandria on the 21st. ,^
Rear-admiral Nelson having distinguished himself in Acbnmri
a veiy eminent degree, while in the station of commo-.NelscD*<H*
dore under Lord St Vincent, was sent in pursuit of Bo-"1 563,4:11
naparte. Being wholly ignorant of the destination of°*w™*'
the Trench, he sailed for Naples, where he obtained in- '
formation of tbe attack upon Malta, to which accord¬
ingly he steered his course. On his arrival, however,
he found that Bonaparte was gone j but conjecturing
that lie had sailed for Alexandria, he immediately pre¬
pared to follow him. Hie Trench commander, instead
of keeping a direct course towaids that city, stood along
the Grecian coast, till he made the easternmost point of
the island of Candia. Then steering to the southward,
he so protracted his voyage, that he did not reach the
Egyptian coast till Admiral Nelson had left it. Having
landed his troops he took the city of Alexandria by
storm on the 5th of July. It was desperately defended
by the inhabitants, but without military skill. The re¬
publican transports were drawn up within the inner
laibour of Alexandria, and the ships of war cast anchor
along the shore of the bay of Aboukir. The republi¬
can army marched on towards the Nile, and in pro¬
ceeding along the banks of that river, they suffered
much from the intense heat of the climate. They soon
came to action with the Mamelukes, or military rulers
of the country ; but the small degree of skill possessed
by these barbarians, was by no means a match for Eu¬
ropean tactics. Cairo surrendered on the 23d, and two
days after, another battle was fought, in which the in¬
habitants were defeated. They made a last effort on
the 26t*n, near the celebrated pyramids, when 2000 of
them were killed, 400 camels with baggage were taken,
and 30 pieces of cannon.,
Having proceeded thus far in his conquest of Egypt, Tyranny
Bonaparte framed for it a provisional government, andamf dupfi-
issued proclamations in the Arabian language, protest-6^ ®c'°
mg that tbe French were friendly to the religion 0fnaParte-
Mahomet, owned the authority of the grand signior,
and were only come to inflict punishment on the Mame¬
lukes for doing so much injury to their trade with E-
gypt. Thus far the good fortune of Bonaparte seemed
still to attend him j but on the 1st of August the fleet
under Admiral Nelson appeared off the mouth of the
Nile, who having discovered the position of the French
fleet, prepared to attack it. In point of numbers the
two fleets were upon a level, but as to weight of metal
the I rench fleet was the stronger of the two. Admiral
Nelson, by running some of his ships between the ene¬
my and the land, surrounded one part of the fleet,
while the rest were thus rendered entirely useless. The
Culloden ran aground while this plan was carrying into
effect j an advantage upon the whole, as it pointed out
to the rest where the danger lay concealed. This me¬
morable^
174
Ft hi ee.
I79^*
490
Battle of
the Nile.
FRA
morable action commenced with tlie setting of the sun,
and continued, with occasional intervals, till the break
of day. Nine sail of the line belonging to the French
were taken ; a ship of the line was burnt hy her own
commander, and the admiral’s flag ship, L’Orient, was
blown up during the action, few ot her crew, consisting
of 1000 men, having escaped destruction. Two ships
of the line and two frigates were saved by flight, but
afterwards captured. _ .
If we confine ourselves to modern times, it will be
difficult to point out any naval engagement productive
of more interesting effects than this. Ihe military ex¬
ertions of France had by degrees destroyed the combi¬
nation which the princes of Europe formed against her.
The victories of Bonaparte had humbled the pride or
Austria j the continent looked with dismay towards the
new republic, and when the directory seized on liome
and Switzerland, no power ventured to interpose in
their behalf. The aspect of affairs, however, had now
undergone an almost total revolution. Ihe once tuum-
phant Bonaparte was shut up in a barbarous country,
from which the fleets of Britain might prevent his re¬
turn. Proposals were made by Great Britain to the
northern powers, for the recommencement of hostilities
against France, as it was not conceived possible that she
could make such resistance as formerly. The states of
Italy, too, determined to make a bold effort for the re¬
covery of their independence. The court of Naples re¬
joiced at the destruction of the I rench fleet, and the
king himself went to meet Admiral Nelson on his return
from the Nile. .
It is well known that the French had long promised
encouragement to the Irish rebels j but as their expec¬
tations were not gratified in time, they broke out into
open rebellion without the promised assistance *, and
when the spirit of rebellion was almost wholly subdued,
the directory attempted to land troops in small divisions,
such as that under General Humbert on the 22d oFAn-
gU9t, consisting only of H00 men, who landed at Jvil-
lala. Yet this force, small as it was, would have pro-
ved formidable but a month before. They were joined
by a party of the most desperate of the rebels in the
vicinity, and defeated General Lake at the head ot a
superior force, taking from him six pieces of cannon.
Their next step was to march in different directions to
announce the arrival of the republicans, and maintain¬
ed their ground for three weeks. This able general re¬
ceiving no reinforcements from France, finding the
rebellion in a great measure crushed, and being inform¬
ed that General Cornwallis was about to surround him
with 25,000 men, he laid down his arms to a British
column, four days after he had dismissed his Irish asso¬
ciates, that they might provide for their own safety.
Active measures were now taken by the directory to
send troops to Ireland when too late, as the vigilance
of British cruizers defeated all their endeavours. La
Hoche, a ship of 84 guns, and four frigates, were cap¬
tured by Sir John Borlase Warren on the I2th ot Uc-
tober, in attempting to reach Ireland with 3000 men.
On the 20th another frigate was taken, destined tor the
same country, which induced the directory to abandon
the attempt as altogether desperate. -
Imprudent The victory obtained by Admiral Nelson at the
•onduct of 0f the Nile, made the king of Naples act the
Naplesf °f vel7 i^udent part of preparing to commence hostili-
V
491
General
Humbert
invades
Ireland.
492
N C
ties against France. Without even waiting till the
Austrians should commence the attack on the republi*
can troops in the Roman territory, he procured General
Mack to assume the command of his army. He began
the war without any foreign aid, except the Bntish
fleet, and thus brought upon himself the vengeance of
the French republic. The directory had no idea that
he would adopt such conduct, and of consequence when
General Mack appeared at the head of 45,000 men,
the troops of France in that quarter were unable to
contend with him. General Championet having justly
complained of the attack made upon his posts, ciicum-
stanced as he was, he received for answer from the ho¬
stile commander, that his majesty had resolved to take
possession of the Roman territory, and advised the
French to retire quietly into the Cisalpine states, main¬
taining that their entrance into Tuscany vvould be con¬
sidered as a declaration of war. Championet accord-
ingly evacuated Rome, as he had no force against such
a formidable army. He left a garrison in the castle of
St Angelo, and concentrated what troops he could col¬
lect in the northern parts of the Roman state. Geneial
Alack entered the city of Rome without opposition in
the end of November. .453
These transactions having been known at I ans, war TheFren#
was immediately declared against their Neapolitan and declare
Sardinian majesties, the latter of whom had committed warag»
no act of hostility against the French ; but he was ac-
cused of disaffection to the republic, a charge which
could scarcely fail to be true. He found himself placed
in a very humiliating situation since the first entrance of
Bonaparte into Italy, his strongest fortresses being in
possession of the French, who levied on him what con¬
tributions they thought proper, and even placed a gar¬
rison in his metropolis. Being unable to go to war, he
made a voluntary surrender of his continental dominions,
and agreed to retire to the island of Sardinia.
A period was soon put to the dispute with Naples.
As the French retreated, the country people gave them
much trouble and uneasiness, and the Neapolitan troops
scarcely observed the modern rules of war respecting
such as thev had taken prisoners. When General Bou¬
chard, by orders from General Alack, commanded the
castle of St Angelo to surrender, he maintained that
he would view the prisoners in the light of hostages for
the conduct of the garrison, and that a man should be
put to death for every gun fired from the castle. It
is scarcely to be imagined that the Neapolitan officers
would have exoressed themselves in such a shocking
manner, if they had not calculated on the vigorous co-
oueration of the Austrian forces, in which, however,
they were very much deceived. The consequence was,
that the territory of Naples very soon fell into the
hands of the French. Either the terror of the republi¬
can name was so great in Italy, or the cowardice ot the
Neapolitan troops, that they were defeated by one-
fourth of their own numbers, at Terni, 1 orto lermo,
Civita Castellana, Otricoli, and Calvi. As the army
of General Alack was gradually reduced to 12,000
men, in consequence of desertion and frequent deteats,
he advised the king of Naples and his family to take re¬
fuse on board the British fleet, which was then lyin8 at
Leghorn. This advice was adopted, and they reache
Palermo in Sicily on the 27th of December, in Admiral
Nelson’s ship. General Alack having requested an ar-
fr
%
•ancs*
799*
C ;ierate
mistice, it was refused by the French commander. Be¬
ing driven from Capua, the only remaining post of any
consequence in the territory of Naples, and being in the
greatest danger from the disaffection of his troops, he
surrendered himself and the officers of his staff to the
republican general. The governor of Naples offered a
contribution of money if the French troops would not
enter that city, which was agreed to, and they remain¬
ed at Capua. General Serrurier, at the head of a French
column, drove the Neapolitans out of Leghorn, and
took possession of that place.
SucI] is tIle mildness of the climate in the southern
ci Itict of parts of Italy, that the people can subsist with fewer
tli Laeza-efforts of industry than in almost any other country of
Europe. I his naturally begets an indolent disposition,
which is cherished by a number of charitable institutions
originating from the Catholic religion. In Naples there
had long been a body of men called Lazzaroni, or beg¬
gars, amounting to the astonishing sum total of near
40,000, who entirely subsisted on charity. They fre¬
quently threatened the state if they did not receive an
immediate supply of their wants, which procured them
very liberal contributions. Having been informed that
the French, wherever they came, destroyed all monas¬
teries and other sources of charity, they determined to
oppose them to the utmost of their power, and appear
the advocates for royal government. In the beginning
of January 1799, they exhibited marks of discontent,
and at last broke out into an open insurrection. They
appointed Prince Militorni their commander in chief,
who made many fruitless efforts to restrain their vio¬
lence anu love of plunder. They declared war against
the French, forced the prisons open, and murdered all
who had been incarcerated for disaffection to the kingly
government. Their ravages now became so dreadful
and boundless, that Prince Militorni abandoned them,
set out to Capua, and requested Championet to take
possession of the city, in order to rescue it from utter
destiuction. It was agreed that a column of French
troops should take a circuitous route, and enter the
city from the opposite quarter. Before this plan could
be carried into execution, two thirds of the Lazzaroni
marched out on the 19th and 20th of January, with
the daring resolution to attack the French in the forti¬
fications of Capua. Multitudes of them perished by
j the French artillery $ and in order to favour the cap¬
ture of Naples by the party sent on that expedition,
Championet made no sally out upon them, but conti¬
nued on the defensive. The Lazzaroni being informed
on the 21st that a French column had marched for
Naples, returned to the city j and although Champio¬
net closely pursued them, they arrived in time to barri¬
cade the streets, amd prepare for the defence of different
quarters. A terrible conflict now commenced, which
lasted horn the morning of the 22d to the evening of
the 23d of January. Having been driven from street
to street, they finally rallied at one of the gates of the
city, where they were almost totally cut off. It is
certainly a reproach to the Neapolitan government, not
to have been able to give a better direction to the un¬
daunted courage of such men.
We may view this triumph as the last which the di¬
mes lectory enjoyed, for the consequences of their past con-
iinpo . uct 'v^re uow raP‘dly gathering around them. They
were with the greatest justice unpopular at home, both
FRANCE.
1799*
49;
’s di
7 bt >
wes
from their mode of conducting public affairs, and their
repeated violations of the constitution of their countrv
Ibeir profusion was unlimited, as well as the exorbitani
demands which they made upon conquered countries.
Uiampionet was so ashamed of them, that in Italy he
endeavoured to restrain them, in consequence of which
he was deprived of his command, and thrown into pri¬
son ; ocherer, the war minister, being appointed his suc¬
cessor. Under him the rapacity of the government a-
gents, and the embezzlement of the public stores, were
carried as high as possible. Yet France still continued
to be dreaded by foreign nations, to whom the true state
of internal attairs was but obscurely known. An army
oi 45,000 Russians had arrived to the assistance of Aus¬
tria, yet that cabinet was at a loss whether to declare
war or not. Britain solicited the aid of Prussia, with an
offer of large subsidiesj but Sieyes, the plenipotentiary
at Berlin, artfully contrived to defeat the negotiation
and counteract the unpopularity of his country in Ger¬
many, by giving to the world the secret convention of
UampoFormio. This determined the greater number
ot the German princes to maintain their neutrality un¬
der the guardianship of Prussia.
A note was presented to the congress at Rastadt on
the 2d of January by the French plenipotentiaries resi¬
dent there, intimating, that if the entrance of Russian
troops into Germany was not prevented, it would be
considered as tantamount to a declaration of war. To
this no satisfactory answer was returned. The strong
fortress of Ehrenbreitstein surrendered on the 26th of
that month, after being blockaded since the treaty of
Uampo Formio. This possession, together with Mentz
and Husseldorf, made the French a very powerful ene¬
my on the Rhine. Switzerland also belonged to them
and all the fortified places of Italy, on which account
they were qualified to commence active operations. At
this period Jourdan commanded on the Upper Rhine
from Mentz to Huningen ; the eastern frontier of
Switzerland was occupied by General Massena; Scherer
had the chief command in Italy ; Moreau acted under
him, and Macdonald commanded the troops in the ter¬
ritory of Rome and Naples. Yet all these armies so
scattered, did not exceed 170,000 men, a force greatly
inferior to that of Austria, altogether independent of 4og
the Russian army. The directory, however, trusting to War de-
the unity of its own plans, the wavering politics of thec'are^ a-
court of Vienna, and the slow movements of the ira.gaiust^e
perial armies, was anxious to renew the war, a declara-and61™
tion of which against the emperor of Germany and the duke^of110
grand duke of J uscany, was made on the 13th of Tuscany,
March. Jourdan had actually crossed the Rhine at
Strasburg on the 1st of that month, and occupied many
strong positions in Swabia. Manheim was taken, and
General Bernadotte summoned Philipsburg to surren¬
der, while General St Cyr entered Stutgard. In or¬
der to oppose the march of this army, the archduke
Charles crossed the Lech on the 4th of March ; Mas¬
sena. marched into the territory of the Grisons, and sur¬
prising a strong body of Austrians, made the whole of
them prisoners, together with their general, and the
whole of his staff, in consequence of which the country
of the Grisons was reduced.
J he republican plan of procedure was not completed
without the junction of Massena’s and Jourdan’s armies
to accomplish which it was necessary to carry the iml
„ portant
FRA
497
Success of
the Aus¬
trians in
Italv.
49S
The Rus¬
sians and
portant post of Feldkircb, which was held by Geneial
Hotze. Defeated in his first attempt, Massena renew¬
ed the attack five times with fresh forces, but the deter¬
mined bravery of the Austrians rendered them inetkc*
tual. But as the French were in possession of the Gn-
sons, the invasion of the Engadine was facilitated, where
the Austrians being too weak to resist, retreate into
the Tyrol, and were pursued by the republicans, who
forced some of the defiles, and extended their inroads
as far as Glurentz and Nauders.
The vanguard of the principal Austrian army pushed
on to meet the French. It was attacked by Jourdan on
the 20th of March, by whom the outposts were dri¬
ven in ; but the centre of his army was attacked on the
following day, and forced to retire to Stockach during
the night. The archduke encamped before Stockach
on the 24th, and the republicans attacked him on the
following day. His right wing under General Meer-
feldt was their main object, which they succeeded in
driving into a wood between Liptingen and Stockach.
Meerfeldt renewed the conflict without success. Ihe
left wing having maintained its ground, sent reinforce¬
ments to General Meerfeldt, who in his turn obliged
the French to retire. The French, however, made
4000 prisoners during the various movements of the
day. Yet their loss was so great, and the Austrian
force so vastly superior to their own, that General Jour¬
dan durst not hazard another engagement. He retreat¬
ed on the following day, and feeling that he was not a
match for the enemy, he sent a part of his army to
cover Kehl and Strasburg. and marched with the re¬
mainder towards Switzerland. By this event General
Massena, who was forcing his way to the Tyrol and
Engadine, was obliged to return to the protection ot
Switzerland. He was appointed to the chief command
in this quarter, and Jourdan was removed.
The Austrians were no less successful in Italy, not¬
withstanding they were attacked by the Frendi before
the termination of the armistice. General Kray ob¬
tained a complete victory over them at Legnago and
forced them to flee for protection under the walls of
Mantua. On the 15th of April they were again at¬
tacked by the Austrians at Memiruolo, and again forced
to retreat after an obstinate resistance. The loss sus¬
tained by the French in these different engagements
was unquestionably great, but we should apprehend that
the account which states it at 30,000 men in killed
wounded, and prisoners, must surely be exaggerated,
But the Austrians may be said to have purchased these
victories at a dear rate. Scherer at first gained some
advantages over them, but he had not skill to improve
them, else they would have unquestionably given a new
turn to the aspect of affairs. The Austrian posts were
forced by a division ot his army on the 26th of March,
and 4000 prisoners taken 5 but on the other division
being repulsed, he withdrew his troops, and thus relin¬
quished the advantages he had obtained. On the 5th
of April the division under Moreau performed wonders,
and took 3000 prisoners j but by the unskilful measures
of Scherer he was not supported, and the triumph ol
. the Austrians was of course complete. < .
Prior to this period, a body of Russians joined the
Franc?,
[799*
US pcnutij c* J ' 1 • 1
imperialists j er;ai;gts, and the command of this combined army
united uti- 4
det Su-
vr arrow.
imneriaiiaLs* *llu ^ . i
was given to Field-marshal Suwarrow Rimmski, who
advanced towards the Adda on the 24th of April j and
3
N C E.
after carrying the outposts of General Moreau, Suwar¬
row determined to attack him in his entrenchments.
He maintained the appearance of attack along the
whole line of Moreau, while he secretly threw a bridge,
over among the rocks at the upper part of the river,
where such a thing had been considered as impossible.
By means of this bridge a part of the combined army
next morning turned the republican fortifications, and
attacked their flank and rear, while the rest of the army
forced the passage of the river at different points. Hie
French fought with their usual intrepidity, but were
soon driven from all their positions, and forced to re¬
treat to Pavia, with the loss of 6000 men killed, 5000
made prisoners, including four generals, and 80 pieces
of cannon. • c
General Moreau now established the poor remains ot
his armv, amounting to 12,000 man, upon the Po, be¬
tween Alessandria and Valentia. He forced, on the
nth of May, a body of Austrians, to retreat, and took
a number of them prisoners. On the 12th, about 7000
Russians crossed the Po at Basignano, and marched on
towards Pecetto, when Moreau fell upon them with
fury -, and they refusing to lay down their arms, about
2000 of them were drowned in repassing the river, and
a few were taken prisoners. On the advance of Su¬
warrow, General Moreau was under the necessity of
retiring to occupy the Bochetta, as well as other passes
which lead to the territory of Genoa, when the com¬
bined army began the sieges of the fortified places in
Italy then occupied by the French. Bellegarde drove
the French from the Engadine;, Massena was obliged
to retire to the vicinity of Zurich, lie was so pressed by
the archduke j and nearly the whole of Piedmont bad
risen against the republicans. They received no rein¬
forcements from the interior of France, and their offi¬
cers were obliged to act on the defensive, to defend the
frontiers as long as possible. In one instance only they
had the power of making offensive war, and it was cer¬
tainly done with great vigour. General Macdonald
had still a considerable army in the southern parts ot
Italy in the territories of Naples and Rome. Ine
combined powers had made no eflort to cut off his re¬
treat, convinced, perhaps, that this could scarcely be
accomplished in the mountainous countries of luscany
and Genoa. Knowing his situation to be secure, he
was in no hurry to remove, although nearly the whole
country between him and France was occupied by the
combined army. His army amounted to about 30,000
men and he received orders from the directory to leave
the territories of Rome and Naples, and unite, if possi¬
ble with the army of Moreau. From the situation of
the allies, however, he resolved to hazard an action iy
himself. With Moreau he had concerted a plan for di¬
viding their enemies, and vanquishing them in detail,
as Bonaparte had so often done in Italy before. Mac¬
donald alone was in a situation for striking an important
blow, yet it was necessary for Moreau to draw upon
himself as many of the Austro-Russian forces as posstb.e,
that the remainder might be more completely exposed
to the attack of Macdonald. # . .giti
Moreau availed himself of the circumstance of tlie^J
French and Spanish fleets being in the vicinity of Genoa, Motcal,
to spread a report that they had brought him a very
powerful reinforcement, intending thereby to withdraw
the attention of Suwarrow from Macdonald. Hie
Russian
F ? ce.
Russian general was at Turin, his advanced posts at
Susa, Pignerol, and the Col d’Assiette, while General
9. Hohenzoliern was stationed at Modena with a consider¬
able force, and General Ott at Reggio with 10,000
men. General Macdonald began his operations on the
12th of June, when his advanced divisions attacked
and defeated Hohenzollern, taking 2000 of his men
prisoners. General Ott was attacked at the same
time, and being compelled to retreat, the French made
their entry into Parma on the 14th. He was again
attacked on the 19th, and forced to retire towards
Giovanni, where the progress of General Macdonald
4; was arrested.
tic each Suwarrow having received information cf his ap-
efeed byproac]], and 0f his successes, left Turin on the 15th
of June, at the head ot 20,000 men, and came up
with Macdonald on the banks of the Tidone. The
centre and right wing of Suwarrow’s army were com¬
manded by Rosenberg and Foerster, the Austrian ge¬
neral Melas commanded the left wingj Prince Pro-
cration was at the head of the advanced guard, and
Prince Lichtenstein of the reserve. An action imme¬
diately commenced, which was fought with desperate
fury on both sides for three successive days, when vic¬
tory declared in favour of Suwarrow. Driven from Ti¬
done to the Trebbia, the French were finally vanquished
on the 19th, after a greater slaughter on both sides than
the oldest officer present recollected to have witnessed.
Victory remained doubtful, till General Kray arrived
with large reinforcements from the army besiegino-
Mantua, and, in direct contempt of his orders, decided
the fate of the day.
The republicans retreated during the night, and the
next day they were pursued by the army of Suwarrow
in two columns. Seldom could the French be over¬
taken in a march, but the army of Suwarrow accom¬
plished this, when he surrounded the rear-guard of the
fugitives, and obliged them to lay down their arms.
The rest of the army defended themselves in the passes
of Uie Appenines and territory of Genoa, after losing,
^ it is said, no fewer than 17,000 in killed, wounded’
and prisoners. Moreau, in the mean time, gave battle
to the Austrians under Bellegarde, and though far su¬
perior to him in numbers, they were totally defeated.
This temporary advantage, however, availed little, in
consequence of the rapid return of Suwarrow from the
pursuit ol Macdonald. The fortresses in Italy sur¬
rendered in close succession, and it appeared as if the
combined powers would soon be able to enter the ter¬
ritory of France.
I The. aflairs of the republic became equally critical in
Palestine. After having defeated the Mamelukes,
made himself master of Alexandria and Cairo, and
avowed himself a Mahometan in Egypt, Bonaparte led
an army into Palestine, to take possession of Jerusalem,
' an<^ I’y rebuilding the temple, and restoring the Jews,
to give the lie to the prophecies of the Christian re¬
ligion. At the head of 10,000 men, with officers emi¬
nently skilled in the art of war, he reached the town of
Acre on the sea-coast, 28 miles south of Tyre, and 37
1101 di of Jerusalem. He laid siege to this town in due
form, which was but indifferently fortified, and defended
by a small garrison of Mussulmans, which the governor
would have unconditionally surrendered/had he not
Vql. IX. Part I. I
FRANCE.
499:
litlcs
1799.
been advised to make a vigorous resistance by an Eng¬
lish naval officer. Sir Sidney Smith having received
the command of the garrison, detained Bonaparte before
Acre 69 days, although the number of the allies by
vvliom it was defended did not exceed 2000 men. The
French commander made eleven attempts to carry it
by assault, all of which proved unsuccessful. He was
at last obliged to raise the siege, after he had lost eight
of his generals, 85 inferior officers, and almost one half
of his army. His unsuccessful attempt upon Acre must
indeed appear important, especially to Britain, if it be
tine that, the Druses, to the number of 60,000 men,
bad promised to join him on the reduction of that town.
Had this junction been effected, it is believed that
Constantinople would have become their prey, which
was first to have been plundered, and then reduced to
ashes.
While France experienced such reverses abroad, she.,.,
was much disturbed also by internal commotions, and t0ry sink/
the directory found itself in a very critical situation.into eon-
-New elections were still unfriendly to their interest ;temPt>
and they could no longer secure a majority in the
councils, they were sunk into such contempt. When
they sought money, they obtained reproaches on ac¬
count of their own profusion, and the agents they em¬
ployed. Insurrections in the west and south were
by ^ie friends of royalty, and these were with
difficulty subdued, on account of the absence of the
military'. In the midst of ail these difficulties, the
occurrence of one event seemed to promise the direc¬
tory the returned their former influence. On the 28th
of April, the French plenipotentiaries received orders
to quit ixastadt in 24 hours. Having demanded a
passport from Colonel Barbasey, they received for an¬
swer that none could grant it but the commander in
chief. J hey at last began their journey, the three mi¬
nisters, Bonnier, Roberjot, and Jean Debry, were in
separate carriages, Roberjot having Ins wife, and Jean
Debry his wife and daughters along with him, attended
by the ministers of the Cisalpine republic. At a short ^OI
distance from Rastadt they were met by 50 Austrian th^French
hussars, who stopped the carriage of Jean Debry, andambassa-
demanded his name. Of this he informed them, adding^015 a|;
that he was a French minister returning to France. He Rastadt-
was immediately torn from his carriage, desperately
wounded with sabres, and thrown into a ditch for
dead. Bonnier and Roberjot were murdered on the
spot. When the ruffians departed, and the carriages
returned to Rastadt, Jean Debry wandered all night
in the woods, and next day returned to Rastadt. He
demanded the lestitution ol the papers which the hired
assassins had carried off when they plundered the car¬
riages, but they were refused. Rastadt and its vici¬
nity was occupied by French troops during the long
sitting of congress, of which the Austrians had ol/
tained possession but a few days before. The discipline,
therefore, of the Austrian army was severely reproached
by this event j but it is probable that more than the
want 01 subordination was at the bottom of a crime so
atrocious, unprecedented, and totally repugnant to the
laws of nations. It is true, the archduke lost no time
to declare bis utter ignorance of the matter in a letter
to Massena ; but this was far from giving satisfaction to
the I rench directory. In a message to the councils on
Zr the
FRANCE.
»/99-
SOZ
Sieyes
chosen a
member of
the t;U) of May, they made it the premeditated act of
the Austrian government, to insult France by the mur¬
der of her ambassadors.
A violent opposition to the directory commenced by
the introduction of the new third of this year. Sieyes,
who was ambassador at Berlin, and had possessed consi-
Frarci
lm
tliTfih'c- derable influence over all parties, was elected a member
lory.
5C3
General
Joubert is
of the directory. This station, we have already seen,
he refused to occupy at the first establishment of the
constitution, and therefore his acceptance of U at such
a critical juncture, excited great surprise. Treilhard
was removed from the directory, as it was said that he
had held an office in the state within less than a year
previous to his election. Merlin and Reveillere were
under the necessity of resigning, to avoid an impeach¬
ment which was threatened to be brought against them j
but Barras still retained his station. Moulins, Gohier,
and Ducos, men who were but very little known, and
far from being leaders of the contending parties, were
chosen members of the directory, ibe public spirit
was attempted to be revived by the establishment of
clubs, a liberty of which the restless Jacobins first took
advantage. They soon proposed violent measures, and
began to denounce the members and the conduct of
government. But their intemperance haying justly
alarmed the directory, they obtained permission from
the councils to suppress their meetings, before they
had time to corrupt the public mind.
The directory now employed every effort to augment
the armies which had lately sufl'ered such dreadful dimi-
In the beginning of August their army in
of which General
Turin, Alessandria,
Klikd, am] llut;ons,
the Fiencli
retreat un- Italy amounted to .45,000 men
der Mo- Joubert had the chief command.
reiiH.
Milan, Peschiera, and Ferrara, were captured by the
allies with astonishing rapidity. Turin sustained a
bombardment of only three days, Alessandria held out
seven, and Mantua only fourteen, in which last place
there were 13,000, who were dismissed on their parole.
The combined powers next laid siege to Tortona, and
General Joubert resolved on its relief, which object
he expected to accomplish before the arrival of Kray
with assistance to Suwarrow. The whole of the Aus¬
trian posts were driven in by the republicans on the
13th of August, who took possession of Novi. On the
15th they were attacked by Suwarrow, who by this
time had received troops from Mantua under General
Kray. The right wing was commanded by this officer,
its left by Melas, and its centre by Prince Procration
and Suwarrow in person. Jhe engagement commenced
about live o’clock in the morning, soon after which,
while General Jouhert was urging his troops forward
to charge with the bayonet, he received a musket shot
in his body, and falling from his horse, he immediately
expired. Moreau assumed the command, and after a
bloody conflict, the allied army gave way in all direc¬
tions. The Russians in particular suffered severely,
from the obstinate manner in which they fought. The
French line was attacked at three in'the afternoon, but
remained unbroken ; and the whole would have termi¬
nated in the defeat of the allies, if General Melas had
not turned the right flank of the republican line ; and
following up his advantages, he got possession of Novi,
when the French army began to retreat under the com¬
mand of General Moreau.
The Austrians say that the French upon this occasion
lost 4000 men killed, and the same number taken pri¬
soners, confessing that their own loss was equal to tins j
hut the loss of the Russians was never published. We
have reason to believe that it was tne greatest of the
whole, since they will rather stand and be cut to pieces
than think of retreating. The French lost all hope of
being able to defend Genoa, and therefore prepared to
evacuate that city and territory. It was now the ap¬
prehension of the directory that the south of France
would immediately be invaded, hut in this they were
happily deceived. The conquered army was astonished-
to find itself unmolested after so signal a defeat, and in
a few days ventured to send back parties to reconnoitre
the movements of the allies. Championet, the succes¬
sor of Joubert, was amazed to find that they had rather
retreated than advanced, on which account he resumed
the positions held by his army before the battle of
Novi.
So far from prosecuting the advantages they had ob-Suwam
tained in Italy, Suwarrow was persuaded to abandonmarch«i
that country with his Russian troops, and march to the^rek.!
deliverance of Switzerland from the yoke of France.“‘J™1
The army of Massena in this quarter amounted to
70,000 men in the month of August, which not only
prevented the archduke from pursuing his advantages,
but the French even threatened to endanger his posi¬
tion. Massena’s right wing under General Lecourbe
had carried Mount St Gothard, the great pass leading
from the eastern parts of Switzerland into Italy. Su-
warrow’s expectations were no doubt high, having never
yet been vanquished, and being called upon to under¬
take an enterprise in which the Austrians had hitherto
failed, even under their most fortunate general. When
he was ready to march, the Austrian commander in
Italy refused to give him mules for transporting his
baggage. This officer had recourse to a most pitiful
falsehood, when he asserted that he would be furnished
with a competent number at Bellinzone, where Suwar¬
row could find none. Having no other alternative, he
dismounted the cavalry, and made use of their horses to
drag along the baggage. In spite of these obstacles,
however, he arrived, by forced marches, on the frontiers
of Switzerland on the day which he and the archduke
had fixed upon.
Either supposing that it would demean a prince of
the house ot Austria to serve under a Russian general,
or not being daring enough to require the most expe¬
rienced general in Europe to receive orders Iron) so
young a man as the archduke, that prince was sent into
Swabia to attack a small body of republicans. He took
with him 48,000, some say 60,000 men, although
20,000 would have been more than sufficient for the
accomplishment of such an undertaking. It is not an easy
matter to conceive upon what principle the council ot
war at Vienna could imagine, that such an able officer as
Massena would continue inactive at the head of an army
almost the double of that which was sent to oppose him.
The archduke marched against the French in Swabia,
who resisted him as much as the small number of their
troops would permit; hut they were gradually driven
towards the Rhine. To carry on the deception, they
made a serious stand in the vicinity of Manheim, where
they lost 1800 men, and which the Austrians entered,
seemingly determined to cross the Rhine.
Switzerland in the mean time was completely ex¬
posed
FRANCE.
The right wing of the under Admiral
799*
' ^
SlMJlW
di; sted
wiuhe
eor:ct of
A) ia.
Brit
pre¬
pare !;0 in
»ad ijoU
late
posed to the army of Massena.
J combined army in this country was commanded by
General Ilotze ; the centre, composed of the newly
arrived Russians, was headed by Korsakof; and the left
wing by General Nauendorf. As soon as Massena
understood that the archduke had entered Manheim,
end that Suwarrow was approaching to Switzerland by
the way of St Gothard, he began his movements. St
Gothard was defended by Lecourbe, and in the mean
time Massena determined to anticipate the arrival of
Suvvarrow. Having drawn the attention of the Russians
to another quarter on the 24th of September, by a false
attack, he suddenly crossed the Limmat, three leagues
from Zurich. Some of the French troops engaged the
Austrians, but the principal part of the army marched
against the Russians. General Ilotze fell in the begin¬
ning of the action, and Petrasch who succeeded him
shunned a total defeat, by retiring in the night with the
loss of 4000 men. The Russians fought with very sin¬
gular obstinacy, being in a mountainous country to
which they were strangers, and fighting against the most
able commanders in Europe. It was in vain, however, to
attempt putting them to flight, for even when surrounded
they would not lay down their arms, hut stood to he
slaughtered on the spot. The Austrians having re¬
treated on the 25th, the Russians on the 28th followed
their example, retreating under General Korsakof in
good order, and with the loss of 3000 men, which was
not very great, considering his perilous situation.
During these transactions, General Suwarrow was
proceeding by the way of Italy with an army of 18,000,
but others say no more than 15,000 men. Fie carried
the pass of St Gothard, and descended into the valley
of Urseren, driving Lecourbe before him with great
slaughter, and advanced as far as Altorf. He next day
reached the canton of Giaris, and made 1000 of the
French prisoners, and General Linken defeated another
corps of 1300 men. Massena now turned upon Sn-
warrow, and by surrounding him on all sides, expected
to take him and the grand duke Constantine prisoners.
Suwarrow defended himself in a very masterly manner,
and there being only one pass in the mountains unoccu¬
pied by the republicans, the aged hero discovered it, and
by this he effected his escape, but lost his cannon and
baggage among the dreadful precipices with which that
country abounds. He made his way through the Grison
country, and arrived at Coire with about 6000 men.
Suwarrow felt truly indignant when he found in what
manner affairs had been conducted, the perilous situa¬
tion in which the Russians had been left by the arch¬
duke, and the destruction which of consequence they
had met with. He considered himself and his men
as treacherously betrayed, complained bitterly of the
commander of the allies in Switzerland, and publicly
charging the council of Vienna with selfishness and in¬
justice, refused to co-operate farther with the Austrian
army. He transmitted an account of the whole in a
letter to Petersburgh, and withdrew his forces to the
vicinity of Augsburg to wait for further orders from
his court.
Great Britain in the mean time made active prepara¬
tions to invade Holland, with an army of 40,000 men,
composed of British troops and auxiliaries from Russia.
The first division under General Sir Ralph Abercromby
sailed in the month of August, protected by a fleet
Duncan. Bad weather prevented
any attempt to land the troops till the 27th, on the
morning of which day the debarkation was effected on 1799.
the shore of Holder Point without oppostion. They
were not expected to land in North Holland, on which
account the troops in that neighbourhood were few.
But before the British troops had proceeded far on their
march, they had to contend with a considerable body of
infantry, cavalry, and artillery, hastily collected from
the adjacent towns. The Dutch fought with great
obstinacy, hut became fatigued by the steady opposition
of their antagonists, and fell hack about two leagues.
They evacuated (he fort of Holder in the night, and it
was taken possession of by the British on the morning
ot the 28th. Admiral Mitchell now enlert d the
Zuyder sea with a detachment of the British fleet, in
order to give battle to the Dutch under Admiral Story.
Instead of retiring to the shallow water with which that
sea abounds, he unaccountably surrendered his whole
fleet on the 3°th of August without firing a gun, pre¬
tending that from the mutinous disposition of his sea¬
men, he could not prevail upon them to fight.
II this had terminated the expedition, it would have Which is ill
been extremely fortunate, as establishing the power of conducted,
the British fleet without a rival. But this victory, if it
can be so called, was followed up by an endeavour to
restore the authority of the stadtholder, and the ancient
government of the United Provinces. As no more than
the first division had arrived, the terror of an invading
foe began to be dissipated, the enemies of the new go¬
vernment W'ere disheartened, and time was allowed"to
prepare for defence. But these were not the only
errors chargeable on the expedition. The British troops
landed in the very worst place they could possibly have
chosen, not only as it is everywhere intersected bv
ditches and canals, but it abounded more than any
other part of Holland, with persons disaffected to the
person and government of the stadtholder. In a word,
this unfortunate expedition was undertaken towards the
approach of the rainy season, when a campaign in FIol-
land is next to impossible. When it was first spoken
of, even the French directory hesitated to undertake the
defence of that country; but when the time and place of
landing came to be known, they were soon determined,
being almost certain of success. General Brune was
accordingly sent with what troops could be speedily
collected, in order to co-operate with General Daen-
dals.
General Abercromby in the mean time could only
act on the defensive, as no reinforcement had arrived.
The enemy was encouraged by his want of activity,
anil ventured to attack him on the 10th of September.
Two Dutch columns, and one of republicans, advanced
upon him, but were repulsed in every direction, and
forced to retreat to Alkmaer. Additional troops ar¬
rived on the 13th, under his royal highness the duke
of York, who assumed the chief command. On the
arrival of the Russians, offensive operations were im¬
mediately resolved on, and the army advanced on the
19th. The left wing under General Abercromby
marched along the shore of the Zuyder sea to attack
Hoorne; Generals Dundasand Pultney commanded the
centre columns, and the Russians were led on by their
own general D’Herman. Owing to some misunder¬
standing, the Russians advanced to attack the enemy
Z 3 about
i8o FRA
France, about three o’clock in the morning, which was some hours
' v>——' before the rest of the army began its march. I heir
1799. first efforts were crowned with success, and they made
themselves masters of the village of Bergen j but as
they pressed too eagerly forward without the co-opera¬
tion of the other columns, the enemy nearly surrounded
them. Their general was made prisoner j and notwith¬
standing the British troops came up in time to secure
their retreat, they lost upwards of 3000 men. This
defeat of the right wing made the commander in duel
recal his troops from their advanced positions, notwith¬
standing General Abercromby was master ot Hoorne
and its garrison, and General Pultney had carried by
assault the chief position of the Dutch army.
Such was the severity of the weather, that no fresh
attack was made till the 2d of October, on which day
a desperate action commenced between the British,
and the united Dutch and French troops, at 6 o’clock in
the morning, which did not terminate till the same hour
at night when the British gained possession of Alkmaer
and the neighbouring villages. This engagement
having been chiefly carried on among the sand hills
near the ocean, the fatigue which the troops endured,
prevented them from gaining any great advantage
over the fugitives, who took a position between Bavev-
wycke and Wyck-op-zee, where the duke of York again
attacked them on the 6th, and kept possession of the
field after a very sanguinary contest. This, however,
was the last success gained by the invading army. Ihe
duke of York finding that he could make no farther
progress, the enemy having been so rapidly reinforced,
the difficulties presented by the face of the country and
the badness of the weather also conspiring against him,
retired to Schager Brug, where he waited for orders
from England relative to his return home. Being in
the mean time closely pressed by the enemy, his em¬
barkation must have been accomplished with great dan¬
ger, had he not entered into a convention with the
Dutch and French, that his retreat should not be mo¬
lested farther, in return for which he promised not to
injure the country by demolishing any of the dykes
which defended it from the sea, and that Great Britain
would restore to France and Holland 8000 prisoners
taken before the present campaign.
The affairs of the French republic now began, in
consequence of these events, to wear a more favourable
aspect. It is true, Championet was defeated in Italy
in all his efforts against the Austrians, and Ancona sur¬
rendered on the 13th November to General Frolich $
but the French were still masters of the Genoese terri¬
tory, Switzerland and Holland, and the new combina¬
tion formed against them seemed about to be dissolved.
Prussia withdrew at an early period, and still preserved
a neutrality 5 and from existing circumstances it was
natural to conclude, that the emperor of Russia would
oS also desert the cause of the allies.
The Turks An event took place about this time which present-
det'eated hygd the revolution of France in a light never before
Bonaparte seen> Our readers will recollect that General Bona*
aear the wag obliged to retreat from Acre with great loss,
, uamn s, ^ sjege ^ ^jg tjme jie reCeiVed in¬
formation that a Turkish army was about to invade
Egypt by sea, and therefore he returned across the de¬
sert of Arabia by the way of Suez, and arrived in the
vicinity of the Pyramids on the Uth of July, when an
N C E.
army of 18,000 Turks landed at Aboukir, which they ^
carried by assault, and put the garrison to death, con- U—^
sisting of 500 men. Bonaparte marched down the ^ j
country against them on the I5th» and ten days after
came in sight of them at six o’clock in the morning.
Their troops were divided into two parts, encamped on
the opposite sides ot a delightful plain. Ihe cavalry of
Bonaparte advanced with rapidity into the centre of the
Turkish army, cutting off the communication between
its difl’erent parts. Struck with terror, the Jinks en¬
deavoured to gain their ships, when the whole ol them
perished in the sea. The left division made a more
obstinate resistance, but it was at length defeated. About
the end of September the news of this victory reached
France, which recalled the memory of Bonaparte’s con¬
quests, Us forming a striking contrast to the reverses
experienced by the republic after that period. The di¬
rectory received a dispatch from him on the 10th of
October, which was read to the councils; and on the
14th a message announced the arrival of Bonaparte in 5G9
France, together with his principal ofiicers. He was^ <,i3|
received at Paris with marks of distinction, although
none could tell why he had left his army and returned gu^TerJ
home. At this time the parties in the government were the dir|
equally balanced ; and the assistance of Bonaparte was rial gt|
requested by both. The Jacobins were superior in thementi |
council of five hundred, and the Moderates in that of the
Ancients. It was understood that Sieyes was attached
to the latter party, on which account the Jacobins had
made many unsuccessful efforts to dismiss him fiom his
office. Intriguing as the Jacobins were, they were fairly
outwitted by Sieyes, who had a plot ripe for execution,
to overwhelm them in a moment. On the morning ot
the 9th of November, one of the committees of the
council of Ancients gave in a report, that the country
was in danger, proposing the sitting of the legislature to
be adjourned to St Cloud, about six miles from Paris.
The council of five hundred having no legal right to
question the authority of this decree, and as the ruling
party was clearly taken unawares, the members gave
their silent consent, and both councils met at the place
appointed on the loth of November.^
The council of five hundred received a letter from
Lagarde, secretary to the directory, informing them that
four of its members had resigned their offices, and that
Barras was a prisoner by order of Bonaparte, whom the
council of Ancients had appointed commander of their
guard. In the midst of their deliberations, General
Bonaparte entered the hall, accompanied by about 20
officers and grenadiers. He proceeded towards the
chair where his brother Lucien sat as president, when
great tumult ensued, and the epithets of a Cromwell, a
Csesar, and a usurper, were conferred upon him. J he
members pressed forward upon him, and Arena a Corsi¬
can endeavoured to dispatch him with a dagger; but
he was rescued by his military attendants. A party of
armed men entered the hall, and carried off the presi¬
dent, when in a violent debate which ensued, it was
proposed that Bonaparte should be declared an outlaw.
Military music was soon heard approaching; a body ot
armed troops entered the hall, and the members were
obliged to disperse. The council of Ancients set aside
the constitution, and passed a number of decrees. 1'he
directory was abolished, and an executive commission
substituted in its place, consisting of Bonaparte, Sieyes,
FRANCE.
■ance
799
|a
o-
and Roger Dticos, under the denomination of consuls.
J The sittings were adjourned till the 20th of February
1800, and two committees, consisting of 21 members,
chosen from both councils, to act as interim legis¬
lators. The greater part of the members composing
the council of five hundred returned to Paris, having
been expelled from the hall by the military, while part
of them continued, and sanctioned all the decrees of the
council of ancients. On the 17th of November the
consuls decreed the transportation of a great number
of Jacobins to Guiana, and cast a number of them into
prison; but these decrees were soon after reversed, and
every thing assumed an air of tranquillity.
The expedition to Egypt was in the mean time un¬
successful in every one of its objects. Tippoo Sultan,
son and successor to the celebrated Hyder Ally, sove¬
reign of the Mysore country, had, in the year 1792,
been under the necessity of concluding a treaty of peace
with Lord Cornwallis under the walls of Seringapa-
tam, in which he resigned a portion of his territory to
the invaders, and agreed to pay a very considerable sum
of money. He was likewise obliged to deliver up two
of his sons as hostages for the punctual performance of
every thing stipulated. A war which terminated in
this manner could not reasonably be expected to become
the basis of much cordiality. He was indeed obliged
to submit, but he only waited for a favourable opportu¬
nity to recover what he had lost, and to accomplish, if
possible, the total expulsion of the British from India,
which with him was a favourite object, as it had always
been with his father. The ascendancy of Britain, how¬
ever, was now so great, chiefly owing to the exertions
of YVarren Hastings, Esq. that Tippoo clearly perceived
the impossibility of shaking it, without the assistance of
an army from Europe. To no country but France
could he look for an adequate force ; but the foreign
and domestic wars arising from the revolution, had pre¬
vented the rulers of that nation from attending to the
interests of distant regions. In 1797, Tippoo deter¬
mined to renew his intercourse with I ranee by means
of the islands of the Mauritius and Bourbon. One Hi-
paud, formerly a lieutenant in the French navy, who had
resided for some time at Seringapatam, persuaded Tippoo
that the French had a considerable force at the Mauritius,
which with little difficulty might be sent to his assist¬
ance. Ripaud being sent to confer with the French
upon the subject, he and two ministers from Tippoo
were joyfully received by Malartic the governor, and
vessels were sent to France to acquaint the directory
with their proposals.
The governor Malartic in the mean time, either from
tSai|g,:oss ignorance, from treachery, or a wish to involve
d by ^‘i’P00 in a quarrel with Britain, adopted a mea¬
sure which ultimately defeated the plans, and brought
about the ruin of that prince. On the 30th of January
1798, he published a proclamation, containing the whole
of Tippoo’s confidential proposals, inviting all citizens
of France to espouse his cause. Copies of this procla¬
mation soon found their way into most quarters of the
world. Accordingly the governor general of India, re¬
ceived orders to watch the motions of'Tippoo, and even
hostilely attack him if it could not be prudently avoid-
H • u11'6 Ind‘an government, however, had, before
thls' been apprised of the impending danger, and had
made preparations for war without loss of time.
l8l
But Tippoo did not place his sole dependence on France,
assistance from France. He invited one Zemauu Shah (u—
from the north-west, whose kingdom was composed of I799*
provinces taken from Persia and India, to make an at¬
tack upon the British and their allies, in hopes of
direct aid from France, which Tippoo expected in con¬
sequence of Bonaparte’s invasion of Egvpt, and the.
important service which he looked for from the exer¬
tions of Zemaun Shah, he remained quiet, and endea¬
voured to temporise with the British. Military prepa¬
rations on the part of the British being in a consider¬
able degree of forwardness, Lord Morniugton, the go¬
vernor-general, informed Tippoo that be was not igno¬
rant of his hostile designs, and of bis connection with
France, proposing, however, to send an ambassador for
the purpose of bringing about a reconciliation. This
was not answered till the 18th of December, although
written by his lordship on the 8th of the preceding
month. Tippoo simply denied the charge, and refused
to admit the ambassador. Unwilling to sport with
human blood, bis lordship on the 9th of January 1799,
again intreated Tippoo to receive the ambassador, to
which no answer was returned during a whole month,
during which interval 5000 men arrived from England,
and General Harris received orders to advance at the
head of the Madras army against the kingdom of My¬
sore. This seemed to bring Tippoo a little more to rea¬
son, who now offered to receive the ambassador, on con¬
dition he should come without any attendance ; hut as
this was not deemed a satisfactory concession, the armv
continued to advance. An army from Bombay was
also approaching on the opposite side of his dominions,
which encountered part of Tippoo’s forces, and defeated
them; General Flarris defeating the remainder of them
on the 27th of March, who on the 7th of April sat
down before Seringapatam. This officer received a
lettei from Tippoo on the 9^,> in which he mentioned
his adherence to treaties, and wished to he informed as
to the cause of the war. I he only answer he receiv¬
ed was a reference to Lord Mornington’s letters. He
made another attempt on the 20th, and General Harris
informed him that he had already been made acquaint¬
ed with the only conditions which could or would be
granted. The half of his dominions was to be surrender¬
ed, large sums of money were expected from him ; he
was to admit an ambassador to his court, to dis¬
claim all connection with the French, and grant hos¬
tages for the faithful observance of every stipula¬
tion.
Tippoo wrote a letter to General Harris on the 28th, Proposalsot
desiring leave to treat by ambassadors, which was re- T*PP00 r«-
fused him, as lie was in possession of the sine qua 7?0«oU(C*c<b
the British government. It was believed that the be¬
sieging army would have been obliged to retreat, had
it been possible for Seringapatam to hold out only a
fortnight longer. On the last day of April the besieg¬
ers began to batter the walls of the city, and they <rot
possession of it on the 4th of May. Tippoo hastened
from his palace to the attack, when given to understand
that a breach was made in the walls, where he fell
undistinguished in the general conflict. His treasures
and tlm plunder of the city were immense, with which
the besieging army was enriched, after deducting a cer¬
tain proportion for the British government and the East
India Company. His subjects immediately surrendered,
and i
1 32
Fiance,
1799-
FRA
ami tliat part of the country which formed the ancient
kingdom of Mysore, was conferred on a descendant oi
the former race of its kings, and the remaining terri¬
tories were divided among the British and their allies.
The family of Tippoo were either taken or made a
voluntary surrender, being removed from that part ot
the. country, and allowed a decent annuity.
Zemaun Shah in the mean time invaded the country
from the north-west, advancing to the vicinity of Delhi,
and spreading terror and desolation wherever he came.
Satisfied with plunder, however, he soon withdrew his
forces ; and the French army being detained in Egypt
hv a war with the Turks, as well as the want of snip¬
ping at Suez, Tippoo had to contend singly against the
united forces of Britain and her allies in those eastern
N C E.
512
A consular
regions. ,
The plan of a new constitution was presented to the
government public by the consuls in the month of December I 799.
established According to this plan, 80 men, who had the powei
in France. 0f nominating their own successors, and were called
tl e conservative senate, had likewise authority to elect
the whole of the legislators and executive rulers of
the state, while hone of these offices could be held by
themselves. One man, called the chief consul, pos¬
sessed the sovereign authority, held his power for ten
vears, and was competent to be re-elected. Other
two consuls were to assist in his deliberations, but had
no power to controul his will. The legislative power
was divided into two assemblies 5 the tribunate, com¬
posed of 100 members, and the conservative senate
of 300. When the chief consul thought proper to
propose a law, the tribunate might debate upon it,
without having authority to vote either for or against
it, while the members of the senate might vote, but
were not enabled to debate. The consuls and the
members of the legislative body, as well as of the
conservative senate, were not responsible for their con¬
duct, hut ministers of state employed by them were
understood to he accountable. The committees which
framed the constitution, nominated the persons who
were to execute the functions of government. Bona¬
parte was appointed chief consul, and Cambaceres and
Lebrun second and third consuls. Sieyes, as formerly,
declined taking any active part in the administration ol
public affairs, and he received, as a gratuity for his ser¬
vices, an estate belonging to the nation, called Crosne,
in the department of the Seine and Oisne.
513 .. . Bonaparte had not long been in possession of the
proposes 10 reins of government, till lie sent overtures for negotia-
treat with ting peace with the allied powers at war with France *,
Britain. it is to be presumed that he did not wish ior a ge¬
neral peace. Separate proposals were made to the dif¬
ferent belligerent powers, no doubt with a view to dis¬
solve the coalition •, but the decrees of the convention,
which declared war against all the powers of Europe,
were not repealed by him. He departed from the
forms sanctioned by the custom of nations in carrying
on diplomatic correspondence, hut addressed a letter di¬
rectly to his Britannic majesty, the substance of which
was contained in two questions ; “ whether the war,
which had, for eight years, ravaged the four quarters
of the globe, was to be eternal ?” and “ whether there
were no means for Britain and France of coming to a
good understanding?” Satisfactory, and we think, un¬
answerable replies, were made to these questions by the
2
British ministry, who dwelt much, and very justly, on
the had faith of revolutionary rulers, and the instability
of the governments of France since the subversion of
monarchy. The overture transmitted to Vienna was of
a similar nature, and it experienced similar treatment;
but tiie emperor of Pmssia abandoned the coalition, pro¬
bably on account of the shameful manner in which Su-
warrow had been treated, while carrying on the war in
Italy and Switzerland.
Bonaparte on the 7th of March sent a message to
the legislative body, containing his own ideas of the
conduct and designs of the British cabinet, and assur¬
ing them that he would invoke peace in the midst of
battles and triumphs, and swear to fight only for the
happiness of France and the repose of the world. This
message was followed by two decrees ; the one calling,
in the name of honour, upon every soldier absent on
leave from the armies of Italy and the Rhine, to join
them before the 5th of April ; and the other appointing
a fresh army of reserve of 60,000 men to be assembled
at Dijon, under the immediate command of the first
consul.
About this time the belligerent powers were nearly
ready for opening the campaign in Italy and on the
Rhine. The Genoese republic was the only territory
of any importance in Italy, which remained in the
hands of the French, but the army by which they de¬
fended it was very much reduced since the preceding
vear, and might be considered as in a state or mutiny,
from the want of pay, clothes and provisions. The
Austrians eagerly wished to obtain possession of Genoa
and all its dependencies, in which they could not iail
to he seconded by the Genoese themselves, as they look¬
ed upon the republicans to be the destroyers of their
commerce. Massena received the command of the
army in Genoa, with extraordinary powers, and evinced
himself to be a general of consummate abilities. Car-
rying a reinforcement of troops with him from Lyons
and Marseilles, and reducing to order and obedience,
by a judicious distribution of rewards and punishments,
all whom he found ready to desert their standards, he
soon found himself at the head of a force sufficient to
check the progress of the Austrians, and keep the
Genoese in subjection. After a number of battles had
been fought, he W'as obliged to retire into the city,
where he must soon have been compelled to surrender
by famine, if General Melas had immediately blockad¬
ed it. . „ , r H
The appearance of the British fleet on the 5th 0! A Brit
April, was the concerted signal for Melas to make an2eeui
attack upon Genoa, the communication between which
and France was thus cut ofl. Prior to the arrival of
Lord Keith, a quantity of wheat and other provisions
had been thrown into the city, by which means the
army and the inhabitants were rescued from the conse¬
quences of immediate famine. The surrounding coun-
ti’y was soon vanquished by the Austrians j but as the
gallant Massena still lived in the expectation of supplies
from France, he obstinately refused to surrender the
city. General Melas having nothing to apprehend
from this army blocked up in Genoa, left General Ott
to continue the blockade, and went with his own force*
against Sauchet, who commanded another division of the
French army.
A decisive battle was fought between Ceva and St
Lorenzo,
FRANCE.
[ ,ince> Lorenzo, on the 7!h of ^Iays in which the republicans
  experienced a total defeat, having lost 1200 prisoners,
[ loo. and 19 pieces of cannon. This soon obliged General
1 13 Sauchet to abandon his strong position of Col diTenda,
T ^rd * w,iere ^ie behind him four pieces of cannon and 200
T‘^0. prisoners; and marching on towards Nice, the Aus-
yL trians drove him from one post to another, till he wms
finally obliged to take refuge behind the Var ; by which
movements General Melas became master of the whole
department of the Maritime Alps. But the campaign
on the Rhine did not open in such a favourable manner
to the Austrians. The court of Vienna directed the
archduke Charles to resign the command of the army
to General Kray, who distinguished himself in such an
eminent manner in Italy, during the campaign of 1799.
01 his military talents there could be only one opinion,
and his integrity and zeal had been sufficiently tried ;
hut he had the misfortune not to be so noble as some of
the other generals ! It is truly ridiculous to behold men
contending about trifles, when engaged in matters of
such vast importance as the salvation of their country.
During the most propitious days of Rome, her greatest
^ generals were plebeians,
M.au re- ^ C011^ llot be reasonably expected that such a dis-
fuato aetcordant army, commanded by an able officer w ho had
as ected the misfortune not to be a nobleman, would ever be
brua- able to make bead against the veterans of France, led
pai,, on by such an extraordinary general as Moreau. The
Hungarian troops, finding themselves ready to be sacri¬
ficed to the party dissensions of their officers, would not
fight against the enemy. rIhe council of war at Vienna
had sent General Kray instructions at the opening of
the campaign, how he was to dispose of his forces, and
having no general under him to support his own opi¬
nion, he was under the painful necessity of obeying his
instructions, whether he could approve of them or not.
Instructions of a similar nature had been transmitted to
Moreau by the chief consul, but he indignantly refused
to fight under such restraints. He was no doubt con-
1 scions that his own knowledge of the military art was
at least equal to that of Bonaparte, while he was infi¬
nitely better acquainted with the country, and there¬
fore he sent a courier to Paris to acquaint the consul,
that if the orders sent him were to be rigidly obeyed,
he would feel it his duty to resign his command, and*
accept of an inferior station. He accompanied his re¬
signation with a plan of the campaign which he had
framed for himself, the propriety of which instantly-
struck the chief consul, and therefore he was ordered
i to carry on the war, according to his own iudge-
'J, ment. J 6
W General Moreau being thus wisely left to adopt and
ef'r: J? execute his own measures, crossed the Rhine, and drove
|'vn |'e. . e Austrians from one post to another, till Kray, find-
neat it impracticable to adopt offensive measures with a
rebellious army, with disaffected officers to command
them, resolved to maintain his position at Ulm, and
wait for assistance from Vienna. He was defeated at
Stockach, Eugen, and Moskirch, although he exhi¬
bited luily the talents of an able general; but what ta¬
lents were able to counteract the pernicious consequen¬
ces of treachery P At one time, when 7000 men recei¬
ved orders to advance, they instantly threw down their
arms. . Kray too plainly perceiving that it was abso¬
lutely tn vain to attempt any thing of an offensive na-
1 8
tore, entrenched himself strongly at Ulm, commanding France.
both sides of the Danube, which makes it a place of -—  1
great importance. Moreau perceiving his intentions, i8co.
resolved to try the passage of the Danube, and force
him to a general engagement, by cutting him off from
his magazines at Donawert. For this purpose he gave
orders to Lecourbe with one ol the wings of his army,
to take possession of a bridge between Donawert and
Dillingen, which was not effected without considerable
difficulty. T. he Austrians having perceived, when too
late, that their all was in danger, disputed every inch
of ground with the French commander. Between the
time of marching to, and of crossing the Danube, Kray
sent reinforcements to the left bank to oppose the pas¬
sage, in consequence of which a battle was fought at
Hochstet, in the vicinity of Blenheim, where victory
again declared for the French, who made 4000 of the
enemy prisoners, independent of the killed and wound¬
ed lost by the Austrians, of which we have seen no es¬
timate.
General Kray, sensible that his situation was perilous,
left a strong garrison at Ulm, and marched against the
enemy, attacking them at Newhurg, which both sides
conducted with determined bravery ; but the Austrians,
after a long contest, fell back on Ingolstadt. It mav
not improperly be said, that this battle decided the fate
of Germany, i he electorate of Bavaria was now in
the possession of the French, with other territories of
less extent; and as they approached the hereditary do¬
minions of the emperor, men of republican sentiments
behaved with such effrontery, as to convince the court,
that no dependence could be reasonably placed on ar¬
mies composed of such men. The imperial family, and
the British ambassador, were openly insulted in the
theatre, and the cry oi peace, peace, was vociferated
from different quarters. ^
The ill success of General Kray alone could not ex-TheFrench
cite such a spirit, because at this time the affairs ofarmy at
Germany were even in a more deplorable state in Italy l)!Jori un*
than upon the Danube. When the campaign opened exi>c^ledly
TM • .i c i h ° r , marches for
on the ithine, the army of reserve under the command Italy.
of Bonaparte, which was formed at Dijon, began its
march. When the French government declared that
this army was above 50,000 strong, and receiving daily
reinforcements, few could be found who were disposed ’
to give any credit to the report. Such as were friendly
to the cause of the allies, were unwilling to allow the
French government so much vigour, while it was in¬
dustriously circulated by the Jacobins of Germany, that
it could not amount to more than 6coo men. The
first consul set out from Paris on the 5th of May, to
take the command of an army, the strength and desti¬
nation of which had given rise to so many conjectures,
and on receiving the troops cantoned at Dijon, he pro¬
ceeded towards Genoa. Having been a short time in
the Pays de Valid, he joined the army of reserve at the
foot of St Bernard, of which he immediately assumed
the command. It is certain that a very insignificant
force would have been able to arrest the progress of
Bonaparte while ascending the mountain ; but either
General Melas had heard nothing of its being in mo¬
tion, or lie had implicitly believed the report of the Ja¬
cobins. In consequence of this ignorance or credulity,
the army of reserve encountered no opposition till it
reached the town of Aost, of which the first consul very
S00&
I S4
I'litic;.
3 80O.
FRA
soon gamed possession. Having, svith the most asto¬
nishing perseverance, passed the (ort of Bard, he pro¬
ceeded on his march down the valley ot Aost with lit¬
tle opposition, till he arrived at the town of Yorea,
where the Austrians were assembled in force, but weie
obliged to give way before the impetuosity ot the ie-
publicans, and post themselves on the heights ot Ko-
mano behind the Chinsella. It was of vast importance
as commanding the passage of the river, and was occu¬
pied by 4000 cavalry, 5000 infantry, and a few pieces
of cannon. It was taken on the 26th of May, and the
fort of Brunette soon after, in consequence of which
the road to Turin was now open. While the republi¬
cans were etfecting a passage over St Bernard, the chiet
part of the Austrians under Melas were employed in
the celebration of their victory over them at Nice,
little suspecting how soon they were to experience a sad
reverse of fortune, and that the victors would very soon
be vanquished. General Melas, at length roused from
his dream of security, marched towards Turin with all
possible speed, in order to defend the Po, and prevent
the invaders from arriving at Vienna. . He naturally
concluded that Turin would be the first important point
of attack made by the French, but in this he was de¬
ceived 5 for while he prepared to dispute the passage
of the Po with the republicans, Bonaparte suddenly
turned to the left, and entered Milan on the 2d of
June. .
The army of Bonaparte was very numerous, but lie
wanted magazines, artillery, and stores of every kind $
but understanding that Pavia was the great depot ot the
Austrian army, he sent his advanced guard against it
under General Lannes, who made an easy conquest ot
it, and found in it more than 200 pieces of cannon,
8000 muskets, 2000 barrels of gunpowder, and a pro¬
digious quantity of all sorts of provisions. Another of
the chief consul’s generals crossed the Po at Stradella }
and having cut off the communication between General
Melas and the country of Piedmont, gained possession
of the Austrian magazines at Piacenza, Cremona, and
a number of other places on the banks of the river.
About this time it was that Bonaparte became ac-
   qua in ted with the fate of Genoa, by means of intercep-
m lation at tefj )etters. Massena did every thing in the power of
t.'eaoa. bravery and perseverance to keep possession of the city j
but after he had witnessed 15,000 of the inhabitants pe¬
rish with hunger, he surrendered to the British and
Austrian commanders on the 5th of June, and obtained
very favourable terms, when we consider that it was
impossible for him to bold out any longer. The right
wing of his army, consisting of 8110 men, was permit¬
ted to march into France by the way of Nice, and the
rest were to be conveyed by sea to Antibes, at the ex¬
pence of Britain ; no man was to be deemed responsible
for having held any public office under the government
of the Ligurian republic j and all officers taken priso¬
ners since the commencement of the campaign, were
allowed to return to France on their parole, not to
serve till they should be regularly exchanged. By the
fall of Genoa, the Austrian army which besieged it
was at liberty to co-operate with the commander-in-
chief’, and, accordingly, General Ott marched at the
head of thirty battalions' to check the progress of the
French army in Piedmont. On the pth of June he was
met by Generals Lannes and Victor at Montebello,
3
France;
ISO::!
N C E.
where a battle was fought with great fury on both
sides, when the French were victorious, and General *.
Ott retreated with great loss. Melas being unable to
arrest the progress of the republicans by detachments of
bis army, collected his whole force between Alessandria
and Tortona, that he might be able to open a way for
himself to the Austrians on the Mincio, if he should
find it impossible to crush the enemy. T-he consequence
of this step was the ever memorable battle of Marengo,
fought on the 14th of June, which has been variously
described. The French accounts represented the army
of General Melas as more numerous than that of the
chief consul, to whose superior conduct and bravery
alone the French were indebted for success.. Others
have believed that the superiority was on the side of the
republicans, and think they can discover as much from
comparing together the different bulletins ol the armv
of reserve. On this point we pretend not to decide,
only it is certain that the Austrians were victorious for
nine hours, and the fate of that battle appears to have
been decided by the masterly conduct of General De-
saix, who died on the field. One false movement,.made
by General Melas, which enfeebled his centre, aftorded
the gallant Desaix an opportunity of making a vigorous
charge with a body of cavalry that had hitherto been
unemployed. General Zach, a man worn out with age
and fatigue, when about to take the command of the
army from Melas, fell into the hands of the enemy*
who remained masters of the field of battle.
The Austrians lost in this engagement above 9000c;ieati
men, and the French upwards of 12,000, according to of the J
their own account. Enraged that the victory shouldtnans a
519
M tssena in
a critical
be thus snatched from them, the Austrians were eager
to renew the combat on the following day j but Gene-g0
ral Melas deemed it prudent to check the ardour of his
troops, and concluded a capitulation, said by some to
be unparalleled in the annals of war. He may have
signed such a capitulation in consequence of instructions
from the council of war at Vienna, or the fortresses gi¬
ven up by him may have been destitute of provisions.
If we admit the first supposition, it follows that the
council of war were determined enemies to the cause ot
the combined powers j and if we go upon the second,
Melas himself was perhaps the most improvident com¬
mander that ever was charged with the defence of a
country. The whole of Piedmont and Genoa were
o-iyen up to the French, and an armistice was conclud¬
ed, to last till the court of Vienna had time to return
its opinion. . „
General Kray in Italy was anxious to avail nimselt ot
this armistice, to arrest the progress of Moreau’s army ;
but that able general would not listen to any overtures
upon the subject, till he should receive instructions from
Paris. Count St J alien arrived with proposals of peace
from the Imperial cabinet, in consequence of which the
armistice was concluded in Germany and Italy, the
posts then occupied by the respective armies being con¬
sidered as constituting the line of demarcation. In op¬
position to the spirit of their stipulations with General
Melas, the French reinforced their army in Italy, le¬
vied immense contributions, and raised troops in differ¬
ent states declared by themselves to be independent,
While France was everywhere victorious in Europe,
her troops in Africa were subjected to hardships and dis-
grace. Their being abandoned by their chief madelro0i)S
them E;!!'1
mtee,
bo.
n
al
r as-
ted.
3
icli
*1 is
fy
fled.
FRA
them complain bitterly j and Kleber is said to have de-
•J dared, that the same universe should not contain him
and Bonaparte. He continued the negotiations begun
by General Bonaparte with the grand visier for evacu¬
ating Egypt, between whom a convention was conclud¬
ed on the 24th of January 1800, to which Sir Sidney
Smith agreed on the part of Great Britain. By virtue
of this convention, the republican army, its baggage
and effects, were to be collected at Alexandria, Roset¬
ta, and Aboukir, to be conveyed to France in vessels
belonging to the republic, and such as might be fur¬
nished for that purpose by the Sublime Porte. It would
seem that nothing could have happened more injurious
to the interest of the allies than the evacuation of
Egypt upon such terms, since the consul would thus
have been furnished with nearly 18,000 troops, which
might have been advantageously employed, either in
Italy or on the Rhine. It is strange how this impor¬
tant circumstance did not occur to Sir Sidney Smith,
and no less so, how he took upon him the office of ple¬
nipotentiary. Mr Dundas clearly proved in the house
of commons, that he exceeded any power with which
he could reasonably conceive himself vested, that being
lodged with Lord Elgin at Constantinople. •
In the latter end of the year 1799, the British mini¬
stry had reason to believe that a negotiation would take
place between the grand visier and General Kleber,
respecting the evacuation of Egypt by the troops of the
latter $ and as such an event was much to be desired,
Lord Keith received orders to accede to it, on condi¬
tion that General Kleber and his army should be de¬
tained as prisoners of war, instead of being sent back to
France. This was bitterly complained of in France,
and numbers even in England exclaimed against it as
a flagrant breach of faith, while General Kleber him¬
self did not consider it in such a light, although the
only person who had reason to do so, could he have done
it with fairness. On the 20th of March he attacked
the Turks in the vicinity of Cairo, who fled before him
in all directions, and left more than 8000 men dead
and wounded on the field of battle. By this conquest
Cairo was restored to the French, which in terms of the
convention they had abandoned. Kleber again pro¬
posed to evacuate Egypt, on the terms agreed to by
the grand visier and Sir Sidney Smith, and Lord Keith
being ordered to agree to them by the cabinet of St
James’s, a suspension of hostilities took place, and the
Turks were ready to be delivered from enemies whom
they were not able to expel, when General Kleber was
suddenly assasinated.
Both parties had reason to regret this event, as Ge¬
neral Kleber appears to have been, not only the most
honourable, but by far the ablest commander of the re¬
publicans, in that quarter of the globe. It is not cer¬
tainly known by whom he was murdered, nor who were
the contrivers of such a plot; but at Constantinople his
successor Menou was strongly suspected. We must con¬
fess that he was not friendly to Kleber; but on the
other hand we do not find General Reynier, in his
“ State of Egypt,” insinuate any thing of this nature
against Menou, although he treats his conduct and abi¬
lities with some degree of contempt; and we are in¬
formed that the assassin himself, previous to his execu¬
tion, solemnly acquitted Menou from being in the least
acquainted with the plot.
Vol. IX. Part I. -j-
N C E.
As Menou refused to leave Egypt by capitulation,
the British government formed the resolution of driving
him out of it by force. Sir James Pulteney received
the command of 12,000 men, to act in the Mediter¬
ranean in such a manner as might most effectually an-GenemI
   1 t*i t . . . . Abercrom-
noy the enemy ; a plan which was disconcerted by the bysliUfor
issue of the battle of Marengo. He was superseded by Egypt.
Sir Ralph Abercromby, who carried reinforcements
along with him, together with a train of artillery from
Gibraltar. He touched at Minorca and Malta, from
whence he steered his course for the coast of Egypt,
which he reached on the 1st of March 1801, and
anchored next day in the bay of Aboukir j but the
weather prevented him from attempting to land till the
7th of that month, at 10 o’clock in the forenoon.
The first division effected a landing in the face of
the French, to the amount of 4000 men, whose position
was so very advantageous, that an eye witness thought
they might have resisted the world ; yet 2000 British
troops drove them from it with the loss of some field
pieces, and the disembarkation was continued during
that and the following day.
The whole army of General Abercromby moved fbeFrench
forward on the 12th, and coming in sight of the main con(tuere<?
body of the French, gave them battle on the J^Sth. ^^ee^rri‘
The conflict was obstinate on both sides, and their loss Alexandria
very considerable, but victory in the end declared for and Gene-’
the British. This advantage was followed up with ral Aber-
vigour, and on the 2ist a more interesting battle wascro,al>>'
fought with similar success, about four miles from the wounded,
city of Alexandria. Sometimes the French had the
advantage, and sometimes the British, but the latter
were finally victorious. General Abercromby, that he
might not damp the ardour of his troops, concealed for
two hours the anguish of a mortal wound he received
in this action:—-a degree of magnanimity which has
very seldom been equalled, and we believe never was
surpassed. The loss of the British on this occasion
was estimated at 1500, and that of the French at 4000
men. 526
As it may be said that the fate of Egypt was de-^6 No¬
dded in a great measure by these two battles, we beg^rn C<>a'
leave to call the attention of our readers to affairs of
great importance which about this time took place in
Europe. The powers of the north, envious of the supe¬
riority of Britain by sea, and acting under the influence
of the capricious Paul, were resolved to revive the
armed neutrality of Catharine II. during the continu¬
ance of the American war, and claimed a right of
trading to the ports of France, without being subjected
to have their vessels searched. The ministry of Great
Britain were determined to break such a confederacy ;
but to the astonishment of the nation they resigned at
this period. Hifl’erent causes have been assigned for an
event which was so unexpected $ but the ostensible rea¬
son was a difference in the cabinet relative to catholic
emancipation. After the union of Ireland with Bri¬
tain, it seems pretty clear thai the minister did propose
this subject in the cabinet $ but his majesty, from a sa¬
cred regard to his coronation oath, put his negative up¬
on it, in consequence of which Mr Pitt and his friends ^
gave in their resignation. In general they were sue-A ehaage
ceeded by men who had countenanced their administra-of m™»lry
tion during the war. Mr Addington was appointed
first lord of the treasury, and chancellor of the ex-* 1 a
A a chequerj
FRA
chequer j Lord Eldon, lord high chancellor-, the earl of
St Vincent, first lord of the admiralty ; Lord Havvkes-
bury and Pelham, secretaries of state, and the honour¬
able Colonel Yorke, secretary at war. T-he former
ministry was dissolved on the x ith of Februarybut
owing to the indisposition of his majesty, none of the
new ministry entered upon office before the middle of
March, during which eventful interval Mr I itt and
his associates had the chief management of public af¬
fairs. The new ministry entered upon office by solemn¬
ly pledging themselves to the nation, that they would
employ their united efforts in procuring a safe and ho¬
nourable peace with France, while they never lost sight
for a moment of the warlike plans of those who had
preceded them.
About this time the most hostile measures were
adopted by the powers composing the northern confe¬
deracy. The free city of Hamburgh was taken by a
Danish army under Charles prince of Hesse, in order
to injure the commerce of Great Britain 5 and the king
of Prussia sent a numerous army into the electorate of
Hanover. To punish this unaccountable conduct, and
dissolve the northern confederacy, a fleet of 17 sail of
the line, four frigates, four sloops, and some bomb vessels,
was fitted out in the ports of Britain, which sailed from
Yarmouth on the 1 2th of March, under the command
of Admiral Sir Hyde Parker, Lord Nelson, and Rear-
admiral Graves, and having passed the Sound, appear¬
ed before Copenhagen on the 30fh ^ie same noonth.
The Danes did not appear in the smallest degree agi¬
tated, for it was impossible to molest either the fleet or
the city, without passing through a channel so ex¬
tremely intricate, that it was once believed hardly safe
to attempt it with a single ship, and without any ene¬
my to oppose. This channel was sounded by Lord
Nelson, who undertook to conduct a large division of
the fleet through it, requesting from Sir Hyde Parker
the command of it, which was accordingly given him,
and Rear-Admiral Graves was his second in com¬
mand.
T1 'Danes As the ^gest ships drew too much water lor being
vanquished employed in such a hazardous attempt, his lordship
by Lord selected 12 of from 74 to 50 guns, together with four
frigates, four sloops, two fire-ships, and seven bombs.
A most prodigious force was opposed to this, consisting
of six sail of the line, 11 floating batteries, each mount-
ins from 26 twenty-four pounders to 18 eighteen poun¬
ders, one bomb-ship, and a number of schooners. These
were supported by the Crown islands, mounting 88
pieces of cannon ; by four sail of the line, moored in the
mouth of the harbour, and by a few batteries on the
island of Amak. Lord Nelson attacked this tremen¬
dous force on the 2d of April, and silenced the firing
of the batteries after an obstinate and bloody action
which lasted four hours, taking, burning, and sinking
about 17 sail, including seven sail of the line. In kill¬
ed and wounded the British lost 943 men, while that
of the Danes must have been at least double the num¬
ber. A suspension of hostilities was the immediate con¬
sequence of this brilliant victory, and a treaty of armed
neutrality to last for 14 weeks.
Who sails After repairing the ships that were damaged upon
from theneethis occasion, the British fleet sailed for Carlscrona, and
U> Carls- appeared before it on the 19th of April. The gover-
N C E.
nor here was immediately informed by the British ad- Framij
miral of what had happened at Copenhagen, requesting ^
his Swedish majesty to give an explicit answer whether
he meant to adhere to, or abandon the confederacy.
The reply was very ambiguous 5 but having received
the news of the sudden death of the emperor Paul, on
the 23d of March, and Lord Nelson, now commander
in chief, writing in a more peremptory tone than the
officer whom he had superseded, the court of Stock¬
holm deemed it prudent to follow the example of that
of Copenhagen. Alexander, the son and successor of
Paul, possessed of more honour and justice than his
father, restored all the British property- which he had
confiscated, relinquished his absurd claim to toe island
of Malta, and agreed that neutral vessels should be
searched, when bound for any one country at war with
another, which proved the grave of the northern confe¬
deracy.
When the armistice was signed between the Austrian
and French generals in the year 1800, the troops of
the latter were in possession of Germany almost to the
banks of the Inn, and of Italy to the frontiers of Ve-
but the spirit of the emperor was yet unsubdued,
‘The,
Nelson at
Copenha¬
gen.
5*9
CfOilll.
and he would not abandon his allies by a confirmation
of the preliminaries of peace which Count St Julian had
agreed to at Paris, as he exceeded the powers with
which he was entrusted. Kray having retired from ser¬
vice, the archduke John succeeded him, with whom the
emperor in person repaired to the army 5 but they soon
found it impracticable to act an offensive part against
General Moreau, and therefore another armistice, com¬
prehending Italy, was agreed to. The emperor wished
to include Britain in any treaty with France, but as
Bonaparte would admit no plenipotentiary froni that
country without the benefit of a naval armistice,
which it Was truly absurd to expect, General Moreau
received orders to go on with his military operations.
The army of Austria was now given to the com- 
mand of generals whose very names were almost un-trians
known beyond the confines of their own country, and ialb<
who evinced themselves but very little acquainted with
the military art. As Moreau was pondering on the
plan of his winter campaign, the right wing of bis
army was attacked by the Austrians with such vigour,
as had nearly reduced him to the necessity of acting on
the defensive} and had General Klenau known how
to make a temperate use of his victory on this occa¬
sion, the ruin of the French commander would have
been inevitable. The case was otherwise. Elated with
his success, he unaccountably abandoned his position
on the Inn, and engaging his cautious and able an¬
tagonist at the village of Hohenlinden, was totally
routed, with the loss of 80 pieces of cannon, 200
caissons, and 10,000 prisoners, independent of a pro¬
digious number left dead on the field.
General Moreau allowing the enemy no time to
rally, proceeded directly towards the Inn, crossing it
on the 9th of December, 1800, and driving his ene¬
mies before him, struck the court of Vienna with con¬
sternation and dismay. Prince Charles was recalled
to the command of the army, but after many fruitless
efforts to retrieve its lost honour, he proposed an ar¬
mistice on the 27th of December, which was granted
by the French commander, on condition that it should
J be
FRA
nee. k® immediately falloxved by a definitive treaty. If the
■s—mJ archduke could have had any dependence on his army,
01, although very much weakened, this armistice, in all
probability, would not have taken place, for the posi¬
tion of Moreau was perilous in the extreme. In the
very heart of Austria, he had behind him on his right,
about 30,000 men in the Tyrol, with upwards of
50,000 on his left. But Austrian valour was now almost
extinguished by so many sad reverses of fortune, and
t Austrian officers were not true to their trust.
y y 0f This armistice was followed by a treaty of peace
Li rilte. signed at Luneville on the 9th of February 1801, be¬
tween the emperor for himself and the Germanic body,
and the first consul of the French republic, in the name
of the people of France. By it the emperor ceded the
Brisgau to the duke of Modena, for the territories lost
by that prince in Italy, and bound himself to find in¬
demnities in the Germanic empire for all those princes
whom the fate of war had deprived of their dominions.
The grand duke of Tuscany was to renounce his duke¬
dom for ever, with its dependencies in the isle of Elba,
to the infant duke of Parma, for which the empire was
to furnish him with an adequate indemnification.
On the 28th of March a treaty of peace was con¬
cluded between the French republic and the king of
the Two Sicilies, by which his majesty obliged him¬
self to shut all the ports of Naples and Sicily against
ships of every description belonging either to the
British or the Turks, till these powers should conclude
s treaty with the French republic, and till Britain
and the northern powers should come to a good under¬
standing. He renounced for ever Porto Longano in
the isle of Elba, his states in Tuscany, and the princi¬
pality of Piombino, to be disposed of in such a manner
| L as the French republic might think proper.
Br n de- Great Britain had now none to assist her in the con-
by test with France, but the Turks in Egypt and the Por-
tuguese in Europe, powers which rather diminished than
| ‘ increased her strength, by dividing it. The Spaniards
had made an attack upon Portugal at the desire of
! France, conquering some of its provinces ; but a treaty
of peace was concluded between them on the 6th of
June, by which the king of Spain restored all his con¬
quests except the fortress of Olivenza, and the prince
regent of Portugal and Algarva promised to shut the
ports of his whole territories against the ships of Great
Britain, and to make indemnification to his Catholic
majesty for all losses and damages sustained by his sub-
^ jects during the war.
Bosoarte When the chief consul had made peace with all his
thr eus other enemies, he threatened Great Britain with an im-
*9; ide mediate invasion, which gave great uneasiness at first to
^ a considerable part of the nation, but it gradually sub¬
sided. In order to diminish this alarm, Lord Nelson
was sent to destroy the shipping and harbour of Bou¬
logne. His success in this undertaking fell short of the
expectations which many had formed ; but he made
such an impression on the enemy on the 4th of August,
as evinced that Britain could annoy the coast of France
with greater facility, than France could molest that of
Britain. It was also highly satisfactory to find that the
spirit of the British navy was not exclusively attached
to the hero of the Nile •, for Bear-admiral Saumarez
having, in the month of July, come up with a com-
N C E.
187
bined squadron of French and Spanish ships of war France.
bound for Cadiz, much superior to his own, he scru- 1 ir—^
pled not to give them battle, the consequence of which l8ox.
was, that one of them was captured, and two more
were burnt.
Attempts were again made by Britain during the Brltnin^it-
summer of 1801, to negotiate with France. The first tempts to
consul could not but see, from the total dissolution 0fUeatwil11
the northern confederacy, that it was impossible for him iflallce•
to ruin the British commerce, and consequently that all
the treaties he had made for the purpose of excluding
our ships from neutral ports would signify nothing. He
seemed determined, however, to keep possession of E-
gypt j and Britain, on the other hand, was as fully re¬
solved to wrest it from him. On this account the nego¬
tiations were protracted, till the conquest of that coun¬
try was known at London and Paris.
When Sir Ralph Ahercromhy died, General Hut-Rosetta,
chiuson succeeded to the command of the British forces Cail'°>
in Egypt, who was probably acquainted with the plan ^^an^r'a’
of his much lamented predecessor, as one spirit seemed tbe^ritUb.
to actuate both. Rosetta soon surrendered, which was
followed by the conquest of Cairo j and Menou having
accepted of similar-terms for Alexandria, the whole of
Egypt fell into the hands of the allies, and the republi¬
can troops and baggage were conveyed to the nearest
French ports in the Mediterranean, in ships furnished
them by the allies. After these events, the negotiations
between Britain and France went on more agreeably j
and, on the 1st of October, the preliminaries of peace
were signed at London by Lord Hawkesbury on tire
part of his Britannic majesty, and M. Otto on that of
the French republic. By it Great Britain engaged to
give up all the conquests made during the continuance
of the war, excepting the islands of Ceylon and Trini¬
dad. France was to restore nothing/ The Cape of
Good Hope was to be free to all the contracting par¬
ties j the island of Malta was to be given to the knights
of the order of St John of Jerusalem j Egypt was to be
given to the Ottoman Porte ; Portugal was to be main¬
tained in its integrity, except what was ceded to the
king of Spain by the prince regent; Naples and the
Roman states were to be evacuated by the French,
Porto Ferrajo by the British, with all the ports and
islands occupied by them in the Mediterranean ; and
plenipotentiaries were appointed to meet at Amiens, for
the purpose of drawing up and signing the definitive
treaty. This was concluded on the 22d of March 1802,
in consequence of which the French republic was ac¬
knowledged by the whole of Europe. ^<5
The restoration of peace, after so long and sanguinary Peace cou-
a contest, gave the highest satisfaction to all ranks and clu^et^ al
denominations of men, with the exception, perhaps, oftwelmlki-"
a few interested individuals 5 and it was certainly as ho-tain and
nourable to Britain as could be well expected from the Franc*,
nature of the war. It was celebrated at Paris, in the
cathedral of Notre Dame, with great pomp and magni¬
ficence. The celebration of the re-establishment of the
Catholic religion in France, to which the majority of
the people were warmly attached, gave additional im¬
portance to the scene in that country, and the measure
evinced the most consummate political wisdom on the
part of Bonaparte, whose popularity in consequence of
it was very much increased. We shall now notice a few
A a 2 of
88 FRA
France °f tlic leading articles in the celebrated Concordat, or
——v——' convention concluded between Bonaparte and the pope,
j 802. by which the Catholic faith was again established in
that country, dated loth September 1801, and a tew
of the regulations established for the government ot the
Protestant churches.
By the regulations established for the governmen
of the Catholic church, it is settled that no bull, re¬
script, decree, provision, or any thing in the place ot
a provision, or, in short, any other dispatch trom the
court of Rome, even though it should relate to indivi¬
duals only, shall be received, published, printed, or
otherwise put in force, without the authority of the go¬
vernment, and that no individual, assuming the cha¬
racter of nuncio, legate, vicar, or apostolic commissary,
or whatever other appellation he may assume, shall be
allowed to exercise his functions in 1 ranee, but with the
consent of the government, and in a manner confor¬
mable to the liberties of the Gallican church, ihe
decrees of foreign synods, or even of general councils,
are not to be published in France before the govern¬
ment shall have examined their form, their conformi¬
ty to the laws, rights, and privileges of the French re¬
public, and whatever might in their publication have a
tendency to alter or to affect public tranquillity.
national or metropolitan council, no diocesan synod, no
deliberative assembly, is allowed to be held without
the express permission of government.
The archbishops consecrate and instal their suffragans,
and watch over the maintenance of doctrine and dis¬
cipline in the dioceses dependent on their see. No per¬
son can be named a bishop who is not a Frenchman,
and at least thirty years of age. He must undergo an
examination respecting his tenets, by a bishop and two
priests commissioned by the chief consul. He nomi¬
nates and instals the curb; who are not however to
make public their appointment, till their nomination has
been agreed to by the chief consul. The bishops are
bound to reside in their dioceses, and are not at liberty
to quit them without the permission of the chief con-
sul. #
The cures are to perform no ecclesiastical functions
before they have taken, in the presence ot the prefect,
the oath prescribed by the convention entered into be¬
tween the government and the holy see. rlhey are hound
to reside in their respective parishes ; and they are
directly subject to the bishops in the exercise of their
functions. The vicars, and the assistants performing
their duties, are under the superintendence and direc¬
tion of the cures. They must be approved by the bi¬
shop, and are liable to be recalled by his authority. No
priest can quit his diocese to serve in another without
the permission of his bishop.
The archbishops and bishops who wish to exercise
the power which is given them, by establishing chapters,
are allowed to make no appointment without having
previously obtained the authority ot the government,
not only for the establishment itself, but for the num¬
ber and choice of the ecclesiastics by whom they are to
be formed.
All ecclesiastics are required to dress according to
the French fashion, and in black. The bishops add to
this costume the pastoral cross, and violet stockings.
Domestic chapels and oratories, for the accommodation
n e e.
of individuals, are not to be established without the Fraim
express permission of the government, granted on the ' v~
application of the bishop.
The bishop is to concert with the prefect the means
of calling the faithful to religious worship by public
bells, which are to be rung on ho other occasion, with¬
out the permission of the local police. The cures in
the ordinary exercise of their parochial duties pray for,
and cause prayers to be offered up in behalf of the pro¬
sperity of the French republic, and the safety oi the
French consuls. .
Article 38 fixes that there shall be in Prance 10
archbishops and 50 bishops j and article 60. fixes that
there shall be at least one parish within the jurisdiction
of a justice of peace, and as many subsidiary places of
worship as circumstances may require.
The salary of the archbishops is to be 15,000 francs
(about 623k sterling), and that of the bishops 10,000
francs (about 420I. sterling). The cures are divided in¬
to two classes. The salary of the cures of the first class
is to be 1500 francs (about 62I. sterling) j that of the
second class is to be 1000 francs (about 42I. sterling.)
The pensions they enjoy according to the regulations
of the constituent asembly shall be deducted from their
salaries. But the general councils of the larger com¬
munes are empowered to grant them an augmentation
of salary, such as circumstances may require.
The principal articles relating to the Protestant re¬
ligion are as follows : ....
No individual is allowed to officiate, as a minister of
religion, who is not by birth a Frenchman *, and neither
the Protestant churches nor their ministers are permit¬
ted to have any connexion with a foreign power or au¬
thority. The pastors or ministers pray for the prospe¬
rity ot the French republic and the safety of the con¬
suls. No doctrinal decision or formality, under the
title of a confession, or under any other title, is to lie
published or become a subject of instruction before its
publication has been authorised by the government j and
no change can take place in the forms of their discipline
without the same authority. The council of the state
takes cognizance of all the plans formed by their mini¬
sters, and of all the dissensions which may arise among
them. To the support of pastors of consistorial churches,
the property of these churches is to applied, as well as
the obligations established by usage and by positive
regulations 5 and they are on the same footing as the
Catholics in regard to the liberty of endowments, and
the nature of the property which can be the object of
Two academies or seminaries are appointed in the
east of France for the instruction of the ministers of the
confession of Augsburg 5 and one at Geneva for the in¬
struction of the ministers of therelormed churches. The
professors in all these academies or seminaries shall be
nominated by the chief consul. No person can be elect¬
ed a minister or pastor of any of these churches, who
has not studied during a fixed period in one of the se¬
minaries appointed for ministers of this persuasion, and
who cannot produce a certificate in due form of his ca¬
pacity and regular conduct during the continuance ol
his studies.
When Bonaparte was elected first consul for ten
years,
FRANCE.
pon
ce years, he was deemed competent to be re-elected for
^‘ * i thp same length of time j but he was afterwards chosen
j 2. for life» ^ie strange power conferred upon him
I 7 of nominating his successor, or, in other words, of
j)o arte governing beyond the grave, than which nothing can
clld yfe*be conceived more ridiculous or unjust. Having ad-
1 e* vanced with such rapidity in the acquisition of power
and authority, it was extremely natural to conclude,
that the ambition of Bonaparte was not satiated, but
that he would afterwards claim to himself, and influence
an infatuated people to sanction, still higher degrees of
dignity and grandeur. A book was accordingly pub¬
lished, either with his permission, or by his express com¬
mand, pointing out the propriety and expediency of cre¬
ating him First Emperor of the Gauls ! At a subse¬
quent period of the history contained in this article we
shall see this extravagant proposition actually carried
into effect, and Napoleon I. adorned with imperial ho¬
nours. This verifies what I)umourier asserted concern¬
ing the French, at a time when such an event was high-
; ly improbable j “ that a king they would have.”
Tb aent In the capacity of first consul, his power was similar
ofl; to that of his Britannic majesty, in respect of criminals
under sentence of death, that he could grant them at
his pleasure a plenary pardon, and admit them to return
again to the bosom of society; but his executive autho¬
rity in almost every other case was dangerously greater,
as there was in fact no other power in the state which
could possibly controul him. While his authority was
established thus firmly within his own dominions, he
endeavoured to increase his influence over the rest of
Europe, by forming an alliance with the court of Pe-
tersburgh. At first it was believed to be purely of a
commercial nature, but the active part taken by both
in dismembering the Germanic body, clearly evinced
that such an alliance was of a more interesting nature,
notwithstanding the ostensible reason for such conduct
was the indemnification of the sufl’erers during the war.
It will perhaps be admitted, that the state of France,
after the dreadful convulsions occasioned by the revolu¬
tion, required an executive government of considerable
promptitude and vigour j yet it was surely possible, and
it was no less a sacred duty binding upon him, to con¬
sult, in particular circumstances, the happiness and pros¬
perity of the people much more than he did, without
endangering in the smallest degree the stability of his
government. The French people should not have been
deprived of the many blessings resulting from a repre¬
sentative government j and if not ripe for it then, it
should have been conferred upon them at a subsequent
period. If the hero of Marengo was afraid of facing
a, free parliament, he thus pronounced himself a tyrant,
and if unable to moderate its deliberations, very defi¬
cient in political knowledge. He might find it expe¬
dient, tor instance, to impose some restraints on the li¬
centiousness of the press j but totally to annihilate its
liberty was as unjust as it was impolitic. He should
have recollected a saying of an historian and philoso¬
pher, “ that a whisper may circulate as rapidly as a
pamphlet.”
Towards the termination of the year 1802, Bona¬
parte was very active in his visitation of the sea-port
towns, where the most fulsome addresses were presented
to him which were ever given to any mortal being.
Various conjectures were formed as to the probable de*
189
Prance.
1803.
sign of such visits. It was thought by some that he
intended to conciliate the affections of the people, espe¬
cially the military and the constituted authorities •,
others imagined that it was to make himself acquainted
with the true state of public opinion ; while a third
class conjectured that it was with a view to increase
the navy of France, and acquire an intimate know¬
ledge of the different parts of the coast. Whatever his
object was, it is more than probable that it was direct¬
ed to one point, and that his complicated movements
were purposely intended to mislead those who felt an
interest in watching him. It is true, he made no se¬
cret of his determination to invade Great Britain $ but
we should greatly diminish that knowledge which he
must unquestionably possess, were we to conclude that
he ever seriously believed in the practicability of such
an undertaking.
H is abilities as a soldier will be disputed by no man, Character
for when viewed only in this light, he is unquestionably of Bona-
great; but it would be a most unpardonable breach ofPai'te*
truth to call him an able politician. While he promised
to restore the commerce of France, it continued to lan¬
guish, more perhaps after the restoration of peace, than
during the continuance of the war. This seems to be a
subject fairly beyond his comprehension. Numbers in
France drew a great part of their subsistence from the
expenditure of such persons from the British dominions,
as were disposed, after the return of peace, to pay a vi¬
sit to the metropolis of the Gallic empire. But while
we thus freely animadvert on the conduct of the first
consul, and point out his errors or faults without any
reserve, we wish not to conceal a single circumstance
which redounds to his honour. When Cambaceres, the
bishop of Caen, made application to the prefect of
Rouen to have the Protestant churches forcibly shut;
as soon as the request of the bishop was known to Bo¬
naparte, he sent for the second consul, and told him,
that if the bishop had not been his brother, he would
have struck him off the list. Such a reply was cer¬
tainly worthy of a great man.
On the 21st of February 1803, a view of the state of
France was laid before the legislative body and the tri¬
bunate, containing a comprehensive view of the relations
of the republic, both with respect to colonies and foreign
states ; but the most important part of it had a reference
to Britain, which was charged with acting improperly
in retaining troops in Malta and Egypt, after the sign¬
ing of the definitive treaty. It divided the inhabitants
of it into two parties, representing the one as having
sworn implacable enmity to France, and the other as
anxious to maintain the relations of peace and amity,
concluding with singular bravado, “ whatever may be
the success of intrigue at London, it will never force
other nations into new leagues ; and the French govern¬
ment asserts, with just pride, that England alone can¬
not now contend with France.”
It now began to he manifest, that the blessings °f^jostj1e
peace were not to be long enjoyed. The extensive war-prCpara-
like preparations going forward about this time in the lions of
ports of France and Holland, roused the jealousy of the trance.
British ministry; for although the ostensible reason was
to reduce the revolted colonies to obedience, they could
not help apprehending that much more was comprehend¬
ed in such extensive armaments. We shall still be more
inclined to adopt this opinion, if we advert to the fol¬
lowing
1S03.
FRA
lowing circumstance. When Bonaparte, on the 13th
of March, found Lord Whitworth and M. de Marco
standing together, he addressed them in these words .
“ We have fought for fifteen years, and it seems there
is a- storm gathering at London, which may produce
another war of fifteen years more.—The king of Lng-
land has said, in his message to the parliament, that
France had prepared offensive armaments j he has been
mistaken ; there is not in the ports of France any con¬
siderable force, they having all set out for St Domingo.
He said there existed some differences between the tvvo
cabinets •, I do not know of any. It is true that his
maiesty has engaged by treaty that England should
evacuate Malta. It is possible to kill the French people,
but not to intimidate them.” At the conclusion of the
drawing-room, it is said that Bonaparte addressed the
British envoy thus, when near the door: “ Ihe du¬
chess of Dorset has passed the most unpleasant season
at Paris j I most ardently wish she may pass the plea¬
sant one also ; but if it is true that we are to have war,
the responsibility, both in the sight of God and man,
will be on those who shall refuse to execute the treaty.”
Much about the same time a paper was inserted in
the Hamburgh Corresponrfenten, containing much vio¬
lent declamation against Great Britain, and believed
by many to have been the production of Bonaparte.
If our information be correct, the French minister re¬
quested, and obtained permission, from the magistrates
of that city to make it thus public. Some alterations
were made on the manuscript, which _ having given
offence to the republican ambassador, it was, on the
30th of March, inserted without any alterations or sup¬
posed amendments. It contains many rancorous ex¬
pressions against Great Britain, while part of it seems
to be a designed apology for the insulting conversation
which took place at Madame Bonaparte’s drawing room
already mentioned. It contains some reflections also
on the freedom of discussion indulged in the British
newspapers relative to the affairs of France, a circum¬
stance far beneath the notice of the first consul, who,
in this particular, did not advert to the freedom of the
British press.
In the interior parts of France, the most active pre¬
parations for war continued to be made, and at the sea¬
ports, the different commanders received orders to put
the navy as fast as possible on a respectable footing.
Vast bodies of the military received orders to leave the
Netherlands, and march towards the frontiers of the
Batavian republic, while the ships destined for the New'-
foundland fishery were laid under an embargo.
wwpuLo As the island of Malta was, by the treaty of Amiens,
eoncerning to be surrendered to the knights of the order of St John
Malta. 0f Jerusalem, upon certain conditions, De Thomasi,
the new grand master, sent M. de Bussy his lieutenant
in the month of January, with full powers to demand
possession of the island; to which the governor Sir
Alexander Jonathan Ball, replied, that as some of the
powers who had, by the 10th article of the treaty of
Amiens, been invited to guarantee the independence
of Malta, had not as yet agreed to that measure, he
could not terminate the government of his Britannic
majesty without farther instructions.
As the long and tedious correspondence carried on
between Great Britain and France, by means of Lord
■Whitworth and M. de Talleyrand, which was laid be-
54l
Disputes
lized.
mation upon this subject communicated by private letters.
“ In the city of Hanover, and even in the public streets,
women of the highest rank have been violated by the
lowest of the brutal soldiery, in the presence of their
husbands and fathers, and subjected at the same time to
such additional and undescribable outrages, as the bru¬
tal
N C E,
fore both houses of parliament on the iSth of May
1803, did not terminate in such a manner as the lovers
of peace most ardently wished, a fresh rupture between
the two countries seemed unavoidable. Officers were
sent to reside in the principal sea-ports ol Great Bri¬
tain, vested with the character of commercial agents,
but they were in fact detected in sounding the har¬
bours, and in drawing plans of the ports; a glaring
proof that some desperate blow was meditated against
this country. <.
In spite of the efforts of the British ministry to pre-Ho^
vent a rupture^ hostilities actually commenced on there-co df
16th of May, and letters ol marque were issued against nienef*
the French republic. The ultimatum of Britain was^een
conceived in these terms : “ that the I Tench 8overn"Frai1£i
ment should not oppose the cession of the island ol
Lampedosa to his Britannic majesty ; that the Iiench
forces should evacuate the Batavian and the Swiss
territory ; that a suitable provision should be made for
the king of Sardinia; and, by a secret article, that
Britain should be permitted to retain possession of
Malta for ten years.” Our readers will no doubt im¬
mediately conclude, that this was rejected ; but 1*lance
still made some feeble endeavours to negotiate, which
appearing to the cabinet ot St James’s to be a pretext
only to gain time, the war was considered as actually
recommenced. All subjects belonging to Britain who
were now found in France and Holland ivere arrested
and detained ; an event which was speedily followed
by the march of a republican army towards Osnaburgh
and Hanover, the former of which was taken posses¬
sion of by General Mortier on the 26th ot May, alter
which he took the town of Bentheim, and the Hano¬
verian garrison were made prisoners ot war. Osna¬
burgh was abandoned by the Hanoverians on the 28th,
and tvvo days after the French got possession ot Quack-
enbrook. His royal highness the duke ot Cambridge
was determined to stand or fall with the electorate; but
as he was at the head of no more than a handful of
troops compared with the army of Mortier, the regency
urged him to retire from the command, as the probabi¬
lity of success was entirely against him. The duke,
therefore, returned to Bremen, and reached Yarmouth
on the 13th of June, along with Prince William of
Gloucester.
Much about this period, General Mortier was waited
upon by deputies from the regency, both ol a civil and
military nature, who begged that he would suspend his
march, and proposed a capitulation. By this the Ha¬
noverian troops were permitted to surrender on their pa¬
role, and agreed not to take up arms against France
during the continuance of the war. Sums were to be
raised for maintaining the republican army, while pri¬
vate property was to be held sacred.
If this promise, however, was really made, it does not
appear that it was considered as binding, for it has been
said that more flagrant acts of cruelty and injustice were
scarcely ever perpetrated by people professing to be civi-
1 1 The following, we are told, is part of the infer-
FRA
j ee, ^ fury ^ie violators, inflamed by drunkenness, could
^1——' contrive. Nor have we heard that the philosophers of
f j :)j, Goettingen, the enthusiasts of equality and perfectibi¬
lity, have been at all better treated.” We suspect that
this picture is too highly coloured j yet, if a thousandth
part of the narration be true, of which we have only se¬
lected a specimen, we must allow it to be an indelible
stigma on the French nation.
arte It had always been a favourite object with Bona-
J, s to Parte, to do as much injury as possible to the commerce
British of Great Britain, and therefore he now determined to
tjii rce. shut against this country the ports of the Weser and the
Elbe 5 and also insisted on the ports of Denmark being
shut against vessels belonging to Britain, proposing to
plant a French garrison in the city of Copenhagen,
while the other powers of Europe seemed to behold his
conduct with indifference or stupefaction. The French
having put themselves in possession of the exclusive na¬
vigation of the Elbe, Great Britain determined to bloc¬
kade it with ships of war, as a report then prevailed that
Bonaparte would make use of that port for the purpose
ol invading Scotland. In this view of the matter, the
conduct ot Britain was highly commendable.
About this time the French army in St Domin¬
go was in a most melancholy condition, as appeared
irom the information contained in some intercepted let¬
ters. Although about 10,000 men reached the island, in
three months after General Rochambeau’s arrival, when
s; they were landed in the different ports, scarcely any
traces of a reinforcement could be perceived, so much
had his army suffered. The atrocities of the troops in
their turn were also said to be great, and complaints
made to the commanding officers were answered with
threats. It appears that Rochambeau was obliged to
have recourse to absolute falsehood, in order to keep up
the spirits of his troops, and allay their discontent ^giv¬
ing out, what he knew could not be the case, that a re¬
inforcement of 20,000 men was daily expected.
Brit put ^-n t*,e mean ^ie ministry of Great Britain used
in a .te every effort to place the country in a secure and respec-
»fd( ice. table state of defence, should the insatiable ambition of
Bonaparte lead him to a serious attempt to invade it.
The intelligent part of the people indeed believed that
he never seriously intended to hazard the consequences
of what he threatened, yet it was certainly prudent to
prepare for the worst. The troops of the line were in¬
dustriously and successfully recruited, the militia were
called out and kept in actual service, and an army of
reserve was raised with the utmost expedition. Having
almost 500,000 troops of different species, Britain had
no just reason to apprehend an invasion, being able to
accomplish the destruction of the boldest invader. These
troops were encamped along the coast, garrison towns
Were properly supplied with men, the greatest force was
concentrated wherever the probability of a landing was
strongest, and care was taken of the health of the mili¬
tary, as well as the appointment of the ablest generals
to command them. Provisions, ammunition, and stores,
were collected in abundance. As it was natural to con¬
clude that London would be the great object with an
invading army, the utmost attention was paid to the
defence of those parts of the coast which are most ad¬
jacent to it.
Similar efforts were made to annoy the enemy by sea,
and render their designs wholly abortive. To Lord
191
France.
1805.
N C E.'
Keith and Admiral Montagu was entrusted the com¬
mand of the channel fleet; and an attempt was made at
Granville to disconcert the preparations of France, by
a detachment of ships under the command of Sir James
Saumarez, which was so far attended with success as to
intimidate the inhabitants, damage a number of houses
and destroy some boats in the harbour. Similar attacks
upon Calais and Boulogne also tended to convince the
French residing on the coast that they were far from
being secure, although total destruction was not the con¬
sequence of such exertions. Lord Nelson then guarded
the Italian seas, and Sir Edward Pellew and Sir Robert
Calder were stationed off Ferrol. 545
In the mean time the republican army in HanoverCrUeities ot
continued to oppress the inhabitants, and to devour the[heFT1C>h
resources of that electorate. The Dutch were made to Etanove- *
suffer almost as much from their new allies and pretend-rians.
ed friends, as the inhabitants of a conquered country.
I hey were dragged into a war, of which they certainly
wished to be the unconcerned spectators, compelled to
raise and maintain a large body of native troops, to re¬
ceive garrisons into all their strong towns, to give up
their sea-ports to the French, and expose their whole
country as a scene of passage and encampment to the ar¬
mies of the republic. Their trade was ruined, and their
ports blocked up by the British at sea, on account of
their alliance with France. The inhabitants of the
Belgic provinces belonging to France were also severe
sufferers by the levies of conscripts, the interruption
which their trade and manufactures met with from the
war, and the rigour by which they were governed. It
was reported that the first consul had 300,000 effective
men in readiness along the coast and the places adjacent,
and that 2800 men were incessantly employed, aug¬
menting and repairing the fortifications at Boulogne. 54<y
During the month of November 1803, the sea-coasts The Britisfa
of Great Britain and Ireland received fresh additions coasts arQ
of strength, that if ever troops from France should dareforliCed’
to attempt a landing, they might be assured of meeting
with a warm reception. The garrison of Plymouth was
augmented to 13,700 landmen, besides 1500 seamen
and marines. A battery was erected at Paul Point, for
the defence of the Humber, and two others were to be
built opposite to it in Lincolnshire. Exertions equally
spirited were continued by sea. Sir Sidney Smith cruis¬
ed off the Texel, and drove on shore on the coast of
Holland, 12 armed ships of the enemy, three of which
were captured. During the month of February 1804,
the French and Dutch ports continued to be blockaded
by the British navy with the utmost vigilance, a mea¬
sure which the tempestuous nature of the weather fre¬
quently rendered hazardous. The preparations for an
invasion of this country were still continued on the part
of France, but no force of any consequence found it
practicable to put to sea, owing to the vigilance of our
cruisers. A number of gun-boats were taken at dif¬
ferent times off Boulogne, and different other parts of
the French and Dutch coasts, which might have con¬
vinced the people of these countries of the absurdity of
expecting to accomplish any thing decisive against Bri¬
tain by such inadequate means.
A plan was suggested for filling up the ports of the
enemy with stones and the hulks of old vessels, so as
to render it difficult, if not wholly impracticable, ei¬
ther for ships or small craft to make their way out of/
them. .
i8o4-
FRA
them. The idea seems to have been taken from a fact
well known, that harbours have been often ruined by the
tides and currents of the sea, the deposition of sand
from rivers, earthquakes, and other accidents j an
therefore it was concluded that similar eftects m'g1
be produced by artificial means. The accomplishment
of such an object, if it were practicable, would be an
ample compensation for the greatest expence. #
It was the opinion of the discerning part of mankind
long before it happened, that the ambition of Bonaparte
would not always remain satisfied with the dignity ot
first consul, even for life ; for although he could re¬
ceive no fresh additions to his power and influence, yet
there was reason to believe that the sound of such titles
as have always been deemed higher and more digmhed
still, would be too fascinating for him to resist. Ac¬
cordingly, on the 25th of April 1804, the following
decree was issued by the tribunate of i ranee.
“ The tribunate, considering that at the breaking
out of the revolution, when the national will had an
opportunity of manifesting itself with the greatest free¬
dom, the general wish was declared for the individual
unity of the supreme power, and for the hereditary suc¬
cession of that power: . , .
“ That the family of the Bourbons, having by their
conduct rendered the hereditary government odious to
the people, forced them to lose sight of its advantages,
and drove the nation to seek for a happier destiny in a
democratical form of government: .
“ That France having made a trial of different forms
of government, experienced from these trials only the
miseries of anarchy : .
“ That the state was in the greatest peril, when Bo¬
naparte, brought back by providence, suddenly appear¬
ed for its salvation:
“ That the consulship for life, and the power grant¬
ed to the first consul of appointing his successor, are
not adequate to the prevention of intrigues at home or
abroad, which could not fail to be formed during the
vacancy of the supreme power :
“ That in declaring that magistracy hereditary, con¬
formity is observed at once to the example of all great
states, ancient or modern, and the first wish of the na¬
tion, expressed in 1789:
« That, enlightened and supported by this experience,
the nation now returns to this wish more strongly than
ever, and expresses it on all sides :
« That when. France demands for her security an
hereditary chief, her gratitude and affection call on Bo¬
naparte : . r t>
“ That France may expect from the family of Bo¬
naparte, more than from any other, the maintenance of
the rights and liberty of the people :
“ That there is no title more suitable to the glory of
Bonaparte, and to the dignity of the supreme chief of
the French nation, than the title of emperor.
“ The tribunate have come to the following vote:
« That Napoleon Bonaparte, the first consul, be
proclaimed emperor of the French, and in that capacity
be invested with the government of the French republic:
“ That the title of emperor and the imperial power
be made hereditary in his family in the male line, ac¬
cording to the order of primogeniture.”
The foregoing decree having been put to the vote, it
was carried bv acclamation, with the single exception
N C E. 3 . .
of the only member (Carnot) who delivered his senli- Bran,:
ments against its adoption. . c
The senate presented an address to the first consul, in loc,:
which they took great pains to convince him that the
safety of France, and the happiness of Europe, depend¬
ed entirely upon his acceptance of the title of Emperor
of the French, and upon its being made hereditary in
his illustrious family. The different divisions of the
army of course sent addresses to the first consul, mtreat-
ing him to condescend to become emperor of France.
Bonaparte requested them, in his answer, “ to make
known to him the whole of their thoughts.” The se¬
nate then desired him to take the imperial and heredi¬
tary dignity. Bonaparte consented. v <* . 3J'
An address was presented by the senate to tlie first Bonaa
consul, in which .hey employed ^ny argun.en.s ton-
convince him (they might have spared themselves tbe^
trouble) that the preservation of France, and the repose
of all Europe turned on his acceptance of the dignified
title of the emperor of the French, which right to be
hereditary in his august family. The different divisions
of the army hoped also that he would be graciously
pleased to condescend (what an instance of humility .)
to become emperor of France. Whether or not it may
excite the astonishment of our readers, we can assure
them upon the most undoubted authority, that he was
so humble as to accept of it, and the following is his
address to the conservative senate.
“ Senators,
“ Your address of the 6th last Germinal has never
ceased to be present to my thoughts. It has been the
object of my most constant meditation.
“ You have judged the hereditary power of the
supreme magistracy necessary, in order to shelter the
French people completely from the plots of our ene¬
mies, and from the agitations which arise from rival
ambitions. It even appears to you, that many of our
institutions ought to be improved, in order to secure for
ever the triumph of equality and public liberty, and
present to the nation and to the government the double
guarantee they are in want of.
“ In proportion as I fix my attention upon these great
objects, I am still more convinced of the verity of those
sentiments which I have expressed to you, and I feel
more and more, that in a circumstance as new as it is
important, the counsels of your wisdom and experience
were necessary to enable me to fix my ideas.
“ I request you then to make known to me the whole
of your thoughts. _
“ The French people can add nothing to the honour
and glory with which it has surrounded me ; but the
most sacred duty for me, as it is the dearest to my heart,
is to secure to its latest posterity those advantages which
it has acquired by a revolution that has cost it so muc ,
particularly by the sacrifice of those millions of brave
citizens who have died in defence of their rights, xi-
teen years have past, since, by a spontaneous movement
you ran to arms, you acquired liberty, equality, and
glory. These first blessings of nations are now secured
to you for ever, are sheltered from every tempest, they
are preserved to you and your children j institutions
conceived and begun in the midst of the storms of in¬
terior and exterior wars, developed with constancy, ai®
just terminated in the noise of the attempts and plots 0^
/oro
f B; .
wle
FRA
lce, our most mortal enemies, by the adoption of every thing
which the experience of centuries and of nations has
34. demonstrated as proper to guarantee the rights which
the nation had judged necessary for its dignity, its
liberty, and its happiness.”
The new emperor was allowed to adopt the children
or grand-children of his brothers, if arrived at the age
of 18 years complete, and he without legitimate children
of his own 5 but this privilege cannot be enjoyed by his
successors. Failing both legitimate and adopted heirs,
the crown shall be enjoyed by Joseph Bonaparte and
his descendants ; and failing Joseph and his descendants,
it shall devolve on Louis Bonaparte and his descendants,
&c. If a successor cannot be found in any of these
chznn&h, z. Senatus consultimi, proposed to the senate by
the dignities (we presume it should have been dignitaries)
of the empire, and submitted for the acceptance of the
people, shall nominate an emperor. It was also decreed
that the members of the imperial family should be called
French princes, and the eldest son of the family, the
imperial prince. Amongst other things it was enacted,
that every emperor, two years after he comes to the
throne, shall swear to maintain the integrity of the
territory of the French republic ! We have mentioned
tins last circumstance, wholly for this reason, that the
emperor of a republic is no doubt a rarity to the greater
part of our readers.
The trial of the state prisoners commenced at Paris
on the 29th of May 1804. They were charged with
conspiring against the life and government of Bona¬
parte } but how great was our astonishment to find the
justly celebrated General Moreau included in the num¬
ber ! Envy and jealousy of Bonaparte can alone have
implicated this great man in such a charge, as he was
heard to say on the arrival of the new emperor from
Egyptthis is the man who is necessary to save
France.” Georges with 11 of his associates, were con»
demned and executed on the 25th of June; the gallant
Moreau and four more, were sentenced to suffer two
years imprisonment, and about 18 were acquitted.
Some of those who were condemned were afterwards
pardoned by imperial clemency, moved by the fasci¬
nating charms of female eloquence and female tears.
The sentence of imprisonment against Moreau was com¬
muted to banishment for life to the United States of
America.
The coronation of Bonaparte took place in the month
of December 1804, which was accompanied on the part
of the people by such demonstrations of apparent satis¬
faction as evinced the degraded state of the public mind
in that unfortunate country. After receiving a num¬
ber of the most fulsome speeches, filled entirely with
bombast and falsehood, his imperial majesty delivered
the following address. “ I ascend the throne, to which
the unanimous wishes of the senate, the people, and the
army have called me, with a heart penetrated with the
great destinies of that people, whom, from the midst of
camps, I first saluted with the name of Great. From
my youth, my thoughts have been solely fixed upon
them (so it appears) ; and I must add here, that my
pleasures and my pains are derived entirely from the
Pria i
talc i-
one ‘ii
j'rai
1805.
SSQ
N C E.
In the field they will be the first soldiers of the army,
sacrificing their lives for the defence of their country.
As magistrates they will never forget, that contempt
of the laws, and the confusion of social order, are only
the result of the imbecility and uncertainty of princes.
You, senators, whose counsels and support have never
failed me in the most difficult circumstances, your spi¬
rit will be handed down to your successors. Be ever
the prop and first counsellors of that throne, so neces¬
sary to the welfare of this vast empire.”
On the 4th of February 1805, a letter written by Who writes
Bonaparte to his Britannic majesty on the subject ofa ktter to
peace, was laid before the legislative body by the coun- his Bn!su1
sellors of state, in which he observed that providence, "^thSub-
the senate, the people, and the army, had called himjectof
to the throne of France. He admitted that the twot»eace.
countries, over which they presided as the chief magi¬
strates, might contend against each other for ages, but
denied that it was for the interest of either to continue
the contest. He requested his Britannic majesty not
to deny himself the inexpressible felicity of giving peace
to the world ; for should the present moment be lost, he
did not see how all his efforts would be able to terminate
the war, which he considered as without any object or
presumable result. He concluded with observing, that
reason is sufficiently powerful to discover means of re¬
conciling every thing, when the wish of reconciliation
exists on both sides. On the 16th of the same month,
a very splendid entertainment was given to the emperor
and empress by the city of Paris.
_ Never was any naval victory more glorious or de-Theniemo-
cisive than that which was gained by the British under rable blt-
Vice-admiral Lord Nelson over the combined fleets of1'0 “f Tra-
I ranee and Spain, off Cape Trafalgar, on the 21st Oc- ia|.?a''*,n
tober 1805. The British commander in chief gave the
signal for bearing up in two columns as they formed in 
the order of sailing, a mode of attack which had been
previously ordered by his lordship, to prevent the delay
and inconveniency of forming the line of battle in the
manner usually adopted. The fleet of the enemy con¬
sisted of 33 ships, under the command of the French
admiral Villeneuve. The Spanish division under Ad¬
miral Gravina, formed the line of battle with great
coolness and skill, the heads of the ships being turned
to the northward. The manner of attack was uncom¬
mon, and the formation of their line was consequently
new. Few signals were necessary from the commander
of the British fleet, because the flag officers and cap¬
tains were made previously acquainted with the admi¬
ral’s whole plan. The weather column was led by the
commander in chief, on board the Victory, and Lord
Collingwood in the Royal Sovereign took charge of the
leeward division. The leading ships of the British columns
breaking through the enemy’s line, was the signal for
commencing hostilities, which began about 12 o’clock.
The ships of the enemy were fought in such a manner
as did the highest honour to the officers by whom they
were commanded, but they opposed a force which was
not to be vanquished. About 3 o’clock in the afternoon
the enemy’s line gave way, many of their ships having
struck their colours. Admiral Gravina then steered for
happiness or misery of my people. My descendants Cadiz; and 19 sail of the line, of which two were first
shall long preserve this throne (a very bold prediction), rates, fell into the hands of the victors, and three
Vol. IX. Part I. t Bb flag-
i 94.
Fra;
J 805.
5S'Z
F R A
fla-r.officers, Villeneuve, Bon Tgnatia Maria d’AHva,
and Don Baltazar Hidalgo Cisneros, were made pri¬
soners. , _ . . ,
25^ About the same time that the British navy ac-
Cermany ;red the most signal victory over the combined fleets
bV Boiir of France and Spain, the emperor Napoleon was carry-
pLfe in. Ilia victorious arms through the heart ot Germany,
and forcing the emperor of that country to abandon h.s
metropolis? He left Paris on the 24th of September
I gee, to join the grand army, and reached Strasbuig
on the 26th, accompanied by the empress. Heie .ie
issued a manifesto to his army, in which he mentioned
the commencement of the war of what he termet t ie
third coalition, which he said was created and main¬
tained by the gold and hatred of England. He declared
he would fight till he had secured the independence ot
the Germanic body, and never again make peace with-
. out sufficient security of its continuance. He crossed
the Rhine at Kehl on the 1st of October, and on the
evening of the same day arrived at Euhngen, where
the elector of Baden was presented to him, along with
his two sous. On the 2d he went to Stutgard, where
the elector (now king) of Wirtemberg received him in
the most magnificent manner, and the city was illumi¬
nated. The king of Wirtemberg agreed to furnish
60OO men for the assistance of France, and the elector
of Baden 4000. , .
The French armies on the coast reached the banks
of the Rhine in the month of September, and crossed
that river on the 25th. General Bernadotte reached
Franconia on the 23d, where he was joined by the Ba¬
varian army of 20,000 infantry and cavalry 5 by the
army of Holland under Marmont, and the Batavian
division. This army of Bernadotte, about 40,000
strong, constituted the fifth division of the grand or
imperial French army. It is remarkable that these
three great men, Jourdan, Lecombe, and Macdonald,
were not employed *, the reason assigned for which mea¬
sure is, that Bonaparte suspected them of disloyalty
t ver since the condemnation of that singular officer
Moreau. Bernadotte marched directly for the Danube
on the 2d of October, and took a position at Ingolstadt.
The rapidity with which the French forces moved
seems to have disconcerted the Austrian commander
completely, as no movements were made to oppose their
progress.
Flostilities commenced on the 7th, when the Aus¬
trians were defeated with the loss of many killed, wound¬
ed, and prisoners, in attempting to oppose the passage
of General Vandamme across the bridge of Donawert.
Field-marshal Auffenberg, while on his march to Ulm,
was completely surrounded by the French, and obliged
to surrender. It is said that the Austrians here lost two
colonels, five majors, 60 officers, and 4000 men made
prisoners. Memmingen surrendered on the 14th to Mar¬
shal Soult, after which he marched on to Biberach, in
order to cut off the retreat of the Austrians by that
road. Marshal Ney crossed the Danube, and rnade an
attack upon Elchingen a little above Elm. ffne Aus¬
trians made a sortie, but were driven back to their en¬
trenchments before Ulm, with the loss, it is said, of
3'ioo men taken prisoners j and at Eangenau their loss
amounted to the same number, in an action with Prince
Murat, who commanded the cavalry. This officer again
N C E.
brought them to action on the 17th, when their loss was pJ
computed at toco men, and next day General Wer- ,
neck’s division was obliged to capitulate. Fiom Albeck l8:|i
to Nuremberg, Murat is said to have got possession of
1300 waggons and 16,000 prisoners, but Iiince Fer¬
dinand effected his escape. y i
Ulm surrendered by capitulation on the 17th, andSvmy||
this unaccountable step was taken by General Mack,ot l i j
because Berthier assured him that the Austrians were
on the other side of the Inn j that Lannes was in pur¬
suit of Prince Ferdinand 5 that Werneck had capitu¬
lated, and that it was impossible for any succours to
reach Ulm. After the surrender of this place, the
Austrian generals who were made prisoners, were sent
under an escort through Bavaria to Vienna, and Mack
was entrusted with some proposals to the emperor of
Germany. . :J|
On the 28th of October a spirited proclamation was The :i
issued by the emperor at Vienna, declaring that theente
views of Austria and Russia were extremely moderate,enna i
and execrating the designs and views of Bonaparte.
Every division of the French army, except that under
General Ney, crossed the river Inn on the 1st of No¬
vember. Bonaparte himself was with the right wing at
Saltsburg j and the centre, commanded by Prince Mu¬
rat, marched towards Lintz with uncommon rapidity.
The Austro-Russian army retreated to Maelk (50 miles
from Vienna) as the enemy advanced. I he Austrians
and Russians made no stand between the Ens and
Vienna, which latter place the French entered on the
X 2th of October. Bonaparte arrived on the 13th, and
took up his quarters in the palace of Schoenbrun, about
two miles from the city of Vienna. The French troops
conducted themselves with the utmost propriety and
decorum, which prevented any disturbance from taking
place in the metropolis. ^ jl
On the 27th November, as Bonaparte perceived the The jj
dreadful carnage which was inevitable from the t'®11-^
flict of two such prodigious armies as that of the allies
and his own, was extremely anxious to spare the effu¬
sion of human blood, and for this purpose he proposed
an armistice, which was rejected with disdain. It was
not long before Bonaparte discovered that the allies
were acting from presumption, want of consideration,
and imprudence, of which circumstance he was but too
well qualified to take advantage. At sunrise the battle
commenced, and a tremendous cannonade took place
along the whole line. It is almost needless to remark,
that 200 pieces of cannon and 200,000 men made a
most tremendous noise. In less than an hour the whole
left wing of the allies was cut off, their right being by
that time at Austerlitz, the head quarters of the Rus¬
sian and Austrian emperors. From the heights of this
place the emperors witnessed the total defeat of tne
Russians by the French guard. The loss sustained by
the allies during the whole of this battle was estimated
at 150 pieces of cannon, with 45 °f coiours, and
18,000 Russians, and 600 Austrians were left dead on
the field. On the 5th of December an interview took
place between the emperors of Austria and France,
which lasted for two hours. An armistice was mutual¬
ly agreed to, which was to serve as the basis of a defi¬
nitive treaty. The emperor of Russia was comprehend¬
ed in this armistice, on condition of marching home his
FRA
ce army in such a manner as the emperor Napoleon might
—< think proper to prescribe. By virtue of the treaty of
6. peace, the French agreed to evacuate Brunn on the
4th of January, Vienna on the 10th, and the whole
Austrian states in six weeks after the signing of the
treaty, except such as were ceded to Italy and Bavaria.
From the humbled situation of the emperor of Ger¬
many after the memorable battle of Austerlitz, it uvas
natural to expect that he would feel it his interest to
make peace with the French emperor, and accordingly
the treaty of Presburg was signed and ratified on the
26th and 27th of November, 1805. By this treaty,
Austria gave up the Venetian territories both in Italy
and Dalmatia, with the islands in the Adriatic. She
acknowledged Napoleon as emperor of the French and
king of Italy, and acknowledged also the new royal
titles of the princes of Bavaria and Wirtemberg.
A fleet which escaped from Brest in the end of 1805,
had the bad fortune which usually attended the French
maritime expeditions. It consisted of eleven sail of
the line and some frigates ; and a part of it under Ad¬
miral Le Seigle, after disembarking some troops and
ammunition at St Domingo, was destroyed or taken by
Admiral Sir J. Duckworth in Ocoa bay. The other
division of the fleet under Admiral Villaamez, which
was destined for the Cape of Good Hope, having learn¬
ed the capture of that colony, sailed first to Brazil, and
afterwards to the West Indies, and the coast of North
America, where some of the vessels were shipwrecked,
others taken by the British j and of the whole eleven
sail of the line, the Castor only, with Jerome Bonaparte
on board, returned to France. About the same time
the Marengo and Bellepoule French ships of war, which
had committed great depredations in the East Indies,
were taken by Sir J. B. Warren near the Mauritius.
In August 1805, an expedition, consisting of about
5000 land troops, with a proportional naval force, un¬
der Sir David Baird and Sir Home Popham, sailed
from England for the Cape of Good Hope, and disem¬
barked in Saldanha bay on the 4th January 1806.
The army having advanced, defeated the Dutch force
on the 8th, and shortly after terms of capitulation were
proposed by General Jansens. This important settle¬
ment with all its dependencies was given up to the
British, and the Dutch army was sent to Holland at
the expence of the British government.
The reduction of the Cape was followed by another
expedition, the first result of which produced an ex¬
traordinary sensation in Great Britain. Sir Home
Popham had formerly been entrusted with some schemes
formed by the British government against the Spanish
possessions in South America, but which had subse-
quenlly been abandoned. Thinking, however, that suc¬
cess would cover the crime of disobedience, and per¬
haps stimulated by the prospect of private gain, be car¬
ried away the whole naval force from the Cape, and
persuaded Sir David Baird to supply him with a small
body of troops. He sailed to the Bio Plata, and dis¬
embarked his small army of 1600 men, about 12 miles
!rom Buenos Ayres on the 25th June 1806. The
Spanish regular troops being all at Monte Video and
Maldonado, the town was defended only by the militia,
who retired and left it open to the British almost with¬
out the least shew of resistance. The news of the cap¬
ture of the place, accompanied by a very exaggerated France
account of the advantages of the colony as a market ——
for British manufactures, spread the most extravagant 1806.
joy through Great Britain, and led to a multitude of
ruinous mercantile speculations. The Spaniards had
been surprised rather than conquered. Seeing the
small amount of the British force, they drew a body of
troops from Monte \ ideo, armed the country popuia- ^
tion, and assisted by a conspiracy within the town, they
attacked the British on the 12th August, compelled
them to surrender, and marched them up the country
as prisoners. Another army, however, arrived under
Genei als \> hitlocke, Crawford, and Sir S. Achmutv,
in June 1807. Monte Video was taken by storm’
with the loss of 600 men in killed and wounded on the
part of the British. On the 5th July, an attack was
made on Buenos Ayres 5 but the Spaniards had fortified
their houses, broken up the streets, and made their de¬
fences so Strong, that after a bloody and obstinate con¬
flict in the town, the British general found it necessary
to enter into terms with the enemy in order to effect
his retreat; and thus an expedition, undertaken foolish¬
ly and without authority, cost Britain a vast sum of
money, and some thousand lives, and brought disgrace
on her arms, while it was the means of tempting thou¬
sands of her citizens into ruinous mercantile specula¬
tions. We return now to events more immediately be¬
longing to the history of France.
^ The king of Naples, who had agreed by a treaty with
I ranee to observe a strict neutrality during the Aus¬
trian campaign, had inconsiderately allowed a body of
Bussian and English troops to land at Naples. Bona¬
parte immediately availed himself of this circumstance,
by issuing a decree from Vienna, “ declaring that the
king of Naples had ceased to reign.1’ A French army
under Joseph Bonaparte immediately advanced into
Calabria, and the Neapolitan government gave up the
country without resistance. The fortress of Gaeta
alone held out for a short time, and the peasantry of
Calabria carried on a desultory warfare of little import¬
ance. A British force from Sicily under General
Stewart landed in the gulf of St Eufemta, on the 1st
July 1806, advanced to Maida, where it met the
French army of General Begnier, nearly twice as nu¬
merous. A battle ensued, in which the French re¬
ceived a signal defeat, with the loss of 700 men killed,
and two or three thousand wounded or prisoners. As
the Neapolitans, however, were not excited to any new
exertions by this event, the British army returned "short¬
ly after to Sicily, and the French occupied the whole
country.
The emperor Napoleon now prepared to consolidate
the great accession of power and territory he had ob¬
tained by new arrangements^. Hanover, which the
French had occupied, was given up to Prussia, who
surrendered to France certain districts in return. Prus¬
sia followed up this measure, by excluding British ves¬
sels from her ports in the Baltic ; and the British mi¬
nistry retaliated by blockading the mouths of the Ems,
Weser, and other rivers flowing through Prussia.
Joseph Bonaparte was raised to the throne of Naples 3
the Venetian territories were added to the kingdom of
Italy, the succession to which, in failure of heirs from
Napoleon, was settled on Prince Eugene Beanharnois.
. Bb2 Holland,
196 F R A
France. Holland, to 'bring her system into a correspondence
   1 with that of France, received a king in the person ot
j806. Louis Bonaparte •, and Murat received the principa¬
lities of Cleves and Berg. To crown tins senes ot
changes, the old constitution of the German empire was
dissolved, and by an act of 1 2th July 1806, nearly all
the smaller German powers were united into a body,
denominated the Confederation of the Rhine, of which
Napolean was cicated the head, with the title ot pro¬
tector. This confederation furnished the French emperor
with a large auxiliary force, of good troops, and was a
formidable instrument in his hands in all his future
plans of aggrandisement. It was finally dissolved in
1813 j but the principles upon which it was founded
have been embodied with little alteration in the new
Germanic constitution. (See CONFEDERATION of the
Rhine, in the Supplement.)
Batik of The king of Prussia soon found that his co-operation
Jenm’ ° in Bonaparte’s plans would not secure him from spolia¬
tion or degradation, when it suited the views of the lat¬
ter to humble him. The Prussian army and popula¬
tion too resented the indignities to which their king
had submitted 5 and the latter, after making great_sa¬
crifices to maintain peace, found himself burned into
a war by circumstances which made no change in jus
relations with France. The bad faith ol trance, in¬
deed afforded him just grounds of war *, but of that
bad faith he was well apprised belore he entered into
his engagements. With an ill-advised precipitancy,
his preparations disclosed his hostile intentions before
means had been taken to insure the support of Russia m
sufficient time. Napoleon, who was never behind his
opponents on such occasions, immediately assembled a
formidable army, and advanced into Germany. _ Some
actions of little importance brought the armies in pre¬
sence ol each other at Jena in Saxony, on the 13th
October 1806. The battle commenced at day-light
next morning between the armies, estimated at 130,000
men each. After a struggle of two hours the first ad¬
vantage was gained by Marshal Soult on the French
right 5 but this was by no means decisive. The Prus¬
sians, thrown partially into disorder, formed anew and
fought bravely j but while the combat continued in
suspense, Murat, who commanded the reseive, made a
sudden and vigorous charge with the whole forces un¬
der his command, and overthrew the Prussians entire¬
ly. Never was a victory more complete. rihe Prus¬
sians, according to the French account, lost 20,000
killed, from 30,000 to 40,000 prisoners, besides 300
pieces of cannon, and immense magazines of military
stores and5 provisions. The duke of Brunswick, and
General Ruchel were among the killed. Such was the
panic produced by this disaster, that most of the Prus¬
sian garrison towns, though well prepared for a siege,
surrendered without attempting resistance. Erfurth
with a garrison of 14,000 men, Magdeburg with
2?,ooo, Stettin with 6000, Hameln, with 9000,
Spandau and other fortresses, were reduced almost with¬
out bloodshed. Blucher alone distinguished himself by
an obstinate but unsuccessful resistance. The French
passed through Leipsic, and reached Berlin in a few
days. A single victory gave them almost complete
possession of the Prussian monarchy. The unfortunate
king retired to Konigsberg, where he collected the
wrecks of his army, scarcely amounting to 50,000
N C K
men, in order to await the arrival of his Russian allits, Fian*
Bonaparte in the mean time organized a provisional  J
government for Prussia 5 occupied Hamburgh, Lubeck, 18c1.
and other ports ; and, irritated at the real or pretend¬
ed abuse of the right of blockade by the British, he is¬
sued his celebrated Berlin decree, declaring the British
islands in a state of blockade. The great extent of
sea coast which he now commanded, enabled him to
exclude the manufactures and merchandise of Great
Britain from the continent much more effectually than
he had ever done before-, and though this decree was
at first regarded as an impotent and ridiculous threat,
the event shewed that it was the means of inflicting a
serious wound on the commerce of Britain.
An ineffectual attempt was made by the king of
Prussia to negociate j but the terms offered by the con¬
queror were so humiliating, that he preferred trying
the chances of war with the aid of his Russian allies.
Aboutthe end of November a division of the French army
reached Warsaw, and re-established a bridge which th®
Russians had destroyed. The other corps arrived in
succession, and crossed the ^ istula. J-he Russian ai-
my was now collected in the part of Poland, immedi¬
ately eastward of that river, and hostilities commenced.
After some actions of less importance, a pretty severe
engagement took, place at Pultusk, in which the Rus¬
sians were worsted, though they made a most deter¬
mined resistance. The depth of winter now suspended
hostilities for a short time. A part of the population
of Silesia, excited by a proclamation of the king of
Prussia’s, had risen in arms but they were defeated
by a French force under Jerome Bonaparte, and after
a short struggle, nearly all the fortresses in the province
surrendered to the enemy. Early in February 1807,
the contending armies, strengthened by reinforcements,
recommenced hostilities. On the yth and 8th was
fought the battle of Eylau, one of the most obstinate¬
ly contested engagements in modern times. The issue
was in favour of the French, who remained masters of
the field of battle j but it was by no means a decisive
victory; and though the loss on each side was esti¬
mated at 30,000 in killed, wounded, and prisoners, no
consequence of any importance resulted from it. Du¬
ring the pause which followed this bloody contest, the
French pushed vigorously the siege ol Dantzic j and
that fortress was at last surrendered to them on the list
May, after a brave defence by General Kalkreuth, and
after repeated attempts by the allies to throw succours
into it had failed.
The combined Russian and Prussian armies having
collected their various corps, began a series of attacks
on the French on the 5th of June, and continued them
to the 12th, in all of which, however, they failed, and
generally with great loss. On the 14th was feught the
battle of Friedland. It commenced at five in the morn¬
ing, and continued till seven at night j and though the
Russians fought with determined courage, and succeed¬
ed at some points, the ignorance of their commanders,
and the superior tactics and skill of the French, gave
the latter a most decisive victory. The Russians lost
altogether in the ten days, from the 5th to the 14th,
forty thousand men, and twenty-seven generals. After
the defeat they abandoned Koningsberg, crossed the
Niemen, and continued their retreat eastward. Na¬
poleon arrived at Tilsit on the 19th, and two days after
this
FRANCE.
Bee< this an armistice was agreed upon. On the 25th the
r—J emperors of Russia and France met on a raft con-
07. structed on the Niemen, and conferred together for two
hours. Entertainments, reviews, and fetes followed,
with all the external demonstrations of friendship and
harmony. The peace of Tilsit, signed on the 9th July,
deprived Prussia of all her territories on the left of the
Elbe, and of all her recent acquisitions in Poland :
Dantzic was created an independent town j East Fries¬
land was added to Holland ; the ceded Prussian terri¬
tories in Germany were erected into the kingdom of
Westphalia, the sovereignty of which was bestowed on
Jerome Bonaparte ; and the emperor Alexander agreed
to recognize the titles of this new pr.nce, of the kings
of Holland and Naples, and of the new kings belong¬
ing to the Rhenish confederation. But what was most
disgraceful to the Russian emperor, lie obtained for
himself the cession of a district of Polish Prussia from
his distressed and humbled ally, to redress whose wrongs
be pretended to take up arms. By a secret article
Russia ceded the Ionian islands to France, and engaged
to enforce the French continental system by excluding
British vessels from her ports. In short, never had
France acquired before in one campaign such extraor¬
dinary advantages.
Negociations for peace had been opened in February
1806 between the governments of France and Britain.
The French ministers, however, shifted their ground
again and again, eluded all direct and intelligible pro¬
positions, and seemed so anxious to separate the claims
and interests of Britain from those of her ally Russia,
that after some months spent in discussion, no progress
was made, and all hopes of peace were abandoned. Mr
Fox died during the discussions, but it is not probable
that the prolongation of his life would have given a dif¬
ferent termination to the negociations. Shortly after
the treaty of Tilsit, Russia offered her mediation towards
effecting a peace between England and France, but the
offer was couched in terms so offensive to the British
government, that it was promptly declined. In this
state of things the ill-considered expedition to Copen¬
hagen was undertaken, and furnished the Russian em¬
peror with a most plausible pretext for those hostile
measures to which he was already disposed. He was
no sooner apprised of the seizure of the Danish fleet,
than he dismissed the British ambassador, and publish¬
ed his resolution to put an end to all commercial inter¬
course with England, and to revive the principle of the
armed neutrality. This was received and replied to as
a declaration of war by the British government. The
British property in Russia was forthwith confiscated,
and the most vigorous measures were adopted to ex¬
clude our manufactures. The great extent of coast
which Bonaparte now commanded, enabled him to make
his edicts against our commerce operate with signal
effect, and the pressure became very severe upon the
cotton manufacturers and the West India planters.
Parliament appointed a committee to investigate the
subject, but, as might be expected, no means could
be devised to afford any effectual relief. The or¬
ders in council issued by the British government, Ja¬
nuary and November 1807, were found to inflame the
evil they were designed to cure.
On Bonaparte’s return from the north after such
spleadid conquests, congratulations from public bodies
and pubhc functionaries flowed in upon him in uniuter- France,
inpted succession 1 the powers of language were ex- ——v——*
hausted to find expressions, and history was ransacked 1807.
to find comparisons, to set forth the glory and grandeur
of his achievements. Now was the moment for bis
ambition to pause from schemes of conquest, and for
giving Ins cares to those measures of internal improve¬
ment, which be declared should henceforth occupy bis
attention. But with such means of conquest in bis
hands, new enterprises were sure to tempt bis ambi¬
tion. Portugal had hitherto been suflered to enjov a
neutrality which bad been denied to stronger states.
Her trade with Britain, however, was now become an
inexpiable crime ; and as she refused to adopt the con¬
tinental system, which would have involved her in war
with her ancient ally Great Britain, her subjugation
was resolved on. The government, fully apprised of
the intentions of France, prepared a fleet, and on the
approach of General Junot with a French army, the
prince regent and court set sail for Brazil. As the
means of the country were inadequate to a war with so
powerful an enemy, no resistance was made; and so
rapid was the approach of the enemy, that before the
fleet had got out of the Jagus on the 29th November
1807, the French army was seen upon the heights.
Napoleon was now about to enter on another enter-Invasion of
prise, more daring in its nature than any he had hither-Spain,
to engaged in ; and as the event shewed, more difficult
and hazardous in its execution. The imbecile and dis¬
organized government of Spain had hitherto been a
passive instrument in his hands, by which he had held
at his disposal the resources of the country, such as
they were. But as he had already given kings to
Holland and Belgium, he was tempted to think°that
Spain would consent with the same facility to see the
drowsy and useless figures which misgoverned her
thrust aside, and replaced by a branch of the imperial
family. To pave the way for the meditated change,
16,000 Spanish troops, the flower of the army, were
drawn away to Germany to act as auxiliaries to the
French. And under the pretext of securing possession
of Portugal, bodies of French troops, to the number of
70,000, were introduced into the north of Spain, and
placed in the fortresses which commanded the roads
into the country. When things were thus prepared, a
plot was got up or discovered for killing the old king,
in which his son Ferdinand was implicated ; and after¬
wards the court was persuaded to embrace the absurd -
resolution of emigrating to Mexico. The discovery of
this intention led to a popular tumult. The king inti¬
midated, dismissed his minister Godoy, and resigned
the crown in favour of his son Ferdinand. Murat was
no sooner informed of these transactions than he ad¬
vanced with the French army towards Madrid, and
getting possession of the person of the deposed king,
the latter declared that his resignation was compulsory.
Ferdinand alarmed by the approach of the French, and
the declaration of his father, was prevailed upon in an
evil hour to submit his claims to Napoleon, and to re¬
pair to Bayonne to receive his award. When the two
princes were thus within the power of Napoleon, a re¬
signation of the crown was extorted from both, from
the father on the 5th, and from the son on the 10th of
May 1808, after which the royal prisoners were ,
marched into the interior of France.
Murat
198
France-
1808.
.FRA
Murat in the me^n time advanced to Madrid, and
obtained possession of the city, but the spirit of the
Spaniards was roused by the indignities oftered to their
king. The populace, unaided by the authorities, bold-
Iv attacked the French and drove them out with great
loss on the 2d of May, hut the latter returning in
greater force, repossessed themselves of the town, and
put to death above a hundred of the inhabitants in cold
blood as conspirators. Ihe supreme junta, entrusted
by Ferdinand with the government, basely repressed
the rising spirit of the people j and the holy inquisi¬
tion did not scruple to lend its aid to a treacherous
enemy, and to issue a circular enjoining submission to
the French, accusing the people of faction and insubor¬
dination, and laying the guilt of the recent bloodshed
upon them. When the news of the resignation arrived,
it. produced a universal burst of indignation. The spirit
of resistance spread from province to province : Juntas
were formed, among which that of Seville peculiarly
distinguished itself by its activity and wisdom. _ Mus¬
kets and amunition were dispatched from Britain ; all
the unmarried men from 18 to 45 'vere summoned to
arms, and a correspondence was established among the
patriots in the different quarters of the country. The
first measures of the Spaniards were eminently success¬
ful. Five French ships of the line lying in Cadiz
were forced to surrender after three days cannonading.
General Dupont, Avho had been dispatched too late to
take possession of that port, attacked a superior icice
of Spaniards at Baylen, but was repulsed with such
loss that he was not able to effect his retreat, and sur¬
rendered his army of 14,000 men prisoners. In the
north Palafox defended Saragossa with astonishing
courage and perseverance. The French were defeated
with great loss in two attacks upon Valencia •, and
Joseph Bonaparte, after coming to Madrid with the
title of king, backed by the nobles and the inquisition,
and. with a new constitution in his pocket, was compel¬
led to measure back bis steps on the 27th July. I bus,
within less than three months Spain was almost cleared
of its enemies by the valour and patriotism of its popu¬
lation.
These unexpected reverses had in no respect shaken
Bonaparte’s purpose. A new levy of 160,000 men
was ordered in France; and large reinforcements were
poured into Spain. Napoleon, after holding a meeting
with Alexander at Erfurth, and receiving additional
assurances of his support, joined his army in Spain,
which had occupied the line of the Ebro for some
months. By a series of persevering attacks, the three
principal Spanish armies under Castanos, Blake, and
Count Belvedere, were broken, and in a great measure
dispersed ; and on the 4th December Napoleon enter¬
ed Madrid, after battering it for two days.
A British army of 30,000 men under Sir Arthur
Wellesley landed in Portugal in duly to assist the Por¬
tuguese, who had begun to rise in arms, in expelling
their invaders. Junot advanced from Lisbon to meet
them, and on the 2ist of August was fought the battle
of Vimiera, which ended in the defeat of the French.
Bv the convention of Cintra which followed this battle,
the British generals agreed to transport the French
army to France $ and much dissatisfaction w'as excited
in England when it was found that so decisive a victory
had not enabled the British commanders to dictate more
N C E.
humiliating terms. The generals were called home to Frund
be tried ; and Sir John Moore was appointed to com- '—vJ
mand the army. An additional force under Sir David iBoi;
Baird landed at Corunna, and the two armies advan¬
cing into Spain joined at Valladolid. Notwithstanding
the flattering promises of support they received from
the supreme junta, not a single regiment of Spaniards
joined them ; and the commanders having at length
learned that Bonaparte was advancing upon them with
a force of 70,000 men, they found it indispensable to
retreat. As it was now the depth of winter, the retreat
was attended with great loss and incredible hardships
to the troops. The army reached Corunna on the I2th
January 1809, and on the 15th was attacked by the
French under Soult. They were repulsed at all points,
but the death of General Sir John Moore, who fell
early in the engagement, damped the joy of the vit-
tors.^ He was buried the next morning on the. ramparts
of Corunna. The loss of the British was about 700
in killed and wounded •, that of the French about 2000.
The British army embarked next day, and returned to
England.
The occupation of so large a portion of the French
force in Spain seemed to present a favourable opportu¬
nity to Austria for recovering some of her losses. She.
had been silently, but diligently, increasing and im¬
proving her military establishment, and re-organizing
her finances. Bonaparte, who kept an eye on her pro¬
ceedings, endeavoured to intimidate her ; but failing in
this object, he prepared for war. He called up the
contingents of the Rhenish confederation, and with
these, added to some large bodies of French troops, ad¬
vanced into Bavaria. He attacked and defeated the
Austrians at Ebensberg on the 20th, and at Eckmuhl
on the 22d April, in which two battles the Austrians
lost 40,000 men. These successes laid open the whole
of Austria to him, and he reached Vienna on the 10th
May, which was surrendered after a trifling resistance.
The archduke Charles retired to Hungary, and took
up a position near Presburgj and on the 2ist and 22d
was fought the battle of Aspern, one of the most bloody
and obstinately contested engagements which has oc¬
curred in modern times. The Austrians were the as¬
sailants •, and though they did not succeed in their ob¬
ject of driving the French across the Danube, it is
yet clear that the latter suffered the greater loss, and
had no victory to boast of. Not less than 30,000
men were killed or wounded on each side. I he situa¬
tion of Napoleon had never before been so critical.
During the month of June he was assiduously employed
in collecting troops. On the 6th July, having com¬
pleted his preparations, he attacked the Austrians at
Wagram, and by superiority of skill, more than nom-'
bers, gained a decisive victory. The loss of the Au¬
strians, according to the French accounts, amounted
to 40,000 killed and wounded, and 20,000 prisoners.
Another defeat at Znaim entirely ruined their hopes;
and they now sought peace on the conqueror’s terms.
The treaty of Presburg, which was not definitely ar¬
ranged till October, subjected Austria to less consider¬
able sacrifices than had been expected. To France
she gave up Fiume and Trieste, with the whole nor¬
thern shores of the Adriatic ; to Bavaria certain dis¬
tricts between the Alps and the Danube, with the Ty¬
rol ; to Saxony she ceded the western part of Galicia,
and
F RANG E.
ace, ami to Hdssi'a tlie district ofTarnopol on the east of
r—- tfiat province. In the Tyrol, and in the north-west of
09. Germany, a desultory war was carried on against the
French for a short time ; but the resistance in both
cases proved unavailing.
Bonaparte, in the course of this campaign, had an¬
nexed the papal territories to the French empire, by a
decree dated from Vienna. Parma, Placentia, and
Tuscany, had been added some time before.
Soon after the breaking out of the war between
I ranee and Austria, the British ministers collected a
large force, naval and military, for an expedition, the
object of which was kept a profound secret. It sailed
from the Downs on the 29th July, and on the 1st Au¬
gust, Flushing, in the island of Walcheren, was in¬
vested. The place held out till the 14th, when the
garrison of 4000 men surrendered prisoners of war.
Antwerp was the main object of the expedition; but
the British commander, the earl of Chatham, had ne¬
glected to seize some forts which would have facilitated
his approach to the place ; the French had employed
the time lost in the siege of Flushing in strengthening
the defences ; and the capture of that great naval de¬
pot was now judged to be impracticable. The expedi¬
tion then returned to England, to the great disappoint¬
ment of the nation, who anticipated some more im¬
portant result than the occupation of a useless sandy
island, from an expedition consisting of 40,000 chosen
troops, and 35 sail of the line. The public mortifi¬
cation was increased in the sequel. The ministers re¬
solved to keep possession of Walcheren, apparently for
no other reason than that they were ashamed to re¬
nounce what had cost them so dear. A pestilential
fever, the annual and regular scourge of the place,
which broke out among the troops, destroyed or dis¬
abled nearly all who remained in it, and ultimately ren¬
dered it indispensable to abandon the island.
In the month of April, this year, a most gallant and
daring attack was made by Lord Cochrane on the
French fleet in Basque roads, by which six ships of the
line were driven on shore and rendered useless, and
three others, besides frigates, were burnt.
After the expulsion of the British from the penin¬
sula, the Spanish armies were attacked by the French,
and defeated in various engagements ; but the patriot¬
ism of the people soon filled up the ranks again, and
kept a respectable force on foot. Saragossa was be¬
sieged a second time, and defended with incredible va¬
lour and perseverance, till it was reduced to a mass of
ruins, and 30,000 of its inhabitants had perished by
the sword and disease. Another British army, which
had been recently landed in Portugal under Sir Arthur
Wellesley, marched into Spain, and joined the Spanish
force under General Cuesta. The two armies advan¬
ced towards Madrid, and at Talavera were attacked
by the French under Marshal Victor. The battle con¬
tinued two days, and terminated in the repulse of the
French, who retired in good order. The loss of the
latter was estimated at 10,000 men ; that of the Bri¬
tish and Spaniards at 7000. The rapid advance, how¬
ever, of Soult and Ney from the south compelled the
British general to measure back his steps to Badajoz,
and no advantage was reaped from the victory. From
the middle of summer to the end of the year a number
of actions were fought between the French and Spa¬
niards, in which the former were generally successful, France
though they sometimes experienced reverses. The bat-
ties of Ocana and Alba were peculiarly disastrous to 1810.
the Spaniards, and broke their confidence so complete¬
ly, Unit for a considerable time after they offered little
resistance to their enemy, who possessed himself of Se¬
ville, and all the most considerable places in the south
except Cadiz.
Massena arrived in Spain in the spring of 1810 with
large reinforcements, and assumed the command of the
French army destined to act against Portugal. After
taking Ciudad Rodrigo and Almeida, he advanced to
Busaco, and attacked the British in their strong posi¬
tion there, but was defeated with great loss. The pass
by the northern edge of the Sierra, however, being left
open by accident, he proceeded through it to Coimbra,
and thence to Torres Vedras, where finding the Bri¬
tish army posted in an impregnable position, he retired
a short distance, and took up his quarters at Santarem.
Here he remained from the 15th November to the 5th
of March, when he returned to Spain, continually ha¬
rassed in his retreat by the British.
In the course of this year, the islands of Guadaloupe
in the West Indies, and of Mauritius and Bourbon in
the Indian ocean, were taken from the French by the
British with little loss.
The peace of Presburg had put it in Bonaparte’s power
to accomplish an object, on which it is probable his
thoughts had long been bent. Possessing a power sur¬
passing that of any sovereign in Europe, he was anxious
to ally himself by marriage with some of those royal fa¬
milies, who could add the lustre of ancient renown to
the titles which the sword had given him. His mar¬
riage with the archduchess Maria Louisa took place in
March 1810. It was followed by splendid fetes, and
multitudes ot addresses, couched in the most sickening
style of hyperbolical flattery. As if this new alliance
had made him more regardless of public opinion, he,
about the same time, issued several decrees of a most
arbitrary nature, of which one authorized the deten¬
tion of all such persons as the government might su¬
spect, without bringing them to trial; another ordered
the names of all servants, male or female, employed in
families, to be registered at the police, obviously for the
purpose of perfecting the system of espionage previously
established ; and several others subjected the press to a
rigid censorship, and limited the number of printers
and booksellers. His brother Louis, king of Holland,
being found too humane for the rigorous system he had
adopted, was set aside ; and that unhappy country, as
well as Bremen, Hamburg, and Lubeck, with the in¬
termediate sea coast, were added to the French empire.
Fie was now in fact at the acme of his power. Within
the empire, if he did not enjoy the love of his subjects,
he had dazzled their judgments by his exploits, and
commanded their admiration. The conscription fur¬
nished him with an inexhaustible supply of soldiers.
His revenues were equal to his expenditure; and a
crowd of tributary kings and princes, who owed their
dignities to him, enabled him to command the resources
of all the adjacent countries. Of the only two princes
on the continent capable of disturbing his security, the
one was his firm supporter, and in some measure the
participator in his crimes ; the other was closely con¬
nected with him by family ties. The countries directly
under
200
FRA
France, under his authority were now a half larger than old
—v—L France, and containedforty-four millions of inhabitants 5
1811. but including the dominions of his tributary princes,
namely, Naples, Lombardy, and the confederation ot
the Rhine, he ruled over an extent of territory embra¬
cing 490,000 square English miles, and containing
seventy millions of inhabitants. This is exclusive^ of
Spain and Prussia. So great an extent of dominion
had nevei' been held by one man in modern times ; and
vet, with all its appearances of stability and over¬
whelming power, the causes were already in operation
which worked its overthrow. _ .
During 1811 the war was carried on with undimi-
nished activity on both sides in the Spanish peninsula.
A division of the British army having laid siege to Ba-
dajoz, Soult advanced to relieve it, and attacked Mar¬
shal Beresford at Albuera. The battle was remark¬
ably obstinate and bloody, but the French general did
not drive the British from their post, though he did
not sustain a defeat. The siege, however, was raised,
though only for a short time. Another battle, equally
obstinate and bloody, was fought between some divi¬
sions of the British and French armies at Fuentes
d’Honor, which ended in the repulse of the French.
Another glorious but unprofitable victory was gained
by General Graham at Barrosa, in March. On this
occasion, the jealousy or cowardice of the Spanish ge¬
neral, La Pena, alone prevented the total destruction
of the French annv. Badajoz and Ciudad Rodrigo
were taken by the British, the latter by a very bold
and gallant attack. To balance these successes, how¬
ever^ the French took Tarragona, Murviedro, Figue-
ras, and Valencia j but none of them without consider¬
able resistance. A series of defeats had at length taught
the Spaniards the imprudence of meeting the French
armies in the field. They now confined themselves
much more to desultory hostilities, the surprising of
posts, the harassing of foraging parties, the intercept¬
ing of supplies and dispatches. The small corps who
carried on this species of warfare had the name of
guerillas; and a new race of leaders sprung up among
them, who attained great distinction by their courage
and enterprise. Of these Sanchez, Porlier, IVIina, and
Martin were the most celebrated.
After the reduction of Badajoz and Ciudad Rodrigo,
the British army moved northward ; and on the 22d
July 1812, was fought the celebrated battle of Sala¬
manca, in which the French, under Marshal Marmont,
were defeated with the loss of about 13,000 men, of
whom yooo were made prisoners. This splendid vic-
torv was immediately followed by the evacuation ol
Madrid by Joseph Bonaparte ; and shortly after Soult
raised the "siege of Cadiz, and retired northward. Lord
Wellington pressed on the broken French army for some
time, but failed in his attempt to take Burgos from the
want of heavy artillery. The French, however, having
soon concentrated their different armies, were again
in a condition to advance. They compelled the British
commander to raise the siege of Burgos, and about the
end of October again occupied Madrid. The retreat
of the British was attended with much loss, chiefly in
3 .consequence of the state of the weather and the roads.
Wai wiih At the peace of Tilsit, the emperor Alexander had
Russia. agreed to adopt the continental system, by excluding
British manufactures and produce from bis ports. He
3
N C E.
persevered in this course till the complaints of his Frar,«
nobles induced him to relax the prohibition, and to per--rv
mit British goods to be imported in limited quantities
under licence. This concession, which had been wrung
from him by necessity, was highly resented by Napo¬
leon, who seized the duchy of Oldenburg, belonging to
the emperor’s brother-in-law, and presented menacing
remonstrances to the Russian monarch. Alexander,
though really anxious for peace, could not revoke the
concession, and nothing less would satisfy his ally.
Both sides then prepared for war. Bonaparte collect¬
ed the troops of Westphalia, of the Rhenish confedera¬
tion, and of Italy •, and with these, joined to a large
body of French stationed in Prussia, he took the field.
This army was computed to amount to 360,000 men ;
and certainly surpassed in numbers, discipline, and in
the skill of the commanders, any that Europe had ever
witnessed. The Russians had been equally diligent in
preparing for hostilities j but as a great part of their
troops were new levies, it was part of their plan.not to
hazard a general action at first, but to train their men
to military habits by the defence of posts, and by par¬
tial engagements. Napoleon left Paris in May 1812,
and reached the banks of the Niemen 22d June. A
continued series of small engagements followed, in
which the French, though they generally saw their
enemies retreat, had little advantage to boast of. . The
Russians, though inferior to their enemies in discipline
and equipments, constantly displayed a desperate cou¬
rage. In every contest, small or great, the victors
purchased their success extremely dear, and few pri¬
soners were taken on either side. The first general
battle was fought under the walls of Smolensko on the
lyth August, and terminated in the defeat of the Rus¬
sians, and capture of the town, which was on fire in
many places when the victors entered it. Had Napo¬
leon now stopped in his career, and employed the win¬
ter in organizing Poland, of which he had complete
possession, he might, in the ensuing spring, have re¬
sumed his operations under the most favourable auspi¬
ces, and in all probability have dictated a peace under
the walls of Petersburg. But a fatality hurried him
on, against the advice, it is said, of his ablest gene¬
rals. He followed his enemy boldly into the centre ol
Russia, undismayed by the approach of winter. The
sanguinary battle of Rorodino, in which the Russians
were compelled to retire, rather than defeated, opened
his way to Moscow, which he entered on the 15th Sep¬
tember. But what was his surprise to find that the
Russians had set fire to their ancient capital. The
flames burst out in a hundred places after the French
entered the town; and four-fifths of the houses were
destroyed. The conqueror now saw the dangers of his
situation ; and after waiting some time in the hope of
receiving a submissive application for peace from the
Russians, he at length condescended to ofler them
terms. His proposals were indignantly rejected. Mor¬
tified by this circumstance, he reluctantly left Mos¬
cow on the 16th October. We forbear to give the de¬
tails of the disastrous retreat which ensued. Suffice it
to say, that the vengeance of an exasperated enemy
tracked his footsteps, and left him not a moment’s re¬
spite. The country in his rear had been occupied, and
his exhausted and dispirited army had to dispute every
height and every pass. Those whom the sword spared,
the
FRANCE.
I nice, tlie rigour of the climate destroyed ; and of the fine which the French obtained was rather more decisive
'■r 'army of 360,000 men, with which he entered Russia, Austria, who had, as already mentioned, greatly in^
13* scarcely 50,000 returned to Poland. At the end of creased her military force, now interposed’ lifer media,
the year the wrecks of the army reached Marienwarder tion. She felt herself in a condition which enabled her
in £russia* , to interfere with effect, and she had an obvious interest
iNapoleon had left the army in I oland, and travel- in preventing Napoleon from again attaining that bale-
ling rapidly with a small escort, he arrived in Paris ful ascendency under which she had suffered so much,
before the end of the year. In his address to the le- Napoleon was sensible that notwithstanding the advan-
gislative body, he admitted that a heavy calamity had tages. he had gained in Germany, the state of his af-
befallen the army, to repair which, great sacrifices fairs in Spain rendered his situation precarious. The
would be necessary. A pompous exposition was then mediation of Austria was accepted by both parties
made of the resources of the country, and of the im- and an armistice concluded on the 4th June. A con-
provement which had taken place in it since the revo- gress was formed at Prague ; but the negociations, which
lution. On the nth January 1813, * se?iatt/s consul- were continued till the 10th August, served only to
turn was issued, decreeing a levy of 350,000 men 5 show how irreconcilable the object’s of the contending
and so perfect was the system of the conscription, that parties were. In the course of the discussions, Au-
in a few weeks this enormous levy was raised, and stria went more and more into the views of the allies,
after a short drilling, the men were marched off to She proposed that the duchy of Warsaw should be sup-
Germany, in separate bodies. Napoleon before leav- pressed, the Prussian fortresses occupied by the French
ing Paris, effected a reconciliation with Pope Pius VII. given up, the Illyrian provinces restored to her, and
by restoring his temporal possessions ; and he at the the confederation of the Rhine dissolved. These terms
same time nominated the empress regent during his were rejected by Bonaparte, who endeavoured, but in
absence. He joined the army on the Elbe about the vain, to bribe Austria to co-operate with him, by offer-
middle of April. ing her a large section of the Prussian monarchy. At
The emperor Alexander was determined to followup length all prospect of pacification disappeared. Au-
lus successes with the utmost vigour. New and exten- stria joined herself to the allies, and both parties ap-
sive levies were made throughout his empire, and he pealed once more to the sword.
endeavoured at the same time, to engage the kings of While the armistice lasted, Prussia had made areat
Sweden and Prussia in the war. As Denmark con- exertions to recruit her armies. The king made a
tmued to adhere to the French cause, the bait held out strong appeal to the people, promised them a°represen-
to the Swedish crown prince, vvas the conquest of Nor- tative constitution, and called upon them to deliver
way, in which Alexander engaged to assist him. The their country from a foreign and hateful yoke. The
king of Prussia had so often suffered from the over- call was obeyed with unprecedented zeal. Vast num-
whelming power of France, that his fears held him hers presented themselves spontaneously to be enrolled ;
long in suspense, and he was at last only driven into a large militia force was organized, as a support to the
an alliance with Alexander, by the impatience of his regular army 5 carts and horses were voluntarily sup-
subjects to deliver themselves from the French yoke. plied by the peasantry 5 and the women furnished
At length both he and the Swedish crown prince en- clothes and flannels for the use of the soldiers. In
gaged cordially in the cause. Austria for the present short, the whole of Prussia resembled a camp,
professed neutrality ; but Napoleon was aware that no The first considerable action after the campaign re¬
reliance could be placed on her, and that any fresh commenced, was fought at Jauer in Silesia, where the
disaster might tempt her to become his enemy, not- French, under Marshal Macdonald, were defeated with
withstanding the family alliance. She had recruited great loss by Blucher. This was followed by the battle
her army, and put herself in a condition to derive ad- of Dresden, fought on the 26th, 27th, and 28th Au-
11 vantage from any circumstances which might occur. gust, in which the allies were repulsed with the loss of
Can igu The campaign was opened in April. The French 20,000 or 30,000 men, and the celebrated General
army assembled on the Elbe amounted to 170,000 men, Moreau was mortally wounded. The entire destruc-
but with a very small proportion of veteran troops. tion of Vandamme’s corps shortly after in Bohemia,
The Russian, Prussian, and Swedish forces were esti- was, however, a compensation for this disaster. The
mated at 200,000. After some fighting, of less conse- Austrians in the mean time, had formed a junction
quence, the two armies met on the field of Lutzen, on with the allies, who were farther strengthened by the
the 2d of May. A line of five or six villages occupied arrival of a corps of 40,000 Russians'under General
by the French were attacked, taken and retaken se- Beningsen. The Westphalians, released from the pre-
veral times, till night put an end to the combat. The sence of the French, by the irruption of a body of Rus-
alhes retired next day, but were not molested in their sians, declared against the French ; and at the same
retreat by the I rench, though the latter claimed the time the Bavarians made a treaty with Austria, and
victory. In the French official dispatch to the em- joined the allies. Napolean now found his situation
press, it was affirmed that this action, like a clap of more critical than ever. He was greatly outnumbered
thunder, had dissipated the chimerical hopes of those by his enemies, his allies were daily' deserting his
who calculated on the destruction of the French em- standard, his troops were inexperienced and dispirited,
P|^e* The allies, however, were not disheartened, and he was at a distance from France in the midst of
icj received considerable reinforcements soon after, a hostile population. From that fatal confidence which
p a^am |>eso^ve,l to abide the combat. The battle he had displayed in his Russian campaign, he did not
0 autzen fought the 20th and 21st May, was as se- attempt a retreat while such a measure was practica-
vei^ and bloody as that of Lutzen, but the advantage ble. The allies pushed bodies of troops forward on
Vol. IX. Part I. t Co botl.
201
Fi'faic1.
1813.
FRA
both flaoks, till his communication with the Rhine was
intercepted, and his position almost surrounded. JNa-
poleon now prepared tor the combat, which he saw was
unavoidable, by concentrating his troops and streng h-
ening the weak points of his position with field-works
The decisive battle of Leipsic, the greatest and most
eventful in modern times, was fought on the i6tb, lytli,
and 18th October. On the i6tb, the advantage at the
close of the day was rather on the side of the hrench .
the 17th was spent chiefly in preparations tor renew¬
ing the engagement. Even on the 18th, the success
of the allies was not so complete, that it would have
been ruinous to Napoleon’s army, had the bridge be¬
tween Leipsic and Lindenau not been destroyed pre¬
maturely, and exposed the divisions of Macdonald and
Poniatowsky to destruction. The Joss of the Irench
was estimated at 60,000 men, in killed, wounded, and
prisoners, and 500 pieces of cannon. I heir route 0
the Rhine was strewed with baggage, artillery, and
every species of military wreck. At Hanau they en¬
countered the Bavarian general M rede, with 35,000
men, but be was not able to stop their maJ'cb. Ihe
remnant of the army crossed the Rhine at Mentz, on
the 7th November. . . . ,
Bonaparte after his first reverses in Russia had
weakened his armies in Spain, by dravving troops from
that country to Germany. The British and Spanish
generals now prepared to avail themselves of this ad¬
vantage. The French withdrew from Madrid in the
end of May, and appeared at first disposed to defend
the line of the Ebrc. But this intention was soon
abandoned, and they continued to retire northward. At
Vittoria the British general attacked them on the 20th
June, and gained a brilliant victory. A second victory
in the heart of the Pyrenees enabled Lord Wellington
to lay siege to Pampeluna and St Sebastian, both of
which were reduced. The war was now carried into
France, and after five days fighting, the strong lines
which the French had formed in the neighbourhood of
Bayonne were forced, and the British and Spanish
armies advanced to the Adoui.
The supports of Napoleon’s power now crumbled
down on all sides. The Confederation of the Rhine
was entirely dissolved immediately after the battle of
Leipsic, and the whole of the German auxiliaries were
from that moment lost to the French cause. In his ef¬
forts to collect an army, Napoleon had withdrawn al¬
most all the French troops from Holland. The Dutch,
who had suffered severely from his anticommercial
principles, gladly seized the opportunity to shake ofl
the yoke. A conspiracy was formed at the Hague and
in Amsterdam; the Dutch military joined the people ;
and Holland recovered her independence almost with¬
out a struggle. On the 30th November the prince of
Orange armed from England, and was greeted with
the liveliest acclamations of the people.
Preparatory to entering France, the allied sovereigns
issued a proclamation from Frankfort (1st December),
in which they declared to the French nation, that they
had no plans of conquest in view j that they wished
France to be great, happy, and free ; and that it was
solely against the ambition of Napoleon, who held all
the neighbouring states in slavery, that they made war.
The French emperor called for a new levy of 300,000
men, and by his own authority increased the existing
3
N C E.
taxes. The legislative body was convoked, and for
the first time ventured to speak another language than
that of adulation. A deputation of its members drew
up a report (28th December), in which they stated the
necessity of uniting the nation to the throne, by an
open renunciation of projects of aggrandisement, and
by maintaining the entire and constant execution of the
laws which guarantee liberty, and the free exercise of
political privileges. These they considered as the only
means of giving energy to the French in their own de¬
fence. Napoleon resented the. freedom of this state¬
ment with the insolence which unbridled power had
taught him. He taxed the members of the committee
with faction and treason ; and without regard to their
remonstrances, took measures for recruiting his armies,
and raising the nation en masse. But the people, worn
out with his endless demands, answered his call to arms
with much less zeal than was evinced by the Prussians
in a similar case.
The allies passed the Rhine on the 1st January
1814, and spread themselves over the Netherlands and
Alsace, without experiencing much resistance.^ They
wisely pressed on, without losing time in besieging for¬
tresses. A last and fruitless effort was made to nego-
ciate, hut without suspending hostilities. Commissioners
met at Chatillon on the Seine. The basis proposed by
the allies was, that France should he reduced within
the limits she occupied in 17925 and that Antwerp,
and certain other strong places, should he put immedi¬
ately into their hands, till the treaty was completed.
The French ministers shifted their grounds as the for¬
tunes of their master fluctuated, during the course of
hostilities, till the negociations were closed on the 18th
March. It would he tedious to recount the various
movements and battles of the different armies, which
were now pressing towards Paris as a common centre,
and against which Napoleon made head with a very in¬
ferior force. It is admitted that he never displayed
greater ability than in this short campaign 5 and that
theTrench troops, though consisting in a great measure
of raw levies, never fought with greater intrepidity.
No exertions,however, could now avail against the over¬
whelming force of the allies under Prince Schwartzen-
burg. Laon, Rheims, Troyes, Montmiral, Arcis, places
within seventy or eighty miles of Paris, were the scenes
of sanguinary contests, in which the I rench often suc¬
ceeded 5 but still the loss generally operated more se¬
verely upon their small force, than upon the larger mas¬
ses of the allies. It was on the 22d March that Napoleon
made a movement, which suddenly changed the state of
the war. Placed between two armies of a hundred
thousand men each, with a force not exceeding sixty
thousand, he attempted by a desperate eflort at Arcis,
to disable or defeat one of his antagonists; hut failing
in his design, and despairing of forcing the position 0.
the Austro-Russian army, he ventured on the daring
project of retiring to Vitry, where he was interposed
between the two hostile armies, but where he was m no
condition to prevent their approach to the capital, if
they chose to follow that course. He calculated that
Prince Schwartzenburg would not advance to Paris,
while he hung on his rear $ but that on the contrary,
he would be followed by the Austrian general, who
would thus he drawn away from the capital, without
the expence of a battle. The result, however, disap¬
pointed
FRANCE.
Mice, pointed his calculations. Bluclier and Schwartzen-
!“v——' burg pushed rapidly forward, leaving a corps to observe
I14. Napoleon’s motions, and on the 28th March reached
the neighbourhood of Paris. The French emperor saw
his error when too late, and in the first moment of de¬
spair, addressed a letter to his father-in-law at Dijon,
entreating him to interpose to secure the throne to his
daughter’s child. But his application was fruitless.
On the 29th several of the villages on the north of the
capital were taken after a brave defence; and on the
30th the allies drove the French within the barriers,
when Marshal Marmont seeing farther resistance to
be hopeless, proposed a capitulation, which was signed
at two in the morning on the 31st March. The allied
1 j0 sovereigns with their troops entered Paris the same
A > enter day. The inhabitants were assured by proclamations,
P *• that they came not as conquerors, but as friends and
deliverers 5 that private property and rights should be
religiously respected, and no insult offered to the na¬
tional feelings. In such circumstances, it was not won¬
derful that a people so susceptible of sudden emotions
as the French, relieved by this liberal conduct from the
most appalling apprehensions, should welcome the allied
princes with unbounded acclamations. As they passed
into the city through the suburb of St Martin, shouts of
long live Alexander, long live Frederic William, long
live our Deliverers, were heard on all sides. The
Parisians were divided into three parties. The most
considerable party in point of numbers was chiefly
anxious about the establishment of a free constitution ;
another party was attached to the existing order of
things, and wished to secure the crown to Bonaparte’s
son ; the third and smallest party consisted of Royal¬
ists, and desired merely the restoration of the Bour¬
bons. The allies naturally wished to favour the last
party; but as Alexander professed his readiness to al¬
low the French to form a constitution for themselves,
and to make what conditions they pleased with their
prince, the liberal party, with a few exceptions, de¬
clared for the Bourbons. The senate assembled, with
Talleyrand at its head, decreed on the 2d April, that
Napoleon by his various acts of ambition and tyranny
had forfeited the throne. A plan of a constitution was
immediately afterwards drawn up, and unanimously
adopted by that body, under which it was carried, that
the crown should be offered to Louis, brother of the
late king. By this instrument, the supreme authority
was vested in the king, the senate, and legislative body;
the king was to possess an absolute veto; the senate
was to consist of not less than 150, nor more than 200
members, whose dignities were hereditary ; the legis¬
lative body was to be elected immediately by the elec¬
toral bodies, for a period of five years. The existing
nobility were to preserve their titles, and the old noble^s
to resume theirs. The freedom of the press was guaran-
teed. While these great changes were taking place
in Paris, Napoleon remained at Fontainebleau, from
which he sent Marshals Ney and Macdonald to nego-
ciate with the allies, and to endeavour to secure the
succession to his son. The restoration of the Bour-
5: bous, however, had already been determined on; and
Sj11 tlle result of the negociation was, that Napoleon was
* a i0We^ f° retire to the isle of Elba, with a pension of
two millions of francs per annum (80,000!.) ; one mil¬
lion more were assigned to the ex empress Josephine ;
20 J
two millions and a half to the other branches of the im- France
penal family; and the sovereignty of Parma, Placen- ’—-Nr—
tia, and Guastalla, was given to the empress Maria 1814.
Louisa, and to her son in succession. Napoleon was
peimitted also to take with him to Elba, 400 volun¬
teers as a guard,
While the allies were thus bringing the war to a
happy termination in the north of France, Lord Wel¬
lington was advancing with uninterrupted success in
the south.. His lordship passed the Adour, as soon as
the cessation of the rains rendered the roads passable,
and on the 27th February attacked Soult in his strong
position at Orthes. The French army, though much
inferior in numbers to the allies, made a most deter¬
mined resistance, but was at length driven back with
the loss of seven thousand men. This victory opened
the city of Bourdeaux to the conquerors, where the
white flag was immediately displayed, amidst shouts of
live the Bourbons, Soult retired slowly towards
Thoulouse, under the walls of which he took up a very
strong position. He was here again attacked by the
allied .British and Spanish armies on the 10th April.
The French commander availed himself of the ad van¬
tages of his situation with consummate skill, and baf¬
fled his antagonists for many hours; but he was at last
oveipowered, and compelled to retire, leaving the citv
to be occupied by the victors. The loss of the British
and Spaniards in this battle which terminated the war,
amounted to five thousand men : that of the French
has not been mentioned, but must of course have been
greater. .Next day intelligence of the capitulation of
Paris arrived, and immediately led to the suspension of
hostilities.
Louis left his residence in England, and arrived atRestora-
Paris on the 3d May, where he was welcomed with the tion of the
tumultuous acclamations of the populace. The nego- Bourbons-
ciations now proceeded rapidly, and the peace of Paris
was signed on the 30th May. The limits of France
were re-established as they existed on the 1st January
1792, except that some small additions were made for
the sake of rounding the frontier. She received back
all her colonies except Tobago, St Lucia, the Mauri¬
tius and its dependencies, and the part she possessed of
St Domingo. The allies discharged her of all pecuni¬
ary claims, or claims for compensation, except those of
private individuals ; and she was allowed to retain the
works of art collected in the Louvre from the spoils of
Italy and Germany. Considering how wantonly the
victors had been provoked, and how much they had
suffered from the restless aggressions of Napoleon’s
government, it must be admitted that the terms they
dictated to France were extremely liberal, and that
they made a very temperate use of their power.
Louis thus found himself reinstated on the throne of
his ancestors without any effort of his own. Though
his situation presented considerable difficulties, they
were such as prudence and liberal conduct on his part-
weuld have surmounted. As his policy was necessarily *
pacific, he could not hope to detach the affections of the
army from the celebrated commander who had been so
long their idol. But in these circumstances, it was so
much the more incumbent on him to attach the nation
firmly to his cause ; to unite their interest with his
own, by establishing liberal institutions, and by show¬
ing the people that their only security for the blessings
C c 2 0f
2C'4
FRA
of unshackled industry, the upright administration of
justice, and a really free government, depended the
stability of his throne. The great changes which had
taken place in the state of property in France had
created an interest adverse to his family, and the en¬
joyment of liberty was the only bribe by which Louis
could hope to reconcile this hostile interest to his au¬
thority. Unfortunately it was foupd that the school¬
ing of adversity had produced no beneficial effect on
the Bourbon dynasty. The very first acts of Louis
betrayed arbitrary principles. He rejected the con¬
stitution framed by the senate, and ratified by a large
portion of the legislative body, and promulgated an¬
other by his own authority, less liberal in its character,
and rendered the more offensive because it asserted the
supreme and uncontrouled power of the crovvn, though
it admitted the propriety of regulating its exercise ac¬
cording to circumstances. He assumed the title ot
Louis XVfir. and dated the year of his accession as
the 10th of his reign, thus declaring all the acts of the
preceding period rebellious and illegal. His new mi¬
nisters, chiefly emigrants, evinced a restless and violent
spirit. Though subjected to the forms of a represen¬
tative government, they did not hesitate to avow the
principles of absolute monarchy in their speeches j and
some of them were so imprudent, as to give no very ob¬
scure hints that a time might soon come when the pro¬
perty of emigrants would be reclaimed. Ihe freedom
of the press, so pompously announced by the charter,
was violated by the establishment of a rigorous censor¬
ship } and to show that this was not meant to be a
temporary measure, it W'as professedly founded on the
rash and impetuous disposition of the 1'rench people.
The situation of the finances, it was declared, would
not admit of the abolition of the- droits reunis, which
had been promised. The conscription, though nomin¬
ally laid aside, was re-established before any relief was
experienced from its abolition. In short, the French
soon found or conceived, that the return of the Bour¬
bons brought no alleviation of their grievances.^ The
peace which attended their restoration was consulered
as stamped with national ignominy } they were viewed
as having all the arbitrary^ principles of Napoleon,
without any pretensions to his talents or his renown.
They were dreaded as the friends and patrons, of feudal
rights, and as the enemies of those revolutionary in¬
terests which comprehended so great a portion of the
population. The public discontents arising out of this
state of things, would not have shaken their power
had they been secure of the attachment cf the army j
but possessing neither the confidence of the soldiers nor
the people, the indiscreet and violent measures they
adopted continually increased the perils, that surround¬
ed them. All that has transpired since 1815, has
tended to show more and more clearly that the subver¬
sion of their power was not the consequence of any
conspiracy, hut was simply the effect ot the attachment
of the military to their old commander, and of the in¬
difference or hostility of the great bulk of the popula-
ti0The constitution or charter granted by Louis, vested
the elective franchise in persons of thirty years^ of age,
and paying 300 francs (12I.) direct taxes. This law,
which is still in force, restricts the right of voting to
about 110,000 persons in the whole of France. The
N C E.
individual eligible as a representative must he forty France:
years of age, and belong to the class which pays 1000 w-v-v
francs (40I.) direct taxes. The chamber of peers con- 1814.,
sists of persons holding their dignities either for hie
or hereditarily. This court, named by the king, and
whose deliberations are secret, takes cognizance of
crimes of high treason, and all attempts against the
state. In both chambers the king has the initiation of
all laws. It is unnecessary to dwell upon the princi¬
ples of such a constitution. A body better contrived
than the chamber of peers for destroying individuals
obnoxious to the government could not easily be con¬
ceived. The intention of confining the choice of de¬
puties to persons above forty, is partly no doubt to li¬
mit the number who are eligible, but still more to fill
the chamber with individuals born before the le'olu-
tion, and therefore more probably attached to the old
regime. The object in making the qualification of
electors so high, is obviously to confine the franchise to
so small a number of persons, that the government by
its money and patronage may be able to corrupt them,
and thus in effect name the deputies itself. As it turn¬
ed out, however, that the French ministers were not so
dexterous in the trade of corruption as some of their
neighbours, and that the national voice still made it¬
self heard through this very imperfect instrument, a
great change was made in its composition in 182c.
The power of returning nearly two-fifths of the mem¬
bers is now vested in about 20,000 persons.j and by
gaining one half of these, and a small proportion of the
rest, perhaps in all about 25,000 or 30,000 individuals,
the government can secure a decided majority of its
own creatures in the chamber. With a revenue of
thirty millions sterling a-year, and such a multitude of
places, titles, and distinctions to bestow, it can never
be difficult for the ministry to accomplish this object.
It is a mockery to give the name of a chamber of re¬
presentatives to such a body which represents not the
sense of the people, but the w.ll of the court. It is a
convenient instrument of taxation and coercion, a mask
which conceals the harsh features of despotism without
restraining its malignant spirit. It is necessarily
doomed by the vices of its constitution to be the enemy
—not the friend of popular rights, the champion of pre¬
rogative, the protector and promoter of the corruption
and profusion by which it is nourished. We now re¬
turn from this digression to our narrative.
Napoleon landed in Elba on the 4th May. For
some time his active mind seemed to be entirely oc¬
cupied with the embellishment of his capital and with
various rural pursuits. He conversed freely with the
British and Austrian commissioners, and with strangers
of all nations, about the scenes and events of his
past life, and seemed perfectly reconciled to his si¬
tuation. But after some months residence he suddenly
assumed more retired habits. He* abandoned his usual
pursuits, rarely received visitors, and when seen ap¬
peared absorbed in thought. He was in fact now ma¬
turing a project for recovering the French throne.
He kept up a correspondence with various individuals
in France who were disgusted with the conduct of the
Bourbons } and it was most probably the numerous and
increasing symptoms of discontent in that country which
induced him to embark in the daring enterprise. He
secretly augmented his military force, and collected a
number
V
k
FRANCE.
>c number of small craft ; and the execution of his design
is said to have been hastened by the intelligence he re*
ceived that the allied princes at Vienna had it in con*
temptation to transport him to St Helena. At length,
i of on the 26th February 18x5, he left Porto Ferrajo with
; |i|(e 900 men, on board of seven vessels, of which one was
armed. With this handful of men he was now about
to invade a powerful kingdom, defended by an army of
230,000 soldiers. A landing was effected on the xst
March, near Antibes. For five days he received no
support, and his situation appeared extremely critical 5
but a force of 6000 men sent from Grenoble to arrest
his progress having joined him, and the garrison of that
city having immediately after declared in his favour,
his difficulties were in a moment at an end. From this
period every regiment sent against him served to swell
his army. The people, even those who had insulted
him during his journey to Elba, moved by novelty, or
disappointed in the conduct of the Bourbons, strewed
his path with flowers, and received him as a deliverer
with joyful acclamations. In short, his journey to Paris
was a continued triumphal procession. He reached
that capital on the 20th March, in the evening, and,
without shedding one drop of blood, reascended the
throne from which he had been driven eleven months
before. Louis had left Paris at one o’clock the same
morning, accompanied by a few emigrants, without the
body of the people testifying the least concern for his
misfortunes, or the least regret at his departure. He
retired to Ghent in the Netherlands.
Though the whole of France submitted almost instan¬
taneously to Napoleon, he was well aware that vast ex¬
ertions would be required to establish his power. The
great princes assembled at the congress of Vienna, no
sooner learned that he had landed in France, than they
issued a proclamation, placing him “ without the pale
of civil and social relations,” and declaring their deter¬
mination to maintain the dispositions of the treaty of
Paris at all hazards. Sensible of the difficulties of his
situation, he now endeavoured to unite the national
feeling to his cause by a liberal system of government.
A new constitutional act was promulgated, establishing
a hereditary chamber of peers, and settling a plan of
representation, which, though not entirely unobjection¬
able, was infinitely preferable to any that had been in
operation since the dissolution of the republican govern¬
ment. The two chambers, when they afterwards met,
evinced a spirit of independence to which France had
been a stranger for 15 years. The censorship was
abolished by an imperial decree, and every thing was
done to give a popular character to the acts of the go¬
vernment. Deputations called from the electoral col¬
leges, met at Paris, and an assembly, to which the an¬
cient name of a Champ de Mai was given, swore to
maintain the constitution. Bonaparte had been all the
time sedulously employed in strengthening his army.
It was desirable to act before his enemies could con¬
centrate their vast resources ; and as soon therefore as
his preparations were tolerably advanced, he hastened
to the Netherlands. Both the Prussians and British
1815.
were taken by surprise. I he former were attacked and
repulsed near Charleroi with considerable loss on the
15th. On the 16th were fought the battles of Quatre
Bras and Ligny, in which the Prussians again suffered
severely ; but the small body of British engaged main¬
tained their ground by astonishing efforts of heroism.
Napoleon had now accomplished one object j he had se¬
parated the main body of the Prussians from their al¬
lies ; and the 17th was spent in preparations for a con¬
flict with the British on the following day. The duke
of Wellington had taken up a station in a position jg
chosen by himself in the neighbourhood of Waterloo. Freuch
Here he awaited the attack of the French, which com- finally de-
menced at mid-day on the 18th. It is impossible to do (eated at
justice within our present limits to this memorable Waterloo‘
battle. Both generals exerted themselves to the ut¬
most; and never did two armies second the skill of their
commanders by a more devoted courage. The im¬
moveable firmness of the British troops, defied the
tactics, the enthusiasm, and the desperation of their
enemies ; and on the arrival of the Prussians at sunset,
the French, worn out by incessant but fruitless efforts,
were at length overthrown with unexampled carnage,
and the entire loss of their artillery and baggage. The
victory was so decisive, that the flight was" a complete
route, the beaten army seemed totally dissolved, and
scarcely a semblance of resistance was offered. The
total loss of the trench in this battle was never accu¬
rately ascertained, but has been estimated at 40,000
men in killed, wounded, and prisoners, out of an army
of 80,000. Napoleon arrived at Paris on the 20th,
and finding that he was now consideml as the only ob¬
stacle to peace, he resigned the imperial crown in fa¬
vour of his son. The two chambers conducted them¬
selves with great firmness and wisdom in this trying
conjuncture. They formed a provisional government,
sent commissioners to treat with the allies for peace,
made preparations for defending Paris, and found them¬
selves so warmly seconded by the national spirit of the
people and the army, that probably nothing but the ex¬
treme difficulties of their situation, from the sudden ap¬
proach of an overwhelming force, prevented a general
rising of the nation to defend its independence. When
the cannon were roaring within hearing of the citizens,
and a hostile army threatened them with the most fear¬
ful calamities, not a single voice was raised in the
chamber in favour of the Bourbons. The representa¬
tives continued to meet till the 8th July, when the al¬
lied troops being in possession of Paris in virtue of a
capitulation, the doors of the chamber were shut, and
the deputies excluded by an armed force. The allies
now acted with less reserve than in the former year.
They avowed their determination to replace Louis on
the throne by force ; and in this measure the British
minister concurred, in opposition to the most obvious
sense of the treaty between the allied powers of 25th
March, and subsequent declarations, which however
were found to be nicely adapted to cover such a design
by a happy equivocation in their terms (d). In every
town which the allies entered they proclaimed Louis
XVIII.;
(d) In this war they do not desire to interfere with any legitimate right of the French people. They have
no esign to oppose the claim of that nation to choose their own form of government, or intention to trench in
any respect upon their independence as a great and free people. However general the feelings of the sovereigne
2 may
206
France-
iBl 5,
F R
XVIII. j and he returned to Paris with their baggage,
and surrounded with their bayonets, on the 8th oi Ju y.
Negotiations for peace now commenced, and were pro
longed to the 20th November, when the second treaty
of Paris was concluded. The terms of this treaty weie
more humiliating to the vanquished party than those o
1814. Some small portions of territory were detached
froni France. The works of art collected in the Louvre
from Italy and Germany, which she had been allowed
to retain by the treaty of 1814, were restored to their
original owners. France was to pay to the allies
seven hundred millions of francs, as an indemnity tor
the expence of the campaign, and to provide tor
1 co,000 of the allied troops, who were stationed on her
J  Jolro of Wpllincrton. to keep
A N C E.
Auvergne, Languedoc, Dauphlne, and Provence. Some
reckon the Limousin the most beautiful province in ^
France, although many parts of it besides this exhibit
a charming diversity of hills and valleys, and some of
the rivers,°but the Seine in particular, often assume a
picturesque appearance. It cannot be said that agri¬
culture has attained to the perfection which it has done
in Britain ; yet in different provinces the cultivation of
the ground seems to keep pace with its fertility, and
the husbandmen of others display a degree of industry
which is deserving of commendation. As a striking
proof of this, many mountains of the Cevennes, only
remarkable for their sterility, have been rendered ex¬
tremely fertile by the indefatigable exertions of indus-
Fr,
l8:
S63
Bonaparte
surrenders
himself to
the British.
566
Climate of
France.
northern frontier under the duke ol Wellington, to keep
down any renewed attempts at revolution. 1 iese
troops were only removed in 1818. . .
The ex-emperor after the resignation of his authori¬
ty, proceeded to Rochfort, with the view of sailing to
America. But finding all chance of escape precluded
by the vigilance of the British squadron, he lett the
port in a small vessel, and surrendered himselt a pri¬
soner to Captain Maitland of the Bellerophon, on the
15th July. After being exhibited in Torbay for some
days to wondering crowds, he was removed to St He¬
lena, where he has since continued, and is likely during
the remainder of his life to continue to live—a monu¬
ment of the mutability of fortune, and the instability ot
earthly grandeur. ,. ,
Shortly after the king was re-established, he dissol¬
ved the chamber of deputies, and convoked a new
chamber ; having previously caused his prefects fill up
the vacancies in the electoral colleges, which should
have been filled up by the primary assembly j in other
words, having nominated a great proportion of the e ec-
tors. By this infamous juggle, the chamber was filled
with a set of furious ultra-royalists, who outdid the
king himself in a zeal for prerogative, and disgraced
the name of representatives by clamouring for the re¬
storation of absolute power. A violent reaction na¬
turally followed j the press was again subjected to a
censorship ; the protestants in the south were harassed
and persecuted j their houses were burned, and 240
murdered in cold blood. Louis, who soon became
sensible that the ultra zeal of the deputies was mul¬
tiplying his dangers, prudently dissolved the cham¬
ber again in 1816, and convoked another, in winch a
more moderate spirit prevailed. Since this period the
only changes of importance which have taken place in
France are those made in the charter, ol which some
account has already been given.
In a country so extensive as that of France, it is not
to be expected that the climate should be invariably the
same j but it is certainly clearer and more salubrious
i>pon the whole than that of Britain, and it is admira¬
bly adapted to the cultivation of the vine, without which
many parts of it would perhaps continue in a state of
nature. The country presents to the eye a level ap¬
pearance in general 5 but several mountains are met
with in the southern parts of it, such, for example, as
try.
The most remarkable rivers of France are commonly Rbe.-t
reckoned four in number, the Seine, Loire, Rhone,
and the Garonne, although there are many others of
inferior note. The Seine is universally allowed to be
a beautiful river, which takes its rise in the department
of Cote d’Or, and, after traversing a country of about
250 miles in extent, falls into the English channel at
Havre de Grace. The source of the Loire is in Mont
Gerbier, in what was formerly called Languedoc, and
after running about 500 miles, empties itself into the
sea beyond Nantes. The Rhone rises from the Glacier
of Furea, and the Garonne in the vale of Arau in the
Pyrenees. The inferior rivers are the Saone, Dor¬
dogne, and a number of lesser streams which form a
junction with the Loire. . _ . j-
There are numerous mountains in France, but there Moan
are none which are of a great height. The chain of
the Vosges, in the east, about twenty or thirty miles
from the Rhine, has an elevation not exceeding 4600
feet. Those of Brittany consist chiefly if not wholly
of granite, but there is nothing remarkable in their ele¬
vation. France is divided from Switzerland by Mont
Jura; but the principal chain of mountains is that de¬
nominated Cevennes, 'running from north to south, and
sending out ramifications from east to west. _ Some na¬
turalists are of opinion, that certain volcanic appear¬
ances may be traced among the mountains in the de¬
partments of Cantal and the Upper Loire j but the
basaltic columns of which they chiefly consist, either do
not favour this conjecture, or leave the truth of it ex¬
tremely problematical. Jhe loftiest mountains m
France are those called Monts d’Or, which constitute
the centre, of which Puy de Sansi forms the chief ele¬
vation, its height being computed at 6300 feet above
the level of the sea. This mountain is covered a great
part of the year with snow, and from its sides issues the
river Dordogne.
The Pyrenees have been known and celebrated in
history since the time of Herodotus, and may with equal
propriety be considered as belonging either to France
or Spain •, although they have been more ably and mi¬
nutely described by the learned of the former countiy.
Shells and skeletons of animals have been found among
the Pyrenees, which may afford matter lor ample dis¬
cussion to the admirers of nature’s productions. Marine
productions
may be in favour of the restoration of the king, they no otherwise seek to influence the proceedings of the French,
in the choice of this or any other dynasty or form of government, than may be essential to the safety or per
nent tranquillity of Europe*” Lord Clancarty's Despatch, dated Vienna, 6th May 1815.
FRA
e> productions have been discovered on the top of Mont
' Perdu, which it is extremely difficult to ascend, because,
in many places) it is almost perpendicular tor nearly
900 feet j and near the summit there is a lake about
9000 feet above the level of the sea.
There are many forests in France, and of considerable
extent, to the growth of which it becomes of import¬
ance to attend, as the chief fuel which the inhabitants
can command is wood. The largest forests are those
of Orleans and Ardennes, but our limits forbid us to
give an enumeration of the rest, which could answer
no important purpose.
Of the botanical state of this country nothing can
be advanced with certainty ; for although its produc¬
tions of this nature may be said to have been examin¬
ed around Paris, Lyons, and Montpelier, with consider¬
able accuracy, yet much is still wanting to furnish any
thing like a complete history of its vegetables. We
have no certain accounts of what are purely indigenous
or what are exotic, although the former must be more
abundant in France than in any other European coun¬
try.
The horses of this country are certainly inferior to
those of Britain ; and in former times its monarchs
N C E.
were drawn by oxen to the national assemblies. Their
cattle are of a beautiful cream colour, but their sheep
are much inferior to the English, owing, perhaps, to
their wretchedly ill management, their meat heing,straw
during the winter season instead of green food. France
in some places is infested by the wild boar and the wolf
while the ibex and chamois inhabit the Pyrenees and
the Alps.
At one period there were gold mines in the southern Mhu-rals.
parts of France, and particles of that precious metal
are still to be found in some of the rivulets. There are
mines of silver in Alsace, and mines of copper in the
departments of the Alps. The duchy of Deux Fonts
contains mines of mercury $ antimony is found in Ar-
deche *, and abundance of iron, the most extensively use¬
ful of all the metals, is met with in the northern depart¬
ments, for the working of which there were computed
to be 2000 furnaces employed in the year 1798. .7-
Thepopulationof France was estimated at 26,363,00c Population,
in 1791. In 18x7 it amounted to 29,327,000. Our
readers will find a pretty accurate account of it by in¬
specting the following table, which exhibits the number
contained in each department, according to the divi¬
sion adopted since the revolution.
207
France.
.
Ancient Provinces
Departments.
Population.
Chief 'Pawns.
Flandre Fran^oise.
Artois.
Picardie.
Normandie.
Isle de France.
Champagne.
Lorraine.
Alsace.
Bretagne.
Maine and Perche.
Anjou.
Touraine.
Orleannois. .
Berri.
Nord.
Pas-de-Calais.
Somme.
Seine Inferieure.
Calvados.
Manche.
Orne.
Eure.
Seine.
Seine and Oise.
Oise.
Aisne.
Seine and Marne.
Marne.
Ardennes.
Aube.
Haute Marne.
Meuse.
Moselle.
Meurthe.
Vosges.
Haut-Rhin.
Bas-Rhin.
Isle and Vilaine.
Cotes-du-Nord.
Finisterre.
Morbihan.
Loire Inferiure.
Sarthe.
Mayenne.
Mayenne and Loire.
Indre and Loire.
Loiret.
Eure and Loire.
Loire and Cher.
Indre.
Cher.
899,890
58o*457
495*058
642.948
505.420
583.429
425,920
421,581
780,000
439,972
383,500
442,989
304,068
3II»°37
275,792
238,819
237,785
284,703
385.949
365,8x0
334,169
3i8,577
39i,642
508,544
519,620
452,895
403,423
407,900
4io»38o
332,550
403,864
275,292
286,153
265,996
212,552
204,271
228,158
Douai.
Arras.
Amiens.
Rouen.
Caen
Coutances.
Alen^on.
Evreux.
Paris.
Versailles.
Beauvais.
Laon.
Melun.
Chalons-sur-Marne.
Mezieres.
Troyes.
Chammont.
Bar-sur-Ornain.
Metz.
Colmar.
Strasbourg.
Rennes.
St Brieux.
Quimper.
Vannes.
Nantes.
Le Mans.
Laval.
Angers.
Tours.
Orleans.
Chartres.
Blois.
Chateauroux.
Bourges
Nancy,
Epinal.
Nivernois.
574
Religion,
&c.
Ancient Provinces.
Nivernois.
Bourgogne.
F ranche-Compte.
Poitou.
Marche.
Liraosin.
Bourbonnois.
Saintonge and Aunis.
Angoumois and part of Saintonge.
Auvergne.
Lyonnoxs, Foret and Beaujolois.
Dauphine.
Guyenne, comprehending Gas¬
cogne. • •
Bearn.
Comtd-de-Foix
Roussillon.
Languedoc.
Provence. .
Venaissini
Corsica.
FRANCE.
Departments.
Frau
Nievre.
Yonne.
Cote d’Or.
Saone and Loire.
Ain.
Haute-Saone.
Doubs.
Jura.
Vendee.
Deux-Sevres.
Vienne.
Haut-Vienne.
Creuze.
Correze.
Allier.
Charente-Inferieure.
Charente.
Puy-de-dome.
Cantal.
Rhone.
Loire.
Isere.
Hautes-Alpes.
Drome.
Dordogne.
Gironde.
Lot and Garonne.
Lot.
Aveyron.
Gers.
Landes.
Hautes-Pyrenees.
Basses-Pyrenees.
Arriege.
Pyrenees-Orientales.
Haute-Garonne.
Aude.
Tarn.
Garde.
Lozere.
Ardeche.
Haute-Loire.
Heraut.
Bouches-du-Rhone.
Basses-Alpes.
Var.
Vaucluse.
Corsica.
Population.
241,520
325,994
354436
47*457
404,668
300,156
240,792
292,882
268,686
254,105
253,048
243495
226,224
254,271
260,266
294,011
326,985
548,834
251,436
34748i
3I5?858
471,660
121,771
253472
424413
5i4»562
326.150
268.150
33*473
286,493
235*55°
198,763
383402
222,936
126,625
367*55°
240.993
295,885
322**44
*43*347
290.833
268,202
301,099
293*935
146.994
283,296
205,832
174,702
Chief Towns.
Nevers.
Auxerre.
Dijon.
Ma^on.
Bourg.
Vesoul.
Besan^on.
Lons-le-Saunier.
Fontenoy-le-Peuple.
Niort.
Poitiers.
Limoge.
Gneret.
Tulle.
Moulins.
Saintes.
Angouleme.
Clermont.
St Flour.
Lyons.
Montbrison.
Grenoble.
Gap.
Valence.
Perigueux.
Bourdeaux.
Agen.
Cahors.
Rhodez.
Aucb.
Mont-de-Marsan.
Tarbe.
Pau.
Tarascon.
Perpignan.
Toulouse.
Carcassonne.
Castres.
Nismes.
Mende.
Privas.
Le Puy.
Montpellier.
Aix.
Digne.
Toulon.
Avignon.
Bastia.
'3
The established religion is that of the church of
Rome, hut entirely independent of the Holy see; and
the revenues of the clergy are not so extensive as to
render them formidable to the preservation of the
state. Of its political constitution, as that is an
ignis’fatuus which eludes all description, little need
be said.
# :
Subsequent to the revolution, it was perhaps impos*Ainll
sible to give a just account of the strength of the French
army, for both themselves and their enemies made it
more numerous than it really was, although both parties
must have been actuated by very different motives.
The numerous defeats which the allies experiencea,
rendered it necessary to speak of their antagonists as a
never’
>
.-S
Published hi/A. Constable C C?£dmbmyh. l8l9. £«gnuot bo Sd* HaU. Bunt A
I i’:76
N i-
;■ *7
Re luue.
•3
Le iiu«r.
eiti
&C.
FRA
never*to-be-c!iminished swarm of men, and the French
•J no doubt gave exaggerated reports of their own actual
strength, in order to intimidate the allies. In the time
of the old government, the army amounted to 170,000
infantry, 44,000 cavalry, and 11,000 artillery ; and
perhaps at no period of the revolution did it ever exceed
600,000 men, although it has been often magnified to
the prodigious total of a million. Since the restoration of
the Bourbons, the army has been about 140,000, the
annual expence of which is about six millions sterling.
The naval power of France was once formidable even
to Britain : but the decided superiority in this respect
has been invariably possessed by the latter country ever
since the battle of La Hogue.
The revenue of France, immediately before the re¬
volution, has been estimated at twenty-two millions
sterling. The amount during Bonaparte’s reign, it is
believed, was never honestly stated. In 1820, it was
estimated at thirty millions. The public debt, funded
and unfunded, in 1814, was one hundred and twenty-
three millions, and the interest seven millions.
_ With respect to literature, France certainly holds a
distinguished place among the nations of Europe ; and
if the palm has been adjuged to Italy and Britain by
some authors, in point of bold invention and profound
philosophical speculations, French authors are to be
met with in great abundance who have done honour to
human nature by their polite learning, and elegant as
well as useful science. Altogether independent of a
Corneille, a Racine, a Crebillon, a Moliere, or a Vol¬
taire, this country has, at a more modern period, pro¬
duced many distinguished rvriters in literature and
philosophy, whose productions w'ill continue to be
read and admired, so long as men retain a sense of the
value and importance of the sciences they respectively
illustrate.
At one period there were no fewer than 21 universi¬
ties in Fiance, of which the Sorbonne at Paris was
reputed the most celebrated, the fame of which drew'
numbers of students from distant countries. There were
about 39 academies and literary societies, which pro¬
duced many elegant and valuable dissertations on the
difterent sciences, which have been long known to, and
justly esteemed by, the learned world.
The cities of France are very numerous, and many
of them make a most conspicuous figure. Paris, which
is still the metropolis, has been sometimes reckoned a
third smaller than London, and its population stated at
souls. It has often been considered as superior
to London in point of magnificence, but it is undoubted¬
ly inferior both in regard to convenience and cleanli¬
ness, the streets in general having very poor accommo-
F R A
°f France, a late province of France, but now
. tv,dyd into five departments, and so called, because it
H'as formerly bounded by the rivers Seine, Marne, Oise,
Aisne, and Ourque. It comprehends, besides Paris, the
Beauvoisis, the Valois, the county of Senlis, the Vexin,
and Hurepois, the Gatinois, the Multien, the Goele,
an WR 6 Mant0k ^ai,‘s the capital.
^RANCFORT on the Maine, an imperial and Imn-
Vol. IX. Part I. X
N C E. 2C9
dations for passengers on foota defect for which no France
elegance or magnificence can fully compensate. The1  
next to Paris in importance, is the city of Lyons, the
population of which is computed at 101,000: the deso¬
lation which it suffered during the tremendous reign of
Jacobin fury it has since recovered. The abolition of
monarchy was the innocent cause of much injury to its
trade, which consisted chiefly in the manufacture of such
splendid articles as were consumed by the court.
Next to Lyons we may mention Marseilles and Bour-
deaux, of which the former contains 100,000 people,
the latter 92,000. I he port of the former city is per¬
haps the best, as well as the most frequented, of any in
the Mediterranean. Lisle and Valenciennes are both
strongly fortified cities, the former of which has a popu¬
lation of about 60,000. It surrendered to the com¬
bined powers in the year 1793, but the French retook
it in the following year. The remaining cities, of
which we can only give a bare enumeration, are
Amiens, Rouen, Brest, Nantes, Orleans, Nancy, Metz,
Strasbourg, Toulouse, Montpelier, &c. none of them
having a population under 30,000 souls, many of them
carrying on an extensive trade, and all of them abound¬
ing with elegant buildings.
Many exertions have been made at different periods,Canats.
to improve the inland navigation of France. The great
Henry IV. began the celebrated canal of Burgundy^
which was finished by Louis XIII. and by which a com¬
munication is opened between the rivers Loire and Seine.
It consists of 42 locks, and is of singular importance to
the commerce of the western provinces. The canal of
Picardy reaches from the river Somme to theOise, taking
its rise from St Quintin, and affording an intercourse
to the provinces lying on the north-east. But the
greatest and most expensive work of this nature in
France, which was begun and finished by Louis XIV.
is the canal of Languedoc, which was completed in 15
years. It is 144 feet broad, six feet deep, and about
180 miles long; and it cost upwards of half a million
sterling.
The total amount of the exports of France in the Trade,
year 1784, exclusive of the provinces of Lorraine and
Alsace, and the trade with the West Indies which has
been since carried on, was 307,151,700 livres, and her
imports 271,365,000. The exports in 1789 were es¬
timated at 613,000,000 livres, and the imports at
448,000,000. Since the restoration of the Bourbons,
in 1818, the exports have been stated in the French
journals at 15,400,0001. sterling. See the article
France, in the Supplement, in which a full view is
given of the statistics of the country.
FRA
seatic town of Franconia in Germany, where the em- Franefort.
perors were formerly elected. It is a handsome, strong, ’ J
and rich place, and has a great deal of commerce.
Here the golden bull is preserved, which is the origi¬
nal of the fundamental laws of the empire. It is seated
in a fine fertile plain 5 and well fortified with a double
ditch, bastions, redoubts, and ravelins. The streets
are remarkably wide, and the houses handsomely built.
H d Since
21
fra [
Pruncfort Si»ce 1815 [t ,ias been 't,'ie Perma"ent Sfat tbe
S) German diet. The number of inhabitants is 41,000 ,
Franchise. and it is one of the four towns which still retain their
 * privileges. It was taken in October 1792, by the
French, who were dispossessed ol it by the iussians in
December following 5 it was again taken by the french
in July 1796, but they evacuated it to the Austrians in
September following. The suburb is called Saxon-
haustn, and joined to the town by a stone bridge built
over the Maine. E. Long. 8. 37. N. Lat. 50. 7.
FrancfoRT on the Oder, a rich and handsome town
of Germany, in the middle marche of Brandenburgh,
formerly imperial, but now subject to the king 0 inssia.
It is remarkable for three great fairs, and a celebrated
universitv ; and was taken by the French in 1806.
It lies about 45 miles south-east of Berlin, and 72
south of Stetin. E. Long. 14. 45- N. Lat. 52- 22‘
FRANCHE-COMFTE, a late province ot * ra"ce>
bounded on the south and west by Champagne and Bur-
gundy ; on the north by Lorrain ; and to the east by
the earldom of Mumplegard, and Switzerland. It is in
length from north to south about 30 leagues J m breadth
about 20. It is partly flat and partly hilly. I be
flat country is fruitful in grain, wine, hemp, and pas¬
ture j and the hilly country abounds in cattle, produ¬
cing also some wine and corn, copper, lead, iron, and
silver ores, mineral waters, and quarries of stone, marble,
and alabaster. It now forms the three departments ot
Doubs, Jura, and Upper Saone.
FRANCHISE, in Law. Franc/use and liberty are
used as synonymous terms ; and their definition is, “ a
royal privilege, or branch of the king’s . prerogative,
subsisting in the hands of a subject.” Being therefore
derived from the crown, they must arise from the king s
grant *, or in some cases may be held by prescription,
which, as has been frequently said, presupposes a grant.
The kinds of them are various, and almost infinite.
We shall here briefly touch upon some of the principal,
premising only, that they may be vested in either natural
persons or bodies politic ; in one man, or in many : but
the same identical franchise, that has before been grant-
ecJ to one, cannot be bestowed on another, for that would
prejudice the former grant. _
To be a county palatine, is a franchise vested m a
number of persons. It is likewise a franchise for a
number of persons to be incorporated and subsist as a
body politic.; with a power to maintain perpetual suc¬
cession, and do other corporate acts : and each indivi¬
dual member of such corporation is also said to have a.
franchise or freedom. Other franchises are, to hold a
court leet •, to have a manor or lordship j or, at least,
to have a lordship paramount *, to have waifs, wrrecks,
estravs, treasure-trove, royal fish, forfeitures, and deo-
dands \ to have a court of one’s own, or liberty of
holding pleas and trying causes; to have the cogni¬
zance ^of pleas; which is still a greater liberty, being
an exclusive right, so that no other court shall try cau¬
ses arising within that jurisdiction : to have a bailiwick,
or liberty exempt from the sheriff of the county ;
wherein the grantee only, and his officers, are to exe¬
cute all process: to have a fair or market; with the
j-ight of taking toll, either there or at any other pub¬
lic places, as at bridges, wharfs, or the like : which
tolls must have a reasonable cause of commence¬
ment (as in consideration of repairs, or the like), else
o ] FRA
the franchise is illegal and void: or lastly, to have a Fra*ei:
forest, chase, park, warren, or fishery, endowed with |
privileges of royalty. See Chase, Forest, &.c.
Franchise is also used for an asylum or sanctuary,
where people are secure of their persons, &c. Churches
and monasteries in Spain are franchises for ciiminals;
so were they anciently in England, till they were abused
to such a degree that there was a necessity for abolish¬
ing the custom. One of the most remarkable capitu¬
lars made by Charlemagne in his palace of Heristal,
in 779, was that relating to the franchises of churches.
The right of franchise was held so sacred, that even
the less religious kings observed it to a degree of scru¬
pulousness ; but to such excess in time was it carried,
that Charlemagne resolved to reduce it. Accordingly
he forbade any provision being carried to criminals re¬
tired into churches for refuge.
Franchise of Quarters, is a certain space or district
at Rome, wherein are the houses of the ambassadors
of the princes of Europe ; and where such as retire
cannot be arrested or seized by the sbirri or Serjeants,
nor prosecuted at law. The people of Rome look on
this as an old usurpation and a scandalous privilege,
which ambassadors, out of a jealousy of their power,
carried to a great length in the 15th century, by en¬
larging insensibly the dependencies of their palaces or
houses, within which the right of franchise was an-
ciently confined. Several of the popes, Julius 11L
Pius XIV. Gregory XIII. and Sixtus V. published
hulls and ordinances against this abuse ; which had
rescued so considerable a part of the city from their
authority, and rendered it a retreat for the most aban¬
doned persons. At length Innocent XI. expressly re¬
fused to receive any more ambassadors but such as
would make a formal renunciation of the franchise of
^FRANCIS I. king of France, the rival of the em¬
peror Charles V. and the restorer of learning and polite¬
ness in France. See (History of') France.
Francis, Fhilip, a very ingenious writer, of Irish
extraction, if not born in that kingdom. His father
was a dignified clergyman in Ireland, being dean ot
some cathedral; and our author, his son, was also
bred to the church, and had a doctor’s degree conter-
red on him. He was more distinguished as a transla¬
tor than as an original writer. His versions of Horace
and Demosthenes have been justly valued : the former
is accompanied with notes, and is perhaps as complete
and useful a work of its kind as hath yet appeared.
He was also a considerable political writer ; and in the
beginning of the present reign is supposed to have
been employed by the government: for which ser¬
vice he was promoted to the rectory of Barrow m
Suffolk, and to the chaplainship of Chelsea hospital.
He was also the author of two tragedies, Eugenia
and Constantia ; but as a dramatic writer, not very
successful. He died at Bath in March 1773; leaving
a son, who was then one of the supreme council at
Bengal.
FRANCISCANS, in Ecclesiastical History, are re¬
ligious of the order of St Francis, founded by him in
the year I 209. Francis was the son of a merchant o>
Assisi, in the province of Umbria, who, having led a
dissolute life, was reclaimed by a fit of sickness, and
afterwards fell into an extravagant kind of devotion,
that
i
FRA [211] FRA
1 cjg. that looked less like religion than alienation of mind.
I ns. Soon after this, viz. in the year 1208, hearing the
u. /—^ passage repeated, Mat. x. 9. xo. in which Christ ad¬
dresses his apostles, Provide neither gold, nor silver,
&c. he was led to consider a voluntary and absolute
poverty as the essence of the gospel, and to prescribe
this poverty as a sacred rule both to himself and to the
few that followed him. This new society, which ap¬
peared to Innocent III. extremely adapted to the pre¬
sent state of the church, and proper to restore its de¬
clining credit, was solemnly approved and confirmed by
Honorius III. in 1223, and had made considerable pro¬
gress before the death of its founder in 1226. Francis,
through an excessive humility, would not suffer the
monks of his order to be called fratres, i. e. brethren or
friars, hut fraterculi, i. e. little brethren, or friars-mi-
nor, by which denomination they still continue to be
distinguished. They are also called gray friars, on ac¬
count of the colour of their clothing, and cordeliers, &c.
The Franciscans and Dominicans were zealous and ac¬
tive friends to the papal hierarchy, and, in return, were
distinguished by peculiar privileges and honourable
employments. The Franciscans, in particular, were
invested with the treasure of ample and extensive in¬
dulgences $ the distribution of which was committed
to them by the popes, as a means of subsistence, and
a rich indemnification for their voluntary poverty.
In consequence of this grant, the rule of the founder,
which absolutely prohibited both personal and collec¬
tive property, so that neither the individual nor the
community were to possess either fund, revenue, or any
worldly goods, was considered as too strict and severe,
and dispensed with soon after his death. In 1231,
Gregory IX. published an interpretation of this rule,
mitigating its rigour j which was farther confirmed by
Innocent IV. in 1245, an^ by Alexander IV. in 1247.
These milder operations were zealously opposed by a
branch of the Franciscans called the spiritual; and their
complaints were regarded by Nicholas III. who, in
1279, published a famous constitution, confirming the
rule of St Francis, and containing an elaborate expli¬
cation of the maxims it recommended, and the duties
it prescribed. In 1287, Matthew of Aqua Sparta,
being elected general of the order, discouraged the
ancient discipline of the Franciscans, and indulged his
monks in abandoning even the appearance of poverty ;
and this conduct inflamed the indignation of the spiri¬
tual or austerer Franciscans ; so that from the year 1290
seditions and schisms arose in an order that had been so
famous for its pretended disinterestedness and humility.
Such was the enthusiastic frenzy of the Franciscans,
that they impiously maintained that the founder of
their order was a second Christ, in all respects similar
to the first; and that their institution and discipline
were the true gospel of Jesus. Accordingly, Albizi,
a Franciscan of Pisa, published a book in 13 83, with
the applause of his order, entitled, The book of the
Conformities of St Francis with Jesus Christ. In the
beginning of this century, the whole Franciscan order
was divided into two parties 5 the one embracing the
severe discipline and absolute poverty of St Francis,
were called spirituals; and the other, who insisted
on mitigating the austere injunctions of their founder,
were denominated brethren of the community. These
wore long, loose, and good habits, with large hoods 5
the former were clad in a strait, coarse, and short dress, Fruruis-
pretending that this dress was enjoined by St Francis, cans,
and that no power on earth had a right to alter it. Fi-amois.
Neither the moderation of Clement V. nor the violence
of John XXII. could appease the tumult occasioned
by these two parties ; however, their rage subsided
from the year 1329. In 1368 these two parties were
formed into two large bodies, comprehending the
whole Franciscan order, which subsist to this day ; viz.
the conventual brethren, and the brethren of the ob¬
servance or observation, from whom sprung the ca¬
puchins and recollects. rihe general opinion is, that
the Franciscans came into England in the year 1224,
and had their first house at Canterbury, and their second
at London j but there is no certain account of their
being here till King Henry VII. built two or three
houses for them. At the dissolution of the monasteries,
the conventual Franciscans had about 55 houses, which
were under seven custodies or wardenships ; viz. those
of London, York, Cambridge, Bristol, Oxford, New¬
castle, and Worcester.
FRANCOIS, or Francais, Port Des, the name of
a bay or harbour discovered by Peyrouse on the north¬
west coast of America, is situated in N. Lat. 58. 37.
and in Long. 139. 50. W. from Paris. This harbour
was from three to four leagues deep : he entered it with
his two frigates in July 1786, and came to an anchor
in an island near the middle of it, in 20 fathoms water,
with a muddy bottom. The bottom of the bay, he ob¬
serves, is one of the most extraordinary places in the
world ; the water is so deep that it could not be fa¬
thomed, and surrounded by peaked mountains of a great
height, covered with snow, without vegetation,& and
seemingly condemned by nature to perpetual sterility.
He never saw the surface of the water ruffled with the
smallest breath of air, or in the least disturbed but by
the falling of enormous pieces of ice, which continually
detach themselves from five different glaciers. The air
W'as so calm, and the silence so profound, that the voice
of a man might be heard at the distance of half a league,
as well as the noise of sea-birds which hatch their eggs
in the cavities of the rocks.
He found the variation of the compass to be 28° E.
and the dip of the needle 740. At full and change of
the moon, when it is high water at one o’clock, the sea
rose seven feet and a half. The current of the channel
at the entrance of the harbour, during the sea breeze,
came in like a rapid river, so that it must be impractica¬
ble to take the channel when the winds blow violently
from the southward $ and indeed the currents at all times
render the entrance difficult. This harbour possesses
many advantages, but it is also subject to several incon¬
veniences. It seems not to be convenient for ships to
anchor, which are employed in trafficking in skins, be¬
cause such ships ought to enter many bays, making in
each a short stay, since the whole stock of the Indians is
very soon disposed of 5 but it seems to be a very com¬
modious place for the establishment of a factory, and
this commercial settlement, it is suggested, should be
made on Cenotaph island, a name given to an island in
the middle of the harbour, from the monument erected
on it to the memory of some of the crew of Peyrouse’s
ships, which were lost in the channel. This island is
about a league in circumference, abounds with wood
and water, and seems capable of cultivation. The quan-
D d 3 tity
Francois
Frank.
fra 21
thy of otter skins far exceeded any thing which Pey-
rouse had observed in any other part of America.
The climate of this coast, according to 1 eyrouse,
' seemed much milder than that of Hudson s Bay. F or
three or four months of the year vegetation was very
vigorous: there was found abundance o celery, endive,
lupin, and yarrow, with most of the plants which are
common in the meadows and mountains of * ranee.
Gooseberries, raspberries, and strawberries, were al
common in the woods j poplars willows, hornbeam,
and pines, some of which measured six feet in diameter,
and 140 feet high, fit for masts of the largest ships. The
river seemed to be filled with trout an sa n’on, an
different kinds of fish were found in the bay itself. J-he
variety of birds was not great 5 but beai^, martens and
squirrels, were frequent in the woods. The inhabitants
are said to be considerably different from the Californi¬
ans, being taller, stouter, of a more agreeable figure,
having greater vivacity of expression, and a greater
share of courage and sense. Their colour is °'ve? an
the hair in general is neither so coarse nor black as
that of the South Americans. It is supposed that I hey
are worshippers of the sun, for they were frequently
observed addressing themselves in their prayers to this
planet; but neither temple nor priest, nor trace ot
public worship, was seen. It is said that they burn their
dead. , ,
FRANCONIA, a circle of Germany, bounded on
the north by the circle of Upper Saxony, on the east by
that of Bavaria, on the south by that of Swabia, and on
the west by the circles of the Rhine. 1 he middle is
fertile in corn, wine, and fruits, but the borders aie full
of woods and barren mountains.
This country was overrun by the French republicans
in the summer of 179^ > *n September the Austrians
compelled them to retreat. The Franks, who conquer¬
ed France, came from this province, and gave their
name to this kingdom.
FRANGULA. See Rhamnus, Botany Index.
FRANK LANGUAGE, Lingua Franca, a kind of
taroon spoken on the Mediterranean, and particularly
throughout the coasts of and ports of the Levant, com¬
posed of Italian, Spanish, French, vulgar Greek, and
other languages. . . .. c
Frank, or Franc, an ancient com, either ot gold
or silver,’struck and current in France. The value
of the sold frank was something more than that ot
the gold crown : this coin has been long out of use,
though the name is still retained as the name of a
money of account: in which sense it is equivalent to
the livre, or 20 sols. „ . . .
Frank, or Franc, meaning literallyyra? from charges
and impositions, or exempt from public taxes,has various
significations in the ancient English customs.
Frank-Almoigne, {libera cleemosyna), or “ free
alms a tenure of a spiritual nature, whereby a re¬
ligious corporation, aggregate or sole, holdeth l^ds
of the donor to them and their successors for ever. 1 he
service which they were bound to render for these
lands was not certainly defined : but only in general to
pray for the souls of the donor and his heirs, dead or
alive • and therefore they did no fealty (which is in¬
cident to all other services hut this), because this divine
service was of ajiigher and more exalted nature. This
as the tenure by which almost all the ancient moaas-
F R A
2 3 • ,
teries and religious houses held their lands; and by Fr»n„ •
which the parochial clergy, and very many ecclesiasti-'—y-*
cal and eleemosynary foundations, hold them at this
day ; the nature of the service being upon the Reforma¬
tion altered, and made conformable to the purer doc¬
trines of the church of England. It was an old Saxon
tenure ; and continued under the Norman revolution,
through the great respect that was shown to religion
and religious men in ancient times. Ihis is also the
reason that tenants in frank almoigne were discharged of
all other services except the trinoda necessitas, of repair¬
ing the highways, building castles, and repelling inva¬
sions ; just as the Druids, among the ancient Britons,
had omnium rerum immunitatem. And even at present,
this is a tenure of a very different nature from all
others ; being not in the least feodal, but merely spi¬
ritual. For, if the service be neglected, the law gives
no remedy by distress, or otherwise, to the lord of
whom the lands are holden; but merely a complaint to
the ordinary or visitor to correct it.
FnANK-Chase is defined to be a liberty of free chase,
whereby persons that have lands within the compass of
the same, are prohibited to cut down any wood, &c.
out of the view of the forester.
Frank-Fcc, signifies the same thing as holding lands
and tenements in fee-simple; that is, to any person and
his heirs, and not by such service as is required by
ancient demesne, but is pleaded at common law. See
Fee.
Frank-Low, a word applied to the free and com¬
mon law of the land, or the benefit a person has
by it.
He that for any offence loseth this frank-law incurs
these inconveniences, viz.. He may not be permitted
to serve on juries, nor used as an evidence to the
truth ; and if he has any thing to do in the king’s
court, he must not approach it in person, but appoint
his attorney ; his lands, goods, and chattels, shall be
seized into the king’s hands; and his lands be.estrea¬
ted, his trees rooted up, and his body committed to
custody.
Frank-Marriage, in Law, is where tenements are
given by one man to another, together with a wife,
who is the daughter or cousin to the donor, to hold in
frank-marriage. By such gift, though nothing but
the word jrank-marriage is expressed, the donees shall
have the tenements to them, and the heirs of their two
bodies begotten ; that is, they are tenants in special
tail. For this one word,/rara& marriage, denotes ex m
termini, not only an inheritance, like the word frank-
almoigne, but likewise limits that inheritance ; supply¬
ing, not only words of descent, hut of procreation
also. Such donees in frank-marriage are liable to no
service but fealty: for a rent reserved therein is void
until the fourth degree of consanguinity be past between
the issues of the donor and donee.
Frank-Fledge, in Law, signifies a pledge or surety
for the behaviour of freemen.
According to the ancient custom of England, for the
preservation of the public peace, every freeborn man,
at the age of fourteen, except religious persons, clerks,
knights, and their eldest sons, was obliged to give se¬
curity for his truth and behaviour towards the king and
his subjects, or else be imprisoned. .Accordingly, a
certain number of neighbours became interchangeably
bound
FRA [ 213 ] FRA
unk
bound for each other, to see each person of their pledge
forthcoming at all times, or to answer for the offence
'isfort. 0f any one gone away : so that whenever any person
offended, it was presently inquired in what pledge he
was, and there the persons hound either produced the
offender in 31 days, or made satisfaction for his of¬
fence.
FRANK-Tenement. See Tenure.
FRANKED LETTERS. The privilege of letters
coming free of postage to and from members of par¬
liament was claimed by the house of commons in 1660,
when the first legal settlement of the present post office
was made j but afterwards dropped, upon a private
assurance from the crown, that this privilege should be
allowed the members. And accordingly a warrant was
constantly issued to the postmaster general, directing
the allowance thereof to the extent of two ounces in
weight: till at length it was expressly confirmed by
4 Geo. III. c. 24. which adds many new regulations,
rendered necessary by the great abuses which had crept
into the practice of franking j whereby the annual
amount of franked letters had increased from 23,600!.
in the year 1715, to 170,700!. in the year 1763. Fur¬
ther regulations have since taken place; in particular,
franks must be dated (the month written at length),
and put into the office the same day $ notwithstanding
which, the revenue still loses by this privilege a very
considerable annual sum.
FRANKEN, Franciscus, commonly called Old
Frank, a famous Flemish painter, supposed to have
been born about the year 1544 ; but though his works
are well known, very few of the circumstances of his
life have been transmitted to posterity. This master
painted historical subjects from the Old and New Tes¬
taments j and was remarkable for introducing a great
number of figures into his compositions, which he had
the address to group very distinctly. Vandyck often
commended his works, and thought them worthy of a
place in any collection.
Franken, Franciscus, distinguished by the name
of Young Frank, was the son of the former, born in the
year 1580. He was instructed by his father j whose
style he adopted so closely, that their works are fre¬
quently mistaken. When he found himself sufficiently
skilled at home, he travelled into Italy for improve¬
ment in colouring j and, on his return, his works were
much coveted. The most capital performances of this
painter are, a scriptural performance in the church of
Notre Dame at Antwerp; and an excellent picture, in
a small size, of Solomon’s idolatry. Young Frank died
in 1642.
FRANKENDAL, a strong town of Germany, in
the dominions of the Elector Palatine, situated near
the Rhine, about seven miles south of Worms. It
wan taken by the Spaniards in 1623, by the Swedes
in 1632, burnt by the French in 1688, and finally
taken by the allies in the year 1794. E. Long. 8. 29.
N. Lat. 49. 25.
frankenia, a genus of plants belonging to the
hexandria class; and in the natural method ranking
under the 17th order, Calycanthemce. See Botany
Index.
FRANKFORT, the name of several townships in
different places of North America; such as Frankfort, a
township in Hancock, and district of Maine, with a few
houses regularly built. It contains 891 inhabitants, Frankfort
and lies about 238 miles north-east of Boston. Frank- 11
fort, a thriving village in Philadelphia ; the name of FraDkl‘"»
another in Hampshire, of one in Virginia, and the name
of the metropolis of Kentucky.
FRANKINCENSE. S^e Incense.
FRANKLIN, Thomas, D. D. chaplain in ordi¬
nary to his majesty, was born in London about the
year 1720, and was the son of Richard Franklin,
well known as the printer of an anti-ministerial paper
called The Craftsman; in conducting which he re¬
ceived great assistance from Lord Bolingbroke, Mr
Pulteney, and other excellent writers, who then op¬
posed Sir Robert Walpole’s measures. By the advice
of the second of these gentlemen, young Franklin was
devoted to the church, with a promise of being pro¬
vided for by the patriot; who afterwards forgot his
undertaking, and then entirely neglected him. He
was educated at Westminster school ; from whence he
went to the university of Cambridge, where he be¬
came fellow of Trinity college, and was some time
Greek professor. In December 1758, he was institut¬
ed vicar of Wai’e and Thundridge ; which, with the
lectureship of St Paul, Covent Garden, and a chapel
in Queen street, were all the preferments he held till
he obtained the rectory of Brasted in Kent. This
gentleman was possessed of no inconsiderable share ef
learning and poetical abilities, and was long a favourite
in the literary world. His translations of Phalareus,
Sophocles, and Lucian, equally evince his learning
and his genius, as they are not more distinguished for
fidelity in the version, than congeniality with the spirit
of the admirable originals. Dr Franklin, like Mr
Foote, suffered a translation from the French to be
printed in his name ; but the Orestes and Electra are
supposed to be all that were really by him. It was a
translation of Voltaire’s works, to which also Dr Smol¬
lett’s name appears. His own dramatic compositions,
of which the principal are the tragedies of The Earl
of Warwick and Matilda, are universally known, and
deservedly esteemed by the public. He died in March
1784.
Franklin, Benjamin, a philosopher and a states¬
man of considerable eminence, was born in the year
1706, at Boston in New England. His family derived
their origin from Ecton in Northamptonshire, where
his ancestors had an inconsiderable freehold for many
generations. The persecution of the non-conformists
in the reign of Charles II. induced his father to take
refuge in New England ; and in the city of Boston he
followed the occupation of a soap-boiler and tallow-
chandler. Franklin drew up a history of his own life
from his nativity to the 25th year of his age ; but as at
that period he had made no very conspicuous figure in
the world, it is to be lamented that we have not the as¬
sistance of his own pen to the meridian of his career.
This defect we have endeavoured to supply in the
subsequent narrative from the most authentic ma¬
terials, avoiding as much as possible the exaggerated
panegyric of friends, and the unmerited detraction of
enemies.
Our author, from his very infancy, discovered the
strongest propensity towards literary pursuits, which de¬
termined his father to qualify him for the ministry; but he
was thwarted in his designs by a numerous and increasing
family, ,
fra [21
family, and therefore Benjamin was taken from school
at ten years of age, to take part in the drudgery o us
father’s trade. This greatly mortified the aspiring min
of young Franklin, who wished to prefer a seafaring
life'to such an employment j but from this he was ^s-
suaded by the influence of his father who was a manoi
some knowledge, and possessed a solid un^erstan^ §;
He made it his chief aim to inspire Ins child n with
the love of knowledge and the principles of moral rec
titude. He had few books-, yet from among these
Benjamin selected a number of voyages and travels as
well as different histories, a species of reading for which
he had a strong predilection. By going through a
course of controversial divinity in this unaided manner,
he greatly strengthened his argumentative powers, win
was most7 probably all he had in view. Defoe upon Pro¬
jects, according to his own account, made s«ch impres-
sions upon his mind as in a great measure directed the
subsequent events of his life.
He was now chosen to an employment which accor
ed much better with the natural bent of his mind than
the business of his father’s shop. A brother of Ins own
had a printing-office in Boston, to whom Benjamin was
bound apprentice at 12 years of age. W ith the mech -
nical part of the business he was soon acquainted ,
and the opportunities thus afforded him of procuring
new books to read, were eagerly seized, and the
greater part of the night frequently spent in the per¬
usal of them. He soon became anxious to imitate the
works which he most admired, and his first attempts
were of a poetical nature. He composed and printed
ballads, which were well received by those who love
such a species of readings yet his father had the ad¬
dress to convince him that nature never designed him
for a poet. He therefore turned his whole attention to
the cultivation of prose composition, in which he suc¬
ceeded infinitely better ; and he thus became superior to
his brethren of the press, and raised himself to stations
of public importance. As his passion for reading and
writing was very strong, so he became in a short time
a powerful disputant, which was strengthened by his in¬
timacy with a young man of a similar disposition. He
perused, with uncommon attention, a translation ot Xe¬
nophon’s Memorabilia, which enabled him either to
confute or confound an adversary by a number of ques¬
tions. It is also certain that he became a sceptic as to
the religion in which he had been educated, and pro¬
pagated his unbelief with zeal and assiduity. The fatal
consequences which this produced on the deportment of
some of his intimate companions, at length happily con¬
vinced him that it is extremely dangerous to destroy
the salutary influence of religion, without being able to
substitute any thing in its place of equal importance and
efficacy. He seems, however, to have continued a
sceptic in his own mind, yet he still retained a love for
moral rectitude, which led him to adopt honourable
means in the prosecution of valuable ends. Much to
his honour be it spoken, he acquired, at a very early
period of life, that triumph over his sensual appetites,
which is so essentially necessary to a life of dignity, use¬
fulness, and virtue. Having read Tyron’s recommen¬
dation of a vegetable diet, at 16 years of age? he aban¬
doned the use of animal food j and on offering to his
brother to support himself on half the money which was
paid for his board, be was allowed to adopt lus own
4 ] FRA
plan, by which means he was enabled to save a consi- p
derable sum for the purchase of books. Although he -
relaxed considerably as to a vegetable diet, yet he thus
acquired the habit of being satisfied with little, and a
contempt of the gratifications of the palate was fre¬
quently of singular advantage to him through the whole
of life.
When his brother began a newspaper, Benjamin
sent a number of pieces on various topics to be inserted,
which met with the approbation of the most competent
judges —a satisfaction lie enjoyed without being known,
as they were all anonymous. His brother treated him
with the harshness of a master, which he bore with the
utmost impatience, as the public had already pronounced
him to be possessed of merit. The states of America
having prohibited James Franklin from publishing this
paper, on account of some political offence, the name of
Benjamin was employed as publisher, in consequence of
which he procured his indentures, although he agreed
privately with his brother to serve out his time. But
as he did not deem this agreement obligatory, he went
to New York by sea, and from that place to Philadel¬
phia, in the seventeenth year of his age. He himself
acknowledges this to have been a fault, and therefore
has averted that censure which he would otherwise have
deserved. At Philadelphia he engaged with a printer
of the name of Keimer, whose affairs he soon placed on
a more respectable footing; and here also he became
acquainted with several young men of a literary turn of
mind, by whose company his taste for knowledge was
greatly improved.
He soon after became acquainted with Sir William
Keith the governor of that province, who powerfully
recommended it to him to commence business on his
own account, and promised to give him all the encou¬
ragement in his power. Encouraged by this gentleman
to adopt such a plan, he set out for Boston on a visit
to his parents, in order to procure from them some pe¬
cuniary aid j but a welcome reception was all he could
obtain. Having returned to Philadelphia, Sir William
generously offered to take the whole burden upon him¬
self, and advised Franklin to make a voyage to Eng¬
land, in order to procure every thing necessary for
a printing-office. He set sail in the year 1725, and
took with him his intimate companion Ralph, whose
name has been rendered memorable by being celebrat¬
ed in the Dunciad. Unfortunately for Franklin, Sir
on in      ^ .
William Keith, on whose letters of recommendation
and credit he entirely relied, basely deceived him, and
he was obliged to work as a journeyman in London for
his immediate subsistence. His friend Ralph could on¬
ly live by his head, and his income of consequence was
extremely circumscribed, as well as precarious, which
made him a heavy burden on the pocket of Benjamin.
In that dissolute metropolis the one forgot his wife and
child in America, and the other the solemn promises
of fidelity which he had made to a Miss Read, prior to
his departure j—-another step of his conduct which he
himself severely censures. By a dissertation on liberty
and necessity, pleasure and pain, he acquired consider¬
able reputation, and it was the means of introducing
him to the celebrated Dr Mandeville, author of the
Fable of the Bees. In the second printing-office in
which he worked, he laboured incessantly to convince his
fellow wofkmen that a pint of porter does not contain
FRA - C 215 ] FRA
jLlin. Iialf so much.nourishment as a penny roll, for which he rive at that flourishing condition which it has Ion" since f kl'
r—obtained the ludicrous epithet of the American aquatic ; attained. His “Poor Richard’s Almanac” he*
yet he was finally enabled to make many converts to gun in 1732, and became remarkable for’ the many
his doctrine j—a proof that he possessed strong persua- prudential maxims with which it abounded 5 and the
sive powers, when we consider the deep-rooted attach- proverbial manner in which they were expressed made
ment of those with whom he had to treat to their fa- them take fast hold of the memory. His political ca-
rourite libation. reer commenced in 1736, when he was chosen clerk to
After eighteen months residence in London, he re- the general assembly of Pennsylvania, to which he was
turned to Philadelphia in the year 1726, and became re-elected for several years, and at last became a repre¬
clerk to a Mr Denham, a man of respectability, who sentative. In 1737, he was made postmaster of Phila-
had opened a warehouse in that city. He soon became delphia, and in the subsequent year he greatly improv-
acquainted with the principles of commerce, and led a ed the police of the city, by the formation of a fire-
very happy life in this new situation, till the connection company, and afterwards an insurance-company against
was dissolved by the death of Mr Denham, which hap- losses by fire. In the war with France, which broke
pened the following year. This again obliged him to out in 1744, when the best means of defending the
become journeyman printer, and he was afterwards province against the inroads of the enemy, and when
overseer in the office of Keimer, whom we have already the militia bill was thrown aside from its being ob-
mentioned. Here he acquired great esteem, and at noxious to the people, Franklin suggested the idea of a
length conceived the idea of setting up for himself, voluntary association for their mutual defence, which
which he accomplished by entering into partnership was instantly signed by 1200 persons, and 10,000 sub-
with one Meredith, a fellow workman, whose father scriptions were obtained in a short time by circulating
was in circumstances to enable him to advance them it through the province. By this and similar means
some money. His industry was habitual, but the idea America had an opportunity of ascertaining her own
that he was now working for himself, gave it additional strength, and how to make use of it with advantage in
energy. He was chiefly instrumental in the institution cases of emergency.
of a club which went by the name of the junto, and About this time he began his interesting expex-iments
which was highly conducive to the intellectual im- on electricity, by the result of which he justly acquired
provement of its members. Before the admission of a a distinguished reputation. The library society of Phi-
candidate, the following questions were put to him. ladelphia having received from Mr Peter Collinson in
“ y°u sincerely declare that you love mankind in the year 1745, an account of the facts respecting elec-
general, of what profession or religion soever? Do tricity which at that time engrossed the attention of
you think any person ought to be harmed in his body, philosophers in Europe, Franklin set about studying
name, or goods, for mere speculative opinions, or his the subject with the greatest assiduity. He gave the
external way of worship? Do you love truth for truth’s account of his researches, the title of “ New experi-
sake ; and will you endeavour impartially to find and ments and observations on electricity, made at Phila-
receive it yourself, and communicate it to others ?” delphia in America,” and addressed to Mr Collinson in
r ranklin and his copartner began a newspaper, which the form of letters, bearing date from 1747 to 1754,
the labours and talents of the former brought into They were everywhere read with avidity, and universal-
repute, and by them the votes and laws of the assem- ly admired j Dr Priestley speaks of them in the follow-
bly came afterwards to be printed. The partner- ing terms. “ It is not easy to say whether we are most
8 up being dissolved by the departure of Meredith, pleased with the simplicity and perspicuity with which
xrank!in, by the generous aid of friends, was enabled the author proposes every hypothesis of his own, or the
^ie wJ10^e business upon himself, to which he noble frankness with which he relates his mistakes, when
added the business of a stationer. When the increase they were corrected by subsequent experiments.” Not
of papei money engaged the attention of the American to swell this article with a detailed account of all his
I government, 1 ranklin wrote an anonymous pamphlet discoveries on this subject, xve shall content ourselves
xn defence of the measure, by which he acquired consi- with mentioning that most interesting of the xvhole,
derable reputation, the countenance of men in power, his grand discovei’y that lightning and electric fire are
and it placed his prosperity on a permanent basis, identically the same. This identity had begun to be
About this time he kept up a ci’iminal correspondence suspected, and experiments had been made in France
With different females, chiefly owing, perhaps, to the to ascertain the fact $ but it was resei’ved to Franklin to
isappointment he met with in the first object of his demonstrate this fact by his own experiments. He ob-
ove, Miss Read, who by this time was married to ano- tained his first decisive proof of this in the month of
t er in consequence of his neglect. But we forget the June 1752, by setting up a silken kite into the air with
aults of the man in the ingenuous confession of the pe- a point of iron, and a key fastened to the end of the
nitent. A report prevailing that Miss Read’s husband hempen string by which he held it. In this manner he
was mairied to another woman, he retired to the West drew down from a thunder cloud a sufficient quantity
n les, where he died, and Franklin married the object of electric fire to emit sensible sparks from the key. By
0 is first love in the month of September 173^1 being means of an insulated iron imd which he fixed upon his
t icn about 24 years of age. She proved a valuable house, he drew down the lightning, and was thus fur-
Wi an<l in every sense of the word, an “ help meet nished with an opportunity of discovering whether it
or ,Im; was positive or negative. As he firmly believed that
1° him we are to ascribe the establishment of a pub- philosophical discoveries were only valuable in so far
ic library at Philadelphia, which he accomplished in as they could be productive of benefit to man, he made
tie year I73r> ^ad the satisfaction of seeing it ar- them subservient to the protection of buildings from the
effects
fra [ 216 ]
effects of lightning, which are truly alarming in North
America. He applied physics to the purposes ot com¬
mon life, and in 1745 invented his Pennsylvania hre-
places, in which the qualities of an open grate were
combined with that of a stove. , r
He turned his attention very much to the subject ot
politics, which was extremely natural for a man ot a
public spirit living under a popular government. I
was chosen a representative of the city of Philadelphia
for the provincial assembly in 1747. At this tnrm a
contest subsisted between the assembly and the proprie¬
taries, as to the claim of the latter to be exempted from
oubiic burdens. Franklin took the popular side ot the
question, by which he acquired great influence, and
was regarded as the head of the opposition. This was
not the offspring of eloquence, for he seldom spoke, am
never in the form of an harangue *, but his pointed 0 -
servations, his unadorned good sense, frequently de¬
stroyed the effect of the most elaborate orations.
He drew up the plan of an academy to be founded
at Philadelphia, from a conviction that education in a
free state is of the utmost importance. It was carried
into effect in the year 1750, by virtue of a subscription,
to which the proprietors afterwards liberally contribut¬
ed. He discharged the duties of his office as postmas¬
ter of Philadelphia with so much punctuality, that he
was appointed deputy postmaster general for the British
colonies in 1753, and the revenue was soon bettered
by his unwearied exertions. A plan for conciliating
the Indians, and forming an alliance with them, was
drawn up by Franklin in 1754, to which the commis¬
sioners at Albany agreed, and a copy of it was. trans¬
mitted to the British privy council. It is a singular
circumstance, that this plan was rejected by the assem¬
blies as giving too much power to the crown, while the
British ministry declared that it gave too much influ¬
ence to the representatives of the people. In the year
1757, Franklin set sail for London, as agent for Penn¬
sylvania, the assembly of that province being involved
in disputes with the proprietary. It was agreed on by
. tbe privy council, that landholders should pay their
share of the public burdens, on condition Franklin
would engage that they should be fairly proportioned.
He continued at the British court as agent for his pro¬
vince, and acquired so great reputation, that the same
trust was reposed in him for Massachusets, Maryland,
and Georgia. His merit as a philosopher was now
justly appreciated in Europe, and he was made a fel^
low of the Royal Society of London. The degree of
L. L. D. was also conferred upon him at St Andrew’s,
Edinburgh, and Oxford. .
In the year 1762 he returned to America, where he
received the thanks of the assembly of Pennsylvania, and
a handsome recompense in money for his important ser¬
vices. When the stamp act occasioned so much disturb¬
ance in America, Dr Franklin was summoned to the
bar of the house of commons, to give evidence respect¬
ing the dispositions of the people, whether he thought
they could be induced to submit to it j and the energy
and’ clearness of his representations were instrumental
in procuring the repeal of that obnoxious measure.^
On the commencement of hostilities between Great
Britain and the colonies in 1775, he returned to Ame¬
rica, and was chosen a delegate to congress by the le¬
gislature of Pennsylvania. In 1776 he treated with
FRA
Lord Howe on the subject of a reconciliation, and in Frai,
one of his letters expressed in strong terms the temper
of the British nation, to which he imputed the fatal
extremity then arrived. W7hen the question of inde¬
pendence came to be discussed, he was decidedly in fa¬
vour of the measure, and was highly instrumental in
bringing over the public mind to the same opinion.
When a negotiation with France was opened, Dr
Franklin was chosen one of the personages to reside at
that court. His political abilities eminently qualified
him for such a station, and his character as a philosopher
gained him great esteem in a country where knowledge
is revered. "He brought about a treaty with France of
an offensive and defensive nature in 177^? tlie immedi¬
ate consequence of which was a war with Britain. He
was one of those who signed the provisional treaty the
year following. Prior to his leaving Europe he con¬
cluded a treaty with Sweden and Prussia. He was re¬
called from that active station in 1785, which he had
filled with so much ability, and chosen president of the
supreme executive council. He was chosen president
of a society for alleviating the miseries of prisons, and
abolishing slavery. His increasing infirmities made
him withdraw from all public business in 1788 ; and on
April the 17th 1790, he terminated his active and use¬
ful life, in the 85th year of his age. # .
Perhaps no man ever exceeded Dr Franklin m that
solid practical wisdom which consists in pursuing valu¬
able ends by the most appropriate means. His cool
temper and sound judgment secured him from errone¬
ous expectations. He saw things in their true light,
and predicted consequences with nearly a prophetic spi¬
rit. He said of himself “ I have always set a greater
value on the character of a doer of good, than any other
kind of reputation.” In 1779, his “ Political, Miscel¬
laneous, and Philosophical pieces,” were published m
4to and 8vo. His essays, humorous, moral, and lite¬
rary, were published after his death, in two small vo-
lumes. . . ,. . . .
He was by no means inattentive to his own interest,
of which his rapid advancement in life furnishes an
ample proof j yet he never neglected the interest of so¬
ciety, or the good of mankind in general. Ihe deli¬
cate situations in which he frequently stood, unavoid¬
ably exposed him to the censure of his enemies *, yet his
general conduct has long ago received the approbation
of his countrymen, by whom he was considered as the
best and most valuable of citizens. When we view him
as a philosopher, we must ascribe his chief merit to his
electrical discoveries, yet on many other topics, such as
meteorology and mechanics, he evinced himself a man
of considerable penetration. As a political writer, hi#
great merit is clearness, energy, and simplicity ; and
as a miscellaneous author he possesses a fund of humour
which cannot fail to be at once both entertaining and
impressive. • • a
Franklin, the name of several counties in America,
such as Franklin county in Pennsylvania, computed to
contain 800 square miles, or 512,000 acres. It contain*
11 townships, and 15,655 inhabitants. Franklin, a
county in Kentucky j the name of one in Halifax, of
one in Virginia, and of another in Georgia, which con¬
tains 1041 inhabitants, including 156 slaves. It is also
the name of a township in Massachusets j of one in
Pennsylvania, another in New York, and of another in
Connecticut,
FRA [
n klia Connecticut, as well as of a small isle at the mouth of
Jl. ]! St George’s river.
Frfma!. FRANKS, Francs, Frankis, or Franquis, a
H*' name which the Turks, Arabs, Greeks, &c. give to
all the people of the western parts of Europe. The
i appellation is commonly supposed to have had its rise
in Asia, at the time of the croisades ; when the French
made the most considerable figure among the croissees:
from which time the Turks, Saracens, Greeks, Abys-
sinians, &c. used it as a common term for all the Chri¬
stians of Europe ; and called Europe itself Frankistan.
The Arabs and Mahometans, says M. d’Herbelot, ap¬
ply the term Franks not only to the French (to whom
the name originally belonged), but also to the Latins
and Europeans in general.
But F. Goar, in his notes on Condinus, cap. 5. n. 43.
furnishes another origin of the appellation Franks, of
greater antiquity than the former. He observes, that
the Greeks at first confined the name to the Franci,
i. e. the German nations, who had settled themselves
in France or Gaul •, but afterwards they gave the same
name to the Apulians and Calabrians, after they had
been conquered hy the Normans $ and at length the
name was farther extended to all the Latins.
In this sense is the word used by several Greek wri¬
ters 5 as Comnenus, &c. who to distinguish the French,
call them the western Franks. Du Cange adds, that
about the time of Charlemagne they distinguished east¬
ern France, western France, Latin or Roman France,
and German France, which was the ancient France,
afterwards called Franconia.
FRASCATI, or Frescati. See Fkescati.
FRASERSBURGH, a small sea-port town in the
county of Aberdeen, situated on the point of land cal¬
led KinnaircPs Head, which is the southern extremity
of the Murray frith. It has a small but excellent har¬
bour, made and kept up at a considerable expence by
the proprietor and the town, and well adapted for build¬
ing small vessels. According to the tide, there are
from II to 15 feet water within the harbour, and 20
n * feet immediately without at spring tides : without is a
tolerable road for shipping, in a bay nearly a league in
i- K length and half a league in breadth, with good ancho-
1. rage in a sandy bottom. Vessels of about 200 tons bur-
is H: ^en can enter the harbour. Frasersburgh contained 2271
!, inhabitants in 1811, and is well situated for trade with
ie the east coast of Europe. The only manufacture carried
[t 011 in Frasersburgh is in linen yarn, of which there is
js pi annually exported to the amount of 3000I. or 4000I.
as H i FRATERNAL, something belonging to the rela-
r tion of brother.
|i ^ Fraternal Affection is the love and attachment
idJ subsisting among, or due to one another by, children of
the same family.
» Though all mankind sprung from the same head, are
bound to cultivate a mutual good will to each other j
t yet. ^is duty is not so obvious and striking as that
t(' 1 ttluch is incumbent on those who belong to the same
in J £an%* Nothing can approach nearer to self love than
} iaternal affection : and there is but a short remove from
o( our own concerns and happiness, to theirs who come
8. ™ fhe same stock, and are partakers of the same blood.
Nothing, therefore, can be more horrible than discord
jt a,1<| animosity among members so allied j and nothin^
, *0 beautiful as harmony and love.
- Voe. IX. Part I. x
it, f
217 1 fra
Tliis relation is formed by nature, not by choice; Fmci.o!
and though it has many things in common with, yet it H
is prior to, the obligations of friendship: consequently Fraui«elli.
nature and reason dictate that there should be a pecu-' 
liar affection between brethren. We are not obliged,
however, to make a brother or sister an intimate or bo¬
som friend in preference to one who is not akin. Di¬
versity of temper, and want of suitable qualifications,
may render it unsafe and improper. But where friend¬
ship and fraternity meet in the same persons, such a
conjunction adds a lustre to the relation.
Among brethren, a hearty benevolence, an ardent
concern tor each others welfare, a readiness to serve
and promote it, are the peculiar offices of this relation ;
and though friends are to have their share, vet the
claim of kindred is first and ordinarily strongest. “ Ne-
cessaria praesidiavitae debentur iis maxime (saysCicero),
quos ante dixi, (i. e. propinquis) : vita autem, victusque
communis, concilia, sermones, &c. in amicitiis vigent
maxime,” De Offciis.
IRATERNIH, Brotherhood, the relation or
union of brothers, friends, partners, associates, &c.
Fraternity, in a civil sense, is used for a guild,
association, or society of persons, united into a body,
for some common interest or advantage. See Company
and Guild.
Fraternity, in the Roman Catholic countries, sig¬
nifies a society for the improvement of devotion. Of
these there are several sorts; as, 1. The fraternity of
the rosary, founded by St Dominic. It is divided into
two branches, called the common rosai'y, and the per¬
petual rosary ; the former of whom are obliged to con¬
fess and communicate every first Sunday in the month,
and the latter to repeat the rosary continually. 2. The
fraternity of the scapulary, whom the blessed Virgin"
according to the sabbatine bull of Pope John XXIL
has promised to deliver out of hell the first Sunday af¬
ter their death. 3. The fraternity of St Francis’s
girdle, are clothed with a sack of a gray colour, which
they tie with a cord, and in processions walk bare¬
footed, carrying in their hands a wooden cross. 
4. That of St Austin’s leathern girdle comprehends a
great many devotees. Italy, Spain, and Portugal, are
the countries where one sees the greatest number of
these fraternities, some of which assume the name of
archfraternities. Pope Clement VII. instituted the
arch-fraternity of charity, which distributes bread every
Sunday among the poor, and gives portions to 40 poor
girls on the feast of St Jerome their patron. The fra¬
ternity of death buries such dead as are abandoned by
theirrelations,andcauses masses to be celebrated for them.
FRATRES arvales. See Arvales.
IRATRIAGE, the partition among brothers, or
coheirs, coming to the same inheritance or succession.
FRATRICELLI, in ecclesiastical history, an en¬
thusiastic sect of Franciscans, which rose in Italy, and
particularly in the marquisate of Ancona, about the
year 1294. The word is an Italian diminutive, signi-
iyingfraterculi, or “ little brothers and was here
used as a term of derision, as they were most of them
apostate monks, whom the Italians call fratelli, orfra-
tricelh. For this reason the term fratricelli, as a nick¬
name, was given to many other sects, as the Catharists,
the Waldenses, &c. however different in their opinions
and in their conduct. But this denomination applied to
^ e the
"FRA [21
(.d|. the austere part nf the Franciscans was considered as
cide. honourable. See Franciscans.
, ' The founders were P. Maurato, and I . tie lossom-
broni, who having obtained of Pope Celestm V. a per¬
mission to live in solitude, after the manner ol her¬
mits, and to observe the rule of St Francs in all its
rigour, several idle vagabond monks joined them, who,
living after their own fancies, and making all pertec-
tion to consist in poverty, were soon condemned by
Pope Boniface VIII. and his successor, and the inquisi¬
tors ordered to proceed against them as heretics : which
commission they executed with their usual barbarity.
Upon this, retiring into Sicily, Peter John Oliva de
Serignan had no sooner published his Comment on the
Apocalypse, than they adopted his eirors. iey
foretold the reformation of the church, and the restora¬
tion of the true gospel of Christ, by the genuine follow¬
ers of St Francis, and declared their assent to almost all
the doctrines which were published under the name ot
the abbot Joachim, in the “ Introduction to the ever¬
lasting Gospel,” a book published in 1520, and ex¬
plained by one of the spiritual friars whose name was
Gerhard. Among other enormities inculcated in this
book, it is pretended that St Francis was the ange
mentioned in Rev. xiv. 6. and had promulgated to the
world the true and everlasting Gospel of God 5 that
the Gospel of Christ was to be abrogated in 1620, and
to give place to this new and everlasting Gospel, which
was to be substituted in its room j and that the mini¬
sters of this great reformation were to be humble and
bare-footed friars, destitute of all worldly employ¬
ments. Some say they even elected a pope .ot their
church ; at least they appointed a general, with supe¬
riors, and built monasteries, &c. Besides the opinions
of Oliva, they held, that the sacraments.of the church
were invalid j because those who administered them
had no longer any power or jurisdiction. They were
condemned afresh by Pope John XXII. in consequence
of whose cruelty they regarded him as the true anti¬
christ ; but several of them returning into Germany,
were sheltered by Lewis, duke ol Bavaria, the em-
per
There are authentic records, from which it appears
that no less than 2000 persons were burnt by the inqui¬
sition, from the year 1318 to the time of Innocent VI.
for their inflexible attachment to the poverty of St
Francis. The severities against them were again reviv¬
ed towards the close of the 15th century by Pope Nico¬
las V. and his successors. However, all the persecu¬
tions which this sect endured were not sufficient to ex¬
tinguish it; for it subsisted until the times of the refor¬
mation in Germany, when its remaining votaries adopt¬
ed the cause and embraced the doctrine and discipline
of Luther. And this has led popish writers to charge
the Fratricelli with many enormities, some of which
are accounted by M. Bayle, art. Fratricelli.
The Fratricelli had divers other denominations : they
were called fratricelli, according to some, because they
lived in community, in imitation of the primitive Chris¬
tians, or rather through the humility of the founder of
the Franciscan order, to which the Fratricelli originally
belonged ; Dulcini, from one of their doctors •, Bizochi,
Begums, and Beghardi.
FRATRICIDE, the crime of murdering one’s bro¬
ther. See Parricide,
8 ] F R .E
FRAUD, in Law, signifies deceit in grants or con- j
veyances of lands, &c. or in bargains and sales of
poods, &c. to the damage of another person. ?
° A fraudulent conveyance of lands or goods to de¬
ceive creditors, as. to creditors is void in law. And a
fraudulent conveyance in order to defraud purchasers,
is also to such purchasers void } and the persons justify¬
ing or putting off such grants as good, shall forfeit a
year’s value of the lands, and the full value of the goods
and chattels, and likewise shall be imprisoned. See
Cheating.
FRAUSTADT, a town of Silesia, on the frontiers
of Poland, remarkable for a battle gained by the Swedes,
over the Saxons in 1706. It is 70 miles N. N. W. of
Breslau. E. Long. 15. 50. N. Lat. 51. 45.
FRAXINELLA. See Dictamnus,Botany
—It is remarkable of this odorous plant, that, wnen
in full blossom, the air which surrounds it in a still
night may be inflamed by the approach of a lighted
candle. Dr Watson doubts whether this inflammabi-
litv proceeds from an inflammable air which is exhaled
by* the plant, or from some of the finer parts of the
essential oil of the plant being dissolved in the common
atmospherical air. rJ. he latter is the most probable
supposition 5 for were it the pure inflammable air, as
Mr Cavallo observes, it would, on account of its small
specific gravity, leave the plant as soon as it was pro¬
duced. Common air acquires the property of becoming
inflammable, by being transmitted through several es¬
sential oils.
FRAXINUS, the Ash ; a genus of plants belong-
ing to the polygamia class 5 and in the natural method
ranking under the 441^ order, Septance. See Botany
Ifidcoc*
FRAY literally signifies to fretas cloth or stuff
does by rubbing, or over much wearing.
Among hunters a deer is said to fray his head, when
he rubs it against a tree, to cause the skins of his new
horns to come off.
FREA, or Frigga, the wife of Odin, was, next
to him, the most revered divinity among the Heathen
Saxons, Danes, and other northern nations. As Odin
was believed to be the father, Frea was esteemed the
mother of all the other gods. In the most ancient
times, Frea was the same with the goddess Herthus,
or Earth, who was so devoutly worshipped by the
Angli and other German nations. But when Odin,
the conqueror of the north, usurped the honours due
only to the true Odin, his. wife Frea usurped those
which had been formerly paid to mother Earth. She
was worshipped as the goddess of love and pleasure,
who bestowed on her votaries a variety, of . delights,
particularly happy marriages and easy childbirths. lo
Frea the sixth day of the week was consecrated, which
still bears her name.
FREAM, a name given by farmers to ploughed
land worn out of heart, and laid fallow till it re-
FREATS, or Freits, a term used in Scotland for
ill omens, and sometimes denoting accidents superna-
turally unlucky. King James VI. in his Dwmonologie,
MS. pen. Edit. B. I. ch. iv. p. 13. “ But I pray
you forget not likewise to tell what are the Devil! s
rudiments ? E. His rudiments I call first in genera
all that quhilk is called vulgairelie the virtu of woode,
^ herbe,
F 'U
Fre Mck
FEE [2
fierbe, and staine ; quhilk is used by unlawful cliarmis
without natural causis. As lykeways all kynd of prat-
tiques, freitis, or other lyk extraordinair actions, quilk
cannot abyde the trew twiche of naturall raison. ” It
occurs again in the same sense in p. 14. marg. note;
and in p. 51. speaking of Sorcerers, “ And in generall
that naime was gevin thaime for using of sic chairmis
znA freitis, as that craft teachis thaime.”
FliECKLES, Lentigines, spots of a yellowish
colour, of the bigness of a lentile seed, scattered over
the face, neck, and hands. Freckles are either natural,
or proceeding accidentally from the jaundice or the
action of the sun upon the part. Heat or a sudden
change of the weather, will often cause the skin to ap¬
pear of adarker colour than natural $ and thereby produce
what is called tan, sunburn, and morphew, which seem
to differ only in degree; and usually disappear in winter.
Persons of a fine complexion, and whose hair is red,
are the most subject to freckles, especially in those parts
which they expose to the air.
To remove freckles, put juice of lemons in a glass
phial, and mixing it with sugar and borax finely pow¬
dered, let it digest eight days, and then use it. Ilom-
berg proposes bullocks gall mixed with alum, and, af¬
ter the alum has precipitated, exposed three or four
months to the sun in a close phial, as one of the best
remedies known for the removing of freckles.
FREDBERG. See Freyberg.
FREDERICA, a town of North America, in
Georgia, seated at the mouth of the river Alatamaha.
It was founded by General Oglethorpe. The island
it stands upon is called St Simons's; and is about
13 miles in length, and 4 in breadth. W. Long. 81.
25. N. Lat. 31. 13.
FREDERICK II. the Great, of Prussia, one of
the greatest warriors of the age in which he lived, was
the son of Irederick-William then hereditary prince
of Brandenburg, and Maria Dorothea a princess of
the house of Brunswick. He was born in 1712, the
year before his father Frederick I. mounted the throne
of I russia. T he latter was so far from being a patron
of literature, that he regarded nothing but what related
to the military art; and most of his generals, whatever
their merits in their own line might be, scarce knew
how to sign their names. So great indeed was the ig¬
norance of the monarch himself, that he banished from
his dominions a philosopher of the name of Wolf, mere¬
ly because he maintained the doctrine of pre-established
harmony; upon which a theologian named Lange assert¬
ed, that on such principles bis majesty’s grenadiers were
not culpable when they deserted, it being only the ne¬
cessary consequence of the impulse their machine had
received from their Creator. His son was of a dispo¬
sition the very reverse of his father. Being put from
ms birth under the care of Val de Recoule a French
any of great merit and understanding, he acquired, in
is early years, not only a taste for literature in ge¬
neral, but a predilection for the French language,
which was not obliterated throughout his whole life.
. ^ 1S not to he supposed that a prince of the disposi¬
tion above mentioned, would suffer his son to be long
engaged in literary pursuits. At seven years of age,
young 1 rederick was taken out of the hands of Madame
Recoule, and put under the care of military tutors,
eneral count de Finkestein, an old warrior, was ap«
19 ] FEE
pointed his governor ; his sub-governor was Colonel de
Kalkstein, an officer renowned for his courage and ex¬
perience ; he was taught mathematics and fortification
by Major Senning ; Flan de Jendun, a Frenchman, in¬
structed him in other branches of knowledge ; and a
cadet of the name of Kennel, taught him his exercise.
At eight years of age he was furnished with a small
arsenal stored with ail sorts of arms proportioned to his
age and strength, of which his father left him absolute
master. In a short time he was named captain and
chief of the corps ol cadets; and the young prince per¬
formed every day, in miniature, with his little soldiers,
all the evolutions with which his father exercised his
giants. At last he received the command of a com¬
pany in his father’s regiment, famous throughout all
Europe, and which was composed of men of whom
scarce one was short of seven French feet.
Born, hovyever, with a taste for the arts, he devoted
to their cultivation every moment he could escape from
the vigilance of his guardians. Fie was more particularly
fond of poetry and music, and when he could find a mo¬
ment’s leisure, he read French authors, or played on the
flute ; but his father as often as he surprised him playing
or reading, broke his flute and threw his books into
the fire. The prince, chagrined at such injurious
treatment, and having a great desire to visit Germany,
England, France, and Italy, desired permission to tra¬
vel. This, however, his father would not allow, but
permitted him to accompany himself in the little jour¬
neys he made from time to time into Germany ; and,
in 1728, took him to Dresden to see the king of Po¬
land. By these little expeditions the desire of the
prince to visit other countries was only the more in¬
flamed, so that at last he formed a design of setting
out without his father’s knowledge. The design was
intrusted to two of the prince’s young friends, named
Kat and Kelt; money was borrowed for the occasion,
and the day of their departure fixed, when unluckily'
the whole project was discovered. The old king, im¬
placable in his resentment, and considering his son as
a deserter, determined to put him to death. He was
shut up in the fortress of Custrin ; and it was with the
utmost difficulty that the count de Seckendorf, sent
for the purpose by the emperor Charles VI. was able
to alter the king’s resolution. Certain vengeance,
however, was determined on both the intended asso¬
ciates in Frederick’s journey. Keit escaped the dan¬
ger by flying into Holland ; but Kat had not that
good fortune. The king first directed that he should
be tried by a court martial; but as they, contrary to
his expectation, only sentenced the criminal to per¬
petual imprisonment, the revengeful monarch by an
unheard-of exercise of the royal prerogative, caused
him to be beheaded. The execution was performed
under the windows of the prince royal, whose head
was held towards the scaffold by four grenadiers: but
no sooner did he approach the window, and see his
friend in the hands of the executioner, than he stretch¬
ed out his arms towards him, crying out, “ Kat I
Kat !” and instantly fainted away. During the remain¬
der of his life he considered capital punishments with
a great degree of horror, and they were rare through¬
out the Prussian dominions while he continued to
reign. When the emperor had succeeded in preventing
the execution of Frederick, the king remarked, that
E e 2 “ Austria
Fiedericft.
F R E [
^ 4 ustria ivould one clay see cvliat a serpent sl,e had
nourished in her bosom.” The royal pr'Soner remam-
ed a rear at Custrin ; during which tune h.s lather
wished that lie should learn the "f
and finance. For this purpose, M. ^ J1' ^'s
Mclent of the chamber of domains and finances, w
ordered to make him assist at all their assemblies, to
consider him as a simple counsellor, to tv?t h,. as
Sl,ch and make him work like others. Jhe young
’ liar however though he assisted at their meet-
InTdid not trouble himself with reading acts or copy-
: ° derrees. Instead of this, he amused himself some¬
times with reading French pamphlets, and at others
ihh drawing caricatures of the president or members
of the assembly. M. Munchow himself was likewise
very favourable to the prince at this time, by furn‘
in/him with books and other articles of amusemen ,
notwithstanding the express prohibition of lus father ^
though in this he certainly ran grea risk*, for the old
king? who set but a very light value on human life,
would undoubtedly have put him to death had he re¬
ceived intelligence of his complaisance.
Frederick, after passing the time above mentioned
in confinement, was recalled to Berlin, on pretence
being present at the celebration ot his eldest sister s
marriage with the hereditary prince of Bareith J but
the true reason was, that the king had now prepared a
match for the prince himself. This was the puncess
Elizabeth Christina of Brunswick, niece to the empress
Frederick, who was not only totally indifferent to the
fair sex in general, but particularly prejudiced against
this princess, made some objections -, his lather, how¬
ever, overcame all obstacles with “ his usual arguments
(says the author of the life of I redenck), viz. his cane,
and a few kicks.” ,. . . j r ,
The coldness which Frederick at this time showed for
the fair sex appears not to have been natural ; for as
early as the year 1723, though then only m the 11 h
year of his age, he is said to have fallen in love with
the princess Anne, daughter ot George II. Even at
this early period he entered into vows to refuse every
inis eawy ycnu**  -- , 
other but her for his consort; nor were these ever bro
ken as far as depended on himself. The marriage per¬
haps would have taken place, had it not been for some
differences which arose between the courts of rrussia
and Hanover about a few acres of meadow land, and
two or three Hanoverians inlisted by the Prussian re¬
cruiters. It is supposed also, that it was intended at
one time to marry him to Maria 'Iheresa ol Austria ;
but as in that case it would have been necessary to
change his religion, Frederick derived from thence a
plausible pretence for refusing the match. 1 he princess
whom he espoused had a large share ol beauty ; and,
what was still better, an excellent heart: but Iredenck
is said to have suffered so much in his former amours,
that certain natural and unsurmountable impediments re¬
mained to the completing of his marriage with any wo¬
man Scarcely therefore was he in bed with his young
spouse, when a cry of Fire! was raised by his friends.
Frederick got up to see where the conflagration was ‘.
but finding it to be a false alarm, he sent messengers
to compose the princess; but neither that night, nor
any other, did he think proper to disturb her rest. >
On occasion of this marriage, Frederick received
from his father the county of Rupin. He resided in
220 ] F R, E
the capital of this county, named also Rvpjn, for some Ftt(icr).
time ; but afterwards chose Rheinsberg tor his place —^
of abode. This is a little town huilt in the sands, on
the confines of Mecklenburg, and at that time con¬
taining only 1000 inhabitants ; but it was soon greatly
improved by Frederick. Having put over the great
gate of the castle, however, the following inscription,
Frederico Tranq,uilutatem Colenti, his father
was displeased with it, and therefore huined him from
his peaceful retreat into the noise and tumult of war.
At this time the succession to the crown of Poland
had kindled a general war throughout Europe, and
the king of Prussia was to send 10,000 auxiliaries to
the Imperial army, then commanded by Prince Eu¬
gene. The king conducted his troops in person,
and resolved to take this opportunity of giving his son
an idea of war. At this time, however, he learnt but
little ; and only saw, as he himself expresses it, the sha¬
dow of the great Eugene. That consummate general,
nevertheless, did not overlook his merit; but predicted
that he would one day be a great captain. Fiedeiick
having gone to reconnoitre the lines at Philipsburg, m
his return through a very open wood, was exposed to
the cannon of the lines, which thundered incessantly.
The balls broke a number of branches on every side
of him: notwithstanding which, he never caused his
horse to move quicker; nor did his hand which held the
bridle ever alter its motion even for a moment. He
continued to converse quietly wilh the generals who
attended him, and never showed the smallest sign of
apprehension. Being one night at supper with Field-
Marshal Grumkow, the conversation turned on the
young Prince Eugene who died on the Rhine ; and
he was asked whether that prince would ever have be¬
come a great man ? Frederick decided in the negative,
on account of young Eugene’s not having known at
any period of his life how to choose a friend who dared
to tell him the truth.
During this campaign the health of the old king
was so much impaired, that he was obliged to leave
the army; and Frederick, on his return, was for some
luitti Birrnmcr all the orders in his fathers
time intrusted with signing all the orders m Ins father s
name. On the king’s recovery the prince was sent to
Stettin, under the care of the prince of Dessau, that he
might see the fortifications of that town. He was af¬
terwards permitted to go to Konigsberg to see the un¬
fortunate Stanislaus, who had taken refuge in that
place, and who was no less remarkable for his philo¬
sophy and constancy than for his misfortunes. VVith
him Frederick remained for some weeks, and contract¬
ed a friendship which was not dissolved but by the death
of Stanislaus. At last he was allowed to return to his
peaceful mansion at Rheinsberg, where he remained
till the death of his father. In this place his time was
occupied alternately by the study of the sciences, the
cultivation of the arts, and the pleasures of friendship.
Philosophy, history, politics, the military art, poetry,
and music, agreeably succeeded each other, and ha
each its stated period. The prince passed the greatest
part of the day in his library; and the remainder m
the society of a select company of agreeable and learn¬
ed men. The principal of these were Chasot, a Frenc
officer; Kayserling, a gentleman of Courland, on whom
the prince bestowed the name of Ccesarion; Jordan, &
French refugee; and Knobelsdorf, director of the budd¬
ing*
a
F R E [ a2i ] F R E
rick, i'1#8 an^ gardens ; but who could converse on all the
arts of designing with great taste and judgment.—In
these meetings, gaiety generally presided $ there were
generals to speak ot war, musicians to form concerts,
and excellent painters to decorate the apartments.
Whilst Knobelsdorf was executing landscapes and lay¬
ing out the gardens, Pesne was immortalizing himself
by his ceilings, and Du Buisson by his pictures of
flowers. The two Grauns composed excellent music,
or directed the orchestra j and Benda, one of the first
violins of Europe, accompanied the prince, who played
extremely well on the flute. The morning was usual¬
ly dedicated to study ; gaiety and agreeable conversa¬
tion prevailed at every repast; and every evening there
was a little concert.—In this retreat Frederick conceiv¬
ed that ardent passion for military glory, and the ag¬
grandizement of his kingdom, for which he became at
last so remarkable ; and here he is supposed to have
formed the most sublime and daring projects. He was
fired with a desire of imitating the celebrated heroes of
antiquity, of whom he read in the ancient authors, and
for which he set apart some hours every day. Amongst
the works which he read almost every year were He¬
rodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, Plutarch, Tacitus,
Sallust, Livy, Quintus Curtius, Cornelius Nepos, Va¬
lerius Maximus, Polybius, Caesar, Vegetius, See. He
never spoke but with enthusiasm of the great warriors
of Greece and Rome ; and when seated on the throne
thought he could never distinguish an able soldier in a
more honourable manner than by conferring on him a
Roman sirname. Hence he distinguished by the name
of Qw/nfws Icilius M. Guichard, who had written some
treatises on the military art of the ancients j giving
him at the same time a free battalion. This name of
Quintus Icilius was retained by M. Guichard as long
as he lived.
In his pursuit of glory Frederick found that it was
not improper to cultivate the friendship of celebrated
poets, philosophers, and others of the literary class;
for which purpose he flattered, commended, and com¬
plimented all the most celebrated literati of Europe at
that time. “ The philosophers (says the author of
his life) answered him as a mad lover writes to his
mistress. They wrote to him that he was a great poet,
a great philosopher, the Solomon of the north. All
these hyperboles were printed j and Solomon was not
sorry for it, though he had too much understanding to
believe in them. Wolf, Ilollin, Gravesande, Mauper-
tuis, Algarotti, Voltaire, were honoured with his cor¬
respondence. The last especially, accustomed to offer
up incense to the idol of the day, were it transported
from the dunghill to the altar, did not fail to exalt as
the first man of the universe a prince who was in ex¬
pectancy of the throne, and who assured him that he
was the greatest philosopher of the age and the first
poet in the world.”
That Frederick might keep up his character with
the literati, or perhaps from a real predilection for his
principles, he patronized the Apology of Wolf, and had
his principal treatises translated into French. He even
prevailed upon his father to relax a little in favour of
that philosopher. A commission of reformed and Lu¬
theran theologians was appointed in 1736, to examine
into the tenets of. that unfortunate philosopher. Wolf
was declared innocent, and a letter was sent to him at
Marpourg containing an invitation to return j hut the Frederick.
philosopher did not think proper to make his appear- 1 y—»
ance till the year 1740, when his protector was seated
on the throne.
During his residence at Rheinsberg, Frederick com¬
posed his refutation of the principles of Machiavel, un¬
der the title of Anti-Machiavel: of which he sent the
manuscript to Voltaire to correct, and to get printed.
The old king, now almost worn out with infirmity,
saw with regret the predilection his son entertained for
men of letters ; and, in his peevish fits, often threaten¬
ed the whole society with confinement in the fortress
of Spandau. Ihese threats frequently occasioned a vio¬
lent alarm among the joyous company at Rheinsberg,
which it required all the eloquence of Frederick to
quiet. Their apprehensions on this account, however,
were soon removed. At the commencement of the
year 1740* the king’s disorder increased to a great de¬
gree, and in the month of May his case became despe¬
rate. He lived, however, till the 31st of that month, when
be expired, and left the throne to his son Frederick II.
The acquisition of a kingdom did not abate Frede¬
rick’s passion for literature, though to this he was now
obliged to superadd the qualities and labours of a great
king. A consideration of his transactions in this charac¬
ter falls under the article Prussia, to which we refer
these, indeed, so totally engrossed the remaining part
of his life, that little more remains to be said under this
article, than to relate some anecdotes by which we may
be in some measure able to trace the character of this
great and singular personage.
It has already been mentioned, that in the early part
of his life, Frederick had conceived a great inclination
to travel. This passion seems not to have been extin¬
guished by the splendour of his new situation j for hav¬
ing, soon after his accession, gone into Prussia and West¬
phalia to receive the homage of the inhabitants, he
formed a resolution of proceeding incognita as far as
Paris. Being discovered at Strasbourg, however, he
laid aside the design of proceeding to Paris, and went
to see his states in Lower Germany. Here he wrote
the celebrated Voltaire, that he should come incognito
to visit him at Brussels j but being seized with an in¬
disposition in the little palace of Meuse, two leagues
from Cleves, he wrote again to that philosopher, in¬
forming him that he expected he should make the first
advances. The following curious account is given by
him of his reception, &.c. “ The only guard I found
at the gate was one soldier. The privy counsellor,
Bambonet, was cooling his heels in the cowt: he had
large ruffles of dirty linen 5 a hat full of holes j and an old
magisterial peruke, one end of which descended as low
as his pockets, and the other scarcely reached his shoul¬
der. I w'as conducted into his majesty’s apartment,
where there was nothing but bare walls. I perceived
in a cabinet, by the glimmering of a taper, a truckle
bed, two feet and a half wide, on which lay a little
man muffled up in a night gown of coarse blue cloth.
This was the king, in a strong perspiration, and even
trembling, under a wretched blanket, in a violent fit of
the ague. I bowed to him 5 and began by feeling his
pulse, as if I had been his first physician. The fit over,
he dressed himself and sat down to table. Algarotti,
Kayserling, Maupertuis, the king’s minister to the
States General, and myself, were of the party $ where
vre
F R E [
Frederiek. we conversed profoundly on the immortality of the soul,
-v—on liberty, and the androgynes of Plato.”
This rigid economy, and contempt of every luxury
with regard to his own person, was maintained by Fre¬
derick as long as he lived. The following account, ta¬
ken likewise from Voltaire, will give an idea of his
manner of living. “ He rose at five in the morning in
summer, and six in winter. A lacquey came to light
his fire, and dress and shave him ; and indeed he almost
wholly dressed himself. His room was not inelegant.
A rich ballustrade of silver, ornamented with little cu-
pids, seemed to enclose an alcove bed, the curtains of
which were visible ; but behind them, instead of a bed,
there was a library : the king slept on a truckle bed
with a slight mattress concealed behind a screen. Mar*
cus Aurelius and Julian, those apostles of Stoicism,
did not sleep in a more homely manner. At seven his
prime minister arrived with a great bundle of papers
under his arm. This prime minister was no other than a
clerk who had formerly been a soldier and valet-de-cham-
bre. To him the secretaries sent all their dispatches, and
Ise brought extracts of them, to which the king wrote
answers in two words on the margin: and thus the af¬
fairs of the whole kingdom were expedited in an hour.
Towards eleven the king put on his boots, reviewed his
reeiment of guards in the garden, and at the same
hour the colonels were following his example in their
respective provinces. The princes his brothers, their
general officers, and one or two chamberlains, dined at
his table ; which was as good as it could be in a country
where there is neither game, tolerable butchers meat,
nor a pullet, and where the very wheat is brought from
Magdebourg. After the repast, he retired alone into
his cabinet, where he made verses till five or six o’clock.
Then came a young man named D’Arget, formerly
secretary to Valory the French envoy, who read to
him. A little concert began at seven, in which the
king played on the flute with as much skill as the first
performer ; and pieces of his composition were fre¬
quently executed. Supper was served in a little hall,
the singular and striking ornament of which was a
picture, the design of which he had given to Pesne, one
of our best colourists. It was a fine picture of Priapus.
These repasts were not in general the less philosophic
on that account.' Never did men converse in any part
of the world with so much liberty respecting all the
superstitions of mankind, and never were they treated
with more pleasantry and contempt. God was respect¬
ed ; but none of those who had deceived men in his
name were spared. Neither women nor priests ever
entered the palace. In a word, Frederick lived with¬
out a court, without counsel, and without religious
worship.”
As Frederick had espoused his princess entirely con¬
trary to his inclination, it was imagined that on his ac¬
cession to the throne he would embrace the opportunity
of setting himself free from engagements so disagree¬
able to himself. The queen was not without suspicions
of this kind, insomuch that she was on the point of
fainting away when he made his first visit to her. To
the surprise of all parties, however, he made her a very
affectionate speech, apologizing for his indiflerence, and
inviting her to participate with him the throne of which
she was so worthy. In the first year of his reign he
restored the academy of sciences at Berlin which had
ERE
222 ]
been founded in 1700; but be soon became disgusted Frederi
with its members, whom he endeavoured at all times
to ridicule rather than encourage. His war with the
queen of Hungary, however, which took place almost
immediately after his accession, for some time prevent¬
ed him from taking such an active part in literary mat¬
ters as he was naturally inclined to do. After the
peace, being at liberty to follow his inclination, he
gave full scope to his passion for literature ; and in
the interval betwixt the conclusion of the first war
and beginning of that of 1756, he composed most of
the works which are now ascribed to him. At this
time he wrote his History of my oiun Times, afterwards
announced among his posthumous works. In writing
history he acquired a taste for historians j and justly
gave the preference to the ancients, the most celebrated
of whose works he perused every year. Voltaire was
his principal literary correspondent, whom he invited to
reside with him. Afraid of losing his liberty, however,
that philosopher hesitated, excused himself, and entered
into pecuniary treaties, first for himself, and afterwards
for his niece Madame Dennis, whom he wished to ac¬
company him. At last he was determined by seeing
a poem from Frederick to M. d’Arnaud, in which the
latter was compared to the rising, and Voltaire to the
setting sun. By this Voltaire was so much piqued,
that he set out for Berlin without delay, and arrived
there in June 1750. He was received in the most
magnificent and affectionate manner, and for some time
his situation was very agreeable $ but the disputes and
rivalship which took place betwixt him and Maupertuis
soon threw every thing into confusion. In these the
king interfered in such a manner as was certainly be¬
low his dignity; and he often exercised himself in ma¬
king a jest of the other men of letters in a way exceed¬
ingly disgusting, and which induced many of them to
leave him. The squabbles with Voltaire were some¬
times very diverting ; an account of some of which is
given under the article Voltaire. They ended at
last in a final quarrel with that wit, and his departure
from the kingdom. The restless disposition of Frede¬
rick showed itself after his departure, by his attempts
to provoke the literati who remained at his court to
quarrel with him as Voltaire had been accustomed to
do. But they were of too passive a disposition to gra¬
tify him in this respect, choosing rather to suffer the
most mortifying strokes of raillery, or to leave the
kingdom altogether, than to contend with him. This
proved so uneasy to the king, that he one day exclaim¬
ed, “ Shall we have no more quarrels then ?” The
breaking out of the war in 1756, however, put a stop
to his diversion, and afforded him as many enemies as
he could wish. The exploits he performed during the
seven years which this unequal contest lasted, are al¬
most incredible * $ and it is amazing how the fortitude
and resolution of any person could enable him to sustain,w’
the difficulties which during this period he had to en¬
counter. In one fatal moment, indeed, even the re¬
solution of Frederick was on the point of giving way.
This happened after the battle of Colin, when his af¬
fairs seemed altogether desperate, before they were re¬
trieved by the victory at Rosbach. At this time he
wrote to his sister at Rareith, that he was on the point
of putting an end to his own life; but as this resolu¬
tion did not extinguish in him the love of glory, he
wished
F K E
fi: >rick. wished to have it said that he made verses on the brink
4*7—■»- of the grave. With this view he wrote a long poeti¬
cal epistle to the marquis d’Argens, in which he
communicated to him his design, and bade him fare¬
well.
Happily, at last, the king’s affairs took a better
turn, and such desperate thoughts were laid aside. His
constitution, however, was irreparably injured by the
excessive fatigues he had sustained. Soon after the
conclusion of the peace, his body began to bend, and
his head to incline to the right side: by degrees he
became very infirm j he was tormented with the gout,
and subject to frequent indigestions. All his distem¬
pers, however, were born with invincible patience ; and,
till a very short time before his death, he never ceased
to attend his reviews, or visit the different provinces of
his dominions. He has been known to review his
troops, and gallop through all the ranks as if he felt no
pain, notwithstanding that an abscess which had bro¬
ken out upon him, and approached to a suppuration,
frequently, upon such occasions, touched the saddle.
In August 1785 he impaired his health still farther by
assisting at a review, where he was exposed without even
a cloak to a heavy rain for four or five hours. On his
return to Potzdam he was seized with a fever; and, for
the first time, became unable to assist at the military
exercises of Potzdam, which take place in September.
His malady, however, did not prevent him from dicta¬
ting the disposition of these exercises during the three
days they lasted, and he always gave the word in pre¬
sence of his generals and the foreigners of distinction
then at Potzdam. About the end of autumn the fever
left him, but was succeeded by a violent cough ; and
he continued free from the gout which bad usually at¬
tacked him at this season. He was greatly weakened
by the cough, which prevented him from sleeping; but
this did not in the least interrupt him in the execution
of business. Every morning at four or five o’clock,
he ordered the three cabinet secretaries to enter his
apartment, where he dictated answers to their papers.
It was not till after the dispatch of all his affairs that
he saw a surgeon or sometimes a physician, though he
had a bad opinion of the physicians in general, whom
he consulted on his distemper. In the evening he
amused himself from five to eight with some of his so¬
ciety ; and after that hour he passed the remainder of
the time before he went to rest, in hearing some an¬
cient authors read to him; and thus he continued to
employ himself till the very day before he died. On
the 17th and 18th of May 1786, he was unable to as¬
sist at the ordinary reviews, but still he hoped to be
present at those of Silesia. He several times attempt¬
ed to mount his horse to go to the parade at Potzdam ;
but finding his powers insufficient, he was obliged to
return, after having proceeded a few paces. He made
other attempts, but with as little success ; and at last
his disorder terminated in a dropsy. Being now no
longer able to remain in bed, he sat day and night in
an arm chair with springs which could be moved at
pleasure. For near a month before his death the swell¬
ing of his feet gave him violent pain, so that he wish¬
ed an incision to be made ; but the surgeon refused to
perform the operation, suspecting that it might hasten
his death. Nature, however, accomplished his desires ;
ms right leg opened, and discharged such a quantity
[ 223 ]
F B E
of matter that he was greatly relieved : and those un¬
acquainted with the medical art began to entertain
hopes of Ins recovery. The physicians, however, were
ot a very different opinion ; and the event justified their
apprehensions. On the 16th of August 1786 his
throat began to rattle violently, and his attendants ex¬
pected every moment that he would breathe his last.
In this situation his three secretaries entered the room
for the despatch of business as usual. Even then Ere-
derick made an effort to collect his force, giving them
a sign to wait, as if he would speak with them in a
short time. This, however, was the last he could make:
for he soon after fell into a stupor; though from this he
recovered so far as to be able to speak. In the evening
he asked what o’clock it was P and on being answered
that^it was nine, he said, “ Well then I am going to
rest,” His respiration and voice became gradually more
feeble; and he expired on Thursday at 19 minutes af¬
ter two in the morning, without any convulsion or
symptom of pain.
This great monarch was of the middle size, had
large blue eyes and a piercing look. He spoke Ger¬
man incorrectly, and in a very rough manner ; but
talked French very fluently, and his voice was then
mild and agreeable. His constitution was naturally
feeble, but he had greatly improved it by his activity
and laboi ious life. He had the art of relieving every one-
from that embarrassment which frequently occurred in
accosting such a celebrated monarch; and it seems pro¬
bable that he himself considered on what he should say
to any illustrious person who happened to come to his
court. His universal knowledge enabled him to con-
veise on all subjects; and thus he talked of war with
military men, of verses with the poet, of agriculture
with the farmer, jurisprudence with the lawyer, com¬
merce with the merchants, and politics with the English¬
man. He had a very retentive memory ; was fond of
solitude and gardening ; and likewise took great plea¬
sure in dogs, of which animals he constantly kept a
number about him, giving them little balls covered
with leather to play with. In company, he was fond
of asking questions and jesting ; in which last he pro¬
ceeded such lengths as undoubtedly was unbecoming
in a superior towards his inferiors, who would not have
tailed to resent such jokes from persons more on an
equality with them. In military affairs he was exces¬
sively severe, not to say cruel; of which the following
anecdote may serve as an instance. In the first war
of Silesia, wishing to make some alterations in his
camp during the night, he forbade every person, under
pain of death, to keep, after a certain hour, a fire or
other light in his tent. He himself went the rounds ;
and in passing the tent of a Captain Zietern he per¬
ceived a light. Entering the tent, he found the cap¬
tain sealing a letter to his wife, for whom he had a
great affection. “ What are you doing there ? (says
the king) : Do you not know the order?” The cap¬
tain fell on his knees and asked pardon, but did not at¬
tempt to make any excuse. “ Sit down (says Frede-
rick), and add a few words I am going to dictate to
you.” Zietern obeyed ; and the king dictated^ “ To
morrow I shall perish on a scaffold.” The unfortunate
man wrote them, and next day was executed. In
matters of domestic legislation, he was more arbitrary
than just; of which we have a notable example in the
famous .
F R E
Frederick, famous case of Arnold the miller.
[ »24 ]
The man had refused Cape Coast.
burg. tl,at the stream which turnea it had been div
' >   a fish pond. This was evidently a frivolous excuse ,
hecanse the water which ran ,nto the pond also ran out
of it into the same channel as before, so that nothing
could be lost, except what evaporated from the surf .
of the fish-pond. The judges therefore gave sentence
against the miller ; hut the king not on y reversed their
sentence, hot disgraced them. r?r ‘'"s be'V“Sjt;
brated through all the newspapers in Europe , a™1 r
he was in the wrong, and afterwards even acknow-
ledged himself to have been so : but, notwithstanding
he knew his error, he not only made no reparation to
the parties he had injured, but allowed them to he in
prison at Spandau all his lifetime, so that they were
not released till the commencement of the succeeding
reign. He entertained certain and almost unaccount¬
able prejudices against certain places and persons, which
neither conduct nor merit could eradicate. Une ot
these unfortunate places was Westphalia, on which he
never conferred any bounty : and one day a native ot
that country, a man of great merit, being Pr°P®se
to him for a place, he refused, saying, “ He is a West¬
phalian *, he is good for nothing.” Voltaire accuses
him of ingratitude to the count de Seckendort •, who,
as we have already seen, saved his life, and against
whom he afterwards conceived most implacable batre .
His indifference towards those who afforded him the
most essential service, was evident: when a robust but¬
cher prevented him from falling, horse and all, over a
precipice, where both would have undoubtedly been
killed, the king, sensible of the assistance tha* had
been afforded him, turned about, and saying, “ 1 hank
you, friend,” rode off without ever enquiring farther
about the person who had just preserved him from de¬
struction. ,
With regard to the literary merits of this monarch,
we certainly cannot pronounce them extraordinary.
Voltaire boasts of having corrected his works, md
others of having furnished him with materials for his
history. He has been accused of borrowing whole
hemistichs of poetry from Voltaire, Boileau, Rousseau,
and others; nor does the charge appear to be at all
void of foundation. Such of his verses as appear to
have undergone no correction, are very indifferent,
nor indeed can we pronounce any of his poetic works
to be of the first rate. In the former part of his life
he entertained a great partiality for the French learn¬
ing and language *, but as he advanced in years, he en¬
tirely lost this predilection, and inclined much more to
favour the English and Germans. Towards the end of
his life, indeed, he affected a contempt for the French,
without whom it is said he would scarcely ever have
made any figure except in military affairs.
Frederick, is the name of two counties, and of se¬
veral townships in America, such as the county of Fre¬
derick in Maryland, which contains 30,791 inhabitants,
in which are included 3641 slaves. It is also the name
of a county in Virginia, 30 miles long and 20 broad,
with a population of 19,681 souls, including 4250
ftltl VC3*
FREDERICKSBURG, a fort and colony of Bran¬
denburg, on the Gold coast of Guinea, in Africa,
near Cape Threepoints, and about 75 ^des from
3
F R E
.. It mounts 46 pieces of cannon on four rrf(jni!
batteries $ and formerly belonged to the Prussians, but burg
is now subject to Denmark. W\ Long. 1. 15* N. Lat,^^
6. 40. „ V-F
FREDERICKSHALL, or Frederickstadt, a
strong town of Norway, in the prefecture of Ager-
huys, where Charles XII. king of Sweden was killed
by a musket ball in 1718, when he was besieging this
town. It is seated on the coast of the Categate, in
E. Long. 10. 45. N. Lat. 59. 2.
FREDERICKSODE, a town of Denmark, in
Jutland, taken by the Swedes in 1657, but now sub¬
ject to Denmark. It is seated near the sea, in E. Long.
99. 44. N. Lat. 55. 35.
FREDERICKS!’AD T, a town of Denmark, in
South Jutland, built in 1621. It is seated on the
river Eyder, in E. Long. 9- N* Lat. 54. 28.
Frederickstadt, a town of Norway, in the pro¬
vince of Agerhuys, seated on a bay of the sea, near
the frontiers of Sweden, in E. Long. 11. 6. N. Lat.
59- I2«
FREE, in a general sense, is used in opposition to
whatever is constrained or necessitated. When applied
to things endowed with understanding, it more pecu¬
liarly relates to the liberty of the will.
Free Bench, signifies that estate in copyhold which
the wife, being espoused a virgin, has after the de¬
cease of her husband for her dower, according to the
custom of the manor.
In regard to this free bench, different manors have
•different customs : and in the manor of East and W'est
Enbourne in the county of Berks, and in other parti
of England, there is a custom, that when a copyhold
tenant dies, the widow shall have her free bench in all
the deceased husband’s lands, dum sola et casta fuerit,
“ while she lives single and chaste ;” but if she is found
to be guilty of incontinency, she shall forfeit her estate.
Nevertheless, upon her coming into the court of the
manor riding backwards on a black ram, with his tail
in her hand, rehearsing a certain form of words, the
steward is bound by custom to restore her to her free
bench. The words are,
Here I am,
Riding on a black Ram,
Like a whore as I am ;
And for my crincum crancum
Have lost my bincum bancum,
And for my tail’s game
Have done this wordly shame:
Therefore, pray Mr Steward, let me have my
land again.
Free or Imperial Cities, in Germany, are those not
subject to any particular prince j but governed, like
republics, by their own magistrates.
There were free cities (Jiberce civitates') even un¬
der the ancient Roman empire : such were those to
whom the emperor, by the advice or consent ot the
senate, gave the privilege of appointing their own ma¬
gistrates, and governing themselves by their own laws.
See City.
Free Fishery. See Free Fishery.
Free Warren. See Warren.
Free Mason. See Mason.
Frer Stone, a whitish stone, dug up in many part?
of
FEE [ 225 ] FEE
jvAtone of Britain, which is hard and durable, and of excel- in fee, fee-tail, or for life : the other is the rieht a
1 lent use in building, &c. It is a kind of the grit stone, man has to such land or tenement before his enti-y or
Fi iiold. but finer sanded and smoother; and is called seizure. J
ir ' from its being of such a construction as to cut freely in A freehold, by the common law, cannot commence
any direction. _ infuturo; but it must take effect presently, either in
I he qualities of the several kinds of free stones used possession, reversion, or remainder. Whatever is part
in the different parts of Europe are very different, of the freehold goes to the heir; and things fixed
They all agree in this general property, indeed, that thereto may not be taken in distress for rent, or in ex-
they are softer while in the quarry than when they ecution, &c. No man shall be disseised of his freehold
have been some time exposed to the air: but even this by stat. Magna Charta, cap. 29. but by judgment of
general property differs greatly in degree. There is his peers, or according to the laws of the land • nor
a sort of gray free stone in use at Paris (of which we shall any distrain freeholders to answer for theirVree-
do not yet seem to have met with any in this country), hold in any thing concerning the same, without the
which has the above-mentioned quality in so great a king’s writ. Freehold estates, of certain value, are re¬
degree, that the expence of working it is in a great quired by statutes to qualify jurors, 610010^ of the
measure saved. knights of the shire in parliament, &c.
. ^is stone lies everywhere on the south side of the Freehold is likewise extended to such offices as a
river Seine, and is of a coarse and large grit. It is so man holds in fee, or for life.
soft when newly taken out of the strata, that they fa- Freehold is also sometimes taken in opposition to
shion it very conveniently with a sort of broad axe, and villenage.
form as many stones for building in this manner in an Lambard observes, that land, in the Saxons time,
hour, as an equal number of our people do in a day or was distinguished into bockland, i. e. holden by book
two. Though this stone is as soft as dry.clay when or writing; an^folkland, held without writing. The
first taken up, it is found to harden so considerably in former, he says, was held on far better condition, and
the air, that it becomes more than equal to our ordi- by the better sort of tenants, as noblemen and gentle-
nary free stone. . _ men; being such as we now call/raf/WaL- the latter
Ihe I ortjand free stone of Britain of the finest kind, was mostly in possession of peasants ; beino- the same
which is white and of a close grit, is very fit for hewing with what we now call at the will of the lord.
and carving; but it will neither resist water nor fire, In the ancient laws of Scotland, freeholders are
which is a very singular_ instance in so dense a stone; called milites, “ knights.” In Reg. Judicial, it is ex¬
while the free stone of Kent, which is less beautiful to pressed, that he who holds land upon an execution of a
the eye, and is of a grayish colour, and considerably statute merchant, until he hath satisfied the debt, tenet
close, though of a larger grain, resists the air and wa- ut liberum tenementuin sibi et assignatis suis; and the
ter very well. The freestone ot Derbyshire, on the same of a tenant per elegit: the meaning of which
other hand, is so brittle as to be unlit for any fine work- seems to be, not that such tenants are freeholders, but
mg; and so coarse and open in its texture, that it lets as freeholders for the time, till thev have received pro-
water through: yet it bears the fire extremely wrell, fits to the value of their debt,
and is fit for ovens, hearths, &c. FREETHINKER. See Deist.
FREEBOOTER, or Flibuster, a name given to FREEZE, Frieza, or Frixe, in Commerce. See
the pirates who scour the American seas, particularly Frize.
such as make war against the Spaniards. See Buca- Freeze, in Architecture, that part of the entabla-
• . ture c°lumn3> between the architrave and corniche.
. FREEDOM, in general, the state or quality of be- The freeze is properly a large flat face, or member,
ing free. See Liberty. . separating the architrave from the corniche.
Freedom of a Corporation, the right of enjoying all The ancients called it %oopkorus (fatpegos) because it
t le privileges and immunities belonging to it. See was usually enriched with figures of animals; and our
r • • denomination freeze has a like origin, being formed of
Ihe ireedom of cities,.and other corporations, is re- the Latin phrygio, “an embroiderer,” because it is
gularly obtained by serving an apprenticeship ; but it commonly adorned with sculptures in basso relievo,
I is also purchased with money, and sometimes conferred imitating embroidery.
by way of compliment. FREEZING, in Philosophy, the same with congela-
Preedom of Conscience. See Toleratiox. tion. See Freezing, Chemistry and Salts.
. RERifM of the If ill, that power, or faculty ot the Freezing Rain, or Raining Ice, a very uncommon
See _ nimd> whereby it is capable ot acting or not acting, kind of shower, which fell in the. west of England, in
IV.00SinS or reJecting whatever it judges proper f. Of December 1672 ; whereof we have divers accounts in
his eveiy man must be sensible, who finds in himself the Philosophical Transactions.
a power to begin or forbear, continue or end several The rain, as soon as it touched any thing above
actions, barely by a thought or preference of the ground, as a bough or the like, immediately settled
-P rr into ice, and by multiplying and enlarging the icicles,
i-KLEHQLD, I rank Tenement, {liberum tene- broke all down with its weight. The rain that fell on
inentmji), is land, or tenement, which a man holds in the snow immediately froze into ice, without sinking
Jee-simple, fee-tail, or for term of life. See Fee and in the snow at all.
u • • • ^ ma^e an incredible destruction of trees, beyond
freehold is of two kinds, in deed and in law. . any thing in all history. “ Had it concluded with
Ihe first is the real possession of land or tenement some gust of wind (says a gentleman on the spot), it
Vw.. IX. Part I. + Ff might
Freehold
11
Freezing.
F R E
Freezing might have teen of terrible consequence. I
il the sprig of an ash tree, of just three quarters of a
French. pound j the ice on which weighed 16 pounds, borne
W~r' were frighted with the noise in the air j till they
discerned it was the clatter of icy boughs, dashed
against each other.” Dr Beale observes, that there
was no considerable frost observed on the ground during
the whole ; whence he concludes, that a frost may be
f 226 ] i R E
weighed thereof are, I. The Celtic j whether that were a par
Fneiicl.
the whole ; wnence ne ».um..uUv.o, ,
very intense and dangerous on the tops or some hills
and plains, while in other places it keeps at two,
z» 1 1 - „ _. ^ 4-/~« rr t’ n n n f' 1 V P T S -
three, or four feet distance above the ground, rivers
lakes &c. and may wander about furious in some
places and remiss in others not far off. The frost was
followed by glowing heats, and a wonderful forward¬
ness of flowers and fruits.
FBFIGHT in Navigation and Commerce, the hire
of a ship, or a part thereof, for the conveyance and
carriage of goods from one port or place to another j
or the sum agreed on between the owner and the mer¬
chant, for the hire and use of a vessel. See Maritime
^FREIND, John, a most learned English physician
and writer of the 18th century, was born at Croton,
Northamptonshire, in 1675. ln i696> hf published,
in conjunction with Mr P. Foulkes, an edition of two
Greek orations, one of iEschines against Ctesiphon,
and the other of Demosthenes de Corona, with a new
Latin version. In 1699, he wrote a letter to Dr bolane
concerning an Hydrocephalus, published in the Philo¬
sophical Transactions*, and another letter in Latin to
the same gentleman, Despasmis rarior. histona, printed
in the same Transactions. In 1703, \\h Emmenalogia
appeared, which gained him great reputation. In 17°4»
he was chosen professor of chemistry in the university of
Oxford. In 1705 he attended the earl of Peterborough
to Spain, as physician to the army there •, and, upon
his return in 1707, published an account of the earl’s
expedition and conduct. In 1709 he published his
Chemical Lectures. In 1712 he attended the duke
of Ormond in Flanders, as his physician. In 17x6
he was admitted a fellow of the College of Physicians
in London. This year he published the first and third
books of Hippocrates De morbis populanbus, with a
Commentary on Fevers, written by himself. He sat
member for the borough of Launceston in Cornwall
in 1722, where he distinguished himself by his oppo¬
sition to the administration. March 1722, he was
committed to the Tower on a charge of high treason *,
and while he was under confinement, he wrote a Latin
epistle to DrMead, de quibusdamvario/arum gcneribus;
and began his History of Physic, the first part 01 which
was published in 1725, and the second in 1726. Lpon
the accession of George II. to the throne, he was ap¬
pointed physician in ordinary to the queen, who showed
the utmost regard and esteem for him. He died at
London in 1728. His works were published together
in Latin at London, 1733, in folio, and dedicated to
the queen.
FREITS. See Freats.
FRENCH, in general, something belonging to
France: thus we say, the French language, French
custom, polity, &c. . . . .
The French language, as know stands, is no original
or mother language, but a medley of several. Those
that prevail most, and which are, as it were, the basis
2
ticular language itself, or whether it were only a dia¬
lect of the Gothic, as spoke in the west and north.
2. The Latin, which the Romans carried with them
into Gaul, when they made the conquest thereof.
And, 3. The Teutonic, or that dialect of the Teuto¬
nic spoke by the Franks, when they passed the Rhine,
and established themselves in Gaul. 01 these three
languages, in the space of about thirteen bundled
years, was the present French formed, such as it is now
found. Its progress was very slow; and both the Ita¬
lian and Spanish were regular languages long before
tli6 French.
Pasquier observes, it was under Philip de Valois
that the French tongue first began to be polished ; and
that, in the register of the chamber of accounts of that
time, there is a purity seen almost equal to that of the
present age. However, the French was still a very im¬
perfect language till the reign of Francis I.; the custom
of speaking Latin at the bar, and of writjng the public
acts and instruments of the courts of justice in that
language, had made them overlook the French, their
own language. Add that the preceding ages had
been remarkable for their ignorance, which was owing,
in a good measure, to the long and calamitous wars
which France'had been engaged in; whence the Irench
noblesse deemed it a kind of merit not to know any
thing ; and the generals regarded little whether or not
they wrote and talked politely, provided they could
but fight well. .
But Francis I. who was the restorer of learning, and
the father of the learned, changed the face of things ;
and after his time, Henry Stevens printed his book, De
la Precellence du Langage Franfois. The change had
become very conspicuous at the end of the i6to century ;
and under Henry IV. Amyot, Coeffeteau, and Mal¬
herbe, contributed towards bringing it to its perfection ;
which the Cardinal de Richelieu completed, by the
establishment of the French academy; an assembly,
wherein the most distinguished persons of the church,
the sword, and the gown, have been members. Nor
did the long reign of Louis XIA . contribute a little
to the improvement ot the language ; the personal
qualities of that prince, and his taste for the fine
arts, and that of the princes of the blood, renderea
his court the politest in Europe. Wit and magni¬
ficence seemed to vie ; and his generals might nave
disputed with the Greeks, Romans, &c. tne glory of
writing well, if they could not that of fighting. From
court, the elegance and purity of the language soon
spread itself into the provinces; and now there is scarce
anybody there who does not write and speak good
French.
One of the characters of the French language is, to
be natural and easy. The words are ranged in it much
in the same order as the ideas in our minds ; in which
it differs exceedingly from the Greek and Latin, where
the inversion of the natural order of words is reputed a
beauty. Indeed the Hebrew surpasses even the French
in this point; but then it comes short of it in copious¬
ness and variety.
It must be added, however, that as to the analogy
of grammar, and the simplicity wherewith the moods
of verbs are formed, the English has the advantage not
only over the French, but over all the known languages
J in
f| =k>
Fr ati.
;
?
1
i
ie
fi
i)
ai
ie 1
:i |
li-
te
of
in
oil
to
ct
cl
cl
IS-
u
Js
oi
fi
ill
F R E [ 227 ] F R E
in the world j but then the turns, the expressions, and
. the idioms of the English, are sometimes so quaint
-'and extraordinary, that it loses a good deal of the ad¬
vantage which its grammatical simplicity gives it over
the rest.
The French has but few compound words; wherein
it differs widely from the Greek, High Dutch, and
English. This the French authors own a great dis¬
advantage in their language ; the Greek and Dutch
deriving a great part of their force and energy from
the composition of words, and frequently expressing
that in one sounding word, which the French cannot
express but by a periphrasis. The diminutives in
the French are as few as the compounds ; the
greatest part of those remaining in use having lost
their diminutive signification ; but what distinguish the
French most, are its justness, purity, accuracy, and
flexibility.
French is the most universal and extensive language
in Europe. The policy of states and courts has ren¬
dered it necessary for the ministers of princes, and their
officers, &c. and the taste of arts and sciences has had
the same effect with regard to the learned. In Ger¬
many, and elsewhere, the princesses and persons of dis¬
tinction value themselves on understanding French ;
and in several courts of Europe, French is almost as
much known as the language of the country.
FRESCATI, or Frascati, a small town, situated
on the brow of a hill, about twelve miles to the east¬
ward of Rome. It derives its name from the coolness
of the air, and fresh verdure of the fields around. It
is built of the ruins of the ancient Tusculum ; and the
Tusculan villa where Cicero wrote his famous questions
is at a place now called Grotta Ferrata, about two
miles distant. E. Long. 11. 43. N. Lat. 41. 48. There
is a very fine prospect from this town into the neigh¬
bouring country, which abounds with the seats of car¬
dinals and other nobility. It is the see of a bishop,
who is one of the six senior cardinals, and is surround¬
ed by some of the most beautiful villas in Italy ; the
principal of which are the villa Aldobrandini, belong¬
ing to Prince Pamfili ; the villa Taberna, belonging
to Prince Borghese ; and villa Ludovisi, to the family
of Colonna. The villa Aldobrandini, called also Bel¬
vedere from its beautiful prospect, is the most remark¬
able, on account of its fine situation, extensive gardens,
airy terraces, its grottoes, cascades, and water-works.
Over a saloon, near the grand cascade, is the following
inscription :
Hue ego migravi musts comitatus Apollo ;
Hie Delphi, hie Helicon, hie mihi Delos erit.
The walls are adorned with a representation of Apollo
and the Muses ; and some of that god’s adventures are
painted in fresco by Domenichino. The villa Taberna
is one of the finest and best furnished of any in the
neighbourhood of Rome. From this you ascend through
gardens to Monte Dracone, another palace on a more
lofty situation, belonging also to that prince, and de¬
riving its name from the arms of his family. From
hence you may see Rome, and the whole extent of the
plain ; it has a noble ascent, with a broad paved walk;
and among other curiosities there is a hall adorned with
the pictures of a vast number of men eminent for
learning and arms. The gardens, laid out by Vignola,
contain three miles in compass ; and have many de¬
lightful walks and curious water-works. Near this
place are the monks of Camaldoli and the capuchins ;
and higher up are ruins of the ancient Tusculum!
Ascending towards the plain, two miles on the right
hand, you find the famous abbey of Grotta Ferrata
belonging to the monks of St Basil, and situated on
the ruins of Cicero’s house. The Virgin Mary of the
great altar is an ancient Greek picture ; in the chapel
the pictures of St Nilus and St Bartholomew the ab¬
bot, are by Annibal Caracci; and all the paintings in
fresco of this chapel are by Domenichino. Villa Lu¬
dovisi has a charming walk going up to it, where you
see the ruins of Lucullus’s palace. The house is small ;
but the gardens are large, embellished with a great
variety of walks and fountains, and a beautiful cas¬
cade.
FRESCO, a method of painting in relievo on walls,
so as to endure the weather. It is performed with
water-colours on fresh plaster, or on a wall laid with
mortar not yet dry, This sort of painting has a great
advantage by its incorporating with the mortar; and
drying along with it, becomes very durable. The
Italians, from whom we borrow the term, call it fresco;
because it is frequently used for walls, alcoves, and
other buildings in the open air. Vitruvius, lib. vii.
cap. 4. calls it udo tectorio.
Painting in fresco is very ancient, having been
practised in the earliest ages of Greece and Rome. It
is chiefly performed on walls and vaults, newly plaster¬
ed with lime and sand; but the plaster is only to be
laid, in proportion as the painting goes on j no more
being to be done at once than the painter can despatch
in a day, while it dries. Before he begins to paint, a
cartoon or design is usually made on paper, to be chalk¬
ed, and transferred to the wall, about half an hour after
the plaster is applied.
The ancients painted on stucco ; and we may remark
in Vitruvius what infinite care they took in making the
incrustation or plastering of their buildings to render
them beautiful and lasting; though the modern paint¬
ers find a plaster of lime and sand preferable to it; both
as it does not dry so hastily, and as being a little brown¬
ish, it is fitter to lay colours on, than a ground so white
as stucco.
In this kind of painting all the compound and arti¬
ficial colours, and almost all the minerals, are set aside,
and scarce any thing is used but earths; which are ca¬
pable of preserving their colour, defending it from the
burning of the lime, and resisting its salt, which Vitru¬
vius calls its bitterness.
For the work to come out in all its beauty, the co¬
lours must be laid on quick, while the plaster is yet
moist; nor should they ever be retouched dry, with
colours mixed up with the white of an egg, or size, or
gum, as some workmen do; because such colours grow
blackish ; nor do any preserve themselves, but only such
as were laid on hastily at first.
The colours used are white made of lime slaked
long before, and white marble dust; ochre, both red
and yellow; verditer ; lapis lazuli; smalt; black chalk,
&c. All which are only ground, and worked up with
water; and most of them grow brighter and brighter as
the fresco dries.
The brushes and pencils for this work ought to be
F f 2 long
FEE [
lone and soft, otherwise they will rake and raise the
painting. The colours should be full, and flowing from
the brush ; and the design perfect *, for in this woi ^
you cannot alter or add upon any colour.
FRESH WATER, is that not tinctured or impregna¬
ted with salt or saline particles enough to be discovered
by the sense. Such generally is that of springs, rains,
wells, lakes, &c.
The dulcifying or making of salt water fresh i
secret that has been long sought with great attention.
For an account of the principal attempts that have
been made with this view, see Sect Tf AJER>
Fresh Wind signifies strong, but not violent $ hence
when the gale increases, it is said to freshen. .
FRESHES, in sea language, denotes the impetuo¬
sity of an ebb tide, increased by heavy rains, and flow¬
ing out into the sea, often discolouring it to a conside¬
rable distance, and forming a line that separates the
two colours, and which may be distinctly perceived for
a great length along the coast.
Freshes, a local term signifying annual inunda¬
tions, from the river being swollen by the melted
snows and other fresh waters from the uplands, as is
the Nile, &c. from periodical or tropical rains. As a
sailor’s term, it is opposed to marine or salt water
floodings, tides, &c. The word is of common use in
America, where the inundations so called are of great
service. They bring down the soil to the intervals
below, and form a fine mould, producing corn, gram,
and herbage, in the most luxuriant plenty. They also
afford another benefit, in regard to many rivers in
America, viz. in equalizing the surface of the stream
fwhere rapid falls, or cascades, obstruct the naviga¬
tion), so that rafts of timber and other gross produce
are then floated down to the sea ports in great quanti¬
ties.
FRESNO Y, Charles Alphonse du, an excellent
poet and painter, was born at Paris in ^611. .He was
instructed there by Perrier and Simon Vouet in paint¬
ing 5 but he did not long adhere to Vouet’s manner of
colouring; for as soon as he fixed himself at Rome,
he made the works of Titian the models for his imita¬
tion. He was, however, more celebrated as a poet
than as 'a painter 5 and gave more attention to the
theory than to the practice of the pencil. According¬
ly he is better known by his incomparable poem De
arte graphicci, than by his performances on the canvas:
and on this poem he bestowed so much pains, that he
died in 1665, before it was published. It was printed
afterwards with a French prose translation and notes by
M. de Piles j and was translated into English by Mr
Dryden, who prefixed to it an original preface contain¬
ing a parallel between painting and poetry.
FRET, or Frette, in Architecture, a kind of knot
or ornament, consisting of two lists or small fillets vari¬
ously interlaced or interwoven, and running at parallel
distances equal to their breadth.
Fret, in Heraldry, a bearing composed of six bars,
crossed and variously interlaced. Some call it the true-
lover's knot. See Heraldry. .
Fret, in Music, signifies a kind of stop on some in¬
struments, particularly bass viols and lutes. Frets con¬
sist of strings tied round the neck of the instrument, at
certain distances, within which such and such notes are
to be found.-
228 ] F E I
FRET-Work, that adorned with frets. It is some- prt,
times used to till up and enrich flat empty spaces •, but |)
it is mostly practised in roofs, which are fretted over
with plaster work.
FRETTS, in Mineralogy, a term used by our min¬
ers to express the worn side of the banks ot the rivers
in mine countries, where they search for the shoad
stones or grewts washed down from the hills, m order
from thence to trace out the running of the shoad up
to the mine.
Fretts, Freats or Freits. SeelREATS.
FREYBERG, or Friedberg, a town in the circle
of Upper Saxony, containing upwards of 9000 peo¬
ple. There are mines of copper, tin, lead, and silver,
in its vicinity, which afford employment to a consider¬
able number of workmen, and produce an annual reve¬
nue of more than 10,000 rix-dollars. I he princes of
the house of Saxony are usually buried here, where there
is also an academy for the st«dy of mineralogy, institu¬
ted in the year 1765, and reckoned the most famous
for that science of any in Germany. It is situated on a
branch of the Muldau, 19 miles south-west of Dresden,
in N. Lat. 51. and E. Long. 13. 18.
FRIABLE, among naturalists, an appellation gi¬
ven to bodies that are easily crumbled to pieces : such
are pumice and all calcined stones.
FRIAR, or Frier, by the Latins called/rater, the
Italians fra, and the French frere, that is, brother ; a
term common to the monks of all orders } founded on
this, that there is a kind of fraternity or brotherhood
presumed between the several religious persons of the
same convent or monastery.
Friars are generally distinguished into these four
principal branches, viz. 1. Minors, Gray friars, or
Franciscans. 2. Augustines. 3. Dominicans, or Black
friars. 4. White friars or Carmelites. From these
four the rest of the orders descend. See Francis¬
cans, Augustines, &c. # .
Friar, in a more peculiar sense, is restrained to such
monks as are not priests } lor those in oiders are usually
dignified with the appellation oi father.
°Feiars Observant (fratres observantes') were a
branch of the Franciscans j thus called, because not
combined together in any cloister, convent, or coipora-
tion, as the conventuals are 5 but only agreed among
themselves to observe the rules ol their order, and that
more strictly than the conventuals did, from whom they
separated themselves out of a singularity of zeal, living
in certain places of their own choosing.
FRIBURG, a large town of Germany, and capital
of Brisgavv 5 remarkable for the steeple ol the great
church, which, next to that of Strasburg, is the finest
in Germany and for its university. The inhabitants
are famous for polishing crystal and precious stones. It
has been several times taken and retaken j particularly
by the French in 1744* who demolished the fortifica¬
tions. It was also taken by them in June 179^*
is seated on the river Triset, ten miles east of Brisacb,
and 26 south of Strasburg. E. Long. 7* 57* ^ja^'
48* 4* . ,
Friburg, a town of Swisserland, and capital oi the
canton of the same name, seated on the river Sane,
in E. Long. 6. 48. N. Lat. 46. 5°* situation is
most singular and picturesque: “ It stands partly^
in..a small plain, partly on bold acclivities
a land
I
FillSsee'
F R 1 [2
ridge of rugged rocks, half encircled by the river
Sane; and is so entirely concealed by the circumjacent
' hills, that the traveller scarcely catches the smallest
glimpse, until he bursts upon a view of the whole town
from the overhanging eminence. The fortifications,
which consist of high stone walls and towers, enclose a
circumference of about four miles, within which space
the eye comprehends a singular mixture of houses, rocks,
thickets, and meadows, varying instantly from wild to
agreeable, from the bustle of a town to the solitude of
the deepest retirement. The Sane winds in such a ser¬
pentine manner as to form in its course, within the space
of two miles, five obtuse angles, between which the in¬
tervening parts of the current are parallel to each other.
On all sides the descent to the town is extremely steep :
in one place the streets even pass over the roofs of the
houses. Many of the edifices are raised in regular gra¬
dation like the seats of an amphitheatre ; and many
overhang the edge of a precipice in such a manner, that
on looking down, a weak head would be apt to turn
giddy. But the most extraordinary point of view is
from the Pont-neuf. To the north-west, part of the
town stands boldly on the sides and the piked back of
an abrupt ridge ; and from east to west a semicircle of
high perpendicular rocks is seen, whose base is washed
and undermined by the winding Sane, and whose tops
and sides are thinly scattered with shrubs and under¬
wood. On the highest point of the rocks, and on the
very edge of the precipice, appears, half hanging in the
air, the gate of the town called Bourguillon : a stranger
standing on the bridge would compare it to Laputa, or
the Flying island in Gulliver’s Travels •, and would not
conceive it to be accessible but by means of a cord and
pulleys. The houses, constructed with a gray sand
stone, are neat and well built; and the public edifices,
particularly the cathedral, are extremely elegant. The
inhabitants are Ixoman Catholics, as are those of the
whole canton. I he bishop of Xiausanne, called here
the bishop of Friburg, resides in this city. He is ap¬
pointed by the pope, usually at the recommendation of
the French court: and his revenues, including a small
pension from France, and from the abbey of Hauterive,
of which he was abbot, amount to about 400I. per an¬
num. His diocese extends over the whole canton, and
part of that of boleure. In all his acts and deeds he
signs himself bishop and count of Lausanne, and prince
of the German empire. The sovereign power resides in
the great council of two hundred ; comprising the two
advoyers, the chancellor, the grand sautier, the senate
or little council of twenty-four, the sixty, from which
body are chosen the bannerets and principal magistrates,
and the remaining hundred and twelve members, who
are simply denominated burghers.”
Friburg, the Canton oj, one of the 13 republics of
Switzerland. It is surrounded on ail sides by the can¬
ton ot Bern. The land is fertile in corn, fruits, and
pastures ; and it is said the canton can send 18,000
men into the field. This canton is entirely Catholic.
FRICASSEE, a dish or mess hastily dressed in a
fiying pan, and seasoned with butter, oil, or the like.
The vyord is French, formed of the Latin frixatura,
frying.” Others will have fricassee formed in imita¬
tion ot the noise made by butter, or other fat, when
melted in the pan. We say a fricassee of pullets, of
29 ] F R I
rabbits, of tencli, of tripe, of frogs, of eggs, of peas,
&c.
FRICENTI, an episcopal town of Italy, in the
kingdom of Naples, and in the farther principato, near
the river Tripalto, in E. Long. 15. 2. N. Lat. 40. 59.
I' lilCIION, the act of rubbing or grating the sur¬
face of one body against that of another, called also at-
trition. The phenomena arising upon the friction of
divers bodies, under different circumstances, are very
numerous and considerable. Mr Hawksbee gives us a
number of experiments of this kind ; particularly of the
attrition or friction of glass, under various circumstan¬
ces, the result of which was, that it yielded light and
became electrical. All bodies by Inction produce heat j
many of them emit light; particularly a cat’s back,
sugar, beaten sulphur, mercury, sea water, gold, cop¬
per, &c. but, above all, diamonds, which, when brisk¬
ly rubbed against glass, gold, or the like, yield a light
equal to that of a live coal when blowed by the bellows.
See Electrics and Electricity.
Friction, in Mechanics, denotes the resistance a
moving body meets with from the surface on which it
moves. Friction arises from the roughness or asperity
of the surface of the body moved on, and that of the
body moving : for such surfaces consisting alternately
of eminences and cavities, either the eminences of the
one must be raised over those of the other, or they
must be both broke and worn off: but neither can hap¬
pen without motion, nor can motion be produced with¬
out a force impressed. Hence, the force applied to
move the body is either wholly or partly spent on this
effect: and consequently there arises a resistance or
friction, which will be greater, cceteris paribus, as the
eminences are the greater and the substance the harder :
and as the body, by continual friction, becomes more
and more polished, the friction diminishes. See Me¬
chanics.
Friction, in Medicine and Surgery, denotes the act
of rubbing a diseased part with oils, unguents, or other
matters, in order to ease, relieve, and cure it. Fric¬
tions are much used of late in venereal cases. They
prefer the applying of mercury externally by way of
friction, to that of giving it internally, to raise a saliva¬
tion.
There are also frictions with the flesh brush, a linen
cloth, or the hand only. These frictions are a sort of
exercise which contributes greatly to health; as thev
excite and stir up the natural warmth, divert defluxions,
promote perspiration, open the pores of the skin, and
carry off stagnant humours.
The flesh brush (Dr Cheyne observes) is an exercise
extremely useful for promoting a full and free perspira¬
tion and circulation. Every body knows the effect
of currying horses; that it makes them sleek, gay,
lively, and active; so as even to be judged equivalent
to half the feeding. This it can no otherwise effect,
but by assisting nature to throw off the recrements of
the juices, which stop the free circulation, and, by con¬
stant friction, irritation, and stimulation, to bring the
blood and spirits to the parts most distant from the
seat of heat and motion ; and so plump up the super¬
ficial muscles. And the same effect it would have in
other creatures, and man himself, if managed in the
same manner, and with the same care and regularity.
Persons
£
Fricassee
i!
Friction.
F R I
[ 23° 3
F R I
Friction
II
T riendly
Islands.
Persons, therefore, of weak nerves and sedentary lives,
would do well to supply the want of other exercise
with spending half an hour, morning and night, in
, currying and rubbing their whole body, especially their
limbs, with a flesh brush. But this means of health is
most advantageously used when the pnmce vice are
most empty. , c
FRIDAY, the sixth day of the week ; so named ot
Freya, a Saxon deity. By the Romans it was called
dies Veneris. See Frea.
Good-Full)ay. See GooD-Friday.
FRIDSTOL, mentioned, in our ancient writers,
amon" the immunities granted to churches, signifies a.
seat, chair, or place of peace and security, where cri¬
minals might find safety and protection : of these there
were many in England : but the most famous were that
at Beverly, and that in St Peter’s church at Fork,
granted by charter of K ing Pieniy I.
6 FRIEDENSHUETTEN, a Moravian settlement,
whose name signifies tents of peace on the Sus-
quehannah river in Pennsylvania, about 24 miles be¬
low Tioga point, which owed its origin to the united
brethren, in the year 1765. At that period it con¬
tained 13 huts belonging to the Indians, besides 40
houses constructed after the European manner, and a
very neat chapel. _ . . , .
FRIENDLY ISLANDS, a cluster of islands in the
Pacific ocean, so named by Captain Cook in the year
*773> on account of the friendship which appealed to
subsist among the inhabitants, and from their courteous
behaviour to strangers. Abel Jansen Tasman, an
eminent Dutch navigator, first touched here in 1643,
and gave names to the principal islands. Captain Cook
laboriously explored the whole cluster, which he found
to consist of more than 60. The three islands which
Tasman saw he named New Amsterdam, Rotterdam,
and Middleburgh. The first is the largest, and extends
about 21 miles from east to west, and about 13 from
north to south. These islands are inhabited by a race
of Indians, who cultivate the earth with great indus¬
try. The island of Amsterdam is intersected by a
straight and pleasant road with fruit trees on each side,
which provide shade from the scorching heat of the sun.
The chief islands are Annamooka, Tongataboo (the re¬
sidence of the sovereign and the chiefs), Lefooga, and
Eooa. Lefooga is about seven miles long, and in some
places not above two or three broad. It is in many
respects superior to Annamooka. I he plantations are
both more numerous and more extensive j and en¬
closed by fences which, running parallel to each other,
form fine spacious public roads, which would appear
beautiful in countries where rural conveniences have
been carried to the highest perfection. They are, in
general, highly cultivated, and well stocked with the
several roots and fruits which these islands produce j
and Captain Cook endeavoured to add to their num¬
ber, by planting Indian corn, and the seeds of melons,
pumpkins, and the like. Eooa, when viewed from the
ship at anchor, formed one of the most beautiful pro¬
spects in nature, and very different from the others
of the Friendly Isles ; which being low, and perfectly
level, exhibit nothing to the eye but the trees which
cover them: whereas here, the land rising genttyto
a considerable height, presents us with an extensive
prospect, where groves of trees are only interspered at
irregular distances, in beautiful disorder, and all the
rest is covered with grass, except near the shores, where
it is entirely covered with fruit and other trees *, amongst
which are the habitations of the natives. In order to
have a view of as great a part of the island as pos¬
sible, Captain Cook and some of his officers walk¬
ed up to the highest point of the island. From this
place they had a view of almost the whole island,
which consisted of beautiful meadows of prodigious ex¬
tent, adorned with tufts of trees, and intermixed with
plantations. ‘ While I was surveying this delightful
prospect (says Captain Cook), I could not help flatter¬
ing myself with the pleasing idea that some future na¬
vigator may, from the same station, behold these mea-
dows stocked with cattle, brought to these islands by
the ships of England ; and that the completion of this
single benevolent purpose, independent of all other con¬
siderations, wmuld sufficiently mark to posterity, that
our voyages had not been useless to the general inte¬
rests of humanity. ‘ The next morning,’ says our be¬
nevolent commander, ‘ I planted a pine apple, and
sowed the seeds of melons and other vegetables in
Taoofa’s plantation. I had indeed some encourage¬
ment to flatter myself that my endeavours of this kind
also would not be fruitless : as I had this day a dish of
turnips served up at my dinner, which was the produce
of seeds I left here in my former voyage.’
The natives of these islands seldom exceed the com¬
mon stature ; but are very strong and well made, espe¬
cially as to their limbs. They are generally broad
about the shoulders •, and though the muscular disposi¬
tion of the men, which seems a consequence of much
action, rather conveys the appearance of strength than
of beauty, there are several to be seen who are really
handsome. The women are not so much distinguished
from the men by their features as by their general
form, which is for the most part destitute of that
strong fleshy firmness that appears in the latter. The
features of some are so delicate, as not only to be a
true index of their sex, but to lay claim to a consider¬
able share of beauty and expression : for the bodies
and limbs of most of the females are well proportion¬
ed } and some absolutely perfect models of a beautiful
figure. But the most remarkable distinction in the
women is the uncommon smallness and delicacy of their
fingers, which may be put in competition with the
finest in Europe. The general colour is a cast deeper
than the copper brown \ but several of the men and
women have a true olive complexion : and some of the
last are even a great deal fairer. Their countenances
very remarkably express the abundant mildness or
good nature which they possess; and are entirely free
from that savage keenness which marks nations in a
barbarous state. They are frank, cheerful, and good-
natured.
There are, upon the whole, few natural defects or
deformities to be found among these people. The most
common is the tetter or ring worm, that seems to af¬
fect almost one half of them, and leaves whitish ser¬
pentine marks everywhere behind it j but this is of
less consequence than another which is very frequent,
and appears on every part of the body. Captain Cook
had the mortification to learn that all the care he took
when he first visited these islands, to prevent the vene¬
real disease from being communicated to the inhabi¬
tants,
Friendtt
Island:
ndly
ds
F R T [ 231 ]
tenants, Iiatl proved ineffectual. What is extraordinary, them to wash it off.
they do not seem to regard it much ; and as there ap¬
peared few signs of its destroying effects, probably the
climate, and the way of living of these people, greatly
abated its virulence. There are two other complaints
frequent amongst them j one of which is an indolent
firm swelling, that affects the legs and arms, and in¬
creases them to an'^extraordinary size in their whole
length. The other is a tumor of the same sort in the
testicles, which sometimes exceeds the size of the two
fists. But in other respects they may be considered as
uncommonly healthy.
Their hair is in general straight, thick, and strong,
though a few have it bushy or frizzled. The natural
colour is black ; but the greatest part of the men, and
some of the women, have it stained of a brown or purple
colour, and a few of an orange cast. They wear it va¬
riously cut. Some have it cut off on one side of the
head only ; others have it entirely cut off except a
single lock ; the women in general wear it short. The
men have their beards cut short j and both men and wo¬
men strip the hair from the armpits. The men are
stained from about the middle of the belly to about half
way down the thighs with a deep blue colour. The wo¬
men have only a few small lines or spots thus imprinted
on the inside of their hands. Their kings, as a mark
of distinction, are exempted from this custom.
The men are all circumcised, or rather supercised,
as the operation consists in cutting off' only a small
piece of the foreskin at the upper part: which by that
means is rendered incapable ever after of covering the
glans. This is all they aim at, as they say the opera¬
tion^ is practised from a notion of cleanliness.
I he dress of both men and women is the same:
and consists of a piece of cloth or matting (but mostly
the former) about two yards wide and two and a half
long : at least so long as to go once and a half round
ihe waist, to which it is confined by a girdle or cord.
It is double before, and hangs down like a petticoat,
as low as the middle of the leg. The upper part of
the garment above the girdle is plaited into several
folds j so that, when unfolded, there is cloth sufficient
to draw up and wrap round the shoulders ; which is
very seldom done. The inferior sort are satisfied with
small pieces 5 and very often wear nothing but a cover¬
ing made of leaves of plants, or the maro, which is a
narrow piece of cloth or matting like a sash. This they
pass between the thighs and wrap round the waist j but
the use of it is chiefly confined to the men. The orna¬
ments worn by both sexes are necklaces made of the
fruit of the pandanus, and various sweet smelling
flowers, which go under the general name of kahulla.
Others are composed of small shells, the wing and leg-
bones of birds, sharks teeth and other things ; all which
bang loose upon the breast; rings of tortoise shell on the
fingers ; and a number of these joined together as bra¬
celets on the wrists. The lobes of the ears (though
most frequently only one), are sometimes perforated
with two holes, in which they wear cylindrical bits of
ivory about three inches long.
Cleanliness induces them to bathe in the ponds, which
seem to serve for no other purpose. They are sensible
that salt water hurts their skin ; and when necessity
° iges them to bathe in the sea, they commonly have
some cocoa nut shells filled with fresh water poured over
F R I
People of superior rank use cocoa
nut oil, which improves the appearance of the skin
very much.
The employment of the women is of the easy kind,
and, for the most part, such as may be executed in the
house. The manufacturing their cloth is wholly con¬
signed to their care ; as is also that of their mats, which
are esteemed both for their texture and their beauty.
There are many other articles of less note that employ
the spare time of their females ; as combs, of which they
make vast numbers, and little baskets with small beads ;
but all finished with such neatness and taste in the dis¬
position of the various parts, that a stranger cannot help
admiring their assiduity and dexterity.
The province allotted to the men, as might be ex¬
pected, is far more laborious and extensive than that
of the women. Agriculture, architecture, boat build¬
ing, fishing, and other things that relate to navigation,
are the objects of their care. Cultivated roots and
fruits being their principal support, this requires their
constant attention to agriculture, which they pursue
very diligently, and seem to have brought almost to as
great perfection as circumstances will permit. In plant¬
ing the plantains and yams, they observe so much ex¬
actness, that, which ever way you look, the rows pre¬
sent themselves regular and complete. The cocoa nut
and bread fruit trees are scattered about without any
order, and seem to give them no trouble after they have
attained a certain height.
The houses of the lower people are poor huts, and
very small ; those of the better sort are larger and
more moderate. The dimensions of one of a middling
size are about 30 feet long, 20 broad, and 12 high!
Their house is, properly speaking, a thatched roof or
shed, supported by posts and rafters, disposed in a
very judicious manner. The floor is raised with earth
smoothed, and covered with thick stx-ong matting,
and kept very clean. A thick strong mat, about two
and a half or three feet broad, bent into the form of
a semicircle, and set upon its edge, with the ends
touching the side of the house, in shape resembling the
fender of a fire heath, encloses a space for the master
and mistress of the family to sleep in. The rest of the
family sleep upon the floor, wherever they please to
lie down ; the unmarried men and women apart from
each other : Or if the family be large, there are small
huts adjoining, to which the servants retire in the
night; so that privacy is as much observed here as
one could expect. The clothes that they wear in the
day serve for their covering in the night. Their
whole furniture consists of a bowl or two, in which
they make kava ; a few gourds ; cocoa nut shells ;
and some small wooden stools, which serve them for
pillows.
They display much ingenuity in the building of their
canoes, as well as in the navigating them.
The only tools which they use to construct them,
which are very dexterously made, are hatchets, or ra¬
ther thick adzes, of a smooth black stone that abounds
at Toofoa; augres, made of sharks teeth, fixed on
small handles, and rasps of a rough skin of a fish, fast¬
ened on flat pieces of wood, thinner on one side, which
also have handles. The cordage is made from the fibres
of the cocoa nut husk, which, though not more than
nine or ten inches long, they plait, about the size of
Friendly
islands.
Friendly
Islands.
F R I [ 232 ] . ^ 11 u1
„ lium, or less, to any length that they please, anti roll through the cheeks rnto the mouth,
it up in balls, from which the larger ropes are made by
* . 7 . „ , rri. „ 1 fhot thPV
twisting several of these together. The lines that they
fish with are as strong and even as the best cor w'e
make, resembling it almost in every respect. Xben-
other fishing implements are large and small hooks made
of pearl shell. Their weapons are clubs ot diiterent
sorts, (in the ornamenting of which they spend much
time), spears and darts. They have also hows and ar¬
rows ; but these seemed to be designed only for amuse¬
ment, such as shooting at birds, and not for military
purposes. The stools are about two feet long, but only
four or five inches high, and near four broad, bending
downward in the middle, with four strong legs, and
circular feet j the whole made of one piece of black or
brown wood, neatly polished, and sometimes rmaid with
bits of ivory. . ,. .
Yams, plantains, and cocoa nuts, composed the gieat-
est part of their vegetable diet. Of their animal food
the chief articles are, hogs, fowls, fish, and all sorts of
shell fish; but the lower people eat rats. Ihe two
All these opera¬
tions convey an idea of such rigorous discipline^ as must
require either an uncommon degree of affection, or v
the grossest superstition, to exact. It should be observ¬
ed, "however, that the more painful operations are only
nractised on account of the death of those most nearly-
connected.
Their long and general mourning proves, that they
consider death as a very great evil. And this is con¬
firmed by a very odd custom which they practise to
avert it. They suppose that the Deity will accept of
the little finger, as a sort of sacrifice efficacious enough
to procure the recovery of their health. They cut it
off with one of their stone hatchets. There appeared
scarcely one in ten of them who was not thus mutilated
in one or both hands. According to Captain King,
it is common also for the inferior people to cut off a
joint of their little finger on account of the sickness of
the chiefs to whom they belong.
They seem to have little conception of future pu¬
nishment. They believe, however, that they are justly
Friend!
Wand:
shell fish ; but the lo'^[Ve what may punished upon earth; and consequently use every me
Slla™lir:re„ttlmeS„| Ld to render their divinities propitious. The So-
the year, with fish and shell fish; for hogs, fowls, and
turtle, seem ©nly to he occasional dainties, reserved for
their chiefs. Their food is generally dressed by baking,
and thev have the art of making, from different kinc^
of fruit, several dishes which most of us esteemed very
good. The generality of them lay their victuals upon
the first leaf they meet with, however dirty it may be;
but when food is served up to the chiefs, it is commonly
laid upon green plantain leaves. The women are not
excluded from eating with the men; but there are cer¬
tain ranks or orders amongst them that can neither eat
nor drink together. This distinction begins with the
king; but where it ends could not be learnt. They
seem to have no set time for meals. They go to bed
as soon as it is dark, and rise with the dawn in the
morning. ..... , •
Their private diversions are chiefly singing, dancing,
and music performed by the women. The dancing of
the men has a thousand different motions with the
hands, to which we are entire strangers; and they are
performed with an ease and grace which are not to be
described but by those who have seen them.
Whether their marriages be made lasting by any
kind of solemn contract, our voyagers could not deter-
mine with precision 5 but it appeared that the bulk ot
the people satisfied themselves with one wife. The
chiefs, however, have commonly several women, though
it appeared as if one only was looked upon as the mis¬
tress of the family. < _
When any person of consequence dies, his body is
washed and decorated by some woman or women, who
are appointed on the occasion ; and these women are
not, bv their customs, to touch any food with their
hands for many months afterwards; and it is remark¬
able, that the’length of the time they are thus pro¬
scribed, is the greater in proportion to the rank of the
chief whom they had washed.
The concern of these people for the dead is most
extraordinary. They beat their teeth with stones,
strike a shark’s tooth into the head until the blood
flows in streams, and thrust spears into the inner part
of the thigh, into their sides below the armpits, and
3
preme Author of all things they call Kallafootonga;
who, they say, is a female residing in the sky, and di¬
recting the thunder, wind, rain, and 111 general all the
changes of weather. They believe that when she is
angry with them, the productions of the earthy are
blasted; that many things are destroyed by lightning;
and that they themselves are afflicted with sickness and
death as well as their hogs and other animals. When
this anger abates, they suppose that every thing is re¬
stored to its natural order. They also admit a plura¬
lity of deities, though all inferior to Kallafootonga.
They have less absurd sentiments about the immate¬
riality and the immortality of the soul. They call it
life, the living principle; 'or, what is more agreeable
to their notions of it, Otooa > that is, a divinity or in¬
visible being.
Of the nature of their government no more is known
than the general outline. According to the informa¬
tion received, the power of the king is unlimited, and
the life and property of the subject are at his disposal;
and instances enough were seen to prove that the lower
order of people have no property, nor safety lor their
persons, but at the will of the chiefs to whom they re¬
spectively belong. When any one wants to speak with
the king or chief, he advances and sits down before
him with his legs across; which is a posture to which
they are so much accustomed, that any other mode of
sitting is disagreeable to them. 1o speak to the king
standing would be accounted here a striking mark of
rudeness.
Though some of the more potent chiefs may vie
with the king in point of actual possessions, they fall
very short in rank and in certain marks of respect,
which the collective body have agreed to pay the mo¬
narch. It is a particular privilege annexed to^ his so¬
vereignty, not to be punctured nor circumcised, as all
his subjects are. Whenever he walks out, every one
whom he meets must sit down till he has passed. No
one is allowed to be over his head ; on the contrary all
must come under his feet; for there cannot be a great¬
er outward mark of submission than that which is paid
to the sovereign and other great people of these islands
F E 1 [ 233 ]
F E I
£fcidly by their inferiors. The method is this : the person
I i ds, who is to pay obeisance squats down before the chief,
<jipfrfp,and bows the head to the sole of his foot; which,
when lie sits, is so placed that it cannot easily be come
at; and having tapped or touched it with the under
and upper side of the fingers of both hands, he rises
up and retires. The hands, after this application of
them to the chief’s feet, are in some cases rendered
useless for a time; for, until they be washed, they must
not touch any kind of food. When the hands are in
this state, they call it taboo rema. Taboo, in general,
signifies “ forbidden,” and rema is their word for
“ hand.” Their great men are fond of a singular
piece ot luxury ; which is, to have women sit beside
them all night, and beat on different parts of their
body until they go to sleep ; after which they relax a
little of their labour, unless they appear likely to
awake ; in which case they redouble their drumming
until they are again fast asleep.
DeS oa FRIENDSHIP may be defined, a mutual attach-
°'/i ' ment subsisting between two persons : and arising, not
'"l” merely from the general principle of benevolence, frcm
emotions of gratitude for favours received, from views
of interest, or from instinctive affection or animal
passion ; but from an opinion entertained by each of
them, that the other is adorned with some amiable or
respectable qualities.
jiroa _ The object of the general principle of benevolence
l,Tt is mankind, not any particular individual. Gratitude
itim• regards the person from whom he who feels its emo¬
tions has received a favour, whether that person be a
virtuous or vicious, a respectable or a contemptible,
character : it prompts the person obliged to make a suit¬
able return to his benefactor, but not to enter into
any particular intimacy with him, merely on account
of the favours which he has received. Many connec¬
tions are formed, and dignified with the name offriend¬
ship, upon no other principle but the sordid hope which
one or perhaps each of the parties entertains of ac-
! kji complishing some selfish purpose through the assistance
I of the other : but such a connexion is so base in its
nature, and so transitory in its duration, as to render
it unnecessary for us to spend time in demonstrating it
to be unworthy of the name of friendship. The in-
r 41 stinctive affection which a parent entertains for his
. | child, as well as that which the child feels for his pa-
1, rent, seems intended by nature to form an union between
, 4 the persons thus related to each other: but the union
I, between parents and children, when supported by no
,[ I i other principle but instinct, is different from friend¬
ship : it extends no farther than to cause the parent
to provide for his child during his helpless years, and
the child to look up to his parent for protection and
support. We need not mention that appetite which
I is the foundation of love, and is the provision which
nature has made for the continuation of our species.
This appetite alone, and unassisted bv some nobler
principle, cannot give rise to any connexion worthy of
an honourable name.
,e . After excluding these principles, we can refer the
i, origin of friendship only to “ an opinion entertained
J °y each of the parties between whom it subsists, that
the other is adorned with some amiable or respectable
qualities.” A connexion founded on different prin-
1. ciples we cannot honour with the name of friendship i
Vol. IX. Part I. +
but that which flows from this pure source must he Friendship
noble and virtuous. When two persons of virtue and '—
abilities contemplate each the other’s character and
conduct, they cannot but view them with complacency
and esteem. Habits and actions displaying prudence,
fortitude, moderation, integrity, benevolence, and pietv’
naturally command the approbation of the impartial
spectator, and even affect him with delight. But as
we are disposed to revisit a landscape the beauties of
which we have contemplated with rapture, and read
with frequent delight a poem in which genius has
faithfully delineated some of the most enchanting scenes
or the most interesting events in nature ; so we also be¬
come desirous to enjoy frequent opportunities of con¬
templating a character distinguished for eminent abi¬
lities and illustrious virtues. The society of such a
person is preferred to his who is disgraced by the op¬
posite qualities. Hence, whenever men of truly re¬
spectable characters enjoy opportunities of mutual in¬
tercourse, an attachment naturally takes place between
them ; entirely disinterested, and founded solely on
the approbation with which the one cannot avoid re¬
garding the conduct of the other. The esteem which
the one is thus induced to entertain for the other will
lead them to seek frequent opportunities of enjoying
each other’s society, mutually to ask and listen to ad¬
vice, to trust their most secret and important purposes
to each other’s confidence, and to be no less concerned
each of them for the other’s interest and honour than
for his own. This, and this alone, is genuine friend¬
ship ; founded on virtue, and on that approbation
which virtue never fails to command : it is a natural
consequence of intercourse between virtuous men. -
Where it is once established, it cannot die, while those
virtues to which it owes its origin continue to adorn
the persons between whom it subsists.
But, perhaps, such a pure and sublime attachmentcircuni-
can scarce be expected to exist among beings of so stances fa-
mixed and imperfect a character as mankind. The wise voura,Jle t*
man of the ancient Stoics, or the Christian who fully t^e iase
obeys the precepts, and follows the steps of his Saviour, ^ncTof
might be capable of it; but, unfortunately, humanity friendship,
never reaches such perfection. Virtue and vice are so
blended together in every human character, that while
none is so worthless as to excite no other sentiment but
abhorrence, there is scarcely any so uniformly virtuous
as to command unvaried esteem or admiration. Even
the purest and most disinterested of those friendships
which prevail among men, owe their origin to other
meaner principles, as well as to that which has been
mentioned as the principle of genuine friendship. There
are certain circumstances favourable, and others ad¬
verse, to the formation and continuance of friendship.
These, making amends, as it were, for the imperfection
of human virtue and human knowledge, lead men to
overlook each other’s faults and follies, and to unite in
the bonds of friendship ; a friendship which, though less
solid, less generous, and Jess lasting, than that which
We have above described, is yet attended with effects
favourable to the happiness of individuals, and to the
interests of society in general.
Equality of age is favourable to friendship. Infancy,
manhood, and old age, differ so considerably from each
other in their views, passions, and pursuits, that the
man will seldom be disposed to associate with the boy
G g or
F R I
[ 234 1
F R I
or die youth, in preference to one who has nad equal
experience in the world with himself-, and the old man
will generally wish for the company of some ancient
friend, with whom he may speak, of “ the days of 101-
mer years.” r .
They who cultivate the same trade or profession, en-
iov opportunities favourable to the formation ol friend¬
ship. Being engaged among the same objects, and
acquiring skill in^the same arts, their knowledge, their
sentiments, and habits, are nearly the same ; they can¬
not avoid frequent intercourse with each other ; they
naturally enter into each other’s prejudices and views,
and therefore cannot but take pleasure in each other s
conversation and society. Physicians, lawyers, and
divines, form each of them a distinct body 5 and the
members of each of those bodies associate with one
another more readily than with men of a different pro¬
fession. It is related by Swift or Addison, that, in
the beginning of the last century, there was a par¬
ticular" coffeehouse in London which clergymen used
to frequent, and that a son of the church scarcely ever
ventured to show his head in any other. In the days
of Dryden, poets, and all who pretended to poetical
(tenius or taste, resorted to Will's, as to another Par¬
nassus, to sip cups ol coffee, and now and then per¬
haps to drink of some more inspiring liquor, instead ot
the waters of the fountain Hippocrene.
Equality of rank and fortune is also favourable to
friendship. 'Seldom will a man of fortune be able to
miin the sincere friendship of any of his dependents,
though he treat them with the most obliging conde¬
scension, and load them with favours ; yet still, either
the sense of dependence, or resentment for imaginary
injuries, or impatience of the debt of gratitude, or
some other similar reason, will be likely to prevent
them from regarding him with cordial aflection. Ser-
vants are hut rarely faithful even to the most indulgent
master : Shakespeare’s old Adam is a very amiable but
a very uncommon character. Indeed you may as soon
expect to find the virtues and the generous courage
of the chevalier Bayard among our military men of the
present age, as to find an old Adam among the present
race of servants. It is no less vain for the poor man
to hope to acquire a sincere friend among his superiors
in rank and fortune. The "Superior is generally dis¬
posed to exact such profound deference, such gratitude,
such respect, even from the inferior whom he admits
into his intimacy, that the equal amicable intercourse
of friendship can scarce ever take place between them.
Among the letters of the younger Pliny, we are pleased
to find many monuments of the goodness of his heart.
A number of his epistles addressed to friends in meaner
circumstances appear to have been accompanied with
very considerable presents, which by his opulence he
was well enabled to bestow. But he takes care to
let those humble friends know the weight of the ob¬
ligations which he conferred, and the vastness of the
debt of gratitude which they owed to him, in such
plain, nay even indelicate terms, that though they
might receive his favours with gratitude, and regard
him as their benefactor, yet they could never regard
him as a man with whom they might cultivate the
free easy intercourse of friendship. Some one or other
of the Greek writers mentions a singular instance ot
cordial friendship subsisting between two persons in
unequal circumstances. One of them dying beforeFn^H
the other, and leaving a wife and daughter to whom
he had no fortune nor even means of subsistence to
bequeath, enjoined his rich friend, in his will, to take
the charge of them on himself, and to support them
in a liberal manner: nor did he entreat this from his
humanity, but demanded it from his friendship. He
had made a sure provision for his family. His rich
friend delayed not to comply with his dying injunc¬
tion. He readily took upon himself the charge of the
wife and daughter of his deceased friend, treated them
with kindness, and at last divided his whole fortune
equally between his own only daughter and the child
of his friend. This is an agreeable instance of the
power of friendship : but such instances are not to be
expected to occur frequently in ordinary lite, any more
than the Stoic virtue of Cato, or the modest piety of a
Nelson.
Similarity of taste and temper will generally be found
favourable to friendship. Two peevish men, indeed,
will not long endure each other’s company with much
satisfaction j but two persons of mild, humane dispo¬
sitions will naturally take delight in each other’s so¬
ciety and conversation. They who are charmed with
the bustle of a gay and active life, avoid the haunts of
the indolent and contemplative, and join hand in hand
to climbs the heights of ambition, or tread the round
of amusement and dissipation. Those whom taste
leads to cultivate the elegant objects of literature
amid the sweets of a rural retirement, to wander through
the grove, or recline on the brink of some romantic
rill, and peruse the pages of one of those geniuses who
have shown themselves able to enlighten the under¬
standing, and to kindle the glow of generous senti¬
ment in°the breast;—those children of taste frequently
associate in their elegant pursuits. We are pleased to
read the correspondence of Pliny and lacitus, 0?
Locke and Molineaux, of Swift and Pope. We rejoice
to find, that nothwithstanding the rivalry of learning
and genius, taste and philosophy have a natural ten¬
dency to promote benevolence and friendship among
their votaries. The bustle of the world must be. ac¬
knowledged to be generally unfavourable to friendship.
When the heart is occupied with the sordid objects of
ambition, or avarice, or gay dissipation, there is no
room left for the pure and generous sentiments of
friendship. Interests often interfere, competitions and
jealousies arise, fatal to all the sweets of social inter¬
course. It is in active life that virtue shines with
the most brilliant lustre j but seldom, alas ! does pure
virtue appear in the scenes of active life. How beau¬
tifully does the character of Attieus shine amid th#
characters of his illustrious cotemporaries! ut Luna inter
minores ignes ! Sylla, Ctesar, Cicero, Brutus, xlntony,
and Augustus, were eminent for their abilities and vir¬
tues ; but being engaged in the bustling pursuits of
ambition, they seem to have been strangers to the
calm and elegant happiness which Atticus enjoyed.
Though those of them who were cotemporaries could
not avoid perceiving and admiring each other’s merits,
yet never did cordial friendship subsist between them.
Even Cicero, who could so well define the duties and
describe the happiness of friendship, yet appears to
have but seldom enjoyed its delights. But Atticus,
who constantly declined entering tbq scenes of pubhc
life?
file
es.
F R X [ 235 ] F R I
.[jjjj life, experienced such happiness in a private condition,
»~/as must have been more than an ample reward to him
for shunning all the splendid pursuits of ambition. He
was the disinterested friend of all those eminent men,
and enjoyed their esteem and friendship. So upright
was his character, so amiable his manners, that they
who were mortal enemies to each other, yet agreed in
cultivating at the same time the friendship of Atticus.
None of them appear to have hated him on account of
his attachment to their enemies ; and while he was
the friend of Cicero and Octavius, he was at the same
time the protector of the wife of Antony. Perhaps
the virtue of such a character may be regarded as pro¬
blematical. It may be alleged, that while such inve¬
terate dissensions arose among his friends, the neutra¬
lity which he preserved was inconsistent with integrity.
He has indeed been rashly branded by some writers
as an avaricious time-serving man. But no evidence
appears to justify their assertions; on the contrary, the
most respectable testimony, the nicest scrutiny, exhibit
bis character in those amiable colours in which we
have chosen to view it. Atticus is indeed no ordinary
character. The general principles of human nature,
and the examples which most frequently occur in the
world, naturally suggest a suspicion, that had he been
a man of genuine integrity, he must have observed a
different tenor of conduct. But there is one circumstance
which tends to strengthen considerably the respectable
testimony of his cotemporaries in his behalf. In Cato,
in Epictetus, in the philosopher, who, while suffering
under all the violence of an acute distemper, maintain¬
ed to Pompey that pain was no evil, we have instances
of the tenets of philosophy opposing and repressing the
principles of nature. We know how often religious
enthusiasm has produced the same effects. But Atticus
was the votary of the mild and elegant philosophy of
Epicurus ; which, though there appears to have been
a palpable inconsistency between its principles and the
superstructure raised upon them, was yet in its general
tendency not unfriendly to virtue, and recommended
to its votaries that calm and innocent mode of life
which Atticus cultivated. There is no small resem¬
blance between the character of Atticus and that of
Epicurus, the founder of this philosophy. The same
tenets seem to have produced the same effects on both ;
and we will venture to pronounce so high an encomium
on the Epicurean philosophy, as to assert, that it
chiefly contributed to form the character of this ami¬
able Homan.
^We know not if we may venture to affirm, that
friendships are most naturally contracted among per¬
sons of the same sex. We believe they often are. If
similarity of taste, of sentiments, of manners, be fa¬
vourable to friendship, this cannot but happen. The
distinction which nature has established between the
two sexes, the new distinctions which are introduced
by the different views with which their education is
conducted, and the different duties which they are
called to perform in life, have all a tendency to dispose
men and women to enter into habits of intimacy
with persons of their own sex rather than with the
other. Aroung girls have their peculiar amusements,
as boys have theirs ; they knit and sew together, con¬
sult each other concerning their dress, and associate at
their idle hours. Young men, in the same manner,
prefer the society of their equals of the same sex till FnemMi
such time as their hearts begin to feel the impulse w-v—-
of a new passion. This soft passion, indeed, causes the
youth to prefer the company of his favourite maid to
that of his dearest companion; and it perhaps causes the
virgin to view her female companions with a jealous
eye, while she fears that their charms may win the
heart of the youth, whose fond regard she herself
wishes to engage. But the fears, the jealousies, the
timidity, nay even the fondness of love, are incompa¬
tible with friendship. Though the lover and his mistress
be dear to each other, yet the free confidence of
friendship cannot take place between them. They
dare not yet venture to trust to each other all the se¬
crets of their hearts. But if their mutual wishes
be crowned by marriage ; then, indeed, as their in¬
terests become the same, if the transports of love are
not succeeded by the calm delights and the free con¬
fidence of friendship, they must be unhappy. The
marriage state is peculiarly favourable to friendship.
Persons whose relations to each other are the more re¬
mote, will oiten find circumstances concurring to induce
them to cultivate a friendly intercourse with each
other. But here indifference is almost impossible, it
is absolutely requisite, in order that they may not ren¬
der each other miserable, that the husband and the
wife be united in the bonds of friendship. This seems
even to be one 01 the great laws of nature, by means
of which provision is made for the happiness and the
preservation of society. But though the wife and the
husband be particularly attached to each other by tlie
ties of friendship no less than by those of love/ vet
their mutual affection will not detach them from the
rest of the world : their relations to the society around
them will still remain ; the husband will still cultivate
the intimacy of those of his own sex, and the wife will
still choose female in preference to male friends. Upon
even a superficial view of life, we find reason to declare
without hesitation, that acquaintance and intimacy
most naturally take place among persons of the same
sex. The husband and the wife are more than friends ;
they are one bone and one flesh. It has been sometimes
slightly insinuated, and sometimes more openly assert¬
ed, by people who have but carelessly viewed the phe¬
nomena of social life, or have been disposed to cavil
against the fair sex, that women are incapable of sin¬
cerity or constancy in friendship with each other. But
it seems unnecessary to offer a serious refutation of this
cavil. Neither is the general character of the female
sex so inferior to that of the male, nor are their cir¬
cumstances so very different from ours, as to render
them totally incapable of those virtues which are ne¬
cessary to establish and support mutual friendship.
They are in general possessed of more exquisite sensi¬
bility, nicer delicacy of taste, and a juster sense of
propriety, than we : nor are they destitute of genero¬
sity, fidelity, and firmness. But such qualities are
peculiarly favourable to friendship; they communicate
a certain charm to the manners of the person who is
adorned with them ; they render the heart susceptible
of generous disinterested attachment; and they elevate
the soul above levity, insincerity, and meanness. Com¬
petitions and jealousies must no doubt arise now and
then even among the most amiable of the female sex,
as well as among us. These will preclude or destroy
G g 2 friendship.
F R I L
Friendship friendship. But the rivalry of beauty, of dress, of
t A fashion, is not oftener fatal to friendship among the
fair sex, than the contests of pride, avarice, vanity,
and ambition, among their haughty lords. It iriend-
ship be ranked among the virtues, it is notless a temale
than a male virtue. , . . e r • ^,1
The delightful intercourse and intimacy ot inend.
ship may he" naturally expected to subsist not only e-
tween the husband and the wife, but among all who
are connected by any of the relations of consanguim-
tv. The power of instinct does not always continue
to unite the parent and the child. Its offices are o a
temporary nature j but when these are performed, it
ceases to operate. During the infancy, the childhood,
and even the youth of his son or daughter, the parent
watches over them with fond affection, and labours
with anxious assiduity to promote their welfare, for no
Relations
of consan¬
guinity.
wun anxiuuo r  . - , i-
other reason but because the yearnings ot paternal at-
fection draw him towards them. But as they advance
farther in life, and become able to care for themselves,
it has been so ordered by the wisdom of nature, that
the attachment of the parent almost dies away, unless
the grateful affection and the merit of his children atlord
him&reason to rejoice over them and bless them. Dow
shocking, how miserable, the condition ol that iamily,
whose members are not united by the mutual esteem
and confidence of friendship ! where the parent views
his children with jealousy, shame, indignation, or sor¬
row : and the children anxiously avoid the society ot
their parents ! Their interests are so nearly connected j
they have so many occasions for acting in concert, and
must live so long together j that we may almost ven¬
ture to affirm, that the parent and the child, like the
husband and the wife, must be either friends or enemies.
But the ties of nature, the influence of habit, senti¬
ments, and circumstances, all concur to form between
them the sacred connexion of friendship. Brothers and
sisters, the children of the same parents, and for awhile
members of the same family, may be expected to re¬
gard each other through life with kindness and esteem
and these we would rather choose to attribute to a ra¬
tional attachment, founded on certain principles, than
to a blind instinctive affection.
These are a few of the distinctions and relations in
society which appear most favourable to friendship.—
Were we to descend to minuter particulars, we might
enumerate all the varieties of taste, of temper, and of
circumstances, by which mankind are distinguished
from one another, and distributed into particular classes.
But this would be too tedious, and does not appear ne-
6 cessary.
Laws of As friendship is an attachment which takes place
friendship, between certain human characters when placed in cer¬
tain circumstances, there must therefore be laws for
supporting the attachment and regulating the inter¬
course of" friendship. Mutual esteem is the basis on
which true friendship is established; and the intercourse
of friendship ought surely to be conducted in such a
manner that this foundation be not injured. Friend¬
ship must diminish neither our benevolence nor pru¬
dence : it must not seduce us from an honest atten¬
tion to our private interest, nor contract our social
• Sincerity may he considered as the first law of friend¬
ship. Artifice and hypocrisy are inimical to all social
236 ] FBI
intercourse. Between the deceitful and the honest, Friiu(js[,
friendship can never subsist. For a while, the one may
impose on the other ; unsuspicious integrity may not be
able to see through the mask under which the hideous
features of selfish cunning are veiled ; but the deceitful
friend must ever be a stranger to the delightful senti¬
ments of genuine friendship. To enjoy these, your vir¬
tues must be sincere, your affection for the person whom
you call your friend unfeigned ; in communicating to
each other your sentiments, in offering and listening to
mutual advice, in joining to prosecute the same designs,
or share in the same amusements, candid sincerity must
still be observed between you. Attempt not to per¬
suade each other, that your mutual aflection is more
ardent, or your mutual esteem more profound, than
it really is. If the sentiments or opinions which the
one expresses appear to the other improper or ill-
founded, let not a false delicacy prevent him from de¬
claring his reasons against them; let him not applaud
where, if he were sincere, he must blame. Join not
even your friend in an undertaking which you secretly
dislike, or an amusement insufferably disagreeable to
you. You cannot, consistently with sincerity and can¬
dour: and you will soon begin to think the blessings of
friendship too dear, when bought at the price of such
sacrifices.
But though sincerity is to he faithfully observed in
the intercourse of friendship ; yet the harshness ol con¬
tradiction must be carefully avoided. Those obliging
manners which are so agreeable in an acquaintance or
casual companion, are still more so in a friend. If
they are necessary to recommend the advantages of
social intercourse in general to the members of society,
they are no less necessary to communicate a charm to
the intercourse of friendship. People often think
themselves entitled to behave to those whom they
call their friends, and whose interests they profess to
regard as their own, with harshness, negligence, and
indiscreet familiarity ; but nothing can be more fatal
to friendship. It is a well known maxim, established
by general and uniform experience, that too much fa*
miliarity occasions mutual contempt. And indeed how
can it be otherwiss ? Mild obliging manners are under¬
stood as the natural and genuine expression of kindness
and affection : boisterous rudeness, petulance, and ne¬
glect, are naturally considered as expressive of opposite
sentiments. But if friendship assume the tone, the car¬
riage, and the language of enmity or indifference, it
must soon lose all its native charms and advantages.
Let the friend, as well as the casual companion, when
he finds reason to disapprove of the sentiments and
conduct, or to dissent from the opinions of his friend,
express himself in the gentlest terms, with honesty and
sincerity, but without carelessness or harshness. Let
no frequency of intercourse nor union of interests ever
tempt to careless or contemptuous familiarity. Stiff
and unmeaning ceremony may be banished ; but ease,
and delicacy, and respectful deference, and obliging
attention, must supply its room. Much of the unhap¬
piness of the marriage state, and much of the mutual
uneasiness which arises among those who are related
by the endearing ties of consanguinity, is occasioned
by the parties who are thus closely connected, thinking
it unnecessary to observe the ordinary rules of good
breeding in their mutual intercourse. Even kindness
puts
FBI
[ 237 ]
FBI
puts on a disgusting garb, and assumes a harsh aspect.
But mutual kindness cannot there long subsist. Home,
which ought to be a sanctuary to shelter from the
anxieties and ills of life, a little paradise where those
pure and innocent pleasures might be enjoyed which
afford the most genuine happiness, and which are not
to be tasted in the bustle of the busy and the dissipa¬
tion of the gay world j home thus becomes a place of
torment, which is never entered but with pain and un¬
willingness j and from which the son, the daughter,
the husband, and the wife, eagerly seize every oppor¬
tunity to escape.
Mutual confidence is the very soul of friendship. If
friendship be rightly defined to be a mutual affection
founded on mutual esteem, those who are united in
the bonds of friendship cannot but repose mutual con¬
fidence in each other. Am I conscious of none but
generous worthy sentiments, and none but upright ho¬
nest intentions ? I readily disclose all the secrets of my
soul to him whom I regard as capable only of similar
designs and similar sentiments. But it may be asked,
how far the confidence of friendship ought to be car¬
ried ? Must I reveal to my friend all my sentiments,
opinions, and designs ? Must I communicate to one
friend the secrets which have been intrusted to me by
another ? Or must I rather observe the most suspicious
caution in my intercourse with my friends, remember¬
ing that he who is now’ my friend may one day become
my enemy ? It seems most prudent to observe a me¬
dium between suspicious caution and unlimited confi¬
dence. Were human virtue perfect, and were there
no instances of friends ever becoming enemies, those
who regard each other with friendly affection might
very reasonably be required to set no bounds to their
mutual confidence. But as this is far from being the
case, different measures are to be observed. Contract
no friendships, if you think it necessary to treat a
friend with the same reserve as an enemy. Yet ven¬
ture net to disclose to your friend all the foolish or evil
designs which the wantonness of imagination may se¬
duce you to form. When you feel the emotions of
pride, of vanity, or of any evil passion, if you are
able to repress them by the strength of reason and con¬
science, it seems unnecessary for you to tell the struggle,
or to boast of the victory. If, at any former period
of life, you have been so unfortunate as to commit
actions which you cannot now recollect without shame
and contrition, there can be no reason whv you may
not, as far as possible, bury the remembrance of them
in your own breast. In short, not to become tedious
by descending to minute particulars, the laws of friend¬
ship do not require friends to unbosom themselves to
each other any farther than is necessary—to give them
just ideas of each other’s character and temper,—to
enable them to be serviceable to each other in the pro¬
secution of honest designs,—and to afford each of
them proper opportunities of exciting the other to vir¬
tue and wisdom, and of interposing his influence to
preserve him from vice and folly. Whatever is neces¬
sary for any of these purposes ought to be mutually
communicated j whatever is not, may be concealed
without violating the laws of friendship. As mutual
esteem is the foundation of friendship, and as human
friendships are not always lasting, you ought not to
pour into the ear of your friend all the impertinences
which you may happen to conceive, nor even all the FrieiicUhi'p.
projects which may float in your imagination : but as  r  
much of the felicity of friendship arises from the mu¬
tual confidence to which it affords room, call not any
man your friend in whose presence you find it proper
to observe the same suspicious caution as if he were
your enemy. The ancients, who talked cf friendship
with enthusiasm as one of the most elevated among the
virtues, required a still closer union and a more disin¬
terested attachment among friends than we dare ven¬
ture to insist upon. The mutual duties which they
have described as incumbent on friends, appear some¬
what extravagant. Among other things, some of them
have gone so far as to require a degree of mutual con¬
fidence which would soon destroy all confidence, and-
could not fail to counteract all the purposes of friend¬
ship : they have required one friend to communicate to
another, not only all his own thoughts and purposes,
hut even those secrets which have been confided to his-
honour by any other friend. But the evil consequen¬
ces which would result are easily to be foreseen. Per¬
haps, like Atticus, you enjoy the friendship of men
who are mutual enemies j and by communicating the
secrets of the one to the other, you will then become
the betrayer of both. Or, though not absolutely ene¬
mies, yet those who are your friends may happen not
to be in habits of friendship with each other j and they
may then perhaps not scruple to divulge those secrets
of one another which you have imprudently blabbed
to them. Indeed, might we suppose all mankind ab¬
solutely faultless, and not liable to moral imperfection,
we need not fear these bad consequences from unbound¬
ed confidence in our friends. But friendship would
in such a state of society be unknown : just as in the
golden age of the poets there are supposed to have
been no distinctions of property. We cannot here
forbear dropping an observation, which will readily be
acknowledged as just by all who have any tolerable
knowledge of the morality of the philosophers of an¬
cient Greece. All their doctrines and precepts appear
calculated for a different order of beings than mankind.
They glanced carelessly at the phenomena of the moral
world ; and gleaning a few facts, immediately set them¬
selves to erect systems : From these, however wild and
theoretical, they then pretended to deduce laws for
the regulation of human conduct 5 and their rules are
generally such as might be expected from the means
which they appear to have employed in order to arrive
at them. An apology has, however, been offered for
some of them, which, in our opinion, could occur only
to superficial observers of human life. It has been
alleged in behalf of the Stoics, that their system in¬
deed required more exalted virtue than human nature
is capable of attaining’, but that, notwithstanding this,
it could not fail to produce the happiest effects on the
manners and sentiments of its votaries. Instances, too,
have been produced in support of this assertion $ a Cato,
an Epictetus, an Antoninus. When we contemplate
a model of perfection beyond what we can hope to
reach, say the advocates of the Stoic philosophy,
though we despair of attaining, yet we are prompted
to aspire after it. Now, the most natural way of rea¬
soning here seems to lead to a very different conclu¬
sion. If an object is set before me which I must not
hope to obtain, I am unwilling to waste my time and
exhaust,
F R I
[ 23s 1
F R I
Friendship, exhaust my vigour in the pursuit o. it: bid me ascend
—1 an inaccessible height, I view the vale below with new
fondness. Philosophy, as well as superstition and en¬
thusiasm, might in a few instances triumph over the
principles of nature*, but was it always equally power¬
ful ? Were all the disciples of Zeno Catos or Pptcte-
tuses ? Have all the monks and anchorites of the Ko¬
rn ish church been holy as the founders of their orders
No : The Greek philosophers who infested liome, and
taught those whimsical doctrines which we hear fre¬
quently dignified with the name sublime,. were sm-
erularly corrupted and licentious in all their manners.
If those of the regular clergy of the church of Kome
. have been always more pore, they have been crueily
calumniated. Ask, then, only what I am capable of
performing: If you demand what is above my strengt h,
I sit still in indolence. In its general tendencv, the
Stoic philosophy was favourable rather to vice tnan to
But we have not yet exhausted all the duties of
friendship. We have inculcated sincerity, and mutual
respect and obligingness of manners ; we have also en¬
deavoured to ascertain what degree of mutual confi¬
dence ought to take place between friends. But an
important question still remains to be considered : how
far is an union of interests to take place between fiienus.
Am I to study the interest of my friend in preference
to my own ? May I lawfully injure others, in order to
serve him ? Here, too, we must consider the circum¬
stances and the strength of human nature j and let us
beware of imposing burdens too heavy to he borne.
The greater and more perfect the union which reigns
in society, the greater will be its strength and happi¬
ness ; the closer the union of friends, the more advan¬
tages will each of them derive from their union.
Where other ties besides those of friendship concur to
unite two individuals, their interests will be more close¬
ly conjoined than if they were connected by the tie^
of friendship alone. I he order of nature seems here
to be,——the husband and wife—the parent and child
brothers and sisters, the offspring of the same parents—
friends, connected by the ties of friendship alone.
And, If we may presume to guess at the intentions of
the Author of nature from what we behold in his works
and read in bis word, the closest union in society ought
to be that between the husband and the wife 5 their in¬
terests are altogether the same j they ought mutually
to forego convenience and gratification for each other s
sake. The interests of parents and children are some¬
what less closely connected ; much is due from the one
to the other, but somewhat less than in the former
relation*, their interests may sometimes be separate,
but never ought to be opposite. Next come brethren,
and other more distant relations j and next, the fiiend.
In these cases, where we suppose the attachment of
friendship to operate together with tlm ties of na¬
ture, we perceive that interests are variously united,
and various duties are due *, scarcely in any of them does
it appear that the interests of two can become entirely
one. Still less can that he expected to happen, where
the ties of friendship act not in concert with those of
nature. We give up, therefore, all those romantic
notions, which some have so earnestly insisted .on, of
requiring the friend to consider his friend as himself.
We cannot expect any two individuals to possess pre¬
cisely the same degree of knowledge, to entertain ex-Friends^
actly the same sentiments, or to stand in circumstances  ^
precisely similar. But till this happen, the interests of
two can never be precisely the same. And we will
not, therefore, require the friend actually to piefir his
friend to himself; nay, we will even allow him to pre¬
fer himself to his friend ; convinced that such is the
design of nature, and that by presuming to counteract
the principles of nature we shall he able to serve no
useful purpose. But as far as the first principles of
human action and the institutions of society permit, we
may reasonably require of friends, that they mutually
endeavour to contribute each to the other’s interest.
You will not desert your own family, nor neglect what
is absolutely necessary for your own preservation, m
order that you may serve a friend. It is not requisite
that you bp either a Damon or a Pythias. Away
with what is romantic; but scruple not to submit to
what is natural and reasonable. When your friend
needs your direction and advice, freely and honestly
o-ive it*: does he need more than advice *, your active
exertions in his behalf? the laws of friendship require
you not to refuse them. Is it necessary for him to re¬
ceive still more substantial assistance ? lou may even
be expected to aid him with your fortune. But re¬
member, that even the amiable principle of benevolence
must be subject to the directions of prudence ; if inca¬
pable of taking care of ourselves, we cannot be expec¬
ted to contribute to the good of others *, society would
not be favourable to the happiness of the human race, it
every individual studied the general interest so far as
to neglect his own. We are not born to be citizens
of the world ; but Europeans, Britons, Englishmen or
Scotchmen. Let every one, then, seek the interest and
happiness of his friends with whom he is connected by
the laws of friendship alone, in subordination to his own
particular interest and happiness, and to the interest
and happiness of those with whom he is connected by
the ties of nature and the general institutions of society.
Engage not in the service of your friend, nor lavish
your fortune in his behalf, if by that means you are
likely to injure either yourself or your family. ktiU
less will you think it requisite to carry your friendship
to such romantic excess as to commit crimes in tne ser¬
vice of your friend. The ancients, whose ideas of the
nature and duties of friendship were romantic and ex¬
travagant, have, some of them, required that a friend
should hesitate at no action, however atrociously wicked,
by which he can he useful to his friend. Have I been
guilty of theft or murder, or any other heinous viola¬
tion of the laws of morality or the institutions of so¬
ciety : when I am brought to justice for my crime, it
yon, being my friend, are appointed to sit as my judge,
the laws of friendship, say those admirable masters of
morality, require that you pronounce me innocent,
though convinced of my guilt. But we need not e-
claim against the absurdity of enjoining such base deeds
as duties of friendship. The idea of a connection, the
laws of which are inimical to the order of society, mus
strike with horror every person who thinks of it.
Such a connection is the union of a knot of villains, ^
conspiring against the peace, nay even the existence 0 geni(!
society. .
Such we apprehend to be the nature of rational
friendship ; such the circumstances in the order of na-®^
*
FBI '[ 2
tl,re 80c,’«t7 which are most favourable to this
union ; and such the duties, by the performance of
which it may be maintained. When founded on
these principles, and regulated by these laws, friend¬
ship is truly virtuous, and cannot but be highly bene¬
ficial to the individuals between whom it subsists, and
to the interest of society in general. How delightful to
have some person of an amiable and virtuous character
in whom you can confide ; who will join with you in
the prosecution of virtuous designs, or will be ready to
call you back when you heedlessly stray into the paths
of vice and folly ! who will administer to you honest,
upright advice j will rejoice in your prosperity, will
glory over your virtues, and will be ready to console
and relieve you when sinking under the pressure of
distress ! Must not your connexion with such a per¬
son be favourable to your virtue, your interest, and
your happiness ? When we survey any sublime or beau¬
teous scene in nature, we wish for some person of con¬
genial taste and feelings to participate with us in the
noble enjoyments which the prospect affords ; when we
read any fine piece of composition, the pleasure which
we receive from it is more exquisite if others join with
us in applauding it. The landscape which we have
often surveyed, the poem which we have often read,
please us anew, with all the charms of novelty, when
we have an opportunity of pointing out their beauties
to some person to whom they have been hitherto un¬
known. Friendship communicates new charms and a
more delicate relish to all our most refined and elegant
pleasures. It enlivens our joys, it soothes and alleviates
our sorrows. What Cicero has said of polite letters
and philosophy, may be with still stronger propriety
said of friendship. In every condition of life the influ¬
ence of virtuous friendship is favourable to our welfare
and our happiness : in prosperity $ in adversity ; in the
silence and tranquillity of retirement, as well as amid
the hurry of business ; in the bosom of your family,
and when surrounded by your nearest connections, no
less than when removed to a strange country. Indeed,
, %vhatever advantages society bestows above what are to
be enjoyed in a savage state, not less numerous nor less
important are those which we may derive from uniting
in the bonds of friendship, rather than living in a state
g ot enmity or indift’erence.
lista! in though friendship, when founded on mutual
irrain esteem, and regulated by the laws of prudence, benevo-
!dt 'S IerCe’ and honesty> be productive of so many happy
c<l*e- effects ; yet many instances occur in the world,
in which connexions dignified with the name of
friendship are unfavourable both to the virtue and
the happiness of those between whom they subsist.
When men associate from views of convenience ; when
their union is hastily formed without a knowledge
of each other’s temper and character ; when they are
drawn, together by accident, as when they happen to
agree in the pursuits of the same interests or pleasures j
when the young and the gay resort together to the
haunts of dissipation, and the covetous and ambitious
find it convenient to toil in concert for riches and
power: on all such occasions, the connexion which is
ormed and dignined with the name of friendship is
unworthy of that honourable appellation. It is not
virtuous;.it is productive of no happy effects, and is
quickly dissolved. He, therefore, who is not incapa-
ient ;
wta >/
39 ] F n I
i)le ui virtuous friendship, and is desirous of emoyinir its FrieniUim
advantages, must carefully consider the nature of the   ^
connexion which he wishes to form, gain a thorouah
acquaintance with the character of the person whose
esteem and affection he wishes to acquire, and attend to
those rules by the observance of which true friendship
may be maintained.
. Many instances are related, which show what power Relation ji¬
lt is possible for friendship to acquire over the human'“strating
heart. We need not here repeat the well known storythe Power
of Damon and Pythias, whose generous friendship af-?‘riend:
forded a spectacle which softened even the savage heart tlllfhlmmn
of Dionysius, It is known to every school-boy j and,heart,
after the afiecting narrative of Valerius Maximus, lias
been studiously detailed and commented on by almost
every succeeding story-teller or moralist. Addison, in
one of his Spectators, gives a beautiful little relation,
we know not upon what authority, which finely illus¬
trates the power of both friendship and love. Two male
negroes, in one of our West Indian islands, nearly of
the same age, and eminent among their fellows in sla¬
very fijir gracefulness of figure, strength, agility, and
dexterity, were also distinguished for their mutual friend¬
ship and for their common attachment to a young fe¬
male negro, who was generally esteemed the most beau¬
tiful of her complexion in the whole island. The young
female appeared to be equally pleased with both her
lovers ; and was willing to accept either of them for a
husband, provided they could agree between them-
odves which ol them should yield to the pretensions of
the other. But here lay the difficulty ; for while nei¬
ther would treacherously supplant, neither of them was
willing to yield to his friend. The two youths, there-
lore, long suflered the severest affliction, while their
hearts were torn between love and friendship. At
length when they were no longer able to endure the
agony of such a contest, being still unable to repress
their passion for their lovely countrywoman, and inca¬
pable of violating the laws of friendship,-—on a certain
day, they both, in company with the object of their ill-
fated love, retired into a wood adjoining to the scene of
their labours. I here, after fondly embracing the
maid, calling her by a thousand endearing names, and
lamenting their own unhappy fate, they stabbed a
knife into her breast; winch, while still reeking with
her blood, was by each of them in his turn plunged
into his own. Her cries reached the people who were
at work in the next field : some of them hastening to
the spot, found her expiring, and the two youths already
dead beside her.
We have introduced this little narrative as a striking
instance of the noble effects which naturally result from
genuine friendship. Here we see it superior to the
force of the most violent of passions. Had the eleva¬
ted souls of those negro youths been refined and en¬
lightened by culture and education in the principles of
morality and true religion, we may reasonably suppose
that their friendship would have triumphed over their
love, without prompting them to the rash and desperate
deed which they committed. |0
Friendship, thus amiable in its character, thus be-Not incoa=
neficial in its influence and effects, the theme of un-s’stent.
bounded panegyric to the philosophers and moralists °f c^rUtiani^
every age, has been said by some respectable modern ty
writers to be inconsistent with the spirit of that holy
religion
F R I
[ 240 ]
F R I
Frieiitlship.
religion which we profess, and which we regard as the
revelation of heaven. General benevolence is fre¬
quently inculcated through the gospel: Jesus often
earnestly entreated his disciples, “ to love one ano¬
ther and directed them in what manner to display
their mutual love, by telling them that ‘ whatsoever
things they could reasonably wish to receive fiom
others, thesame ought they to do to them. _ l he wr^te s
of the epistles often enlarge on the topics of chanty
and brotherly love. Bat private friendship is nowheie
recommended in the code ot Christianity. Nay, t is
so inconsistent with that universal benevo,^ce win
the gospel enjoins, that where the one is recommended
and enforced, th, other may be understood 0 be Uci
iv forbidden. ' But can that religion be true, or can it
be favourable to the happiness of its votaries, which is
inimical, nay, which is even not frien y
friendship? Such are the suggestions of Lord Shaites
bury aud Soame Jenyns on this head.
We must grant them, that the system of morals or
religion which discourages a connection so noble in its
origin, so amiable in its character, and so beneficial in
its influence, as virtuous friendship, is rather unfa¬
vourable to the happiness and virtue of its votaries
But we must consider the genius of Christian, y with
more careful attention, before we suffer ourselves to
be persuaded that friendship is inconsistent with it.
Universal benevolence is, indeed, inculcated in ie
gospel: we are required to love our neighbour as our¬
selves • and our Saviour seems to insinuate, in the story
of the humane Samaritan, that we ought to regard as
neio-hbours all our brethren of the human race, however
separated from us by any of the distinctions of society.
But it would be unfair to conclude from this, that the
great Author of the gospel meant to abolish the order
of social life, or to oppose the ties of nature. These
may still be respected, though the laws of this bene-
to ask him to consider her as a parent •, and directed Friendsl|
her to expect from him the respect and kindness of a
son. These facts and observations teach us in what
sense to understand that universal benevolence which
is inculcated in the gospel. Though we are to
love all mankind, yet it is not necessary that all the
individuals of the human race share oui affection alilee.
Were we powerful, and wise, and benevolent, as the
Deity, such extensive benevolence might be required
of us: But our sphere of action and observation is
narrow j we cannot extend our acquaintance or influ¬
ence beyond a very limited circle. Were we to en¬
deavour to be equally useful to all mankind, we should
become incapable of being useful to any individual.
We cannot become citizens of the world in the sense
in which some philosophers have affected to call them¬
selves such, without becoming outcasts from every par¬
ticular society. A son, a brother, a countryman, a
stranger, lie around you, each in circumstances of ex¬
treme0 distress j you pity their misfortunes, and would
gladly administer relief; but such is your benevolence,
that you feel precisely the same degree of compassion
for each of them; you cannot determine to whom you
should first stretch out an helping hand; and you
therefore stand like that venerable ass of the school¬
men, whose tantalizing situation between two bundles
of hay has been so long celebrated and lamented by
metaphysicians; and suffer son, and brother, and coun¬
tryman, and stranger, to perish, without relieving any
of them by your kind offices. It is therefore the de¬
sign of the gospel, that we should submit to the laws
of nature, and comply with the institutions of society.
First, attend to self-preservation ; next, perform the
duties of a wife or husband,—a parent,—a child,—a
brother,—a citizen,—an individual of the human race.
You will do well, indeed, to regard all mankind with
benevolence ; but your benevolence will be unavailing
may still be respected though the laws or ui.s oene- u ^ , .f overlook the distinctions of
volence be obeyed. The parent is no re^ir^d 1 \ t[ institutions which support the union
voience uc uucjwv. r~— . - , •
sert his child, in order that he may assist or relieve Ins
neighbour; nor the child to leave Ins parent to perish
under the infirmities of old age, while he hastens to lend
assistance to a stranger. The gospel was not intended
to dissolve communities, or to abrogate the distinctions
of rank. In Jesus, the end of the ceremonial law was
accomplished : by him, therefore, that burden of types
and ceremonies with which the Jews had been loaded
was taken away. But he who abolished the ceremo¬
nial law declared, that the obligations of the moral law
should be more permanent than heaven or earth . I he
duties which it enjoined were still to be religiously dis¬
charged : The precepts of the gospel were to illustrate
and enforce, not to contradict, the institutions of the
moral law. The relative duties of parents and chil¬
dren were still to be performed; though men were di¬
rected not to confine all their sentiments of benevolence
to domestic relations. Jesus, in his conduct, did not
set himself to oppose the order of society. In various
parts of the New Testament all the social duties are
defined and enforced ; the mutual duties of parents and
children, of husbands and wives, and of masters and
servants. The submission of all the members of a com¬
munity to that power which is vested with the autho-
ritv of the whole, is also strictly enjoined in the gospel.
Jesus, when in his last moments he recommended his
mother to the protection of his beloved disciple, chose
nature and those institutions which support the union
of social life. .... ,
But if the spirit of Christianity be not inimical to the
institutions and relations of society, neither can it be
unfavourable to friendship. If that benevolence which
the o'ospel enjoins admit of any modifications, why net
of that particular modification which constitutes private
friendship? It is not, indeed, directly enjoined; but
neither is it forbidden. It is perfectly consistent with
the general tendency and spirit of the gospel, system;
being favourable to the interests of society, it cannot
but be agreeable to our holy religion.
But it is recommended by no direct precept, say
those who would represent Christianity as inimical to
it; while it has been the favourite theme of the philo¬
sophers and moralists of the heathen world.
But why should friendship be recommended ^ by
means different from those which the gospel employs
for the purpose ? Make yourself well acquainted with
that admirable system which you so earnestly oppose ;
you will find that even the duties of private friendship
are better explained and more powerfully enforced 10
the gospel, than by all the heathen philosophers and
poets from Hesiod to Plutarch. The gospel makes a
distinction between the virtuous and the vicious; it re¬
presents one character as more amiable and respectab.e
than another. As it distinguishes between virtue and
vice,
FriisWp
F R I [
vice, between piety and impiety j so its great
241 ] F R I
. '• i * v °  was a<^vancing to tbe grave, accompanied with the rp-r- • j .•
ject i» to deter us from vice, and to encourage us to latious of the deceased, be discovered the same emotions rdellT
the practice of virtue. It cannot be supposed, then, of grief as swelled the bosoms of those with whom La!
that the gospel will direct us to associate indifferently zarus had been most intimately connected : and svmna
with virtuous and profligate characters. It does not. thiiing with their common sorrow, he melted into tears.
This circumstance was too remarkable to escape par-
tinn Iot» riC ^1 - 4.   /*  .1
'ciet iup
luniian-
sd bnur
ayicrs
sami,
W.el.
otb sq,
1 thron-
>te his
i; 'ran „
»to-
’ HI
It directs us to seek improvement, by associating with
those whom we have reason to esteem. It directs those
who are incorrigibly wicked to be expelled from so¬
ciety. What is this but to command us to enter into
habits of intimacy wherever there is ground for mutual
esteem P But this is the only basis of genuine friend¬
ship. When all the means which lead to a certain
end are laid before you, and when you are particu¬
larly directed by some high authority to employ those
means j though the end which you thus attain be not
pointed out, yet the commanding you to employ such
a senes of means, is evidently the same as if you were
directed to accomplish the purpose to which they tend.
Thus, though the precepts of Christianity do not di¬
rectly enjoin private friendship j yet they have a direct
tendency to form those exalted characters who alone
are capable of true friendship ; they inculcate those
virtues which naturally give rise to this generous at¬
tachment, and are absolutely necessary to support it
where it is formed; they inculcate benevolence by
the most effectual motives, and admit of modifications
of that benevolence, correspondent to the relations and
institutions of society: And therefore they may be
considered in as strong and direct terms as if it had
been expressly said, “ Cultivate private friendship.”
Besides, friendship is rather an accident of society, a
natural consequence of our character as moral and so¬
cial beings, than a relation to be regulated and defined
by institutions.
This union, so natural between virtuous persons,
has been countenanced by the example of the Author
of our religion ; to whose life, no less than to his doc¬
trines and precepts, we will do well to look for a stan¬
dard by which we may regulate our conduct. We al¬
lude to two remarkable instances which occur in the
evangelical history; and with the recital of which, as
stated in all their striking circumstances by a very ele¬
gant writer *, we shall conclude the present article.
“ The evangelist, in relating the miracle which
Christ performed at Bethany by restoring a person to
life who had lain some days in the grave, introduces
his narrative by emphatically observing, that ‘ Jesus
loved Lazarus;’ intimating, it should seem, that the
sentiments which Christ entertained of Lazarus were
a distinct and peculiar species of that general benevo¬
lence with which he was actuated towards all mankind.
Agreeably to this explication of the sacred historian’s
Cleaning, when the sisters of Lazarus sent to acquaint
Jesus with the state in which their brother lay, they
did not even mention his name ; but, pointing him out
by a more honourable and equally notorious designa¬
tion, the terms of their message were ‘ Behold ! he
whom thou lovest is sick !’ Accordingly, when he in¬
forms his disciples of the notice he had thus received,
his expression is, ‘ Our friend Lazarus sleepeth.’ Now
that Christ did not upon this occasion use the word
jnend in its loose undistinguished acceptation, but in a
restrained and strictly appropriated sense, is not only
manifest from this plain account of the fact itself, but
appears farther evident from the sequel. For as he
Vol. IX. Part I.
ticular observation: and it drew from the spectators,
what one should think it must necessarily draw from
every reader, this natural and obvious reflection, ‘ Be¬
hold ! how he loved him !’
But in the concluding catastrophe of our Saviour’s
life, he gave a still more decisive proof that sentiments
of tIie strongest personal attachment and friendship
were not unworthy of being admitted into his sacred
bosom they were too deeply, indeed, impressed, to be
extinguished even by the most excruciating torments.
In those dreadful moments, observing among the af¬
flicted witnesses of his painful and ignominious suf¬
ferings, that faithful follower who is described by the
historian as ‘ the disciple whom he loved;’ he di¬
stinguished him by the most convincing instance of su¬
perior confidence, esteem, and affection, that ever was
exhibited to the admiration of mankind. For, under
t
circumstances of the most agonizing torments, when it
might be thought impossible for human nature to re¬
tain any other sensibility but that of its own inexpres¬
sible sufferings, he recommended to the care and pro¬
tection of this his tried and approved friend, in terms
of peculiar regard and endearment, the most tender
and sacred object of his private affections. But no lan¬
guage can represent this pathetic and affecting scene
with a force and energy equal to the sublime simplicity
of the Evangelist’s own narrative: ‘ Now there stood
by the cross of Jesus, his mother and his mother’s
sister, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his
mother and the disciple (standing) by, whom he loved ;
he saith to his mother, Behold thy son ! then he saith
to the disciple, Behold thy mother! And from that
hour that disciple took her to his own home.’
“ It may safely be asserted, that among all those
memorable examples of friendship, which have been
celebrated with the highest encomiums by the ancients,
there cannot be produced a single instance in which
the most distinguished features of exalted amity were
so strongly displayed as in the foregoing relation.
The only one, perhaps, that bears even a faint simili¬
tude to it, is that famous transaction recorded by a
Greek author, which passed between Eudamidas and
Aretheus. But when the very different circumstances
attending the respective examples are duly considered,
it must be acknowledged, that the former rises as much
above the latter in the proof it exhibits of sublime
friendship, as it does in the dignity of the characters
concerned.
“ Upon the whole, then, it appears, that the divine
Founder of the Christian religion, as well by his own
example as by the spirit of his moral doctrine, has not
only encouraged but consecrated friendship.”
FRIESLAND, one of the united provinces of the
Low Countries. It is bounded on tbe east by the
river Lauvers, which parts it from the lordship of Gro¬
ningen, on the south by Overyssel, on the west by
the Zuider-Zee, and on the north by the German
ocean. It is 30 miles from north to south, and 28 from
east to west. The land is very fertile in corn and pa¬
ll h sture ;
F R I
[ 242 ]
F R I
sture; the horses are large, and the cows and sheep
prolific. It is divided into three parts *, Westergo to
the west, Ostergo to the east, and Sevenwalden to the
south. The islands of Sheling, Ameland, and other
small ones, are dependent on this province. Ihe prin¬
cipal towns are Leuwarden the capital, ! raneker, Doc-
knm, Harlingen, and Staveren. .
Friesland, East, a province of Germany, in the
circle of Westphalia, lying near the German ocean. It
is hounded on the south by the bishopric of Munster,
on the east by the country of Oldenburgh, on the west
by the province of Groningen, and on the noith by
the sea, being about 50 miles in length, and 30 in
breadth, It belonged to Prussia, but was ceded to
Hanover in 1814. It is a very fertile country, and
feeds a great number of cattle ", but it was greatly da¬
maged by an inundation in 1717, and the repair of
the dykes cost an immense sum. The principal towns
are Norden, Leer, Essens, Whitmunde, and Aurick.
Embden was an imperial city, and the principal place
in the country. The inhabitants are Calvinists, with a
few Catholics and Baptists.
FRIGATE, in naval affairs, a ship of war usually
of two decks, light built, designed for swift sailing.
When it hath but one deck, and consequently is ot a
smaller size, they call her a light frigate.
Frigates mount from 20 to 44 guns, and are esteem¬
ed excellent cruisers. The name was formerly known
only in the Mediterranean, and applied to a long kind
of vessel navigated in that sea with sails and oars. The
English were the first who appeared on the ocean with
these ships, and equipped them for war as well as for
commerce.
FRIGATE-Built, denotes the disposition of the decks
of such merchant ships as have a descent of four or five
steps from the quartei'-deck and forecastle into the
waist, in contradistinction to those whose decks are .on
a continued line for the whole length of the ship, which
are called galley-built.
FRIGATOON, a Venetian vessel, commonly used
in the Adriatic, built with a square stern, and without
any foremast, having only a mainmast, mizenmast, and
bowsprit.
FRIGHT, or Terror, a sudden and violent degree
of fear. See Fear.
Sudden fear is frequently productive of very remark¬
able effects upon the human system. Of this many
instances occur in medical writings.—In general, the
effects of terror are a contraction of the small ves¬
sels and a repulsion of the blood in the large and in¬
ternal ones 5 hence proceed a suppression of perspira¬
tion, a general oppression, trembling, and anguish of
the heart, and lungs overcharged with blood.
Frights often occasion incurable diseases, as epilep¬
sy, stupor, madness, &c. In acute diseases, they have
evidently killed many, by the agitation into which
they have thrown the spirits, already too much disor¬
dered. We have also accounts of persons absolutely
killed by terrors when in perfect health at the time of
receiving the shock from them : people ordered to be
executed, but with private orders for a reprieve, have
expired at the block without a wound.—Out of many
instances of the fatal effects of fear recorded in writers,
the following is selected as one of the most singular,
4‘ George Grochantzy, a Folander, who had enhsted as
2
a soldier in the service of the king of Prussia, deserted ]
during the war. A small party was sent in pursuit U
of him ; and when he least expected it, they surprised
him singing and dancing among a company of peasants,
who were got together in an inn and were making
merry. This event, so sudden and unforeseen, and at
the same time so dreadlul in its consequences, struck
him in such a manner, that, giving a great cry, he be¬
came at once altogether stupid and insensible, and
was seized without "the least resistance. They carried
him away to Glocau, where he was brought before the
council of war, and received sentence as a deserter. He
suffered himself to be led and disposed of at the will of
those about him, without uttering a word, or giving
the least sign that he knew what had happened or would
happen to him. He remained immoveable as a statue
wherever he was placed, and wTas wholly passive with
respect to all that was done to him or about him. Du¬
ring all the time that he was in custody, he neither ate,
noi" drank, nor slept, nor had any evacuation. Some
of his comrades were sent to see him} after that he was
visited by some officers of his corps, and by some priests}
but he still continued in the same state, without disco¬
vering the least signs of sensibility. Promises, intrea¬
ties, and threatenings were equally ineffectual. T be
physicians who were consulted upon his case, were of
opinion, that he was in a state ot hopeless idiocy. . It
was at first suspected that those appearances were feign¬
ed} but these suspicions necessarily gave way, when it
was known that he took no sustenance, and that the in¬
voluntary functions of nature were in great measure sus¬
pended. After some time they knocked off his fetters,
and left him at liberty to go whither he would. He
received his liberty with the same insensibility that he
had showed upon other occasions: he remained fixed
and immoveable} bis eyes turned wildly here and there
without taking cognizance ot any object, and the
muscles of his face were fallen and fixed like those of
a dead body. Being left to himself, he passed 20 days
in this condition, without eating, drinking, or any eva¬
cuation, and died on the 20tji day. He had been some¬
times heard to fetch deep sighs } and once he rushei
with great violence on a soldier, who had a mug ot h-
quor in his hand, forced the mug from him, and having
drank the liquor with great eagerness, let the mug drop
to the ground.” . . jji
When a person is affected with terror, the principal
endeavour should be to restore the circulation toils due
order, to promote perspiration, and to allay the agita¬
tion of the patient. For these purposes he may drink a
little warm liquor, as camomile tea, &c. the feet and
legs may be put into warm water, the legs rubbed, and
the camomile tea repeated every six or eight mi¬
nutes } and when the skin is warm, and there is a ten¬
dency to perspiration, sleep may be promoted by a gen¬
tle opiate.
But frights have been known not only to cause, but
also to cure diseases. Mr Boyle* mentions agues, gout,* dciij
and sciatica, cured by this means. _ ,f'
To turn from the serious to the ludicrous effects ol
fear, the following instance of the latter sort, quoted
from a French author by Mr Andrews in his volume
of Anecdotes, shows upon what slight occasions this
passion may be sometimes excited in a very high
decree, even in persons the most unlikely to enter-
fa ’ tain
C H3 ] FBI
l|.,ht tain such a guest. “ Charles Gustavus (the successor
of Christina of Sweden) was besieging Prague, when a
boor of most extraordinary visage desired admittance to
his tent; and being allowed entrance, offered, by way
of amusing the king, to devour a whole hog of one
hundred weight in his presence. The old general Ko-
nigsmarc, who stood by the king’s side, and who, sol¬
dier as he was, had not got rid of the prejudices of his
childhood, hinted to his royal master that the peasant
ought to be burnt as a sorcerer. ‘ Sir,’ said the fellow,
irritated at the remark, ‘ if your majesty will make but
that old gentleman take off his sword and his spurs, I
will eat him immediately before I begin the hog.’ Ge¬
neral Konigsmarc (who had, at the head of a body of
Swedes, performed wonders against the Austrians, and
who was looked upon as one of the bravest men of the
age) could not stand this proposal, especially as it was
accompanied by a most hideous and preternatural ex¬
pansion of the frightful peasant’s jaws. Without utter¬
ing a word, the veteran suddenly turned round, ran
out of the court, and thought not himself safe until he
had arrived at his quarters ; where he remained above
twenty-four hours locked up securely, before be had
got rid of the panic which had so severely affected
him.”
{Ete. «ts Fear (Dr Beattie f observes) should not rise higher
of Mai than to make us^ attentive and cautious j when it gains
an ascendancy in the mind, it becomes an insupport¬
able tyranny, and renders life a burden. The object
of fear is evil ; and to be exempt from fear, or at least
not enslaved to it, gives dignity to our nature, and in¬
vigorates all our faculties. Yet there are evils which
we ought to fear. Those that arise from ourselves, or
which it is in our power to pre\'ent, it would be mad¬
ness to despise, and audacity not to guard against.
External evils, which we cannot prevent, or could not
avoid without a breach of duty, it is manly and ho¬
nourable to bear with fortitude. Insensibility to dan¬
ger's not fortitude, no more than the incapacity of
feeling pain can be called patience ; and to expose
ourselves unnecessarily to evil is worse than folly, and
very blameable presumption. It is commonly called
fool-hardiness; that is, such a degree of hardiness or
boldness as none but fools are capable of. See the
article Fortitude.
FRIGID (frigidus), in a general sense, denotes the
quality of being cold. It is frequently applied to a
jejune style, that is unanimated by any ornaments, and
consequently without any force or vigour.
FRiGn)-%one. See Aone, Geography Index,
FRIGIDITY, in Medicine, the same with Impo¬
tence.
FRIGORIFIC, in Physiology, small particles of
matter, which, according to Gassendus and others, be¬
ing actually and essentially cold, and penetrating other
bodies, produce in them that quality which is called
cold, or, according to others, merely the absence or di¬
minution of the particles of heat. See Cold, Che¬
mistry I-racfe#/ and Salts.
FRILAZIN, the name of a class or rank of people
among the Anglo-Saxons, consisting of those who had
been slaves, but had either purchased, or by some other
means obtained, their liberty. Though these were in
feauty free men, they were not considered as of the
same rank and dignity with those who had been born Fdhzin
tree, but were still in a more ignoble and dependent ' {
condition, either on their former masters or on some F'R-
new patrons. This custom the Anglo-Saxons seem to
have derived from their ancestors in Germany, among
whom those who had been made free did not differ
much in point of dignity or importance in the state
from those wbo continued in servitude. This distinc¬
tion between those who bad been made free and those
who enjoy freedom by descent from a Jong race of free
men, still prevails in many parts of Germany j and
particularly in the^original seats of the Anglo-Saxons,
Many of the inhabitants of towns and cities in England,
in this period, seem to have been of this class ofmen’
who were in a kind of middle state between slaves and
freemen.
FRILL, in Falconry. When a hawk trembles or
shivers, they say she frills.
FRINGILLA, a genus of birds belonging to the
order of passeres. See Ornithology Index.
I RIO, a small island on the coast of the Brasils,
situated in 32° 2' S. Lat. and 410 31' 45" W. Long.
The land of Frio is high, with a hollow in the middle,
which gives it, at a distance, the appearance of two se¬
parate islands.
FRIPPERY, a French term sometimes used in our
language to signify the trade or traffic of old second¬
hand clothes and goods. The word is also used for the
place where such sort of commerce is carried on, and
even iov the commodities themselves. The company '
of frippiers, or fripperers, at Paris, are a regular cor¬
poration, of an ancient standing, and make a considera¬
ble figure in that city.
FRISI, Paul, an eminent Italian mathematician.
See Supplement.
FRISII, Frisei, Frisiones, and Frisones, in An¬
cient Geography, a people of Germany, so called either
from their ardent love of freedom, or from the fresh
and unbroken lands they occupied, contradistinguished
from the old lands. Tacitus divides them, from their
extent of power and territory, into the Majores, situat¬
ed on the coasts between the Rhine and the Ems; and
into the Minores, occupying the parts about the lakes
lying between the channels of the Rhine.
FRIT, or Fritt, in the glass manufacture, is the
matter or ingredients whereof glass is to be made, when
they have been calcined or baked in a furnace.
A salt drawn from the ashes of the plant kali, or from
fern or other plants, mixed with sand or flint, and baked
together, makes an opaque mass called by glassmen
frit; probably from the Italian frittare, to fry ; or be¬
cause the frit, when melted, runs into lumps, like frit¬
ters, called by the ItaliansJ/nfe/Zs’.
Frit, by the ancients, was called ammonitmm, of
etfApot;, sand, and wgev, nitre; under which name it is
described by Pliny thus : Fine sand from the Volturnian
sea, mixed with three times the quantity of nitre, and
melted, makes a mass called ammonitrum ; which be¬
ing rebaked makes pure glass.
Frit, Neri observes, is only the calx of the materials
which make glass 5 which, though they might be melt¬
ed, and glass be made, without thus calcining them, yet
it would take up much more time. Thus calcining, or
making of frit, serves to mix and incorporate the ma¬
ll h 3 terials
F R I
[ 344 ]
FRO
•Vit terials together, and to evaporate all the superfluous
|j humidity. The frit, once made, is readily iused, and
Frizing. turned into glass. „„ . , t f ..
 'rmmJ There are three kinds of frits. Ihe first, crystal frit,
or that for crystal metal, is made with salt of pulvenne
and sand. The second and ordinary frit, is made ot
the bare ashes of pulverine or barilla, without ex¬
tracting the salt from them. This makes the ordi¬
nary white or crystal metal. The third is frit for green
glasses, made of common ashes, without any prepara¬
tion. This last frit will require ten or twelve hours
The materials in each are to be finely powdered,
washed, and searced ; then equally mixed, and frequent¬
ly stirred together in the melting pot. bee Olass.
J FULTILLAKIA, Fritillary ; a genus ot plants
belonging to the hexandria class j and in the natural
method ranking under the 10th order, Corowrue. See
Botany Index. ,
The different species of fritillary were, according to
Beckman, introduced into gardens about the middle ot
the 16th century. The crown imperial (fritillaria im-
perialts) is supposed by some to be the lily which is
much celebrated in sacred scripture ; because a figure
resembling this splendid plant, they imagine, is found
represented on the coins of Herod. Invent, vol. m.
FRIULI, a province of Italy, subject to Austria, and
bounded by Carinthia in Germany on the north, by
Carniola on the east, by the gulf of A emce on the
south, and by the Bellunese and Feltrin on the west.
FRIZE, or Frieze, in Architecture, a part ot the
entablature of columns, more usually written and pro¬
nounced/m’Sji?. See Freeze.
Frize, or Freeze, in Commerce, a kind ot woollen
cloth or stuff for winter wear, being fnzed or knapt
on one side j whence, in all probability, it derives its
name. , ,
Of frizes, some are crossed, others not crossed j the
former are chiefly ot English manufacture, the latter ot
FRIZING of Cloth, a term in the woollen manu¬
factory, applied to the forming of the nap of cloth or
stuff into a number of little hard burrs or prominences,
covering almost the whole ground thereof..
Some cloths are only frized on the back side, as black
cloths j others on the right side, as colouied and mixed
cloths, rateens, bays, freezes, &c. _
Frizing may be performed two ways. One with the
hand, that is, by means of two workmen, who conduct
a kind of plank that serves for a frizing instrument.
The other is by a mill, worked either by water, or a
horse, or sometimes by men. This latter is .esteemed
the better way of frizing, by reason the motion being
uniform and regular, the little knobs of the frizing are
formed more equably and regularly. The structure of
this useful machine is as follows :
The three principal parts are the frizer or crisper, the
frizing table, and the drawer or beam. The two first
are two equal planks or boards, each about 10 feet
long and 15 inches broad 5 differing only in this, that
the frizing table is lined or covered with a kind of
coarse woollen stuff, of a rough sturdy nap j and the
frizer is incrusted with a kind of cement composed
of glue, gum arable, and a yellow sand, with a little
aqua-vitae, or urine. The beam or drawer, thus called,
because it draws the stuff from between the frizer and
the frizing table, is a wooden roller, beset all over with 5
little, fine, short points or ends of wire, like those of Frobisk,
cards used in carding wool. < > y
The disposition and use of the machine is thus: The
table stands immoveable, and bears or sustains the cloth
to be frized, which is laid with that side uppermost on
which the nap is to be raised $ over the table is placed
the frizer, at such a distance from it as to give room
for the stuff to be passed between them ; so that the
frizer, having a very slow perpendicular motion, meeting
the long hairs or naps ot the cloth, twists and rolls
them into little knobs or burrs •, while at the same time,
the drawer, which is continually turning, draws away
the stuff from under the frizer, and winds it over its
own points. , , , •
All that the workman has to do while the machine
is a-going, is to stretch the stuff on the table as fast as
the drawer takes it off, and from time to time to take
off the stuff from the points of the drawer.
The design of having the frizing table lined with
stuff of a short, stiff, stubby nap, is that it may detain
the cloth between the table and the frizer long enough
for the grain to be formed, that the drawer may not
take it away too readily, which must otherwise be the
case, as it is not held by any thing at the other end.
It were unnecessary to say any thing particular of the
manner of frizing stuffs with the hand, it being the aim
of the workmen to imitate, as near as they can with
their wooden instrument, the slow, equable, and circular
motion of the machine : it needs only be added, that
their frizer is but about two feet long and one broad •,
and that to form the nap more easily, they moisten the
surface of the stuff lightly, with water mingled with
whites of eggs or honey.
FROBENIUS, John, a famous and learned print¬
er in the 16th century, was born at Hamelburgh in
Franconia, and settled at Basil. He had before stu¬
died in that university, where he acquired the reputa¬
tion of being uncommonly learned •, and now setting
up a printing house in that city, was the first of the
German printers who brought that admirable art to any
degree of perfection. Being a man of great probity
and piety, as well as skill, he was particularly choice
in the authors he printed j and would never, for .the
sake of profit, suffer libels, or any thing that might
hurt the reputation of another, to go through his
press. The great character of this printer was the
principal motive which induced Erasmus to reside at
Basil, in order to have his own works printed by him.
A great number of valuable authors were printed by
Frobenius, with great care and accuracy j. among
which were the works ot St Jerome, Augustine, and
Erasmus. He designed to have printed the Greek
Fathers-, but died in 1527, before he could execute
his design. Erasmus wrote his epitaph in Greek and
Latin. .
John Frobenius left a son named Jerome Frobenius,
and a daughter married to Nicholas Episcopius j. who,
joining in partnership, continued Frobenius’s printing
house with reputation, and printed correct editions ot
the Greek Fathers.
FROBISHER, or Formsher, Sir Martin, an
excellent navigator and sea officer in the 16th century»
was born near Doncaster in Yorkshire, and was from
his
Fi'ff
FRO
bcr ^‘s youth brought up to navigation.
Englishman who attempted to find a north-west pas-
ish- sage to China, and in 1576 he sailed with two barks
and a pinnace in order to attempt that passage. In
this voyage lie discovered a cape, to which he gave the
name of Queen Elizabeth's Foreland, and the next day
discovered a strait to which he gave his own name. This
voyage proving unsuccessful, he attempted the same
passage in 1577 ; but discovering some ore in an island,
and his commission directing him in this voyage only to
search for ore, and to leave the farther discovery of the
north-west to another time, he returned to England.
He sailed again, with 15 ships and a great number of
adventurers, to form a settlement: but being obstruct¬
ed by the ice, and driven out to sea by a violent
storm, they, after encountering many difficulties, re¬
turned home, without making any settlement, but
brought a large quantity of ore.—He afterwards com¬
manded the Aid in Sir Francis Drake’s expedition to
the West Indies, in which St Domingo in Hispaniola,
Carthagena, and Santa Justina, in Florida, were taken
and sacked. In 1588, he bravely exerted himself in
defence of his country against the Spanish armada,
when he commanded the Triumph, one of the largest
ships in that service ; and, as a reward for his distin¬
guished bravery, received the honour of knighthood
from the lord high admiral at sea. He afterwards
commanded a squadron which was ordered to cruise on
the Spanish coast; and, in 1592, took two valuable
ships and a rich carrack. In 1594 he was sent to the
assistance of Henry IV. king of France against a body
of the Leaguers and Spaniards, who had strongly en¬
trenched themselves at Croyzon near Brest; but in an
assault upon that fort, on the 7th of November, Sir
Martin was unfortunately wounded with a ball, of which
he died soon after he had brought back the fleet to
Plymouth, and was buried in that town.
Frobisher's Straits, lie a little to the northward of
Cape Farewell in West Greenland, and were discover¬
ed by Sir Martin Frobisher. W. Long. 48. 16. N.
Lat. 63. 12.
FRODSHAM, a town of Cheshire in England,
162 miles from London, is noted for its ancient castle.
It has a stone bridge over the river Weaver near its
conflux with the Mersey, and a harbour for ships of
good burden. By means of inland navigation, it has
communication with the rivers Dee, Kibble, Ouse,
Trent, Darwent, Severn, Humber, Thames, Avon,
&c. which navigation, including its windings, extends
above 500 miles, in the counties of Lincoln, Notting¬
ham, York, Lancaster, Westmoreland, Stafford, War¬
wick, Leicester, Oxford, Worcester, &c.
FROG. SeeRANA.
Bull Frog. See Eana. j Eepeiologv I,“kx-
Frog Fish of Surinam, a very singular animal, of
which a figure is given by Mr Edwards, Hist, of Birds,
vol. i. There is 110 specimen in the British museum,
nor in any private collection, except that of Dr Fo-
thergill. It was brought from Surinam in South A-
merica. Frogs, both in Asia and Africa, according
to Merian, change gradually from fishes to frogs, as
those in Europe ; but after many years revert again in¬
to fishes, though the manner of their change has never
been investigated. In Surinam these fishes are called
jakjes. They are cartilaginous, of a substance like our
[ 24s ] fro
He was the first mustela, and exquisite food : they are formed with re¬
gular vertebrae, and small bones all over the body di¬
vided into equal parts; are first darkish, and then
gray : their scales make a beautiful appearance. Whe¬
ther this animal is, in its perfect state, a species of frog
with a tail, or a kind of water lizard, Mr Edwards does
not pretend to determine; but observes, that when its
size is considered, it should be deemed a tadpole at
first produced from spawn, and in its progress towards a
frog, such an animal, when full grown, if it bears the
same proportion to its tadpole as those in Europe do,
must be of enormous size; for our full grown frogs ex¬
ceed the tadpoles at least 50 times. See Erpetology
Index.
FROME, a river that rises from several springs in
the western parts of Dorsetshire in England, the prin¬
cipal of which is near Evershot; and directing its course
almost due west, passes under Frampton bridge, washes
the town of Dorchester, and falls into a bay of the
English channel called Poolhaven, near Wareham.
Frome-Selwood, a town of Somersetshire in England,
150 miles from London. It is the chief town of this
part of the country, which was anciently one great
forest called Selwoodshire ; and in the latter end of the
last century, in those called Frome Woodlands, there
was a considerable gang of money coiners or clippers,
of whom many were taken and executed, and their co¬
vert laid open. Though the town is bigger than some
cities, yet it has only one church ; but it has six or
seven meeting houses of Protestant dissenters. The
inhabitants amounted to 9493 in 1811, and their chief
manufactory is broad cloth. About 50 years ago,
more wire cards for carding the wool for the spinners
were made at this place than in all England besides,
which was for the most part supplied with them from
hence ; for here were no less than 20 master card-
makers, one of whom employed 400 men, women, and
children, in that manufactory, at one time ; so that even
children of 7 or 8 years of age could earn half-a-crown
a-week. The river here, which abounds with trout,
eels, &c. rises in the woodlands ; and runs under its
stone bridge towards Bath, on the east side of which
it falls into the Avon. This town has been a long
time noted for its fine beer, which they keep to a great
age, and is generally preferred by the gentry to the
wines of France and Portugal. It was governed for¬
merly by a bailifl', and now by two constables of the
hundreds of Frome, chosen at the court leet of the
lord of the manor.
FRONDESCENTIA, from frons, “ a leaf;” the
precise time of the year and month in which each spe¬
cies of plants unfolds its first leaves.
All plants produce new leaves every year ; but all do
not renew them at the same time. Among woody
plants, the elder, and most of the honeysuckles ; a-
mong perennial herbs, the crocus or tulip, are the first
that push or expand their leaves. The time of sow¬
ing the seeds decides with respect to annuals. The
oak and ash are constantly the latest in pushing their
leaves : the greatest number unfold them in spring ; the
mosses and firs in winter. These striking differences
with respect to so capital a circumstance in plants as
that of unfolding their leaves, seem to indicate that
each species of plants has a temperature proper or pe¬
culiar to itself, and requires a certain degree of heat
Frcg Fisk
FRO [246
Fronde- t» extricate the leaves from their buds, and produce
the appearance in question. . c j
This temperature, l'o«ever ,s not so fixed or -
]
F R O
sceu'.ia
JJ ims lenipeiatuic, uuvtv.
Frontinus. stant as it may appear to a superficial observer. Among
plants of the same species, there are some more early
. 1 1  dei)ends, eiS it
iatiit; specie.-?, ^ , .
than others j whether that circumstance depends, as .t
most commonly does, on the nature of the plants or is
owing to differences in heat, exposure, and sod. In ge-
nerah it may be affirmed, that small and young trees
are always earlier than larger or old ones.
The pushing of the leaves is likewise accelerated or
retarded according to the temperature of the season-,
that is, according as the sun .s sooner or kter in dis¬
pensing that certain degree of heat which is suitable
ea FRONT, the forehead, or that part of the face above
the eyebrows. The word is formed of the Latin/nw
and that from the Greek « to think perceive •
of mens, “the mind, thought Martimus to
make out this etymology, observes that from he fore¬
head of a person we perceive what he is, what ne is ca¬
pable of, and what he thinks of. .. „
Front is also used where several persons or things
are ranged side by side, and show their front or tore
1 Front, in Architecture, denotes the principal face
or side of a building, or that presented to their chiei
aspect or view. c
FRONTAL, in Architecture, a little fronton or
pediment, sometimes placed over a small door or wm-
Frontal, Frontlet, or Brow-band, i& also used in
speaking of the Jewish ceremonies. This frontal con¬
sists of four several pieces of vellum on each whereof
is written some text of scripture. They are all laid on
a niece of a black calf’s leather with thongs to tie it
by. The Jews apply the leather with the vellum on
their foreheads in the synagogue, and tie it round the
head with the thongs.
FRONTIER, the border, confine, or extreme, ot a
kingdom or province, which the enemies find in front
when they would enter the same. Thus we say, a
frontier town, frontier province, &c. Frontiers were
anciently called marches. , . . ,
The word is derived from the French frontiere, and
that from the Latin frontaria; as being a kind of front
opposed to the enemy. Skinner tenvesfrontier from
front; inasmuch as the frontier is the exterior and most
advanced part of a state, as the front is that of the face
°f FRONTIGNIAC WINE, is so called from a town
of Languedoc in France, situated 16 miles south-west
of Montpelier, remarkable for producing it. ^
FRONTINAC, a fortress in Canada, situated at
the head of a fine harbour, on the north-west side of the
outlet of Lake Ontario, where vessels of every descrip¬
tion may ride in perfect safety. It is 300 miles from
Quebec, and in comparison of that place has a very short
WlFRONTlNUS, Sextus Julius, an ancient Roman
writer, was of consular dignity, and> flourished under
the emperors Vespasian, Titus, Domitian, Nerva, and
Traian. He commanded the Roman armies in Bri¬
tain-, was made city praetor when Vespas3an and Bi-
fcus were consuls j and Nerva made him curator ot the
aqueducts, which occasioned his writing Be Aqueedue-
tibus urbis Roma. He wrote four honks upon the
Greek and Roman art of war j a piece Be Re Agi at in,
and another Be Limitibus. These have been often se-
parately reprinted ', but were all collected together in
a neat edition at Amsterdam in 1661, with notes by
Robertus Keuchenius. He died under Trajan. .
FRONTISPIECE, in Architecture, the principal
face of a fine building. The word is formed of the La¬
tin frontispicium, q. A.frontis hominis inspectio. Hence
also, by a figure, we say, the frontispiece of a book;
meaning an ornament with an engraven title on the
first page.
FRONTLET. See Frontal.
FRONTO, Marcus Cornelius, was chosen for his
eloquence to instruct the emperors Marcus Aurelius and
Lucius Verus in rhetoric ; in recompense of which he
was promoted to the consulate, and a statue was erect¬
ed to his honour. He taught Marcus Aurelius not
only eloquence, but the duty of kings, and exce.lent
morals. Some say he wrote against the Christians. A
sect was formed of those who looked upon him as a mo¬
del of perfect eloquence, and those were called Fronto-
niani. The Civilians, whose names were Fronto, men¬
tioned in the Pandects, were probably descended from
FROST, in Physiology, such a state of the atmos¬
phere as occasions the congelation or freezing of water
and other fluids. See Cold, Chemistry Index, and
Meteorology Index. . . ,
Water and other fluids are capable of containing the
element of fire or heat in two very different states. In
the one, they seem to imbibe the fire in such a manner,
that it eludes all the methods by which we are accus¬
tomed to observe it, either by our sensation of feeling,
or the thermometer j in the other, it manifests itself
obviously to our senses, either by the touch, tne ther¬
mometer, or the emission ot light.
In the first of these states, we call the body cold;
and are apt to say that this coldness is occasioned by
the absence of heat. But this manner of expressing
ourselves, excepting in a relative degree, is certainly
improper ; for even those fluids which are coldest to
the touch contain a vast deal of heat. Thus vapour,
which is colder to the touch than the water from which
it was raised, contains an immense quantity of fire, even
more than sufficient to heat it red hot. The like may
be said of common salt and snow, or ice. If a quantity
of each of these substances is separately reduced to the
degree of 28 or 30 of Fahrenheit’s thermometer, upon
mixing them together, the heat which would have rai¬
sed the thermometer to the degree above mentioned,
now enters into the substance of them in such a mannei
that the mercury falls down to o.—Here an excessive
degree of cold is produced, and yet we are sure that the
substances contain the very same quantity of heat that
they formerly did : nay, they will even seem exceeding¬
ly cold, when they must certainly contain a great deal
more heat than they originally did ; for they absor 1
from all bodies around them 5 and if a small vessel u
of water is put into the middle of such a mixture, it will
in a short time be full of ice.
It appears, therefore, that our senses, even when
assisted by thermometers, can only judge of the state if.
which the element of fire is with relation to the bo-
cu@§
FRO [ 247 ] FRO
dies around us, without regard to the quantity contain-
ed in tliem. Thus, if heat flows from any part of our
body into any substance actually in contact with it, the
sensation of cold is excited, and we call that substance
cold; but if it flows from any substance into our body,
the sensation of heat is excited, and we call that sub¬
stance hot, without regard to the absolute quantity con¬
tained in either case.
Of all known substances, the atmosphere either ab¬
sorbs or throws out heat with the most remarkable fa¬
cility : and in one or other of these states it always is
with respect to the surface of the earth, and such bodies
as are placed on or near it ; for these, properly speak¬
ing, have no temperature of their own, but are entirely
regulated by that of the atmosphere.—When the air
has been for some time absorbing the heat from terres¬
trial bodies, a frost must be the undoubted consequence,
for the same reason that water freezes in a vessel put
into a freezing mixture j and were this absorption to
continue for a length of time, the whole earth would
be converted into a frozen mass. There are, however,
certain powers in nature, by which this effect is al¬
ways prevented j and the most violent frost we can
imagine, must always as it were defeat its own purposes,
and end in a thaw. To understand this subject, we
must observe,
1. In that state of the atmosphere which we deno¬
minate frost, there is a most intimate union between
the air and the water it contains j and therefore frosty
weather, except in very high latitudes, is generally
clear.
2. When such a union takes place, either in winter
or summer, we observe the atmosphere also inclined to
absorb heat, and consequently to frost. Thus in clear
settled weather, even in summer, though the day may
be excessively hot by reason of the continued sunshine,
yet the mornings and evenings are remarkably cold,
and sometimes even disagreeably so.
3. The air being therefore always ready in the time
of frost or in clear weather, to absorb heat from every
substance which comes into contact with it, it follows
that it must also absorb part of that which belongs to
the vapours contained in it.
4. Though vapour is capable of becoming much
colder than water without being frozen, yet by a con¬
tinued absorption it must at last part with its latent
heat, j. e. that which essentially constitutes its vapour,
and without which it is no longer vapour, but water
or ice. . No sooner, therefore, does the frost arrive at
a certain pitch, than the vapours, everywhere dis¬
persed through the air, give out their latent heat:
the atmosphere then becomes clouded : the frost either
totally goes off, or becomes milder by reason of the
great quantity of heat discharged into the air ; and
the vapours descend in rain, hail, or snow, according
to the particular disposition of the atmosphere at the
time.
5. Even in the polar regions, where it may be
thought that the frost must increase beyond measure,
there are also natural means for preventing its running
to extremes. The principal cause here is, the mixture
01 a great quantity of vapours from the more tempe-
rate regions of the globe with the air in those dreary
climates. It is well known, that aqueous vapour al¬
ways flies from a warm to a colder place. For this
reason, the vapours raised by the sun in the more tem¬
perate regions of the earth, must continually travel
northward and southward in great quantities. Thus
they furnish materials for those immense quantities of
snow and ice which are to be found in the neighbour¬
hood of the poles, and which we cannot imagine the
weak influence of the sun in these parts capable of rais¬
ing. It is impossible that a quantity of vapour can be
mixed with frosty air, without communicating a great
deal of heat to it; and thus there are often thaws of
considerable duration even in those climates where,
from the little influence of the sun, we should suppose
the frost would be perpetual.
6. We may now account with some probability for
the uncertain duration of frosts. In this country they
are seldom of a long continuance ; because the vapours
raised from the sea with which our island is surrounded
perpetually mix with the air over the island, and pre¬
vent a long duration of the frost. For the same reason,
frosts are never of such long duration in maritime places
on the continent, as in the inland ones. There is no¬
thing, however, more uncertain than the motion of the
vapours with which the air is constantly filled ; and
therefore it is impossible to prognosticate the duration of
a frost with any degree of certainty. In general, we
may always be certain, that if a quantity of vapour is
accumulated in any place, no intense frost can subsist in
that place for any length of time ; and by whatever
causes the vapours are driven from place to place, by
the same causes the frosts are regulated throughout the
the whole world.
Ihe efleets oi frost in different countries are enu¬
merated under the article Congelation. In the
northern parts ot the world even solid bodies are li¬
able to be affected by frost. • Timber is often appa¬
rently frozen, and rendered exceedingly difficult to saw.
Marl, chalk, and other less solid terrestrial concre¬
tions will he shattered by strong and durable frosts.
Metals are contracted by frost : thus, an iron tube, 12
feet long, upon being exposed to the air in a frosty
night, lost two lines of its length. On the contrary,
frost swells or dilates water near one-tenth of its bulk,
Mr Boyle made several experiments with metalline
vessels, exceedingly thick and strong ; which being
filled with water, close stopped, and exposed to the
cold, burst by the expansion of the frozen fluid with¬
in them. Trees are frequently destroyed by frost, as
if burnt up by the most excessive heat; and in very
strong frosts, walnut trees, ashes, and even oaks, are
sometimes split and cleft, so as to be seen through,
and this with a terrible noise, like the explosion of fire¬
arms.
Frost naturally proceeds from the upper parts of bo¬
dies downwards : but how deep it will reach in earth
or water, is not easily known ; because this depth may
vary with the degree of coldness in the air, by a longer
or shorter duration of the frost, the texture of The
eartn, the nature ol the juices wherewith it is impreg¬
nated, the constitution of its more internal parts as to
heat and cold, the nature of its effluvia, &c. Mr
Boyle, in order to ascertain this depth, after four
nights ol hard frost, dug in an orchard, where the
ground was level and bare, and found the frost had
scarce reached three inches and a half, and in a garden
nearer the house only two inches below the surface.
Nine
FRO
[
FRO
Frost.
Nine or ten successive frosty nights froze, the bare
' ground in the garden six inches and a half deep j and
fn the orchard, where a wall sheltered xt from the south
sun to the depth of eight inches and a halt. He also
dug in an orchard, near a wall, about a week after-
wards and found the frost to have penetrated to the
depth’of 14 inches. In a garden at Moscow, the fro*
in a hard season only penetrates to two feet and the
utmost effect that Captain James mentions the cold to
have had upon the ground of Charlton island, w,
freeze it to 10 feet deep: whence may appear the dif¬
ferent degrees of cold of that island and Russia. And
as to theS freezing of water at the above-mentioned
island, the Captain tells us it does not naturally con¬
geal above the depth of six feet, the rest being by ac¬
cident. Water also, exposed to the cold air in Urge
vessels, always freezes first at the upper surface, the
ice gradually increasing and thickening downwards ,
for which reason, frogs retire< in frosty weather to
the bottom of ditches i and it is said that shoals of
fish retire in winter to those depths of the sea and ri¬
vers where they are not to be found in summer. Wa¬
ter, like the earth, seems not disposed to receive any
very intense degree of cold at a considerable depth or
distance from the air. The vast masses of ice fomul
in the northern seas being only many flakes and irag-
ments, which, sliding under each other, are, by the
congelation of the intercepted water, cemented toge-
^^n cold countries, the frost often proves fatal to
mankind*, not only producing gangrenes, c01 eveIJ
death itself. Those who die of it have their hands and
feet first seized, till they grow past feeling it j a ter
which the rest of their bodies is so invaded, that they
are taken with a drowsiness, which, if indulged, they
awake no more, hut die insensibly. But there is ano¬
ther way whereby it proves mortal, viz. by freezing
the abdomen and viscera, which on dissection are tound
to be mortified and black. .
The great power of frost on vegetables is a thing
sufficiently known -, but the differences between the
frosts of a severe winter, and those which happen in
the spring mornings, in their effects on plants and
trees, were never perfectly explained, till by Mess. Du
Hamel and Buffon in the Memoirs of the 1 aris Aca-
The frosts of severe winters are much more terrible
than those of the spring, as they bring on a privation
of all the products of the tenderer part of the vege¬
table world j but then they are not frequent, such
winters happening perhaps but once in an age J and
the frosts of the spring are in reality greater injuries to
us than these, as they are every year repeated.
In regard to trees, the great difference is this, that
the frosts of severe winters affect even their wood, their
trunks and large branches -, whereas those of the spring
have only power to hurt the buds.
The winter frosts happening at si time when most of
the trees in our woods and gardens have neither leaves,
flowers, nor fruits upon them, and have their buds so
hard as to be proof against slight injuries of weather,
especially if the preceding summer has not been too
wet $ in this state, if there are no unlucky circumstan¬
ces attending, the generality of trees bear moderate
winters very well \ but hard frosts, which happen late
248 ]
in the winter, cause very great injuries even to those
trees which they do not utterly destroy. Ihese are,'*-
1. Long cracks following the direction ot the hores.
2*. Parcels of dead wood enclosed round with wood yet
in a living state. And, 3, That distemperature which
the foresters call the double blea, which is a perfect cir¬
cle of blea, or soft white wood, which when the tree is
afterwards felled, is found covered by a circle of hard
and solid wood. ..
The opinions of authors about the exposition ot trees
to the different quarters, have been very different, and
most of them grounded on no rational foundation.
Many are of opinion that the effects of frost are most
violently felt on those trees which are exposed to the
north j and others think the south or the west the most
strongly affected by them. There is no doubt but the
north exposure is subject to the greatest cold. It doe*
not, however, follow from this, that the injury must be
always greatest on the trees exposed to the north m
frosts : on the contrary, there are abundant proots that
it is on the south side that trees are generally more in¬
jured by frost: and it is plain from repeated experi¬
ments, that there are particular accidents, under which
a more moderate frost may do more injury to vegetables,
than the most severe one which happens to them under
more favourable circumstances. ^ ^
It is plain from the accounts of the injuries trees re¬
ceived by the frosts in 1709, that the greatest of all
were owing to repeated false thaws, succeeded by re¬
peated new frosts. But the frosts of the spring season
furnish abundantly more numerous examples of this
truth j and some experiments made by the Count de
Buffon at large in his own woods, prove incontestably,
that it is not the severest cold or most fixed frost that
does the greatest injury to vegetables. _
This is an observation directly opposite to Urn com¬
mon opinion ; yet is not the less true, nor is it in any
way discordant to reason. We find by a number of ex¬
periments, that humidity is the thing that makes frost
fatal to vegetables j and therefore every thing that can
occasion humidity in them, exposes them to these inju¬
ries, and every thing that can prevent or take off an
over proportion of humidity in them, every thing that
can dry them though with ever so increased a cold,
must prevent or preserve them from those injuries. JNu-
merous experiments and observations tend to prove
this. It is well known that vegetables always feel the
frost very severely in low places where there are
fogs. The plants which stand by a river side are fre¬
quently found destroyed by the spring and autumna
frosts, while those of the same species which staI]d‘n
a drier place, suffer little or perhaps none at all by
them j and the low and wet parts of forests are wel
known to produce worse wood than the high and crier.
The coppice wood in wet and low parts of common
woods, though it push out more vigorously at first than
that of other places, yet never comes to so good a
growth ; for the frost of the spring killing these early
top shoots, obliges the lower part of the trees to thro
out lateral branches: and the same thing happens m »
greater or lesser degree to the coppice wood that grow*
under cover of larger trees in great forests j for here
the vapours not being carried off either by the sun <»■
wind, stagnate and freeze, and in the same manner de¬
stroy the young shoots, as the fogs of marshy placejj.
Iroj
FRO
It is a general observation also, that the frost is never
hurtful to the late shoots of the vine, or to the flower-
buds of trees, except when it follows heavy dews, or a
long rainy season, and then it never fails to do great
mischief, though it be ever so slight.
The frost is always observed to be more mischievous
in its consequences on newly cultivated ground than in
other places 5 and this is because the vapours which
continually arise from the earth, find an easier passage
from those places than from others. Trees also which
have been newly cut, suffer more than others by the
spring frosts, which is owing to their shooting out
more vigorously.
Frosts also do more damage on light and sandy
grounds, than on the tougher and firmer soils, suppo¬
sing both equally dry; and this seems partly owing to
their being more early in their productions, and partly
to their lax texture suffering a greater quantity of va¬
pours to transpire.
It also has been frequently observed, that the side-
shoots of trees are more subject to perish by the spring
frosts than those from the top; and M. Buffon, who
examined into this with great accuracy, always found
the effects of the spring frosts much greater near the
ground than elsewhere. The shoots within a foot of
the ground quickly perished by them; those which
stood at two or three feet high, bore them much bet¬
ter; and those at four feet and upwards frequently re¬
mained wholly unhurt; while the lower ones were en¬
tirely destroyed.
There is a series of observations, which have pro¬
ved beyond all doubt, that it is not the hard frosts
which so much hurt plants, as those frosts, though less
severe, which happen when they are full of moisture;
and this clearly explains the account of all the great
damages done by the severe frosts being on the south
side of the trees which are affected by them, though
that side has been plainly all the while less cold than
the north. Great damage is also done to the western
sides of trees and plantations, when after a rain with a
west wind the wind shifts to the north at sunset, as is
frequently the case in spring, or when an east wind blows
upon a thick fog before sunrising.
Frost, it is well known, is particularly destructive to
the blossom of fruit trees. The following method of
securing such trees from being damaged by early frosts
may be acceptable to many of our readers. A rope is
to be interwoven among the branches of the tree, and
one end of it brought down so as to be immersed in a
bucket ol water. The rope, it is said, will act as a
conductor, and convey the effects of the frost from the
tree to the water. This idea is not new, for the fol¬
lowing passage may be found in Colerus. “ If you dig
a trench around the root of a tree, and fill it with wa¬
ter, or keep the roots moist till it has bloomed, it will
not be injured by the frost. Or, in spring, suspend a
vessel filled with water from the tree. If you wish to
preserve the blossom from being hurt by the frost, place
a vessel of water below it, and the frost will fall into
[ 249 ]
fro
Frost
Hoar Frost, a cold moist vapour, that is drawn up
a little wav inf-n rtio n;„ „„.i .i__ 1 , e n . 1
e way into the air, and in the night falls again on
>e earth, when it is congealed into icy crystals of va-
lous gures; Hoar frost, therefore, is nothing but dew
turned into ice by the coldness of the air.
Vol. ix. Parti. ,
Melioration of Aromatic Spirits by Frost. MrBeaume
observes, that aromatic spirituous waters have less scent a
when newly distilled than after they have been kept Frowde,
about six months : and he found that the good efl’ect  
of age was produced in a short time by means of cold •
and that, by plunging quart bottles of the liquor into
a mixture of pounded ice and sea salt, the spirit, after
having suffered for six or eight hours the cold hence
resulting, proves as grateful as that which hath been
kept many years. Simple waters also, after having been
frozen, prove far more agreeable than they were be¬
fore. Geoffroy takes notice of this melioration by frost.
Hist. Acad. 1713.
Melioration oj Land by Frost. See Agriculture
Index.
FKOTH, a white light substance, formed on the
surface of fluids by vehement agitation, consisting of
air included in the films of water.
Froth Spit, ov Cuckoo Spit, a name given to a white
froth, or spume, very common in the spring and first
months of summer, on the leaves of certain plants, par¬
ticularly on those of the common white field lychnis, or
catchfly, thence called by some spatlingpoppy,
AH writers on vegetables have taken notice of this
troth, though lew have understood the cause or origin
of it till of late. It is formed by a little leaping animal,
called by some the flea grashopper, by applying its anus
close to the leaf, and discharging thereon a small dron
0 a. white viscous fluid, which, containing some air in
it, is soon elevated into a small bubble: before this is
wdl formed, it deposits such another drop; and so on,
til it is every way overwhelmed with a quantity of these
bubMes, vyhich form the white froth which we see.
‘thin this spume it is seen to acquire four tubercles on
its back, wherein the wings are enclosed: these burst¬
ing, from a reptile it becomes a winged animal: and
thus, rendered perfect, it flies to meet its mate, and
propagate its kind. It has an oblong, obtuse body,
and a large bead with small eyes. The external wings
(for it has four) are of a dusky brown colour, marked
ivith two white spots : the head is black. It is a species
of Cicada.
FROWDE, Philip, an English poet, was the son
of a gentleman who had been postmaster in the reign of
Queen Anne. He was sent to the university of Oxford,
where he had the honour of being distinguished by Ad¬
dison, who took him under his protection. While he
remained there, he became the author of several pieces
ol poetiy, some of which in Eatin were pure and ele¬
gant enough to entitle them to a place in the Musoe
Anglicano;. He likewise wrote two tragedies: The
Fall of Saguntum, dedicated to Sir Robert Walpole;
and Philotas, addressed to the earl of Chesterfield. ‘ He
died at his lodgings at Cecil Street in the Strand, in
*738j and in the London Daily Post had the follow-
ing character given him: “ Though the elegance of
!*Ir Frovvde’s writings has recommended him to the ge¬
neral public esteem, the politeness of bis genius is the
least amiable part of Ins character; for he esteemed the
talents of wit and learning only as they were conducive
to the excitement and practice of honour and humanity.
Therefore, with a soul cheerful, benevolent, and virtu¬
ous, he was in conversation genteelly delightful, in
friendship punctually sincere, in death Christianly re¬
signed. No man could live more beloved, no private
I i man
Ffowde
Fruif.
F R U [250
man could die more lamented.” A fine eloge 1 and we
have no reason to doubt the truth ot it. .
FRUCTESCENTIA, (from frvctus, “ fru't, )
' comprehends the precise time in which, after the tali ot
the flowers, the fruits arrive at maturity, and disperse
their seeds. . . • *1 •„
In general, plants which flower m spring, ripen their
fruits in summer, as rye-, those which flower in sum¬
mer have their fruits ripe in autumn, as the vine -, the
fruit of autumnal flowers ripens in winter, or the fol¬
lowing spring, if kept in a stove or otherwise defended
from excessive frosts. These frosts, says M. Adanson,
are frequently so pernicious and violent as to destroy
the greatest part of the perennial plants of \ irgima
and Mississippi, that are cultivated in I ranee, even
before they have exhibited their fruit. The plants
which flower during our winter, such as those of the
Cape of Good Hope, ripen their fruit in spring in our
^FRUCTIFEROUS, signifies properly any thing
that produces fruit. . , c .
FRUCTIFICATION of Plants, is defined by
Linnaeus to be the temporary part of a vegetable appro¬
priated to generation, terminating the old vegetable
and beginning the new. It consists of the following
seven parts-, viz. the calyx, corolla, stamen, pistillum,
pericarpium, semen or seed, and receptaculum. bee
Botany. .' , . L
FRUIT, in its general sense, includes whatever the
earth produces for the nourishment and support of ani¬
mals j as herbs, grain, pulse, hay, corn, and flax,
every thing expressed by the Latins under the name
fruaes. ,
Fruit, in Natural History, denotes the last produc¬
tion of a tree or plant, for the propagation or multipli¬
cation of its kind 5 in which sense fruit includes all kinds
of seeds, with their furniture, &c.
Fruit, in Botany, is properly that part of a plant
wherein the seed is contained ; called by the Latins
fructus; and by the Greeks xscjwo?. The fruit in the
Linmean system is one of the parts of fructification,
and is distinguished into three parts, viz. the pericar¬
pium, seed, and receptacle, or receptaculum seminitm.
See Botany.
Colours extracted from Fruits. See the article Lo-
IXj UR- Making.
Bread-Fruit. See Artocarpus, Botany Index.
Fruits, with regard to commerce, are distinguished
into recent, fresh, and dry.
Recent Fruits are those sold just as they are gather¬
ed from the tree, without any farther preparation ; as
are most of the productions ol our gardens and orchards,
sold by the fruiterers.
Dry Fruits are those dried in the sun, or by the
fire with other ingredients sometimes added to them
to make them keep; imported chiefly from beyond sea,
and sold by the grocers. Such are raisins, currants, figs,
capers, olives, cloves, nutmegs, pepper, and other spi¬
ces -, which see under their respective articles.
Under the denomination of dry fruits are also fre¬
quently included apples, pears, almonds, filberds, &c.
J FruiT-FUcs, a name given by gardeners and others
to a sort of small black flies found in vast numbers
among fruit trees, in the spring season, and supposed to
do great injury to them. Mr Leeuwenhoeck preserved
2.
F mit.
—^
] F R U
some of these flies for his microscosical observations.
He found that they did not live longer than a day or
two, but that the females during this time laid a great
number of longish eggs. The gardeners, who suppose
that these flies wound the leaves of the trees, are mis¬
taken : it is true that they feed on their juices j but
they have no instruments wherewith they can extract
these for themselves : they feed on such as are naturally
extravasated and when there is not a sufficient quanti¬
ty of these for their purpose, they haunt the places to
which the pucerons resort, and feed on the juices which
these little creatures extravasate by means of the holes
they bore in the leaves with their trunks.
Fruit-Stones. The mischiefs arising from the custom
which many people have of swallowing the stones of
plums and other fruit are very great. The Philosophi¬
cal Transactions give an account ot a woman who sui-
fered violent pains in her bowels for 30 years, return¬
ing once in a month or less. At length a strong
puro-e being given her, the occasion of all these com¬
plaints was driven down from the bowels to the anus j
where it gave a sensation of distension and stoppage,
producing a continual desire of going to stool, but
without voiding any thing. On the assistance ot a
careful hand in this case, there was taken out wit 1 a
forceps a ball of an oval figure, of about ten drachms
in weight, and measuring five inches in circumference.
This had caused all the violent fits of pain which she
had suffered for so many years and, after voiding it,
vshe became perfectly well The ball extracted looked
like a stone, and felt very hard, but it swam in water.
On cutting it through with a knife, there was toum
in the centre of it a plum stone 5 round which several
coats of this hard and tough matter had gathered.
Another instance given in the same papers is ol a man,
who, dying of an incurable colic, which had tormented
him many years, and baffled the effects of medicines,
was opened after death -, and in his bowels was found
a ball similar to that above mentioned 5 but somewhat
larger being six inches in circumferance, and weighing
an ounce and a half. In the centre of this, as of the
other, there was found the stone el a common plum,
and the coats were of the same nature with those ol the
^These and several other instances mentioned in the
same place, sufficiently show the folly of that common
opinion that the stones of fruits are wholesome. lor
though by nature the guts are so defended by their
proper mucus, that people very seldom suffer by things
of this kind j yet if we consider the various circumvo¬
lutions of the guts, their valves and cells, and at the
same time consider the hair of the skins of animals vve
feed on, the wool or down on herbs and fruit, and the
fibres, vessels, and nerves of plants, which are not a-
tered by the stomach j it will appear a wonder that
instances of this sort of mischief are. not much more
common. Cherry stones, swallowed in great quanti¬
ties, have occasioned the death of many people ; anh
there have been instances even of the seeds ot straw¬
berries collecting into a lump in the guts, and causing
violent disorders, which could not be cured withou
great difficulty. . ,
Fruit Trees. With regard to these it may he 0
served, 1. That the cutting and pruning them when
young hurt their bearing, though it contributes 0
kit!
to
the
F R U [ 251 ] F U C
-ry (he richness and flavour of the fruit, as well as to the
beauty of the tree. 2. That kernel fruit trees come
»>• later to bear than stone fruit tress : the time required
by the first, before they come to any fit age for bear¬
ing, being one with another five years; but when they
do begin, they bear in greater plenty than stone fruit.
3* Fiat s*;onie fruit* figs> and grapes, commonly bear
considerably in three or four years, and bear full crops
(he fifth and sixth year; and hold it for many years,
if well ordered. 4. That fruit trees in the same neigh-
bouroood will ripen a fortnight sooner in some grounds
than in others of a different temperature. 5. That in
the same country, hot or cold summers set considerably
forwards, or put backwards, the same fruit. 6. That
the fruit on wall trees generally ripen before those
on standards, and those on standards before those on
dwarfs. 7, That the fruit of all wall trees planted in
the south and east quarters commonly ripen about the
same time, only those in the south rather earlier than
those in the east; those in the west are later by eight
or ten days; and those in the north by 15 or 20.
For the planting, pruning, grafting, &c. of fruit trees,
see Gardening.
tRUriERY, a place for the keeping of fruit, a
fruit house, or fruit loft.
A fruitery should be inacessible to any thing of
moisture ; and should be as much as possible so, even
to frost.
1RUMENTACLOUS, a term applied by botanists
to all sue!) plants as have a conformity with wheat, in
respect of their fruits, leaves, ears, or the like.
FRUMENTARII, a kind of soldiers or archers
under the western empire.
The first time we read of these officers is in the reign
of the emperor Adrian, who made use of them to inform
himself of whatever passed. They did not make any
particular corps distinct from the rest of the forces, but
there was a certain number of them in each legion. It
is supposed, that they were at first a number of young
persons, disposed by Augustus throughout the pro^
vinces, particularly on all the great roads, to acquaint
the emperor, with all expedition, of every thing that
happened.
Afterwards they were incorporated into the troops
themselves, where they still retained their ancient name.
As tneir principal office w'as the giving intelligence,
they were often joined with the curiosi, with whom
they agreed in that part of their office.
Their name offrumentarii is derived from their be¬
ing also a sort of purveyors to the armies, cities, &c.
collecting all the corn from the several provinces to
furnish the commonwealth.
FRUMENTA riON, in Roman antiquity, a lar¬
gess of corn bestowed on the people. This practice of
giving corn to the people was very ancient among the
Romans, and frequently used to soothe the turbulent
humour of the populace. At first the number of those
to whom this largess was given was indeterminate, till
Augustus fixed it at 200,000.
FRUSH, or Running Thrush. See Farriery
Index.
FRUSTUM, in Mathematics, a part of some solid
body separated from the rest.
The frustum of a cone is the part that remains,
when the top is cut off by a plane paralled to the base ;
and is otherwise called a truncated cone. See Cu"ic
Sections.
Ihe frustum of a pyramid is also what remains after Fudmis.
the top is cut off by a plane parallel to its base.
The frustum of a globe or sphere is any part there¬
of cut off by a plane, the solid contents of which may
he found by this rule : To three times the square of
the semidiameter of the base add the square of its
height; then multiply that sum by the height, and
this product multiplied by .5236 gives the solidity of
the frustum.
FRUTEX, a Shrub. Shrubs, according to Lin¬
naeus, make a branch of the seventh family in the ve¬
getable kingdom ; and are distinguished from trees, in
that they come up without buds. But this distinction
is not universal, though it be generally just with regard
to those of Europe. Nature hath made no absolute di¬
stinction between trees and shrubs. Frutex, in its ge¬
neral acceptation, is a plant whose trunk is perenitfal,
gemmiparous, woody, dividing and subdividing into a
great number of branches. In short, it is the epitome
of a tree, exemplified in the rose bush.
IRT, in Zoology, signifies the spawn, or rather
young, of fish.
IR \ ING-pan, a dangerous shoal, which has receiv¬
ed this appellation from its figure. It is situated at the
entrance of Cape Fear river, in North Carolina, the
southern part of which is in long. 750 W. and 33° 22'
N. Lat. 24 miles south-east by south of the light house
on Bald Head.
. tRTTH, John, a martyr to the Protestant reli¬
gion in the reign of Henry VIII. He was the son of
an innkeeper at Seven Oaks in Kent; and educated
in King’s College, Cambridge, where lie took the
degree of bachelor of arts. Thence he removed to
Oxford, and was made a junior canon of Wolsey’s col¬
lege. He had not been long in that university before
he became acquainted with William Tyndale, a zealous
Lutheran, with whom he conversed frequently on the
abuses in religion. Fryth became a convert to Luthe¬
ranism, and publicly avowed his opinions. He was
apprehended, examined by the commissary, and con¬
fined to his college. At length having obtained his
liberty, in 1528 he went over to Germany, where he
continued about two years; and then returned to
England, more than ever determined in his religious
sentiments. Finding at that time but few associates,
he wandered about from place to place, till at last be
was taken up at Reading as a vagrant, and set in the
stocks, where he remained till he was near expiring for
want of sustenance. He was at length relieved by the
humanity of Leonard Cox, a schoolmaster; who finding
him a man of letters, procured his enlargement, and
administered to his necessities. Fryth now set out
for London, where with more zeal than prudence,
he began to make proselytes ; but was soon apprehend¬
ed by order of the chancellor Sir Thomas More, and
sent prisoner to the Tower. Refusing to recant his
opinions, he was condemned to the flames, and accord¬
ingly burnt in Smithfield, on the 4th of July 1533.
He left several works behind him, which were printed
in folio in 1573.
FUAGE, in old English writers, a tax of I2d, for
every fire, levied in the time of Edward III
FUCINUS lacus, in Ancient Geography, a lake of
1*2 Italy
F U C
[ 252 ]
F U E
Italy in the country of the Marsi. Now Lago di Cela-
no, from a cognomlnal citadel, lying on the south of
the Abruzzo Ultra, in the kingdom of Naples, near the
Apennines. This lake was under the protection ot a
god of the same denomination, whose temple stood on
its hanks. According to the testimony ot ancient au¬
thors, it was subject to extraordinary risings and de-
creasimrs. The actual circumference is 47 miles : the
breadth1 in the widest part is 10, in the narrowest 4-,
its depth 1 2 feet upon an average. But all these have
varied prodigiously. Two miles up the plain, behind
Avezzano, the fragments of boats, shells, and other
marks of its ancient extent, have been casually disco¬
vered : and, on the contrary, there are people who re¬
member when it did not flow nearer than within two
miles of Avezzano. An immense tract of excellent
lands is lost at every increase of jts level. All round
this noble piece of water rises a circle of grand moun¬
tains, some of them the highest in Italy, if we except
the Alps, and many of them covered with snow j and
at the foot of them are numerous villages, with rich
and well cultivated farms. The environs of the lake,
Mr Swinburne describes as all well enclosed, and the
side* of the hills as covered with fine woods j its waters
abound with fish of various kinds, and thither ^pair at
stated seasons innumerable flights of wild fowl. As
the swelling of the lake was attended with incredible
damage, the Marsi had often petitioned the senate to
drain it: Julius Csesar would have attempted it, had he
lived longer. His successors were averse to the pro¬
ject j till Claudius, who delighted in expensive difficult
enterprises, undertook it. During the space of 11
years he employed 30,000 men in digging a passage
through the mountain ; and when every thing was
ready for letting off the water, exhibited a superb na¬
val spectacle on the lake. A great number oj con¬
demned criminals were obliged to act the parts ol Ivho-
dians and Sicilians in separate fleets, to engage in ear¬
nest, and to destroy one another for the entertainment
of the court and the multitude of spectators that co¬
vered the hills : A line of well armed vessels and rafts
loaded with soldiers surrounded the scene of action, in
order to prevent any of the wretches fro in escaping •,
but it was with great difficulty and many threats that
they could he brought to an engagement. _ When
this savage diversion was ended, the operations for
opening the passage commenced, and the emperor
was very near being swept away and drowned by the
sudden rushing of the waters towards it. However,
either through the ignorance or negligence of the
engineers, the work did not answer as was expected,
and Claudius did not live long enough to have the faults
amended: Nero abandoned the scheme through envy.
Hadrian is said to have let off the water of the Fuci-
nus j but none now escapes except through hidden chan¬
nels formed by nature, which are probably subject to
be obstructed, and thus occasion a superabundance of
water in the lake, till some unknown cause removes the
obstructions and again gives free passage.
Sir William Hamilton, who visited the Fucinus m
17851 sayS> “ it is the most beautiful lake he ever saw,
and would be complete if the neighbouring mountains
were better wooded.” It furnishes abundance of fish,
though not of the best quality. There are a few large
trout, but mostly tench, barbel, and dace. In the
shallow water on the borders of the lake, he saw thou¬
sands of water snakes pursuing and preying upon a
little kind offish like our thornbacks, but much bet-'
ter armed ; though their defensive weapons seemed to
avail them but little against such ravenous foes. The
opening made by Claudius he describes as still entire,
though in many parts filled with earth and rubbish. He
went into it with torches as far as he could. It is a
covered underground canal three miles long, and part of
it cut through a hard rock, and other paits supported
by mason work, with wells to give light. Hadrian 13
said to have let off the Avaters of the lake : and our
author is of opinion, that if the canal were cleared and
repaired it would still answer that purpose, and there¬
by restore a great deal of rich land fit for cultiva¬
tion.
FUCUS, a name given by the ancients to certain
dyes and paints. By this name they called a purple
sea plant used by them to dye woollen and linen things
of that colour. The dye was very beautiful, but not
lasting-, for it soon began to change, and in time
went wholly off. This is the account Theophrastus
gives of it. ..
The women of those times also used something called
fact/s, to stain their cheeks red ; and many have sup¬
posed, from the same word expressing both, that the
same substance was used on both occasions. But this,
on a strict inquiry, proves not to be the case. I he
Greeks called every thing fucus that would stain or
paint the flesh. But this peculiar substance used by
the women to paint their cheeks was distinguished from
the others by the name of rizion among the more cor¬
rect writers, and was indeed a root brought irom Syria
into Greece. The Latins, in imitation of the Greek
name, called this root radicula ; and Pliny very erro¬
neously confounds the plant with the radix lunaria, or
struihion of the Greeks.
The word fucus was in those times become such an
universal name for paint, that the Greeks and Romans
had a fucus metallicus, which was the ceruse used for
painting the neck and arms white: after which they
used the purpurissum, or red fucus of the rizium, to
give the colour to the cheeks. In after-times they also
used a peculiar fucus or paint for the purpose, prepa¬
red of the creta argentariay or silver-chalk, and some of
the rich purple dyes that were in use at that time: and
this seems to have been very little dillerent from our
rose-pink j a colour commonly sold at the colour shops,
and used on like occasions.
Fucus, in the Linngean system of botany, is a ge¬
nus of the order of algae, belonging to the cryptoga-
mia class of plants.
FUEGO, or Fogg, one of the Cape de Verd islands,
in the Atlantic ocean. It is much higher than any ot
the rest ; and seems at sea to be one single mountain,
though on the sides there are deep valleys. There is a
volcano at the top which burns continually, and may
be seen a great way off at sea. It vomits a great deal
of fire and smoke, and throws out huge pieces of rock
to a vast height and sometimes torrents of melted mat¬
ter run down the sides. The Portuguese, who first in¬
habited it, brought negro slaves with them, and a stock
of cows, horses, and hogs $ but the chief inhabitants
now are blacks of the IlomisU religion. W. Long.
24. 3P. Cat. 1 J. 0. juF.L,
FUG [2
.j. FUEL, whatever is proper to burn or make a fire ;
as wood, turf, peat, bituminous earths, coal, &c.
Fn FUEN-hoa, a city of China, in the province of Pe-
 ' tcheli, celebrated for its extent and the number of its
inhabitants, as well as for the beauty of its streets and
triumphal arches. It is situated near the great wall,
amidst mountains 5 and has under its jurisdiction, be¬
sides two cities of the second, and eight of the third
class, a great number of fortresses, which bar the en¬
trance of China against tiie Tartars.
FUGALIA, in Roman antiquity, a feast supposed
by some to be the same with the refugium, held on the
24th of February, in memory of the expulsion of the
kings and the abolishing ot monarchical government.
Others again distinguish the fugalia from the regifuge.
And others think that the fugalia was the same with
the poplfugia, or the feast of Fugia, the goddess of
joy, occasioned by the rout of an enemy, which was the
reason the people abandoned themselves to riot and de¬
bauchery.
FUGITIVE, a person obliged to fly bis country,
or remove from a place where he had some abode or
establishment, on account of his crimes, debts, or other
occasions.
Fugitive Piece.?, among the learned, denote those
little compositions which are printed on loose sheets or
half sheets; thus called, because easily lost and soon
forgotten.
FUGUE, in Music, (from the Latin fuga, “ a
chase”), a piece of music sometimes longer and some¬
times shorter, in which, agreeable to the rules of har¬
mony and modulation, the composer treats a subject;
or, in other words, what expresses the capital thought
or sentiment of the piece, in causing it to pass succes¬
sively and alternately from one part to another.
These are the principal rnles of the fugue ; of which
some are peculiar to itself, and others common to it
with what the French call imitation.
1. The subject proceeds from the tonic to the do¬
minant, or from the dominant to the tonic, in rising or
descending.
O
I 2. Every fugue finds its response in the part imme¬
diately following that which commenced,
j 31 Fhat response ought to resume the subject in the
interval of a fourth or fifth above or below the key,
I to pursue it as exactly as the laws of harmony will
admit; proceeding from the dominant to the tonic
when the subject is introduced from the tonic to the
dominant, and moving in a contrary direction when the
j subject is introduced from tbe dominant to the tonic.
One part may likewise resume the same subject in the
octave or unison of the preceding ; but in that case, it
1* a repetition rather than a real response.
4. As the octave is divided into two unequal parts,
of which the one contains four gradations descending
from the tonic to the dominant, and- the other only
three in continuing the ascent from the dominant to the
tonic; this renders it necessary to have some regard to
1 this change in the expression of the subject, and to
make some alterations in the response, that we may not
quit the cords that are essential to the mode. It is a
different case when the composer intends to alter the
mod ulation ; for there the exactness of the response it¬
self, when taken in a different tone, produces the al¬
teration proper for this change.
53 ] .fug
5. It is necessary that the fugue should be planned in
such a manner, that the response may commence before
the close of the first air, so that both the one and the
other may be in part heard at the same time : that by
this anticipation, the subject may be as it were con¬
nected with itself, and that the art of the composer may
discover itself in this concourse. It is absolute mockery,
instead of a fugue, to impose upon the hearers the same
air, merely transposed from one key to another, with¬
out any other restraint than an accompaniment after¬
wards formed at pleasure. This deserves at best no
better name than what the French call imitation. See
Imitation.
Beside.-> these 1 ules, which are fundamental, there are
others which, though prescribed by taste alone, are not
less essential. Fugues, in general, render music more
noisy than agreeable; it is for this reason that they are
more agreeable in the chorus than anywhere else. Now,
as then chief merit consists m fixing the ear on the
piincipal air or subject, which for this reason is made
to pass incessantly from part to part, and from mode
to mode, the composer ought to exert his care in pre¬
serving that air always distinct; or to prevent it from
being absorbed in, or confounded with, the other parts,
lo produce this effect, there are two different ways 3
one in the movement, which must be incessantly con-
trasted with itself; so that, if the procedure of the
fugue be accelerated, the other parts move gravely and
with protracted notes ; or, on the contrary, if the mo¬
tion of the fugue be slow and solemn, the accompani¬
ments must have more and quicker business. The other
method is to extend the harmony, by removing the
parts at a greater distance one from the other ; lest the
others, too nearly approximated to that which contains
the subject, should be confounded with it, and prevent
it from being distinguished with sufficient clearness ;
so that what would be an imperfection anywhere else,
becomes here a beauty j
The unity of melody should he preserved : this is
the great and general rule, which must frequently be
practised by different means. The cords must be
chosen, and tbe intervals, so that one particular sound
may produce the same effect ; this can only result from
the unity of the melody. It will sometimes be necessary
to employ voices and instruments of different kinds,
that the parts which ought to prevail may be most
easily distinguished ; this again shows the necessity of
preserving the unity of the melody. Another object of
attention, no less necessary, is, in the different connec¬
tions of modulation which are introduced by the pro¬
cedure and progress of the fugues, to cause all these
modulations to correspond at the same time in all the
parts, to connect the whole in its progress by an exact
conformity of modes : lest, if one part be in one mode,
and another in another, the general harmony should be
in none at all, and for that reason should no longer be
able to produce simple effects upon the ear, nor simple
ideas in the mind ; which is another reason for preser¬
ving unity of melody. In a word, in every fugue the
confusion of melodies and modulations is at once what
a composer has most to fear, and will find the greatest
difficulty in avoiding; and as this kind of music never
produces a pleasure above mediocrity, one may say that
a fine fugue is, though the masterpiece of an excellent
harmonist, ungrateful to his toil,
There
Fugue
If
Fuller.
* See
Canon.
F U L [ 254 ]  
There are still several other kinds of fugues; such as doctor of divinity,
the perpetual fugue*, the double fugue, the inverted
fugue. ’’ ...
The inverted fugue is a manner of composition, in
which the flying part proceeds in a contrary direction
to the other fugue, which had been formerly nxe.d in
the same piece of music. Thus, when the first fugitive
part is heard in ascending from the tonic to the domi¬
nant, or from the dominant to the tonic, the counter
fu^ue ought to be heard in descending from the domi¬
nant to the tonic, or from the tonic to the dominant,
and vice versa. Its other rules are exactly like those
of the common fugue.
FULCRUM, in Mechanics, the prop or support by
which a lever is sustained.
FULDA, a considerable town of Germany, in the
circle of the Upper Rhine, and in the Buchow, with a
celebrated abbey ; whose abbot was primate of the ab¬
beys of the empire, perpetual chancellor of the emperor,
and sovereign of this small territory, which is now chief¬
ly included in the dominions of Hesse Cassel. It is
seated on the river Fulda, 55 miles south of Cassel.
E. Long. 9. 33. N. Lat. 50. 32. .
FULGORA, a genus of insects belonging to the or¬
der of hemiptera. See Entomology Indew. _
FULHAM, a village of Middlesex, four miles from
London, with 5903 inhabitants in 1811. The Danes in
869 wintered at this place till they retired to the conti¬
nent. It was in the Conqueror’s time held of the king
by the canons of St Paul’s ; and there is an ancient
house here, which is moated about, and belongs to the
see of London, whose bishop has a palace here, and the
demesne has belonged to that diocese from 1067. From
this place to Putney there is a wooden bridge over the
Thames, where not only horses, coaches, and all car¬
riages, but even foot passengers, pay toll. The church
here is both a rectory and a vicarage.
FULICA, the Gallinule and Coot, a genus of
birds belonging to the order of grallte. See Ornitho¬
logy Index.
FULIGINOUS, whatever proceeds from a thick
sooty smoke, such as lamp black.
FULIGNO, a city of Italy, in the pope’s territories,
10 miles north of Spoletto.
FULIGO, in Natural History, a species of pumice-
stone. See Pumice.
FULLER, Dr Thomas, a learned English divine,
was born at Alvinckle, near Oundle, in Northampton¬
shire, about the year 1608, and studied at Cambridge.
He was chosen minister of St Rennet’s there *, and at
about 23 years of age, his merit procured him a fel¬
lowship in Sidney-college, and a prebend in Salisbury
cathedral. He was soon after presented to the rectory
of Broad Windsor in Dorsetshire 5 and afterwards was
made lecturer of the Savoy in London : but upon the
pressing of the covenant, he retired to Oxford', and
soon after accompanied Sir Ralph Hopton as his
chaplain in the army, which he attended in their
inarches from place to place. After the death of King
Charles I. he obtained the living of Waltham-abbey,
and was appointed lecturer of St Clement’s; and
shortly after removed to the lecture of St Bridge’s,
Fleet-street. Upon the restoration, he recovered his
prebend in the cathedral of Salisbury, was appointed
chaplain extraordinary to his majesty, and created
F U L
  j. It is said, his memory was so te. r ,,
nacious and comprehensive, that he could make use ot
a sermon verbatim il he once bean. it. He once un¬
dertook, in passing to and from Temple-bar to the
Poultry, to tell at his return every sign as it stood in
order on both sides of the way, repeating them either
backwards or forwards j and this task he actually per¬
formed. He wrote, I. A History of the Holy War.
2. The Church-History of Britain, in folio. 3. An-
dronicus, or the Unfortunate Politician, in 8vo. 4. A
Pisga-sight of Palestine. 5. A History of English
Worthies ; and other works. He died in August 1661 •,
and was interred in the chancel of Cranford church, in
Middlesex, whither his body was attended by at least
200 of his brethren o! the ministry.
Fuller, a workman employed in the woollen ma¬
nufactories to mill or scour cloths, serges, and other
stuffs, in order to render them more thick, compact,
and durable. See Fulling.
Fuller's Earth, in Natural History, a species of clay,
of a grayish ash-coloured brown, in all degrees from
very pale to almost black, and it has generally some¬
thing of a greenish cast. It is very hard and firm, of a
compact texture, of a tough and somewhat dusty surface
that adheres slightly to the tongue. It is very soil to
the touch, not staining the hands, nor breaking easily
between the fingers. It has a little harshness between
the teeth, and melts freely in the mouth. Thrown into
water, it makes no ebullition or hissing ; but swells
gradually in bulk, and falls into a fine soft powder. It
makes no effervescence with aquafortis.
The greatest quantity and the finest earth of this
kind in the world, is dug in the pits at Wavedon, near
Woburn in Bedfordshire. The strata in these pits lie
thus : From the surface to the depth of six feet, there
are several layers or beds of sand, all reddish, but some
lighter coloured than others. Under these there is a
thin stratum of a sand-stone, which they break through,
and then there is the fuller’s earth. The upper stra¬
tum of this is about a foot thick : the workmen call it
cledge, and throw it aside as useless ; being commonly
fouled with the sand which originally covered it, and
which insinuates itself a good way into it. After this,
they come to the fine fuller’s earth for sale, which lies
to the depth of eight feet more. The matter oi this
is divided into several layers, there being commonly
about a foot and a half between one horizontal fissure
and another. Of these several layers, the upper halt,
where the earth breaks itself, is tinged red which
seems to be owing to the running ot the wrater upon it
from among the sands above } some of which are pro¬
bably of a ferruginous nature, or have ferruginous
matter among them. This reddish fuller's earth the
workmen call crop; and between the cledge and this
there is a thin stratum of matter, of less than an inch,
which in taste, colour, and external appearance, re¬
sembles the terra Japonica of the shops. 'Ihe lower
half of the strata of fuller’s earth they call wall-earth.
This is untinged with the red colour of the other, and
seems the most proper for fulling. Under the fuller’s
earth there is a stratum of white and coarse stone about
two feet thick. They seldom dig through this but it
they do, they find more strata of sand.
This earth is of great use in scouring cloths, stulls,
&c. imbibing all the grease and oil used in preparing,
dressing,
1! -?j
' 9
i
F U L
r dressing, &c. of the wool; for which reason it is made
a contraband commodity, and is not to he exported
under the penalty of is. for every pound weight. See
Fulling.
Fuller's Weed, or Tea%le. See Dipsacus, Botany
Index.
FULLER!, a place where cloths, &c. are fulled.
See the next article.
BULLING, the art or act of cleansing, scouring,
and pressing cloths, stulfs, and stockings, to render
them stronger, closer, and firmer : called also milling.
Pliny (lib. vii. cap. 56.) assures, that one Nicias, the
son of Hermias, was the first inventor of the art of
fullintr: and it appears by an inscription, quoted by Sir
G. Wheeler, in his Travels through Greece, that this
same Nicias was a governor in Greece in the time of
the Romans.
Fulling of woollen cloths, depends, like felting, so
entirely upon the structure of wool and hair, that those
who have read our account of that process, will not
find it diilicult to comprehend the following observa¬
tions.
The asperities with which the surface of wool is
everywhere surrounded, and the disposition which it has
to assume a progressive motion towards the Toot, render
the spinning of wool, and making it into cloth, difficult
operations. In order to spin wool, and afterwards con¬
vert it into cloth, its fibres must be covered with a
coating of oil, which, filling the cavities, renders the
asperities less sensible ; in the same way as oil renders
the surface of a very fine file less rough, when rubbed
over it. When the piece of cloth is finished, it must
be cleansed from this oil j which would cause it to soil
whatever it came in contact with, besides giving it a
disagreeable smell, and prevent its taking the colour
which is intended to be given to it by the dyer. To
deprive it of the oil, it is carried to the fulling-mill,
where it is beat with hammers in a trough full of water,
in which some clay has been mixed 5 the clay combines
with the oil, which it separates from the cloth, and both
together are washed away by the fresh water which is
brought to it by the machine ; thus, after a certain
time, the oil is entirely washed out of the cloth.
But the scouring of the cloth is not the only object
m fulling it ; the alternate pressure given by the mal¬
lets to the piece of cloth, occasions, especially when the
scouring is pretty far advanced, an effect analogous to
that which is produced upon hats by the hatids°of the
hatter; the fibres of wool which compose one of the
threads, whether of the warp or the woof, assume a
progressive movement, introduce themselves among
those of the threads nearest to them, then into those
which follow; and thus, by degrees, all the threads,
both of the warp and the woof, become felted together.
The cloth, after having, by the above means, become
shortened in all its dimensions, partakes both of the na¬
ture of cloth and of that of felt ; it may be cut with¬
out being subject to ravel, and, on that account, we
aie no,: obliged to hem the edges of the pieces of which
f are uiade. Lastly, as the threads of the warp
•md those of the woof are no longer so distinct and sepa-
iated from each other, the cloth, which has acquired a
gieater degree of thickness, forms a warmer clothing.
nit worsted also is, by fulling, rendered less apt to
run, in case a stitch should happen to drop in it.
1 255 ] F U L
The fulling of cloths and other stuffs is performed hy Mina.
^ kind of water-null, thence called a fulling or scml   c—
miu.
These mills, excepting in what relates to the mill
stones and hopper, are much the same with corn-mills "
and there are even some which serve indifferently for
either use : corn being ground, and cloths fulled, by the
motion ot the same wheel. Whence, in some places
particularly in France, the fullers are called millers •
as grinding corn and milling stuffs at the same time.
The principal parts of the fulling-mill are, The
wheel, with its trundle ; which gives motion to the tree
or spindle, whose teeth communicate it to the pestles
or stampers, which are hereby raised and made to fall
alternately, according as its teeth catch on or quit a
kind of latch in the middle of each pestle. The pestles
and troughs are of wood ; each trough having at least
two, sometimes three pestles, at the discretion of the
master, or according to the force of the stream of wa¬
ter. In those troughs are laid the cloths, stud's, &c.
intended to be fulled : then, letting the current of
water fall on the wheel, the pestles are successively let
fall thereon, and by their weight and velocity stamp
and press the stuffs very strongly, which hy this means
become thickened and condensed. In the course of
the operation, they sometimes make use of urine,
sometimes ot fuller’s earth, and sometimes of soap.
To prepare the stuffs to receive the first impressions of
the pestle, they are usually laid in urine ; then in ful¬
ler’s earth and water; and, lastly, in soap dissolved in
hot water. Soap alone would do very well ; but this
is expensive: though fuller’s earth, in the way of our
dressing, is scarce inferior thereto; but then it must be
well cleared of all stones and grittinesses, which are apt
to make holes in the stuff. As to urine, it is certainly
prejudicial, and ought to be entirely discarded ; not
so much on account of its ill smell, as of its sharpness
and saltness, which qualities are apt to render the stuffs
dry and harsh.
The true method of fulling with soap is delivered by
Alons. Colinet, in an authentic memoir on that subject,
supported by experiments made by order of the mar¬
quis de Louvois, then superintendant of the arts and
manufactories of France ; the substance of which we
shall here subjoin.
Method of Fulling Cloths and Woollen Stuffs with
Soap A coloured cloth, of about 45 ells, is to be laid
in the usual manner in the trough of a fulling-mill;
without first soaking it in water, as is commonly prac¬
tised in many places. To full this trough of cloth, 15
pounds of soap are required ; one-half of which is to
he melted in two pails of river or spring water, made
as hot as the hand can well bear it. This solution is to
he poured by little and little upon the cloth, in pro¬
portion as it is laid in the trough : and thus it is to be
fulled for at least two hours ; after which it is to he
taken out and stretched. This done, the cloth is im¬
mediately returned into the same trough, without any
new soap, and there fulled two hours more. Then
taking it out, they wring it well, to express all the
grease and filth. After the second fulling, the remain¬
der of the soap is dissolved as in the former, and cast
four different times on the cloth ; remembering to take
out the cloth every two hours, to stretch it, and undo
the plaits and wrinkles it has acquired in the trough.
When i
FUN [256
When they perceive it sufficiently fulled, and brought
H ’ to the quality and thickness required, they scour it for
Funambu- good in hot water, keeping it in the tiougi ti ^ ®
iu?- quite clean. As to white cloths 5 in regard these lull
  v * more easy and in less time than coloured ones, a tlmd
part of the soap may be spared. r
Fulling of Stockings, Caps, &c. should be perform¬
ed somewhat differently 5 viz. either with the teet or
the hands ; or a kind of rack, or wooden machine, ei¬
ther armed with teeth of the same matter, or else horses
or bullocks teeth. The ingredients made use of herein
are, urine, green soap, white soap, and fuller s earth.
But the urine also is reckoned prejudicial here. Wo¬
ven stockings, &c. should be fulled with soap alone :
for those that are knit, earth may be used with the
soap. Indeed it is frequent to full these kinds of works
with the mill, after the usual manner oi cloth, &c. out
that is too coarse and violent a manner, and apt to da¬
mage the work unless it be very strong.
FULMAR, in Ornithology. See Procellaria,
Ornithology Index.
Fulmar, or Foumart. See Mustela, Mammalia
Index.
FULMINATING, something that thunders or re¬
sembles thunder. ^
Fulminating Gold, Silver, Copper, Quicksilver,
&c. See Chemistry Index.
FULMINATION, in Chemistry, the same with de¬
tonation.
Fulmination, in the Romish canon law, a sentence
of a bishop, official, or other ecclesiastic appointed by
the pope, by which it is decreed that some bull sent
from the pope shall be executed.
FUMARIA, Fumitory, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the diadelphia class, and in the natural method
ranking under the 24th order, Corydales. See Botany
Index.
FUMIGATION, in Chemistry, a kind of calcina¬
tion, when metals or other hard bodies are corroded
or softened by receiving certain fumes lor that pur-
pose.
Fumigation, in Medicine. By the subtile fumes
that are inspired as well as inhaled into our bodies,
much benefit or prejudice is produced, according to the
nature of the matter, and the constitution into which
it is received •, as is evident from the palsies produced
among workers in lead-mines, &c. and the benelils re¬
ceived in many cases when the air is impregnated with
salutary mate) ials. Catarrhs and catarrhous coughs are
relieved by fumes received with the breath j and, by
the same method, expectoration is assisted in humoural
asthmas •, and even ulcers in the lungs are said to have
been healed by this method. The advantage of mer¬
curial fumigations in the cure of venereal ulcers is
known to every practitioner.
FUMITORY. See Fumaria, Botany Index.
FUNAMBULUS, among the Romans, was what we
call a rope-dancer, and the Greeks schccnobates. See
Hope-Dancer.
There was a funambulus, it seems, who perform¬
ed at the time when the Hecyra of Terence was
acted ; and the poet complains, that the spectacle
prevented the people from attending to his comedy.
Ita populus studio stupidus in funambulo, animum oc-
cuparat.
3 FUN
At Rome, the funambuli first appeared under the
consulate of Sulpicius Poeticus and Licmius Stole, la,
who were the first introducers of the scenic repre¬
sentations. It is added, that they were first exhibited
in the island of the Tyber, and that the censors
Messala and Cassius afterwards promoted them to the
tli catre#
In the Floralia, or ludi Florales, held under Galba,
there were funambulatory elephants, as we are inform¬
ed by Suetonius. Nero also showed the like, in honour
of his mother Agrippina. Vopiscus relates the same of
the time of Carious and Numerianus.
FUNCHAL, the capital of Madeira, situated round
a bay, on a gentle ascent, and containing about 15,0:0
inhabitants. It is watered by several streams from the
mountains 5 and is defended by a castle on a steep rock,
which is surrounded by the sea at high water. I he
houses are built of brick or free-stone ; but the streets
are narrow, dark, and dirty. W. Long. 16. 49. N.
^fJnCTION, the act of fulfilling the duties of any
employment.
Function, being also applied to the actions ot the
body, is by physicians divided into vital, animal, and
natural. The vital functions are those necessary to life,
and without which the individual cannot subsist ; as
the motion of the heart, lungs, &c. The natural func¬
tions are such as it cannot subsist any consideiabie
time without *, as the digestian of the aliment, and its
conversion into blood. Under animal functions are
included the senses of touching, tasting, &c. memory,
judgment, and voluntary motion •, without any or all
of which an animal may live, but not very comfort-
ably. • r si
The animal functions perform the motion ot ti:e
body by the action of the muscles ; and this action
consists chiefly in the shortening the fleshy fibres,
which is called contraction, the principal agents ot
which are the arteries and nerves distributed in the
fleshy fibres.
All parts of the body have their own functions, or
actions, peculiar to themselves. Life consists in the
exercise of these functions, and health in the jree ana
ready exercise of them. _ ...
Function, a terra used in analytics for an algebraical
expression any how compounded ol a certain letter or
quantity with other quantities or numbers •, and the ex¬
pression is said to be a function of that letter <Rquau-
tity. Thus a—4^, or ox+3 .r2, or J.X—a.isjaZ—x''
or xc, or c% is each of them a function of the quan¬
tity x.
FUND, in general, signifies any sum of money ap¬
propriated for a particular purpose. Thus, that part
of the national revenue which is set apart for the pay¬
ment of the national debt, is called the sinking fund.
But, when we speak of the funds, we generally mean
the largo sums which have been lent to government,
and constitute the national debt 5 and for which the
lenders, or their assignees, receive interest from reve¬
nues allotted for that purpose. The term stock is used
in the same sense, and is also applied to the sums wind
form the capital of the bank of England, the East In¬
dia and South Sea companies j the proprietors of which
are entitled to a share of the profits ot the respective
companies. ^
3
FUN
The practice of funding was introduced by the Ve-
-»iietians and Genoese in the 16th century, and has been
adopted since by most of the nations in Europe. Prin¬
ces had often borrowed money, in former times, to
supply their exigencies, and sometimes mortgaged their
territories in security : but these loans were generally
extorted, and their payment was always precarious $
for it depended on the good faith and success of the
borrower, and never became a regular burden on po¬
sterity. The origin of funds is derived from the pecu¬
liar manners and circumstances of modern Europe.
Since the invention of gunpowder, and the progress
of commerce, the military occupation has become a
distinct employment in the hands of mercenaries} the
apparatus of war is attended with more expence } and
the decision of national quarrels has often been deter¬
mined by command of money rather than by national
bravery. Ambitious princes have therefore borrowed
money, in order to carry on their projects with more
vigour. Weaker states have been compelled, in self-
defence, to apply to the same resource} the wealth in¬
troduced by commerce has afforded the means} the
regularity of administration, established in consequence
of the progress of civility, has increased the confidence
of individuals in the public security} the complicated
system of modern policy has extended the scenes of war,
and prolonged their duration} and the colonies esta¬
blished by mercantile nations have rendered them vul¬
nerable in more points, and increased the expence of
defending them.
When a greater sum has been required for the an¬
nual expence than could easily be supplied by annual
taxes, the government have proposed terms to their
own subjects, or foreigners, for obtaining an advance
of money by mortgaging the revenue of future years
for their indemnification. This mortgage may either
be for a limited period, or perpetual. If the sum allot¬
ted annually for the benefit of those who advance the
money, be considerably greater than the interests of
the sums advanced, they may agree to accept of such
allowance, for a limited time, as a full equivalent.
Ihus, they may either agree for the casual produce
of the revenue assigned} or a fixed annuity for a great¬
er or less number of years ; or a life annuity to them¬
selves or nominees ; or an annuity for two or more lives •
or an annuity, with the benefit of survivorship, called a
tontine, in which scheme, the whole sum to which the
original annuitants were entitled continues to be distri¬
buted among the survivors.
Ihe establishment of the funds was introduced in
Britain at the Revolution } and has since been gradually
enlarged, and carried to an amazing extent. The va¬
rious methods above mentioned have been used in their
turns, but perpetual annuities have been granted for
the greatest part; and, even when the money was ori¬
ginally advanced on other conditions, the lenders have
been sometimes induced, by subsequent oflers, to accept
fd perpetual annuities, instead of the former terms.
Ine debt for which perpetual annuities are granted, is
called the redeemable debt, and the other is called the
uredeemable debt. Although the debts thus contracted
y government are seldom paid for a long term of
fears} yet any creditor of the public may obtain
nioney for what is due him when he pleases, bv trans-
arring his property in the funds to another} and
Vol. IX. Part I. • f
[ 257 ]
fun
regular method, are appointed for transacting these
transfers in an easy manner. By means of this, the
stocks become a kind of circulating capital} and have
the same effect, m some respects, as the circulating
money in the nation. When a stockholder transfers
his share, he may sometimes be able to obtain a greater
price than the original value, and at other times be ob¬
liged to accept of a less one. The value of the funds
depends on the proportion between the interest thev
hear, and the benefit which may be obtained by ap¬
plying the money to other purposes. It is influenced
by the plenty or scarcity of money, and by the quan¬
tity of the public debt} and it is impaired by any event
which threatens the safety, or weakens the credit, of
the government.
. The business of stock-jobbing is founded on the va¬
riation of the prices of stock. Persons possessed of real
property may buy or sell stock, according to their no¬
tion that the value is likely to rise or fall, in expecta¬
tion of making profit by the difference of price. And
a practice has taken place among persons who often
possess no property in the funds, to contract for the
sale of stock, against a future day, at a price now a-
greed on. For instance : A agrees to sell B 1000I. of
bank stock, to be transferred, in 20 days, for 1200I.
A has, in fact, no such stock ; but, if the price of
bank stock, on the day appointed for the transfer,
should be only 118 per cent. A may purchase as much
as will enable him to fulfil his bargain for 1180I. and
thus gains 20!. by the transaction } on the contrary,
if the price of bank stock be 125 per cent, he will lose
50!. The business is generally settled without anv
actual purchase or transfer of stock, by A paying to B
or receiving from him, the diflerence between the cur¬
rent price of the stock on the day appointed and the
price bargained for.
1 liis practice, which is really nothing else than a
wager concerning the price of stock, is contrary to
law; yet it is carried on to a great extent. In'the
language of Exchange Alley, where matters of this
kind are transacted, the buyer is called a bull, and the
seller a. bear. As neither party can be compelled by
law to implement these bargains, their sense of honour,
and the disgrace and loss of future credit, which at¬
tend a breach of contract, are the principles by which
the business is supported. When a person declines to
pay his loss, he is called a lame duck, and dare never
afterwards appear in the Alley. This opprobrious
appellation, however, is not bestowed on those whose
failure is owing to want of ability, providing thev
make the same surrender of their property voluntarily,
which the law would have exacted if the debt had been
entitled to its sanction.
The interest or dividend on the stock is paid half-
yearly ; and the purchaser has the benefit of the inte
rest due on the stock he buys, from the last term to the
time of purchase. Iherefore the prices of the stocks
rise gradually, cceteris paribus, from term to term, and
fall at the term when the interest is paid. In compar¬
ing the prices of the different stocks, it is necessary to
advert to the term when the last interest was paid :
and, allowance being made for this circumstance, the
prices of all the government stocks, which bear inte¬
rest at the same rate, must be nearly the same, as they
all depend on the same security.
K k
Whei.
FUN
[ 258 ]
FUN
When a loan Is proposed, such terms must be offer¬
ed to the lenders, as may render the transaction bene¬
ficial : and this is now regulated by the prices ot the
old stocks. If the stocks, which bear interest at 4 per
cent, sell at par, or rather above, the government may
expect to borrow money at that rate ; but, 1 iese
stocks are under par, the government must either grant
a higher interest, or some other advantage to the lend¬
ers, °in compensation for the difference. For this pur¬
pose, besides the perpetual annuity, another annuity
has sometimes been granted for life, or for a term 0
years. Lotteries have frequently been employed to
facilitate the loan, by entitling the subscribers to a cer¬
tain number of tickets, for which no higher price is
charged than the exact value distributed in prizes,
though their market price is generally 2l. or 3I. higher.
Sometimes an abatement of a certain proportion of the
capital has been granted, and a lender entitled to hold
jool. stock, though in reality he advanced no more
perhaps than 95k „ , , ,
It belongs to the chancellor of the exchequer to
propose the terms of the loan in parliament : and he
generally makes a previous agreement with some weal¬
thy merchants, who are willing to advance the money
on the terms proposed. The subscribers to the loan
deposit a certain part of the sum subscribed 5 and aie
bound to pay the rest by instalments, or stated propor¬
tions, on appointed days, under pain of forfeiting what
they have deposited. For this they are entitled, per¬
haps, not only to hold their share in the capital, but to
an annuity for xo years, and to the right of receiving
a certain number of lottery tickets on advantageous
terms. They may sell their capital to one person, their
annuity to a second, and their right to the tickets to a
third. The value of all these interests together is called
omnium; and, in order to obtain a ready subscription, it
opobt to amount to 102I. or upwards, on look ot capital.
This difference is called the bonus to the^subscribers.
The capital advanced to the public, in the form of
transferable stocks, and bearing interest from taxes ap¬
propriated for that purpose, is called \he funded debt.
Besides, there is generally a considerable sum due by
covernment, which is not disposed of in that manner,
and therefore is distinguished by the appellation of the
unfunded debt. This may rise from any sort ot national
expence, for which no provision has been made, or for
which provision has proved insufficient. The chief
branches are, #
1st, Exchequer Hills. These are issued from the ex¬
chequer, generally by appointment of parliament, and
sometimes without such appointment, when exigencies
require. They bear interest from the time when issued,
and are taken in by the Bank of England, which pro¬
motes their circulation.
2d, Navy Bills. The sums annually granted for the
navy’have always fallen short of what that service re¬
quired. To supply that deficiency, the admiralty is¬
sues bills in payment of victuals, stores, and the like,
which bear interest six months after the time issued.
The debt of the navy thus contracted is discharged,
from time to time by parliament.
In time of war, the public expences, since the Revo¬
lution, have always been much greater than the annual
revenue j and large sums have consequently been bor¬
rowed. In time of peace, the revenue exceeds the
2
expence, and part of the public debt has frequently
been paid off. But, though there have been more years '
of peace than of war since the funds were established,
the debts contracted during each war have much ex¬
ceeded the payments during the subsequent peace.
This will appear by the following abstract of the pro¬
gress of the national debt.
Debt at peace of Ryswick, 1697 L. 21,515,472
Debt at the beginning of war 1701 16,394,701
Discharged during peace 1697 to 1701 5,121,071
Debt at peace of Utrecht I7I4> delud¬
ing value of annuities afterwards sub¬
scribed to South Sea stock
Contracted in war 1701 to 1714
Debt at beginning of war 174°’ delud¬
ing x,000,000l. charged on civil list
Discharged during peace 1714 to 1739
Debt at peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, 174^
Contracted during war 1740 to 1748
Debt at beginning of war 1756
Paid off during peace 1748 to 1756
Debt funded at the peace 1763, includ-
ing 9,839,597!. then owing, which
was funded in the subsequent years
Besides this, there was about 6,ooo,oool.
of debt paid off, without ever being
funded.
Funded debt, 1775
Paid off during peace 1763 to I775> be¬
sides unfunded debt above mentioned
Funded at the peace 1783
The following is a state of the national debt at a later
period.
Amount of funded debt on 5th January
55,282,978
38,888,277
47.954,623
7,328,355
79,I93,3I3
31,238,690
73,289,673
5,903>640
I33.957»27°
125,000,000
8,959»27°
2ii,363,254
1805
Stock created by loan of 1805
Transferred for the redemption of the
land tax
L. 603,925,792
38,700,000
L. 642,625,792
22,000,000
Redeemed by the commissioners for ma-
naging the sinking fund
L. 620,925,792
113,500,000
Leaving as the amount of the national
debt on the 31st January 1806 L. 507,125,792
The total amount of the public funded debt of the
united kingdom, on the 5th January 1819, according
to the finance book, was 900,212,1321. and the annual
interest at the same period was 30,947,1501. Uf Uui
debt 8,398,155!. consists of loans to Germany andior-
tugal. The above, however, is the nominal amount 0.
the public debt5 but its real amount, or the sum neces¬
sary to extinguish it, supposing the average interes
received to be 5 per cent, would be about 619,000,000 •
The original provision ot the sinking fund, of a mi
lion per annum, with the additions that have sin®®
been made to it and the dividends on stock, bougi
up by the commissioners for managing that fund, amoun
at this time (1820) to fifteen millions per annum,
was calculated that the future rate of accumu ation
of the sinking fund, continuing the*same as bither^.
FUN
Fill
namely, at 5 per cent, the whole amount of the nation,
al debt would be extinguished in 45 years. But the
Fumfe en-abolition 0f the income tax in 1816, and the great di.
. stress felt by the agricultural, commercial, and manu¬
facturing classes, has put an end to these expectations.
Since the close of the war, the real sinking fund, or the
excess of the revenue over the expenditure, has not ex¬
ceeded two millions per annum. The fruitless attempt
to enlarge this fund, by imposing 3,000,000!. of new
taxes in 1819, has only shewn, that taxation in the pre¬
sent state of the country has nearly reached its limit.
See the nature and operation of the system fully ex¬
plained in the article Funding System, in the Sup¬
plement.
FUNDAMENT, in Anatomy, the lowest part of the
intestinum rectum, called by anatomists the anus. See
Anatomy.
FUNDAMENTAL, in general, something that
serves as a base or foundation for another.
Fundamental, in Music. A fundamental sound is
that which forms the lowest note of the Chord, and
from whence Ure deduced the harmonical relations of
See : • the rest j or, which serves for a key to the tone f. The
fundamental bass is that which serves for a foundation
to the harmony. A fundamental chord is that whose
base is fundamental, and in which the sounds are ran¬
ged in the same order as when they are generated, ac¬
cording to the experiment so often repeated by M.
d’Alembert in his Preliminary Discourse and Elements
Sec ip- Music J. But as this order removes the parts to an
x. extreme distance one from the other, they must be ap¬
proximated by combinations or inversions ; but if the
bass remains the same, the chord does not for this rea¬
son cease, to bear the name fundamental. Such an
example is this chord, ut mi sol, included in the inter¬
val of a fifth : whereas, in the order of its generation,
ut sol mi, it includes a tenth, and even a seventeenth ;
since the fundamental ut is not the fifth of so/, but the
octave of that fifth.
t Fundamental Bass. This part in music is, accord¬
ing to Rousseau, and indeed according to all authors who
have proceeded upon M. Rameau’s experiment, in its
primary idea, that bass which is formed by the funda¬
mental notes of every perfect chord that constitutes the
[ 259 ]
fun
harmony of the piece ; so that under each chord it
causes to be heard, or understood, the fundamental
sound of that particular chord j that is to say, the
sound from whence it is derived by the rules of harmo¬
ny. From whence we may see, that the fundamental
bass can have no other contexture than that of a regu¬
lar and fundamental succession, without which the pro¬
cedure of the upper parts would be illegitimate.
To understand this well, it is necessary to be known,
that, according to the system of Rameau, which Rous¬
seau has followed in his Dictionary, every chord, though
composed of several sounds, can only have one which is
its fundamental, viz. that which produces this chord,
and which is its bass according to the direct and natu-
; ra order. Now, the bass which prevails under all the
other parts does not always express the fundamental
sounds 0 the chords; for amongst all the sounds which
orm a chord, the* composer is at liberty to transfer to
the bass that which he thinks preferable; regard being
had to the procedure of that bass, to the beauty of the
wards5h«andia^°V! allt0 ,tl’e exPressIon> as may after-
be explained. la this case the real fundamental
sound, instead of retaining its natural station, which is r ,
in the bass, will either be transferred to some of the tar"’
other parts, or perhaps even entirely suppressed, and v—^
sucli a chord is called an inverted chord.
?n reality, says Rameau, a chord inverted does not
ditrer from the chord in its direct and natural order from
which it was produced : but as these sounds form differ¬
ent combinations, these combinations have long been
taken for fundamental chords ; different names have
been given them, (which may be seen at the word Ac¬
cord, in Rousseau’s Dictionary). These names, by the
persons who bestowed them, were thought to create and
sanctify their distinctions ; as if a diffej-ence in names
could really produce a difference in the species.
M. Rameau in his 1 realise of Harmony has shown,
and M. d’Alembert in his Elements of Music has still
more clearly evinced, that many of these pretendedly
different chords were no more than inversions of one
single chord. Thus the chord of the sixth is no more
than the perfect chord of the third transferred to the
bass ; by adding a fifth, we shall have the chord of the
sixth and fourth. Plere there are three combinations
of a chord, which only consists of three sounds; those
which contain four sounds are susceptible of four com¬
binations, since each of these sounds maybe transferred
to the bass. But in adding beneath this another bass
which, under all the combinations of one and the same
chord, always presents the fundamental sound ; it is evi¬
dent, that consonant chords are reduced to the number
three, and the number of dissonant chords to four. Add
to this all the chords by supposition, which may likewise
be reduced to the same fundamentals, and you will find
harmony brought to a degree of simplicity in which no
person could ever hope to see it whilst its rules remain¬
ed in that state of confusion where M. Rameau found
them. It is certainly, as that author observes, an asto¬
nishing occurrence, that the practice of this art could
he carried so far as it really was, without knowing its
foundation ; and that all the rules were so exactly
found, without having discovered the principle on which
they depended.
After having shown what is the fundamental bass be¬
neath the chords, let us now speak of its procedure, and
of the manner in which it connects these chords among
themselves. Upon this point the precept of the art
may be reduced to the six following rules.
1. The fundamental bass ought never to sound any
other notes than those of the series or tone in which
the composer finds himself, or at least those of the se¬
ries or tone to which he chooses to make a transition.
This of all the rules for the fundamental bass is the first
and most indispensable.
2. By the second, its procedure ought to be so impli¬
citly subjected to the laws of modulation, as never to
suffer the idea of a former mode to be lost till that of a
subsequent one can be legitimately assumed ; that is to
say, that the fundamental bass ought never to be devi¬
ous, or suffer us to be one moment at a loss in what
mode we are.
3. By the third, it is subjected to the connexion of
chords and the preparation of dissonances; a manoeuvre, ’
which, as we shall afterwards see, is nothing else but a;
method of producing this connexion, and which of conse-;
quence is only necessary when the connexion cannot1
subsist without it. See Connexion, Preparation.
4. By the fourth, it is necessitated, after every dis-
Kka sonance.
Ftf&damen
tal-
fun [
sonance, to pursue that career which the resolution ot
the dissonance indispensably prescribes. See Kesolu-
c. By the fifth, which is nothing else but a conse¬
quence of the former, the fundamental bass ought
only to move by consonant intervals j except alone
in tbe operation of a broken cadence, or after a chon
of the seventh diminished, where it rises diatomcally.
Every other motion of the fundamental bass is illegi-
tri 1X13
6. By the sixth, in short, the fundamental bass or
harmony ought not to be syncopated j but to distin¬
guish the bars and the times which they contain, by
changes of chords properly marked with cadences ; m
such a manner, for instance, that the dissonances which
ought to be prepared may find their preparation in the
imperfect time, but chiefly that all the reposes may hap¬
pen in the perfect time. This sixth rule admits of an
infinite number of exceptions; but the composer ought
« .j a*  s.~ !*. 1 r kts virrvnUi rnrm a mtlSlC
however to be attentive to it, if he would form a music
in which the movements are properly marked, and in
which the bars may end gracefully.
Wherever these rules are observed, the harmony shall
be regular and without fault: this, however, will not
hinder the music from being detestable. See Composi-
FI A word of illustration on the fifth rule may not be
useless. Whatever turn may be given to a funda¬
mental bass, if it is properly formed, one of these
alternatives must always be. found ; either perfect
chords moving by consonant intervals, without which
these chords would have no connexion ; or dissonant
chords in operations of cadence : in every other case,
the dissonance can neither be properly placed nor pro¬
perly resolved.
From thence it follows, that the fundamental bass
cannot move regularly but in one ot these three man¬
ners • ist, To rise or descend by a third or by a sixth.
2dly, By a fourth or a fifth, sdly, To rise diatomcally
by means of the dissonance which forms the connexion,
or by a license upon a perfect chord. With respect
to a diatonic descent, it is a motion absolutely prohibit¬
ed to the fundamental bass; or, at most, merely tolerat¬
ed in cases where two perfect chords are in succession,
divided by a close expressed or understood. This rule
has no other exception : and it is from not discerning
the foundation of certain transitions, that M. Rameau
has caused the fundamental bass to descend diatonically
under chords of the seventh ; an operation which is
impracticable in legitimate harmony. See Cadence,
Dissonance. .
The fundamental bass, which they add for no other
reason than to serve as a proof of the harmony, must
be retrenched in execution, and often in practice it
would have a very bad effect; for it is, as M. Rameau
very properly observes, intended for the judgment, and
not for the ear. It would at least produce a monotony
extremely nauseous by frequent returns of the same
chord, which they disguise and vary more agreeably by
combining it in different manners upon the continued
bass, without reckoning upon the different inversions of
harmony, which furnish a thousand means of adding
new beauties to the music and new energy to the expres¬
sion. See Chord, Inversion. , , .
But it will be objected, If the fundamental bass is
260 ] FUN
not useful in composing good music, if it must even bel'tudiw
retrenched in practice, what good purpose, then, can ^ ta‘'
it serve ? We answer, that, in the first place, It serves ^
for a rule to scholars, upon which they may learn to
form a regular harmony, and to give to all the parts
such a diatonic and elementary procedure as is pre¬
scribed them by that fundamental bass. It does more,
as we have already said : it proves whether a harmony
already formed be just and regular; for all harmony
which cannot be subjected to the test of a lundamental
bass, must according to all rules be bad. Finally, It
serves for the investigation of a continued bass under a
given air: though, in reality, he who cannot directly
form a continued bass will scarcely be able to form a
fundamental bass, which is better ; and much less still
will he be able to transform that fundamental bass in¬
to a legitimate continued bass. These which follow
are, however, the principal rules which M. Rameau
prescribes for finding the fundamental bass of a given
All* m t
1. To ascertain with precision the mode in which the
composer begins, and those through which he passes.
There are also rules for investigating the modes ; but
so long, so vague, so incomplete, that with respect to
this, the ear may be formed long before the rules are
acquired ; and the dunce who should try to use them
would gain no improvement but the habit of proceed¬
ing always note by note, without even knowing where
he is. . .
2. To try in succession under each note the princi¬
pal chords of the mode, beginning by those which are
most analogous, and passing even to the most remote,
when the composer sees himself under a necessity oi
doing so.
3. To consider whether the chord chosen can suit the
upper part in what precedes and in what follows, by a
just fundamental succession; and when this is imprac¬
ticable, to return the way he came.
4. Not to change the note of the fundamental bass
till after having exhausted all the notes which are allow¬
ed in succession in the upper part, and which can enter
into its chord ; or till some syncopated note in the air
may be susceptible of two or a greater number of notes
in the bass, to prepare the dissonance which may be af¬
terwards resolved according to rule.
3. To study the intertexture of tbe phrases ; the
possible succession of cadences, whether full or avoided;
and above all, the pauses which for ordinary return at
the end of every four, or of every two bars, so that
they may always fall upon perfect and regular ca¬
dences.
6. In short, to observe all the rules formerly given
for the composition of the fundamental bass. -These
are the principal observations to be made for finding
one under any given air; for there are sometimes seve¬
ral difl'erent| ones which may be investigated. But,
whatever may be said to the contrary, if the aii nas ac
cent and character, there is only one just fundamenta
bass which can be adapted to it. _
After having given a summary explication 01 the
manner in which a fundamental bass should be com¬
posed, it should remain to suggest the means of trans*
forming it into a continued bass ; and this would *
easy, if it were only necessary to regard the diatonic
procedure and the agreeable air of this bass. But
Fan
F U:
FUN
ncn us not imagine that the bass, which is the guide and
support of the harmony, the soul, and as it were the
interpreter of the air, should he limited to rules so
ai', simple : there are others which depend upon principles
more certain and more radical; fruitful, but latent
principles, which have been felt by every artist of ge¬
nius, without having been detected by any one. Rous¬
seau hopes, that in his letter upon French music he
insinuated this principle. For those who understand
him, he imagines he has said enough concerning it,
and can never say enough of it for those who do not.
See Rousseau's Miscellanies, vol. ii. p. I.
He does not here mention the ingenious system by
M. Serre of Geneva, nor his double fundamental bass ;
because the principles which, with a sagacity merito¬
rious of praise, he had half detected, have afterwards
been unfolded by M. Tartini, in a work of which Rous¬
seau has given an account in his article System.
FUNDI, in Ancient Geography, a town of Latium,
on the Via Appia, near Cajeta $ enjoying all the privi¬
leges of Roman citizens, except the right of suffrage
and of magistracy. Now Fondi; a city of Naples, on
the confines of the pope’s dominions. E. Long. 14. 20.
N. Lat. 41. 35.
FUNDY, a bay of considerable extent in North
America, opening between the islands of Penobscot
bay, in the county of Lincoln, and Cape Sable, the
south-west point of Nova Scotia. It reaches about 200
miles in a north-east direction, and forms a very nar¬
row isthmus with Verte bay, which reaches into the
land in a south-west direction from the straits of Nor¬
thumberland. It is 12 leagues from St John’s in New
Brunswick, to the Gut of Annapolis in Nova Scotia,
where the tides are remarkably rapid, and rise to the
height of 30 feet. The tides in this bay are so rapid,
that it is said, they will overtake animals feeding on
the shore.
IUNEN, or FlONlA, a considerable island in Den¬
mark, seated in the Baltic sea, and separated from Jut¬
land by a strait called the Lesser Belt, and from the
island of Zealand by another called the Great Belt. It
is fertile in wheat and barley j and abounds in cattle,
horses, game of all sorts, and fish. Odensee is the ca¬
pital town.
FUNERAL rites, ceremonies accompanying the
interment or burial of any person. The word is form¬
ed of the Latin funus ; and that offunalia, on account
of the torches (which wereflines cem circumdati) used
in the funerals of the Romans; though others derive
funus from the Greek, tpowi, death or slaughter.
These rites differed among the ancients according to
the different genius and religion of each country.
Ihe first people who seem to have paid any particu¬
lar respect to their dead, were the Egyptians, the po¬
sterity of Ham, the first cultivators of idolatrous wor¬
ship and superstition after the flood: they were also
the first who asserted the immortality of the soul, its
migration into all kinds of animals in earth, air, and
sea, and its return to the human body ; which they
supposed to be within the term of 3000 years : Hence
proceeded their very great care in embalming of their
dead bodies, and their being at such vast expences, as
they were, in building proper repositories for them;
*^r they were more solicitous about their graves than
‘heir houses : This gave birth to those wonders of the
FUN
world, the pyramids, which were built for the burial of Funeral.
their kings, with such vast charges, and almost incredi- v 
ble magnificence. See Pyramid.
Whenever a person died among the Egyptians, his
parents and friends put on mournful habits, and ab¬
stained from all banquets and entertainments. This
mourning lasted from 40 to 70 days, during which
time they embalmed the body. See Embalming.
When this ceremony was finished, the embalmed
body was restored to the friends, who placed it in a
kind of open chest, which was preserved either in their
houses, or in the sepulchres of their ancestors. But
before the dead were allowed to be deposited in the
tomb, they underwent a solemn judgment, which ex¬
tended even to their kings. Of this remarkable custom
we have a particular account in the first book of Dio¬
dorus Siculus. “ Those who prepare to bury a rela¬
tion, give notice of the day intended for the ceremony
to the judges, and to all the friends of the deceased •,
informing them, that the body will pass over the lake-
of that district to which the dead belonged : when, on
the judges assembling, to the number of" more than 40,
and ranging themselves in a semicircle on the farther side
of the lake, the vessel is set afloat, which those who su¬
perintend the funeral have prepared for this purpose.
This vessel is managed by a pilot, called in the Egyp¬
tian language Charon ; and hence they say, that Or¬
pheus, travelling in old times into Egypt, and seeing
this ceremony, formed his fable of the infernal regions,
partly from what he saw, and partly from invention.
The vessel being launched on the lake, before the coffin
w'hich contains the body is put on board, the law per¬
mits all, who are so inclined, to produce an accusa¬
tion against it. If any one steps forth, and proves that
the deceased has led an evil life, the judges pronounce
sentence, and the body is precluded from burial j but
if the accuser is convicted of injustice in his charge, he
falls himself under a considerable penalty. When no
accuser appears, or when the accusation is proved to be
an unfair one, the relations, who are assembled, change
their expressions of sorrow into encomiums on the dead
yet do not, like the Greeks, speak in honour of his
family, because they consider all Egyptians as equally
well born : but they set forth the education and man¬
ners of his youth, his piety and justice in maturer life,
his moderation, and every virtue by which he was dis¬
tinguished j and they supplicate the infernal deities to
receive him as an associate among the blest. The mul¬
titude join their acclamations of applause in this cele¬
bration of the dead, whom they consider as going to
pass an eternity among the just below.” Such is the
description which Diodorus gives of this funeral judi¬
cature, to which even the kings of Egypt were sub¬
ject. The same author asserts, that many sovereigns
had been thus judicially deprived of the honours of
burial by the indignation of their people : and that
the terrors of such a fate had the most salutary influ¬
ence on the virtue of their kings.
The funeral rites among the Hebrews v/ere solemn
and magnificent. When any person was dead, his re¬
lations and friends rent their clothes ; which custom is
but faintly imitated by the modern Jews, who only
cut off a bit of their garment, in token of affliction. It
was usual to bend the dead person’s thumb into the
hand, and fasten it in that posture with a string j be-.
cause
[ 261 }
Funeral.
FUN [262
cause the thumb then having the 6gure of the name of
God, they thought the devil would not dare to ap¬
proach it. When they came to the burying place, they
made a speech to the dead in the following terms :
“ Blessed be God, who has formed thee, ted thee,
maintained thee, and taken away thy life. O dead . he
knows your numbers, and shall one day restore your
life ” &c. Then they spoke the elogium, or iuneral
oration, of the deceased > after which they said a pray¬
er, called the righteousness of judgment', then turning
the face of the deceased towards heaven, they called
out, “ Go in peace.”
Among the ancient Greeks it was usual sometimes
before the interment, to put a piece of money into the
mouth of the deceased, which was thought to be Cha¬
ron’s fare for wafting the departed soul over the infer¬
nal river. This ceremony was not used in those coun¬
tries which were supposed to be situated in the neigh¬
bourhood of the infernal regions, and to lead thither
by a ready and direct road. The corpse was likewise
furnished with a cake, composed of flour, honey, &c.
which was designed to appease the fury of Cerberus
the door-keeper of hell, and to procure the ghost a
safe and quiet entrance. During the time the corpse
continued in the house, there stood before the door a
vessel of water: the design of which was, that those
concerned about the body might purify themselves by
washing •, it being the opinion of the Greeks, as well
as of the Jews, that pollution was contracted by touch¬
ing a dead body.
The ceremonies by which they expressed their sor¬
row for the death of their friends were various ; but
it seems to have been a constant rule to recede as much
as possible in habit and behaviour from their ordinary
customs. For this reason they abstained from banquets
and entertainments j they divested themselves oi all m’-
naments j they tore, cut off-, or shaved their hair, which
they cast into the funeral pile, to be consumed with
the body of their deceased friend. Sometimes they
threw themselves on the ground and rolled in the dust,
or covered their heads with ashes j they beat their
breasts, and even tore their flesh with their nails, upon
the loss of a person they much lamented. When per¬
sons of rank, such as public magistrates or great ge¬
nerals, died, the whole city put on a face of mourn¬
ing : all public meetings were intermitted; the schools,
baths, shops, temples, and all places of concourse, were
shut up.
After interment followed the epulce or feasts, at which
the company used to appear crowned ; when they spoke
in praise of the dead, so far as they could go with
truth, it being esteemed a notorious wickedness to lie
upon such an occasion. And not only at those feasts,
but even before the company departed from the se¬
pulchre, they were sometimes entertained with a pane¬
gyric upon the dead person.
The Grecian soldiers, who died in war, had not
only their tombs adorned with inscriptions showing
their names, parentage, and exploits, but were also
honoured with an oration in their praise. Particularly
the custom among the Athenians in the interment of
their soldiers was as follows, namely, “ They used to
place the bodies of their dead in tents three days before
the funeral, that all persons might have opportunity
to find out their relations, and pay their last respects
} FUN
to them. Upon the fourth day, a coffin of cypress Fllnfr,
was sent from every tribe, to convey the bones ot their ^““yv
1 * - _ IT „ —  n npreo hi
own relations ; after which went a covered herse, m
memory of those whose bodies could not be found. All
these, accompanied by the whole body of the people,
were carried to the public burying place, called Ceramu
cus, and there interred. One oration was spoken in com¬
mendation of them all, and their monuments were adorn¬
ed with pillars, inscriptions, and all other ornaments usu¬
al about the tombs of the most honourable persons. The
oration was pronounced by the fathers of the deceased
persons who had behaved themselves most valiantly.
Thus after the famous battle at Marathon, the fathers
of Callimachus and Cynsegyrus were appointed to
make the funeral oration. And upon the return of
the day upon which the solemnity was first held, the
same oration was constantly repeated every year.”
Interring or laying the dead in the ground seems
to have been the most ancient practice among the
Greeks ; though burning came afterwards to be gene¬
rally used among them. It was customary to throw
into the funeral pile those garments the deceased
usually wore. The pile was lighted by one of the de¬
ceased’s nearest relations or friends, who made prayers
and vows to the wind to assist the flames, that the
body might quickly be reduced to ashes; and during
the time the pile was burning, the dead person’s friends
stood by it, pouring libations of wine, and calling upon
the deceased.
The funeral rites among the ancient Romans were very
numerous. The deceased was kept seven days; and
every day washed with hot water, and sometimes with
oil, that, in case he was only in a slumber, he might
be thus waked ; and every now and then his friends
meeting, made a horrible outcry or shout, with the
same view ; which last action they called conclamatk.
The third conclamation was on the seventh day ; when,
if no signs of life appeared, the defunct was dressed and
embalmed by the pollinctores; placed in a bed near
the door, with his face and heels towards the street;
and the outside of the gate, if the deceased were of
condition, was garnished with cypress boughs. In
the course of these seven days, an altar was raised near
his bed side, called acerra ; on which his friends every
day offered incense: and the libitinarii provided things
for the funeral.
On the seventh day a crier was sent about the city,
to invite the people to the solemnization of the fune¬
ral in these words : Exequias L. Tit. flu, quihus est
commodum ire, jam tempus est. Olus (i. e. ille') ex tfdt-
bus effertur. The people being assembled, the last concla¬
mation ended, and the bed was covered with purple:
a trumpeter marched forth, followed by old women
called yjfYB/zcte, singing songs in praise of the deceased:
lastly, the bed followed, borne by the next relations;
and if the person were of quality and office, the waxen
images of all his predecessors were carried before him
on poles. The bed was followed by his children, kindred,
&c. atrati, or in mourning: from which act of follow¬
ing the corpse, these funeral rites were called exequia>
The body thus brought to the rostra, the next ol kin
laudabat defunctum pro rostris, made a funeral oration
in his praise and that of his ancestors. This done, the
body was carried to the pyra, or funeral pile, and there
burnt: his friends first cutting off a finger, to be bn-
FUN
*!. ried witli a second solemnity. The body consumed,
the ashes were gathered ; and the priest sprinkling the
company thrice with clean water, the eldest of the
prcejicce crying aloud, Meet, dismissed the people, who
took their leave of the deceased in this form, Vale,
vale, vale: nos tc ordine quo natura permiserit seque-
mur.— Ihe ashes, enclosed in an urn, were laid in the
sepulchre or tomb.
The ancient Christians testified their abhorrence of
the Pagan custom of burning their dead ; and always
deposited the body entire in the ground : and it was
usual to bestow the honour of embalming upon the mar¬
tyrs at least, if not upon others. They prepared the
body for burial by washing it with water, and dressing
it in a funeral attire. The exportation or carrying forth
of the body was performed by near relations, or per¬
sons of such dignity as the circumstances of the deceas¬
ed required. Psalmody, or singing of psalms, was the
great ceremony used in all funeral processions among the
ancient Christians.
In the Romish church, when a person is dead, they
wash the body, and put a crucifix in its hand. At its
feet stands a vessel lull of holy water, and a sprinkler,
that they who come in may sprinkle both themselves
and the deceased. In the mean time some priest stands
by the corpse, and prays for the deceased till it is laid
in the earth. In the funeral procession, the exorcist
walks first, carrying the holy water j next the cross¬
bearer, afterwards the rest of the clergy, and last of all
the officiating priest. They all sing the miserere, and
some other psalms j and at the end of each psalm a re¬
quiem. We learn from Alet’s ritual, that the faces of
deceased laymen must be turned towards the altar,
when they are placed in the church ; and those of the
clergy towards the people. The corpse is placed in
the church surrounded with lighted tapers j after the
office for the dead, mass is said j then the officiating
priest sprinkles the corpse thrice with holy water, and
as often throws incense on it. The body being laid in
the. grave, the friends and relations of the deceased
sprinkle the grave with holy w’ater.
The funeral ceremonies of the Greek church are
much the same with those of the Latin. It needs only
be observed, that, after the funeral service, they kiss
the crucifix, and salute the mouth and forehead of the
deceased j after which each of the company eats a bit
of bread and drinks a glass of wine in the church, wish¬
ing the soul a good repose, and the afflicted family all
consolation.
. Fukeral Games, a part of the ceremony of the an¬
cient funerals.
It was customary for persons of quality among the
ancient Greeks and Romans, to institute games with
all sorts of exercises, to render the death of their friends
more remarkable. This practice wras generally received,
and is frequently mentioned by ancient writers. Pa-
troclus’s funeral games take up the greatest part of one
of Homer’s Iliads j and Agamemnon’s ghost is intro¬
duced by the same poet, telling the ghost of Achilles,
that he had been a spectator at a great number of such
solemnities.
The celebration of these games among the Greeks
mostly consisted of horse races; the prizes were ol dif¬
ferent sorts and value, according to the quality and
magnificence of the person that celebrated them. The
[ 263 ]
FUN
garlands given to victors on this occasion were usually
of parsley, which was thought to have some relation to
the dead.
Those games, among the Romans, consisted chiefly
of processions ; and sometimes of mortal combats of
gladiators around the funeral pile. They, as well as
the Greeks, had also a custom, though very ancient, of
cutting the throats of a number of captives before the
pile, as victims to appease the manes of the deceased.
Caesar relates, that the Gauls had this custom.
The funeral games were abolished by the emperor
Claudius.
Funeral Oration, a discourse pronounced in praise
of a person deceased, at the ceremony of his funeral.
This custom is very ancient. In the latter part of
the account above given of the Egyptian ceremonies
of interment, may be perceived the first rudiments of
funeral orations, and what was the subject of them,
which were afterwards moulded into a more polite and
regular form by other nations, who adopted this custom.
Nor can we omit remarking, that those funeral solemni¬
ties were attended not only with orations in praise of
the deceased, but with prayers for him: which prayers,
it seems, were made by one who personated the de¬
ceased : an entire form of one of them is preserved by
Porphyry, and perhaps it may in some measure gratify
the reader’s curiosity to recite it from him. “ When
(says he) they (the Egyptians) embalm their deceased
nobles, they privately take out the entrails, and lay
them up in an ark or chest : moreover, among other
things which they do in favour of the deceased, lifting
up the ark or chest to the sun, they invoke him; one of
the hbitmarii making a prayer for the deceased, which
Euphantes has translated out of the Egyptian language,
and is as follows :—O lord, the sun, and all the gods
who give life to men, receive me and admit me into
the society of the immortal ones; for, as long as I
lived in this world, I religiously worshipped the gods
whom my parents showed me, and have always ho¬
noured those who begat my body ; nor have I killed
any man, nor have I defrauded any of what has been
committed to my trust, nor have I done any thing
which is inexpiable. Indeed, whilst I was alive, if
I have sinned either by eating or drinking any thing
which was not lawful ; not through myself have I sin¬
ned, but through these, showing the ark and chest
where the entrails were. And having thus spoke, he
casts it into the river, but the rest of the body he em¬
balms as pure.”
The G recians received the seeds of superstition and
idolatrous worship from the Egyptians, through the
coming of Cecrops, Cadmus, Danaus, and Erechtheus,
into Greece; and among other customs transplanted
from Egypt, were the solemnities used at the burial of
the dead. Of these, an encomium en the deceased
always formed a part, as particularly noticed under the
preceding article.
From the Egyptians and Grecians, especially from
the latter, the Romans received many of their laws
and customs, as well as much of their polytheism and
idolatrous worship. It is well known, that the custom
of making funeral orations in praise of the dead ob¬
tained among them ; and the manner in which their
funeral services were performed has been already de¬
scribed. The corpse being brought into their great
oratory.
Funeral.
FUN [ 264 ] F,U ^
., . oralory, called the ™tr0> the next of the kin WnJn, dead, hnt addreesed themselves to them, tvlnch seem,
, —— > Jefunctum pro rostris, that is, made a funeral oration,
•' M 1 .• • • 11 C ^.1    vr
UC! 1*1 **»'''*UU JJ! 1 wvw   -'-7 - |
iii the commendation principally of the party deceased,
hut touching the worthy acts also of those^ his prede¬
cessors whose images were there present. Ihe account
given by Dr Kennet is in these words: “ In all the
funerals of note, especially in the public or indictive,
the corpse was first brought with a vast train ol lollow-
ers into the forum j here one of the nearest relations
ascended the rostra, and obliged the audience with an
oration in praise of the deceased. If none ot the kin¬
dred undertook the office, it was discharged by some
of the most eminent persons in the city lor learning
and eloquence, as Appian reports of the funeral ot
Sylla. And Pliny the younger reckons it as the last
addition to the happiness of a very great man, that he
had the honour to be praised at his funeral by the most
eloquent Tacitus, then consul 5 which is agreeab e to
Quintilian’s account of this matter, Nam et funebres,
&c. For the funeral orations (says he) depend veiy
often on some public office, and by order of senate
are many times given in charge to the magistrates to
be performed by themselves in person. The invention
of this custom is generally attributed to Valerius Pop-
licola, soon after the expulsion of the regal fami y.
Plutarch tells us, that honouring his colleague’s obse¬
quies with a funeral oration, it so pleased the Romans,
that it became customary for the best men to celebrate
the funerals of great persons with speeches in their
commendations.” Thus Julius Caesar, according to
custom, made an oration in the rostra, in praise of his
wife Cornelia, and his aunt Julia, when dead j wherein
he showed, that his aunt’s descent, by her mother’s
side, was from kings, and by her father’s from the
gods. Plutarch says, that “ he approved of the law
of the Romans, which ordered suitable praises to be
given to women as well as to men after death.”——
Though by what he says in another place, it seems
that the old Roman law was, that funeral orations
should be made only for the elder women ; and
therefore he says, that Caesar was the first that made
one upon his own wife, it not being then usual
to take notice of younger women in that way : but
by that action he gained much favour from the popu¬
lace, who afterwards looked upon him, and loved him,
as a very mild and good man. I he reason why such
a law was made in favour of the women, Livy tells us
was this, That when there was such a scarcity ot money
in the public treasury, that the sum agreed upon to
give the Gauls to break up the siege of the city and
capitol could not be raised, the women collected
among themselves and made it up ; who hereupon had
not only thanks given them, but this additional ho¬
nour, that after death, they should he solemnly praised
as well as the men : which looks as if, before this time,
only the men had those funeral orations made for
them.
This custom of the Romans very early obtained
among the Christians. Some of their funeral sermons
or orations are now extant, as that of Eusebius on
Constantine ; and those of Nazianzen on Basil and
Ccesarinsj and of Ambrose on Valentinian, Theodosius,
and others. Gregory, the brother of Basil, made
iriKti^uot hoyov, a funeral oration, for Melitus bishop of
Antioch : in which orations, they not only praised the
to have introduced the custom of praying to departed
saints. Now these orations were usually made before'
the bodies of the deceased were committed to the
ground •, which custom has been more or less continued
ever since, to this day.
Thus it appears, that those rites and ceremonies
among the heathens, which have been delivered from
one people to another, are what have given birth to
Funeral Sermons and Orations, among Christians.
Though this practice is considerably improved, and
cleared of many things which would smell too rank of
paganism, and is thrown into a method which, perhaps,
may be of some service to Christianity ; yet, notwith¬
standing this new dress, its original may very easily be
Fui!
uer»
Fungi. <■
—v--
discerned. The method in which the characters of
deceased persons are given in our funeral sermons, is
very much the same with that observed in those pagan
orations } where first an account is given of the paren¬
tage of the deceased, then of his education ; after that,
we hear of his conduct in riper years : then his mamr
virtues are reckoned up, with his generous, noble, and
excellent performances.—Nor let the practice be con¬
demned because of its rise and original ; for why may
not the customs of heathens, if just and laudable in
themselves,and nowise pernicious to Christianity in their
consequences, be followed by Christians ? Only, since
we are come into this practice, there is one thing vc
should take care to follow them in ; and that is, not to
make those sermons or orations for every one •, but for
those only whose characters are distinguished, who
have been eminently useful in the world, and in the
church of Christ. The old heathens honoured those
alone with this part of the funeral solemnity, who were
men of probity and justice, renowned for their wisdom
and knowledge, or famous for warlike exploits : Thu,
as Cicero* informs us, being part of the law for burials,* jm,.
which directs, that the praises only of honourable per-U
sons shall be mentioned in the oration. It would be
much more agreeable, therefore, if our funeral dis¬
courses were not so common, and ii the characters
given of the deceased were more just j devoid of that
fulsome flattery with which they too often abound.
FUNGI (from <7feyy«f, fungus'), the name of the
4th order of the 24th class of vegetables, in the Lm-
nsean system $ comprehending all those which are of
the mushroom kind, and which in rournefort consii-
tute the 2d, 3d, 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th genera of
the first section in the class xvii. This order in the
Linntean arrangement, contains 10 genera *, and it con¬
stitutes one of the natural order of plants in the drag-
nienta Methodi Naturalis of Linnaeus. See Botany
Index.
But as the classification of this order only has beeti
given under the article Botany, we shall here detail
some of the speculations of naturalists concerning their
nature and mode of production.
The ancients called fungi children of the earth, mean¬
ing, no doubt, to indicate the obscurity of their origin-
The moderns have likewise been at a loss in what rank
to place them *, some referring them to the animai,
some to the vegetable, and others to the mineral king¬
dom.
Messrs Wilck and Munchausen have not scrupled i0
rank these bodies in the number of aairaal productions;
because,
FUN [ 265 ] FUN
uc^auac, v*ijcu iidgmeiiia oj uitm or uieir seeus were
-J macerated in water, these gentlemen perceived a quan¬
tity of animalcules discharged, which they supposed
capable of being changed into the same substance. It
was the ancient opinion, that beef could produce bees j
but it was reserved for Messrs Wilck and Munchausen
to suppose, that bees, could produce beef. Wilck as¬
serts, that fungi consist of innumerable cavities, each
inhabited by a polype ; and he does not hesitate to
ascribe the formation of them to their inhabitants, in
the same way as it has been said that the coral, the
lichen, and the mucor, were formed. Hedwig has late¬
ly shown how ill founded this opinion is with respect to
the lichen j and M. Durande has demonstrated its fal¬
sity with regard to the corallines. “ Indeed (says M.
Bonnet, talking of the animality of fungi) nothing but
the rage for paradox could induce any one to publish
such a fable ; and I regret that posterity will be able
to reproach our times with it. Observation and expe¬
riment should enable us to overcome the prejudices of
modern philosophy ; now, that those of the ancient have
disappeared and are forgotten.”
It cannot be denied that the mushroom is one of the
most perishable of all plants, and it is therefore the
most favourable for the generation of insects. Con¬
sidering the quickness of its growth, it must be fur¬
nished with the power of copious absorption ; the ex¬
tremity of its vessels must be more dilated than in other
plants. Its root seems, in many cases, to be merely
intended for its support: for some species grow upon
stones or moveable sand, from which it is impossible
that they can draw much nourishment. We must
therefore suppose, that it is chiefly by the stalk that
they .absorb. Ihese stalks grow in a moist and tainted
air, in which float multitudes of eggs, so small, that
the very insects they produce are with difficulty seen
by the microscope. These eggs may be compared to
the particles of the byssus, 100,000 of which, as M.
Gleditsch says, are not equal to the fourth of a grain.
May we not suppose, that a quantity of such eggs are
absorbed.by the vessels of the fungus, that they remain
there, without any change, till the plant begins to de¬
cay ? Besides, the eggs may be only deposited on the
surface of the plant, or they may exist in the water in¬
to which they are thrown for examination. Do not we
see that such eggs, dispersed through the air, are hatch¬
ed in vinegar, in paste, &c. and wherever they find a
convenient nidus for their developement ? Can it be
surprising then, that the corruption of the mushroom
should make the water capable of disclosing certain be¬
ings that are really foreign to both ?
It is not more easy to acquiesce in the opinions of
those naturalists who place the fungi in the mineral
kingdom, because they are found growing on porous
stones, thence called laptdes fun gar ii; which, how¬
ever, must be covered with a little earth, and be wa¬
tered with tepid water, in order to favour the growth,
buch mushrooms are no more the produce of the stone,
than the lichen is of the rock to which it adheres, or
the moss of the tree on which it is found. We have
only to observe the growth of mushrooms, to be con¬
vinced, that this happens by developement, and not by
addition or combination of parts as in minerals. The
opinion of Boccone, who attributed them to an unctu¬
ous matter performing the function of seed, and acqui-
Vol. IX. Part I. U +
ring extension by apposition of similar parts j and that
ol Morison, who conceived that they grew spontaneous¬
ly out of the earth by a certain mixture of salt and sul¬
phur, joined with oils from the dung of quadrupeds 5
have now no longer any adherents. Fungi are produl
ced, they live, they grow, by developement j they are
exposed to those vicissitudes natural to the different pe¬
riods of life which characterize living substances ; they
perish and die. They extract, by the extremity of
their vessels, the juices with which they are nourished :
they elaborate and assimilate them to their own sub¬
stance. Ihey are, therefore, organized and living be¬
ings, and consequently belong to the vegetable king¬
dom. But whether they are real plants, or only the
production of plants, is still a matter in dispute with
the ablest naturalists.
Some ancient authors have pretended to discover the
seed of mushrooms j but the opinion was never gene¬
rally received. Petronius, when he is laughing at the
ridiculous magnificence of his hero Trimalcio, relates,
that he had written to the Indies for the seed of the
morelle.
These productions were generally attributed to the
superfluous humidity of rotten wood, or other putrid
substances. The opinion took its rise from observing
that they grew mcst copiously in rainy weather. Such
was the opinion of Tragus, of Bauhin, and even of Co-
lumna, who, talking of the peziza, says, that its sub¬
stance was more solid and harder, because it did not
originate from rotten wood, but from the pituita of the
earth. It is not surprising, that, in times when the
want of experiment and observation made people be¬
lieve that insects could be generated by putrefaction,
we.should find the opinion general, that fungi owed
their origin to the putrescence of bodies, or to a viscous
humour analogous to putridity.
Malpighi could not satisfy himself as to the existence
of seeds which other botanists had pretended to discover.
Pie only says, that these plants must have them, or that
they perpetuate themselves and shoot by fragments.
Micheli, among the moderns, appears to have emplov-
ed himself most successfully on this subject. He ima¬
gined, that he not only saw the seeds, but even the sta¬
mina, as well as the little transparent bodies destined
to favour the dissemination and the fecundation of these
seeds. Before this author, Lister thought he perceived
seeds in the Fungus perosus crassus magnus of John
Bauhin : the little round bodies that are found in the
pezizae and hevellae, at that time passed for seeds j
which did not appear at all probable to Marsigli, con¬
sidering that the eye, when assisted with the verv best
microscopes, could perceive nothing similar in much
larger fungi. Indeed these bodies may be the capsules
or covers of the seeds, if they are not the seeds them¬
selves. However this may be, Marsigli, observing that
fungi were often without roots or branches, and that
they wanted flowers and seeds, the means which nature
employs for the production of perfect plants, thought
himself warranted in doubting whether these beings
could be ranked in the number of vegetables.
The doubts of Marsigli prompted him to observe the
formation of fungi. Their matrix he called Situs : he
imagined they grew in places where they met with an
unctuous matter, composed of an oil mixed with nitrous
salt, which, by fermentation, produced heat and mois-
L 1 ture,
Fungi.
FUN [
Funffl tore, and insinuated itself between the fibres of wood ;
—V-W that is, he imagined them to be the production of a vis¬
cous and putrescent humour. Lancisi, in like manner,
considered fungi as owing their existence to the putre¬
faction of vegetables, and supposed them a disease in
the plant j but he imagined, “ that the fibres of the
tree were necessary to their production,” as is the case
in the formation of galls 5 he compared them to the
warts and other excrescences of the human body. He
added, that such fungous vegetable tumours must ne¬
cessarily assume various forms and figures, from the
fluids which distend the tubes and vessels relaxed by
putrescence, from the ductility of the fibres and their
direction, and from the action of the air.
This opinion has been refuted by the celebrated na-
turalist M. de Jussieu, in the Memoirs of the Academy
of Sciences for the year 1728. He maintains, that the
fungi have a great analogy with the lichen, which is
allowed to be a vegetable j that, like the lichen, they
are divested of stalk, branches, and leaves*, that,
like it, they grow and are nourished upon the trunks
of trees, on pieces of rotten wood, and on all sorts of
putrid vegetables *, that they resemble the lichen too in
the rapidity of their growth, and the facility with which
many of them may be dried, and restored to their form¬
er figure upon being immersed in water ; and, lastly,
that there is a great similarity in the manner in which
their seeds are produced. He affirms, that only the
warts and excrescences which grow on animal bodies,
and the knots and other tumours that are to he found on
trees, can be compared with one another j foi they aie
composed equally of the solid and liquid substance of
the plant or animal on which they grow ", whereas, the
matter of the fungi is not only quite distinct from that
of the plants on which they are found, but often entire¬
ly similar to the substance of those that spring immedi¬
ately from the earth.
The organization, says M. de Jussieu, which distin¬
guishes plants and other productions of nature, is visi¬
ble in the fungi ; and the particular organization of
each species is constant at all times and in all places 5 a
circumstance which could not happen if there vvere not
an animal reproduction of species, and consequently a
multiplication and propagation by seed. This is not,
he says, an imaginary supposition j for the seeds may
be felt like meal upon mushrooms with gills, especially
when they begin to decay; they may be seen with a
magnifying glass, in those that have gills with black
margins *, and lastly, says he, botanists can have no
doubt that fungi are a distinct class of plants, because,
by comparing the observations made in different coun¬
tries with the figures and the descriptions of such as have
been engraven, the same genera and the same species
are everywhere found.
Notwithstanding this refutation by M. de Jussieu,
another naturalist, M. de Necker, has lately maintain¬
ed, in his work entitled Mycitologia, That the fungi
ought to be excluded from the three kingdoms of na¬
ture, and he considered as intermediate beings. He has
observed, like Marsigli, the matrix of the fungi : and
has substituted the word carchte (initium faciens) in¬
stead of situs; imagining that the rudiment of the fungus
cannot exist beyond that point in which the develope-
meot of the filaments or fibrous roots is perceived. He
allows, that fungi are nourished and grow like vege-
2
266 ]
FUN
tables $ but he thinks that they differ very much from yrj|t,
them in respect of their origin, structure, nutrition,
and rapidity of growth. He says, that the various ves¬
sels which compose the organization of vegetables are
not to be found in the fungi, and that they seem en¬
tirely composed of cellular substance and bark 5 so that
this simple organization is nothing more than an ag¬
gregation of vessels endowed with a common nature,
that suck up the moisture in the manner of a sponge;
with this difference, that the moisture is assimilated in¬
to a part of the fungus. Lastly, That the fructifica¬
tion, the only essential part of a vegetable, and which
distinguishes it from all other organized bodies, being
wanting, fungi cannot be considered as plants. This
he thinks confirmed by the constant observation of
those people who gather the morelle and the mush¬
room, and who never find them in the same spots
where they had formerly grown. As the generation of
fungi (says M. Necker) is always performed when the
parenchymatous or cellular substance has changed its
nature, form, and function, we must conclude that it is
the degeneration of that part which produces these
bodies.
But if fungi were owing merely to the degeneration
of plants, they would be still better entitled to consti¬
tute a new kingdom. They would then be a decom¬
position, not a new formation or new bodies. Be¬
sides, we cannot deny, that in those nodies which
form the limit between the animal and vegetable king¬
doms, the organization becomes simple, as the organs
destined for nutrition are multiplied: but, as the last
in the class of insects belongs to the animal kingdom,
fungi ought, notwithstanding the simplicity of their or¬
ganization, still to belong to the vegetable kingdom.
The parenchymatous or cellular substance, which, as
Mr Bonnet says, is universally extended, embraces the
whole fibrous system, and becomes the principal instru¬
ment of growth, must naturally be more abundant in
these productions; and this accounts for the rapidity
of their enlargement. Besides, growth, whether slow
or rapid, never was employed to determine the pre¬
sence or absence of the vegetable or animal character.
The draba verna, which in a few weeks shoots, puts
forth its leaves, its flowers, and fruit, is not less a
plant than the palm. The insect that exists but for a
day, is as much an animal as the elephant that lives for
centuries. As to the seeds of the fungi, it is probable
that nature meant to withdraw from our eyes the dis¬
semination of these plants, by making the seeds almost
imperceptible; and it is likewise probable that natu¬
ralists have seen nothing but their capsules. Since,
however, from the imperfection of our senses, we are
unable to perceive these seeds, ought we to infer that
they do not exist P Are we authorized to conclude this,
because we do not find mushrooms where we have
found them a year before ? Undoubtedly not; for the
greater part of plants require a particular soil, and the
same mould that this year will foster a rare plant, will
next year allow it to perish. Neither are we at liber¬
ty to deny the existence of these seeds, because those
bodies which have been called their seeds, and the frag¬
ments or cuttings of the plants themselves, have not
produced others of the same species. Nature seems to
have reserved for herself the care of disseminating cer¬
tain plants : It is in vain, for instance, that the bota¬
nist
1
•her.
MERY.
F U R [ 267 ]
nist sows the dust found in the capsules of the orchis, chiefly
which every one allows to be the seed. But, after all,
what are those parts in the fungi casually observed by
naturalists, and which they have taken for the parts of
fructification ? These are quite distinct from the other
parts ; and whatever may be their use, they cannot
have been formed by a prolongation of the cellular
substance, or of the fibres of the tree on which the
fungus grows : they are, therefore, owing, like flower
and fruit, to the proper organization of the plant.
These plants, therefore, have a particular existence,
independent of their putrefying nidus. The gills of
certain fungi, which difler essentially from the rest of
the plant in their conformation, would be sufficient to
authorize this latter opinion. But can putrefaction
create an organic substance P
Nature undoubtedly disseminates through the air,
and over the surface of the earth, innumerable seeds of
fungi, as well as eggs of insects. The plant and the
animal are excluded, when the nidus or the tempera¬
ture is favourable for their developement. No fortui¬
tous concourse, either of atoms or fluids, could pro¬
duce bodies so exquisitely and so regularly organized.
It is sufficient to throw one’s eyes on the beautiful
plates which SchgefFer has published of them, and com¬
pare them, by the glass, with the warts and other
excrescences of animals, to be convinced that they
have not the same origin. The function of the cellu¬
lar substance in vegetables must be greatly superior to
that in animals, if it could produce any thing but de¬
formities.
Tire greater part of fungi exhibit a configuration
much too regular, constant, and uniform, to be the ef¬
fect of chance or putrefaction. As this form is pre¬
served the same in all places where fungi have been
found, it follows, that they contain in themselves the
principles of their reproduction. They resemble the
misletoe, and other parasitic plants, which are perfect¬
ly distinct from the trees on which they grow. The
fungi, therefore, are organized and living substances,
or true plants. If the manner of their production is
unknown, that of some insects is so too.
FUNGIBLES, in Scots Law, are such things as
are estimated by number, weight, or measure ; as coin,
butter, ale, &c.
FUNGIT/E, in Natural History, a kind of fossil
coral, of a conic figure, though sometimes flatted and
striated longitudinally.
FUNGUS, in Surgery, denotes any spongy excres¬
cence. See Surgery Index.
FUNNEL of a Chimney, the shaft or smallest
part of the waste, where it is gathered into its least
dimensions.
Palladio directs, that the funnels of chimneys be
carried through the roof four or five feet at least, that
they may carry the smoke dear from the house into the
air. See Chimney.
He also advises, that chamber chimneys be not made
narrower than 10 or 11 inches, nor broader than 15;
for if too narrow, the smoke will not be able to make
its way; and, if too wide, the wind will drive it back
into the room.
FUR, or Furr, in commerce. See Furr.
FURBISHER, a person who furbishes, polishes, or
( -cans arms, as guns, swords, pistols, &c. which is
F U
performed with emery.
R
See
the article E- i'urbh
FURCA in antiquity, a piece of timber resembling
a tork, used by the Romans as an instrument of pu-
mshment. v
-i be punishment of the furca was of three kinds :
the first only ignominious, when a master, for small
oiiences, forced a servant to carry a furca on his shoul¬
ders about the city. The second was penal, when the
party was led about the circus, or other place, with
the furca upon his neck, and whipped all the way.
he third was capital, when the malefactor having his
Tmi/tened °" the furca’ was shipped to death,
i -r- n v^HefntdrV^ a cross forked at the ends,
r UKEllERE, Antony, an ingenious and learned
frenchman, was born at Paris in 1620; and after a
liberal education became eminent in the civil and canon
Jaw. He was first an advocate in the parliament j and
afterwards taking orders, was presented with the abbey
of Chalivoy, and the priory of Chuines. Many works
ot literature recommended him to the public; but what
he is.chiefly known by and valued for is, bis Universal
-Dictionary of the French Tongue, in which he explains
the terms of art in all sciences. He had not, however,
the pleasure of seeing this useful work published before
his death j which happened in 1688. He was a member
of the trench academy and the disputes and quarrels
which, he had with certain members of it made a great
noise in the world. *
FURIA, in Zoology, a genus of insects belonging
to the order of vermes zoophyta. There is but one
species, viz. the infernalis, which has a linear smooth
body ciliated on each side, with reflexed feelers pressed
to its body. In Finland, Bothnia, and the northern
F urit
provinces of Sweden, it was not unfrequently that
people were seized with a pungent pain, confined to a
point, in the hand or other exposed part of the body,
which presently increased to a most excruciating de¬
gree, and hath sometimes been suddenly fatal. This
disorder was more particularly observed in Finland,
especially about boggy and marshy places, and always*
in autumn. At length it was discovered that this pain
instantly succeeded somewhat that dropped out of the
air, and in a moment penetrated and buried itself in
the flesh. The Finlanders had tried variety of applica¬
tions to no purpose, until at length a poultice of curds
or cheese was found the most effectual in easing the
pain : and the event confirmed that the insect was al¬
lured by this application to leave the flesh ; as, on its
removal, this worm, no longer than the sixth of an
inch, was found in it, and thus the cause of this painful
disease explained. . But by what means this creature
is raised into the air, is as yet unknown.
IURIES, .in Pagan antiquity, certain goddesses
whose office it was to punish the guilty after death.
They were three in number : Alecto, Megsera, and
Tisiphone $ who were described with snakes instead of
hair, and eyes like lightning, carrying iron chains
and whips in one hand, and in the other flaming
torches $ the latter to discover, and the former to
punish, the guilty : and they were supposed to he con¬
stantly hovering over such persons as had been guilty
of any enormous crime.
Mythologists suppose, that Tisiphone punished the
crimes which sprang from hatred or anger 3 Meg sera,
L 1 2 those
Faries
1'urlong.
FUR [
those from envy} and Alecto, those from an insatiable
pursuit after riches and pleasure.
FURLING, in naval affairs, signifies the operation
of wrapping up and binding any sail close to the yard.
FURLONG, an English long measure containing
263 ] FUR
the one-eighth of a mile, and therefore equal to 660 Fur!
feet, or 220 yards. .
FURLOUGH, in the military language, is a license^—yv
granted by an officer to a soldier to be absent from his
duty for a limited time.
FURNACE,
Furnace.
Requisites
of a good
furnace.
To coneen
trate the
heat.
.. TS a vessel or building, for the purpose of containing
A combustible materials, whether of coal or wood,
and so constructed that great heat may be produced
and concentrated. There is a great variety ol tur-
naces, and they are variously constructed, according
to the views of'the operator, and the purposes to whicli
they are applied. But in all furnaces there are lour
things which require to be particularly attended to. 1.
To be able to concentrate the heat, and direct it as
much as possible to the substances which are to be act¬
ed upon. 2. To prevent the dissipation of the heat al¬
ter it is produced. 3. To obtain the greatest quantity
of heat from the smallest quantity of fuel ; and, 4. '10 be
able to regulate at pleasure the necessary degree ot
heat.
1. To accomplish the first object, namely to concen¬
trate the heat, it is usual to confine the fire in a chamber
or cavity properly constructed, furnished with a door
or opening, by which the fuel is introduced j a giate
for supporting it, and allowing a free passage to the air,
as well as for the ashes to fall through into the cavity
below, called the ash-pit. In this way the beat pro¬
duced by the combustion of the fuel is confined by the
sides of the furnace, and so concentrated that its lorce
is chiefly spent on the substances inclosed.
To prevelU 2. The dissipation of the heat is prevented by keep-
its dissipa- ing the door of the furnace shut, by constructing the
tion. chimney no wider than to allow a passage for the smoke,
and placing the substance to be acted upon in such a
manner that the fire may have its full efiect as it goes
up the chimney.
To produce 3* The third object, which is not the least important,
the great- is to produce the greatest quantity of heat from the
«st propor- smallest quantity of fuel. In an economical point of
‘ view, this object is worthy of the greatest attention,
though it is often difficult to attain it. In this view much
depends upon the proportion between the spaces between
the bars of the furnace, and the wideness and height of
the chimney. This is obvious from considering the
circumstances which regulate the process of combustion;
for this depends on the current of air passing through
the combustible matter. When the fuel in the furnace
is kindled, a certain degree of heat is produced *, but
without a current of fresh air passing through the burn¬
ing matter, the fire is instantly extinguished j and with¬
out this stream of fresh air the inflammation cannot go
on. But when this takes place, the air within the fur¬
nace is rarefied, and being no longer a balance for the
external air, it is driven up the chimney by a current of
denser air, rushing in at the openings. This having
passed through the fuel, is also rarefied, and passes off,
giving place in its turn to a new current, so that in this
way there is a constant flux of air up the chimney.
From this it must appear, that the greater the rarefac¬
tion of the air in the fire-place is, the greater will be
the intensity of the heat produced. By constructing a
lion of
heat’.
furnace in a particular way, the heat may be so ma- Furnu
naged that the under part of the chimney may bewr
nearly as strongly heated as the fire-place itself; so that,
although a strong current of air passes through the fuel,
yet as the heat is uselessly spent on the chimney, there
is a great and unnecessary waste of fuel. To prevent
this, there is a contrivance by which the throat of the
chimney is occasionally contracted, by means of a sliding
plate, which, when it is pushed in, closes up the whole
vent; but may be drawn out in such a way as to form
a larger or smaller opening as may be thought necessary.
Till °the fuel is thoroughly kindled, and the furnace
fully heated, the plate should be quite drawn out, so
that the largest column of air which the furnace will
admit, may pass through the fuel. T-he plate is then
put in to a certain length, and so regulated that the
smoke may be prevented from issuing at the door of the
furnace. The current of air increases in proportion to
the rarefaction of the air in the fire-place, and this in¬
creases the inflammation ol the fuel; and the heat now
being reflected from every point of the furnace, except¬
ing the narrow passage by which the smoke passes ol?,
becomes extremely intense. If a large quantity of fuel
be introduced at once, it will consume slowly, and re¬
quire little attention, in comparison with those furnaces
where this precaution is not observed. When the in¬
tensity of the heat is not very great, the slid ing-plate
may be of cast-iron ; but to resist great degrees of heat,
it will be found more convenient to have it made ol
fire-clay. But it must he observed, that the advantage
derived from the sliding-plate is lost to those furnaces
which are of a large construction, and where great
quantities of metal are to be melted ; and there it is
commonly found, that the waste of fuel is very great.
4. To attain the fourth object, namely, to be abletoyely
4!.,
regulate conveniently the degree of heat, a certain pro-ri6---
portion of air only is to be allowed to pass through tbe^I!i
fuel. With this view it is necessary to have the com¬
mand of the furnace below, because the parts above are
often filled with small quantities of soot. To manage
this in the most effectual manner, the door of the ash-pit
is to be perfectly closed, and furnished with a series of
round holes which have a certain proportion to each
other. In the furnaces constructed according to Dr
Black’s direction, the areas of these holes are as I, 2,
4, 8, 16, &c. in geometrical progression. Seven or
eight of these in the door of the ash-pit give a sufficient
command over the fire. When the utmost intensity 01
heat is required, all the passages are thrown open, ami
the height of the chimney is increased, so that the
height of the column of rarefied air‘being augmented,
the motion of the current of air through the fuel is
proportionably more rapid, and consequently the heat
of the furnace becomes more intense. In the construc¬
tion of a furnace recommended by Macquer, another
tube is applied to the ash-pit, having the extremity
RIQSt
Fm :c,
FURNACE.
most distant from the furnace widest, and gradually breast, b, of tl,e brick-work, so that any smoke liberated
tapering as it approaches it. By this contrivance, it from the raw coals in the mouth-niece must
'vas proposed to increase the velocity of the current of these burning coals before it can reach the fln. Vrr
air as it passes from a wider into a narrower tnl>P "Rni inio fi.„ u  1.1   , e x 11 •
Furaa
eonsur
ts ow
moke,
air as it passes from a wider into a narrower tube.
But it is found that the air will not ultimately move
with greater velocity than if the tube were not applied.
It may indeed be useful where the furnace is placed in
a small apartment, and the tube itself forms a commu¬
nication with the external air.
After these preliminary observations on the general
principles of furnaces, we propose in the following trea¬
tise to give a short account of the construction and ap¬
plication of some of the more important furnaces which
are employed in the arts and manufactures.
But before we enter into the detail and description
of particular furnaces, we shall lay before our readers
the description of one which was invented by Messrs
Ilobertons of Glasgow, for the purpose of consuming its
own smoke, and saving fuel.
ifor “ To construct furnaces (says the editor of the Phi-
i'S losophical Magazine, from which this account is taken),
on such a principle as should enable them to consume
their own smoke, has long been a desideratum j and we
believe the public in general, but especially those who
But this, though it would cause a large quantity of the
smoke to be burnt, would not completely prevent the
escape and ascent of smoke up the chimney ; for it is
not merely necessary that the smoke should be exposed
to a heat sufficient to ignite it before it escapes : unless,
at the same time, a quantity of fresh air, able to furnish
a sufficiency of oxygen for the combustion of the smoke
can be brought into contact with it, it will still escape
in an undecomposed state. The judicious admission of
iresh air, in such a manner that it can reach the smoke
without previously passing through the fire, and parting
with its oxygen in its passage, and in such quantity as
not to cool the bottom of the boiler, but merely to
cause the smoke to burn, constitutes the chief merit of
this invention ; and to us it appears that it will fully
answer the proposed end. Below the upper side of the
mouth-piece or hopper, and at about the distance of
three-fourths of an inch from it, (this space being a
little more or less, according to the size of the furnace)
is introduced a cast iron plate a «. This plate is above
the fuel, and the space between it and the top of the
i i ,, -i , y. ^ me space ueiween it and the too of tbe
have been annoyed by the amoke of steam engmes, hopper is open for the admission of a thin stream of air
foundenes, and similar erections in their neighbour- which. rnsl.Ino-dnwn   am or air,
Plat
ccxy
2. I. Si
founderies, and similar erections in their neighbour¬
hood, will he glad to learn that a furnace has been con¬
trived which effectually gains this end.
“ The construction is extremely simple, and will be
easily understood by the following description, and the
plate to which it refers.
Fig. I. represents a vertical section, and fig. 2. a
. front view of a steam-engine boiler, furnished with one
of Messrs Robertons furnaces 5 and the same letters
refer in both to the same parts of the construction.
“ The opening A, through which the fuel is intro¬
duced into the furnace, is shaped somewhat like a
hopper, and is made of cast iron built into the brick¬
work H, H. From the mouth it inclines downward
to the place where the fire rests on the bottom grate B.
The coals in this mouth piece or hopper answer the
purpose of a door (a), and those that are lowest are by
this means brought into a state of ignition before they
are forced into the furnace. Below the lower plate of
the hopper K, e the furnace is provided with front bars
G (b), which not only serve to admit air among the
fuel, but offer a ready way to force the fuel back, from
time to time, from c io d (c), to make room for fresh
quantities to fall into the furnace from the hopper or
mouth-piece. By this arrangement the fuel is brought
into a state of ignition before it reaches the farther stde
of the bottom grate, where it is stopped by the rising
which, rushing down the opening, comes first in contact
with that part of the fire which is giving off the great¬
est part of the smoke, viz. the fuel that has been last in¬
troduced, mixes with it before it passes over the fuel in
the interior, which is in a high state of combustion, and
enables it to inflame so completely, that not a particle
of smoke ever escapes undecomposed.
I he quantity of air thus admitted to pass over the
upper surface of the fire, is regulated by a very simple
contrivance. The plate a n rests at each end on a stud
or pin, projecting from the cheeks of the mouth-piece
A, or is furnished at each end with a pivot which works
in the cheeks ; the said pins or pivots being placed
about midway between the outside and inside of the
mouth-piece or hopper, so that, by elevating or de¬
pressing the edge a of the plate, the opening at n is
enlarged or diminished. When that degree of opening
which produces the best effects are obtained, which is
easily known, the plate a n is kept in its place by means
of a piece of iron introduced above it, and answering
the purpose of a wedge.
“ Under the grates is the ash-hole I, the upper part
of which is furnished with doors SS, which, when shut
prevent the heat from the front bars G from coming
out into the apartment, and incommoding the work¬
men.
“ Invited by an advertisement, we went to Messrs
Bunnell
1
    “ "• - “• ^“
idfcasnrl ^ T’ fi" faCt’ H ^rated kePt in theIr PosIt‘on by a catch L, and which may be opened a*
dispensedf witheamnS ^ ^ °Ut' ^ ^ furnaces an 0Pe“ing here is all that is necessary j the bars may be
a ^pl;VVefn. ^ t:n^, ^ bottom bars, and the breast brickwork b, is represented in the plate
ection 0. a shutter, which is sometimes opened for the purpose of getting out the refuse of the fqel.
269
Fumice.
   '
270
F U R N
Furnace.
Bunnell and Silver, Bedford-street, Covent-Garden, to
see one of these furnaces at Avork, and vve were not a
little gratified in observing that the smallest appearance
of smoke could not be perceived issuing from the top ot
Furnace
for «melt
in'* iron.
the chimney. The advantages of such an improvement
can hardly be better illustrated than by mentioning
what had actually happened with this steam engine.
The smoke, before the improved furnace was employed,
incommoded the neighbourhood so much, that it was
stopped as an intolerable nuisance. Novy it is so far
from disturbing any one, that, without being admitted
to see the engine, it would be actually impossible to
know when it is at work.
“ These furnaces, we understand, have also been a-
dopted by many intelligent manufacturers at Leeds and
at Manchester. At the latter place, if yve may credit
newspaper reports, several manufacturers have had their
works indicted as nuisances for not having adopted the
improvement; the magistrates arguing, tiat, tiougi
the welfare of the place required that such inconveni¬
ences should he submitted to while no possible cure for
them was known, the health and comfort of the inhabi¬
tants equally demand, now that the evil can be done
away, that smoking furnaces should not be permitted in
“ \Ve earnestly recommend to owners of steam en¬
gines, and also to those who are annoyed by them, to
endeavour to bring this improvement into general use.
Indeed, we entertain no doubt of its being universally
adopted sooner or later ; for it yields advantages not
onlv in point of cleanliness, comfort, and health, but
also in point of interest ; all the smoke usually dischar¬
ged at the top of the chimney, being in fact, so much
good fuel, that only wanted the contact of fresh air to
inflame it under the boiler. It is a fact well known,
that the flame which is often seen issuing from the chim¬
neys of founders, &c. has no existence except at the
top of the chimnev : while ascending the fine it is only
dense smoke, consisting of the azote of the atmospheric
air decomposed in passing through the fire, of hydro¬
gen, coal tar, and carbonaceous matter, or such a high
temperature, that it only wants oxygen to make it in¬
flame spontaneously : this it obtains from the atmosphe¬
ric air into which it ascends, and then presents such ap¬
pearances as would make a hasty observer adopt the opi¬
nion that the flame had ascended, as flame, from the
fuel in the furnace ; which is by no means the case. A
consideration of this simple fact will convince any pei-
son that it is not an inconsiderable proportion of the
fuel that is thus wasted. Nor is this the only loss sus¬
tained; the quantity of heat required not merely to ren¬
der such a portion of the fuel volatile, hut to give to it
a temperature able to produce the effect of which we
have taken notice, is itself furnished at the expence of
an extra and unnecessary quantity of fuel. The whole
waste in many cases is, we are persuaded, not less than
an eighth of the whole fuel employed.”
One of the most important furnaces, particularly for
■ this country, where, although great and essential im¬
provements have been made by industry and ingenuity,
the manufacture is yet in its infancy, is that for the
smelting of iron. . . _
We shall therefore enter more fully into the detail of
the history, construction, and general principles of the
operation of blast furnaces j and in tiacing their pro®
ACE.
gressive history, it may he observed, that in this coun- Furt
try it has experienced a revolution, of which no analo-'—v
gous instance has occurred in other countries.
In the early and barbarous periods of society, beforeHistot
the introduction of agriculture, the surface of a country
is usually covered with extensive forests. From this cir¬
cumstance wood, as being most accessible, abundant,
and of easiest application, is usually employed by man¬
kind for the purposes of fuel. In the progress of popu¬
lation and improvement, other advantages were derived
from the general use of wood as fuel ; and among these
the improvement of the climate, and clearing land for
the purposes of agriculture, rvere noneof the least. The
application of wood as fuel to different manufactories,
had no doubt also an early origin ; and in the manu¬
facture of iron, if conducted on a scale of any extent,
the demand for fuel of this kind must have been very
great. If, then, during the gradual improvement and
prosperity of this country, this manufacture, in place
of remaining stationary, or declining, from diminished
consumption, has increased in capital and extent, with-
out some substitute for wood, the art would have been
long before this time entirely lost, because it depended
on a stock which must have rapidly declined, and even
its very existence was often far from being compatible
with the views and interest of landholders. Such were
the circumstances in which Great Britain was placed,
from the reign of Charles II. to the middle of the 18th
century. During this period, being in a prosperous
state, the manufactures and commerce of the country
increased the demand for iron, while the supply of
wood, one of the most necessary materials in its manu-
facture, was greatly diminished. It is true, indeed,
that, previous to this period, pit-coal had been employ¬
ed as a substitute ; hut the prejudice of some, and the
selfish views of others, and especially the want of suffi-
cient mechanical powers, obstructed the progress of
this mode of manufacture. When, however, these dif¬
ficulties were surmounted, and it was found that the
change of fuel in the blast furnace was likely to prove
beneficial, this manufacture acquired new vigour, and
improvements succeeded each other in rapid succession.
In a period of about 50 years, a complete revolution
was effected, not only in relinquishing the mode of ma¬
king iron with charcoal and in employing pit-coal m
the blast furnace, hut also in the immense increase oi
the manufacture.
At what period the manufacture of iron commenced and
in Britain, cannot be precisely ascertained. It bas.g.
however, been supposed, that the Phcemcians, who
wrought the tin mines of Cornwall, may have introdu¬
ced into the country men who were skilled in metalm
ores, and Were capable of estimating their value, by
converting these mineral riches to such purposes as then
own necessities, or the wants of the ^habitants, might
require. It is probable also, that the invasion of Lng-
land by the Danes, and their establishment in this
country, added something to their former knowledge
in the art of mining and manufacturing the ores of iron.
In support of this conjecture, the large heaps ot scorn
found in many parts of England, and having a consi¬
derable tbicknes of soil upon them, have been denomi¬
nated from time immemorial, “ Danes cinders;” an
indeed so early as the year 1620, large oaks were foun
in a state of decay, upon the tops of some of those hi »
1
MW,
■i;
of scoria. But although these may have been very an-
-< cient manufactures, it is the less probable that the pro¬
duction of these cinders is to be ascribed to the blast
furnace j for at that remote period the manufacture was
chiefly directed to the fabrication of small portions of
malleable iron, in what were called foot-blasts and
bloomeries. I he art of casting or moulding in iron
was either altogether unknown, or in so rude a state,
that it could not be prosecuted with much prospect of
advantage. Pig or cast iron, it it was at all produced,
was then of the most refractory nature for being con¬
verted into malleable iron. It was not till a future pe¬
riod, when improvements had been made in machinery,
and the advantages of a division of labour were known,
that different furnaces were constructed j one for manu¬
facturing pig iron, and another lor converting it into
malleable iron, lo this the blastfurnace seems to have
owed its existence, and it is to be considered as an im¬
provement of the advantages which are derived from a
division of labour. Tf be blast furnaces being exclusively
appropriated to the making of pig iron, the attentive
manufacturer would soon perceive that the products of
the furnace were often different from each other. Re¬
peated observation and experience would enable him to
ascertain what was the cause of this difference. Obser¬
ving that an additional quantity of fuel rendered the
forged pig iron more fusible, this circumstance would
suggest the practicability of casting it into shape. Hence
probably arose the art of moulding, which afterwards,
as well as the bar-iron forge, became an appendage to
the blast furnace. After this new manufacture became
familiar, the advantage of dividing the product of the
blast furnace into gray melting iron, or into forged
pigs, according to the demand, would be obvious.
In the year 1615, according to Dudley, who has
stated the fact in his Metallum Mart is, there were no
less than 300 blast furnaces in England for smelting
iron ore with charcoal, and each furnace was supplied
with fuel upon an average of 40 weeks in the year,
taking the average produce of pig iron at each furnace
ot 15 tons per week, or 600 tons per annum, the total
annual quantity will amount to 180,000 tons, which is
a greater quantity than has ever been produced in Bri¬
tain since that period. It is supposed that this quantity
may be greatly exaggerated, but at the same time it is
adowed that the iron manufactory was, at this early
period, highly prosperous and productive. But in the
progress of agriculture and the increase of population
it was necessary to clear the land for the purpose of cul-’
•ivation. Irom this circumstance, as well as from the
?reat consumption of wood for the navy, the supply of
uel was greatly diminished ; so that the iron manufac-
ure became consequently less productive.
It is curious to remark that, although pit-coal was
■mown long before this period, and was wrought at
Newcastle previous to the year 1272, and great quan-
ities ot it were annually exported to Holland and the
* -ow tountr.es, and was used in the smith’s forge, and
ier manufactures which require a strong continued
iqnnf V” r am •t le PrejutI‘ce against its use in the
anutacture of cast iron was so inveterate, that when it
iiubl KSt Pro!,osed anJ attempted, every obstacle which
>uld be devised was thrown in its way. During the
gn of James I. several patents were granted for the
muve privilege of manufacturing iron with pit-coal.
FURNACE.
None of the adventurers, however, succeeded in their
attempts till the year 1619, when Dudley made pig-
iroii in a blast furnace, but produced only three tons in
the week. At this time the price of iron had risen, in
consequence of many of the iron-jvorks having stopped
for want of wood as fuel. To those manufacturers,
therefore, who could still be furnished with a supply of
wood, the manufacture was highly profitable, so that
they opposed any new attempt by which the price of
iron was likely to be diminished.
After this period, the progress of the iron manufac¬
ture was greatly interrupted from other causes. Amidst
the distraction occasioned by the civil wars which raged
in England, little improvement was to be expected.
It appears, however, that patents were granted during
the Commonwealth, for the exclusive privilege of ma¬
nufacturing iron in the new way j and in one of these,
it was believed at the time, that the Protector himself
had a share. All these experienced the fate of the
former, and no manufacture of any extent was success¬
fully established. In the year 1663, Dudley in his ap¬
plication for his last patent, stated that he could pro¬
duce at one time seven tons of pig iron in the week
vitn a lurnace of an improved construction, 27 feet
square, and with bellows which one man, without much
fatigue, could work for an hour.
I bus, as the demand for wood for the purposes of
fuel in this manufacture increased, and the growth of
timber was greatly diminished, the manufacturer was
forced by necessity to have recourse to the use of pit-
coal 5 and when various valuable improvements had
been made on machinery, and particularly when the
beneficial effects of the steam engine had been ascer¬
tained, the iron manufacturer saw himself in possession
oi a command of power in the management of his ma¬
terials, of which he had formerly no conception. The
small furnace supplied with air from bellows constructed
of leather, which was moved by means of oxen, horses,
or men, went into disuse, when larger furnaces were
introduced, with an increase of the column of air, for
the purpose of exciting combustion. But at this period,
when the manufacture derived new vigour from the in¬
troduction of the steam engine, and the general im¬
provement in machinery, it seemed, from the operation
oi other causes, and particularly from the deficiency of
fuel, to decline rapidly. The demand for iron in the
manufactured state, and particularly for bar iron, had
increased, while the quantity produced gradually dimi¬
nished. Recourse was now had to foreign markets for
a supply, and the importation of Russian and Swedish
iron then commenced. Of the 300 blast furnaces spoken
of by Dudley, 59 only existed ; and estimating their
annual produce at about 295 tons to each furnace, the
total amount did not much exceed 17,000 tons.
Such was the state of the manufacture of iron in
England and Wales, before the introduction of pit-
coal 5 and thus it appears, that in a period of from 100
to 13a years, it had suffered a diminution of more than
50,000 tons annually. It proved of singular benefit
to this manufacture, that the steam engine, which had
then become a powerful machine, w’as introduced, for
the purpose of raising and compressing the air, and
could be employed in those places where materials were
abundant, but where there was a deficiency of water for
moving the machinery. Besides, experience notv taught
the
2^2
Furnace.
tlie manufacture, that the produce of his furnace could
—y—j i,e increased by enlarging the diameter of the steam cy¬
linder, for rendering the vacuum under the piston more
perfect; and it was soon found that, by Increasing these
effects, such a quantity of pig iron could be produced
from the coak of pit-coal, as would be attended with a
suitable profit. It is scarcely to be wondered at, that
this circumstance should have long remained a secret-,
for a small quantity of air only being necessary to ig¬
nite the charcoal furnace, whether it arose from the pe¬
culiar inflammability of the fuel, or the small capacity
of the furnace, it was always under the eye ot the ma¬
nufacturer, and he would more frequently experience
the inconveniences of overblowing than underblowing
the furnace. It seems too extremely probable, that
pit coal, being considered in every respect inferior to
charcoal, the manufacturer would proceed with great
caution in enlarging the column of air, or increasing
its density ; and thus the advantages to be derived Irom
its use would be in a great measure lost. When, how¬
ever, experience had taught them a different lesson, the
limits to the quantity of air that might he directed to a
coak blast furnace, before any injurious effects arose,
were not very observable. It was found, indeed, that
the density of air diminished the quantity of the pro¬
duce, and the same law seemed to hold with regard to
pit-coal as well as to wood,—that the softer qualities
might be overblown, while the strata of a densei and
more compact consistence remained undiminished before
a heavier blast. _ .
Comes into Between the years 1750 and 1760 the coak ot pit-
general use. coal was pretty generally substituted for charcoal, in the
blast furnace. The iron manufacture assumed new vi¬
gour, and in a period of 30 years it experienced in
England and Whales a very remarkable progress. From
the general and increasing use of pit-coal, it is probable
that many of the charcoal works were sooner relinquish¬
ed than they would otherwise have been. The history
of the celebrated foundery of Carron in Scotland, af¬
fords us a curious instance of the progress of the use of
pit-coal in this manufacture. 1 bese extensive opera¬
tions commenced about the year 1760. f be blowing,
as was the practice at the time, was performed by means
of large bellows, moved by a water wheel. But as
there was a scanty supply of air, and as this was defi¬
cient in density, the weekly produce ol the furnace
rarely exceeded 10 or 12 tons, and often in summer this
quantity was considerably diminished. With a view to
improve the operation, immense quantities of wood
charcoal were prepared, and it was found that the pro¬
cess of smelting succeeded much better with this kind of
fuel than with the mineral coal which was dug out in
the neighbourhood. But in the improvement of ma¬
chinery, more effectual means were discovered to pre-
cure a’blast of sufficient force and density/qf the igni¬
tion of pit-coal, wheels of greater force were construc¬
ted the use of the bellows was relinquished, and in
their place large iron cylinders, so contrived as to blow
both up and down, were introduced. Thus, a larger
column of air, of three or four times the former density,
was obtained, and the beneficial effects arising from the
improvements were soon perceived j for the same fur¬
nace which formerly produced 10 or 12 tons in the
week, sometimes yielded 40 tons in the same time 5
F U K N A C E.
and on an annual average, not less than 15,000 tons of
metal.
About the end of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, we
are informed by Dudley, that blast furnaces had been
constructed on so large a scale, and with such a power
cf machinery, as to yield a daily produce of more than
two tons of charcoal iron; but it is probable that so
large a produce could only be obtained in situations
where there was a copious supply of water, and where
the water wheels and bellows employed were of large
size. In the more ordinary modes of conducting this
process, furnaces of a much smaller size were employed,
and these received the supply of air from hand bellowr
which were moved by men, and sometimes by cattle.
From the superiority of the manufacture of iron guns,
mortars, &c. England possessed at this time a consider¬
able export trade ; but as pit-coal had not yet been ap¬
plied to any departments in the manufacture of iron, it
seems probable that these articles were cast from the
large blast furnaces, because the flame of wood, com¬
paring it with that of pit-coal, possessing but feeble ef¬
fects,^would render the application of the reverberating
furnace (if it was then known), of no use in the casting
of guns and mortars. The vrant of pit-coal in every de¬
partment of the foundery, greatly retarded the perfec¬
tion to which the art of moulding might have arrived,
and even obstructed its improvement. The backward
state in which the art of casting and moulding long re¬
mained in this country, shewed that the want of this
material of the smelting fuel in the blast furnace.was
long severely felt; and owing to this, other nations,
who in many other respects enjoyed fewer advantages,
made more rapid progress in the improvement of this
manufacture. Before this period, it is not improbable
that the use of pit-coal might have been suggested to
the manufacturer, and that this material, employed as a
fuel, might have been considered as an auxiliary, or as
a substitute in various departments of the process. The
inflammability of this substance, and its tendency to be
converted into a cinder, as well as the general decay ol
wood, would afford sufficient ground for what might be
considered by many as a useful speculation. 1 he be¬
nefits of this manufacture as it then stood, had been
carefully investigated, and fully appreciated by those
who were interested in it. The supply of wood only
seemed to limit its extent, but for want of a sufficient
supply of materials, the establishment of new works be¬
came impracticable, those already engaged in the busi¬
ness were anxious to preserve the supply they enjoyed,
however limited, rather than encourage any innovation
or change in the process, which, by the substitution
pit-coal for charcoal from wood, would probably give .0
new adventurers and speculators a superiority of the
market. Besides, many of the furnaces which were
then going, wei’c at a great distance from pit-coal,
that the general use of this substance, and the advan¬
tages to be derived from it, would be highly injurious
to their interests.
Such was the state of this manufacture when the use
of pit-coal in this process was discovered, or when it was
proposed to employ it for this purpose. With this view,
James I. in the year 1612, granted a patent to Simon
Sturtevant, for the exclusive manufacture of iron wim
pit-coal, for the period of 31 vears. In obtaining this
privilege,
F ice
FURNACE.
privilege, the patentee obliged himself to publish a full
account of his discoveries, and this appeared in a work
An (fir
in quarto, under the title of “ Metallica.” It appears,
however, that Sturtevant had not succeeded in his
schemes j for in the following year he gave up his privi¬
lege, but it is not known to what causes the failure is
to be ascribed.
ftn - After Sturtevant, a John Ravenson, embarked in the
adM wren same hazardous undertaking; and although he procured
a patent without much trouble, he had soon to encoun¬
ter difficulties in the way of ultimate success, analogous
to those which had prevailed over the perseverance of
Sturtevant, and induced him to relinquish the farther
prosecution of his schemes. He obtained his patent on
conditions similar to those on which his predecessor pro¬
cured it, in consequence of which he published his
“ Metallica” in i6i3» All his successors were, like
him, obliged to resign their patents from the want of
adequate success.
Duiff ob. Dudley procured his patent in the year 1619, and
tain pa- notwithstanding he affirmed that he manufactured not
unt m°re than three tons per week, he found it a lucrative
undertaking. This discovery he brought to perfection
at the works of his father in Worcestershire; but by
the influence of those who wished to share in the emo¬
luments arising from the manufacture of iron with pit-
coal, his patent was limited to instead of 31 years*
He informs us himself, that, during the greater part of
this period, he was enabled to sell pig and bar iron
much cheaper than any of his competitors ; but as his
remarkable success drew their envy upon him, his de¬
voted works were at length destroyed by a lawless mob,
urged on, it is supposed, to perpetrate so atrocious a
deed by his rivals in business. In this unmerited treat¬
ment of the sanguine but unfortunate Dudley, the coke
pig process unquestionably experienced an irreparable
loss. He had so many rivals to contend with, by virtue
of the original ground he occupied as a manufacturer,
and his attachment to the cause of royalty was so sin¬
cere, that his improvements were effectually prevented
from arriving at lasting or general utility. Could he
have procured a new patent after the restoration, there
is little doubt but he would have again entered with
avidity on the laborious paths of discovery. In peti¬
tioning for the recovery of his ancient privileges, we
nnd him declaring that instead of three, he was enabled
to manufacture seven tons per week of coke pig iron, in
consequence of a large furnace, and an improved bel¬
lows.
t»eT; it T° .tand c!ear as much as P0SS‘,Jle of the method of
'operation which Dudley had discovered, one Captain
Ruck, Major Wildman, and some others, constructed
large air-furnaces in the forest of Dean, into which they
put clay pots, for containing the requisite preparations
ot ore and charcoal. Pit-coal was employed for the
purpose of heating the furnaces ; and it is highly pro¬
bable that these new adventurers were sanguine enough
to believe that, by tapping the pots below, the separat¬
ee metal would flow out. This strange method of assay¬
ing irn soon found impracticable ; for the heat was not
ot sufficient intensity to produce an entire separation ;
the pots gave way, and the prosecution of this ridiculous
cietne was speedily relinquished.
The manufacture of iron received no farther im-
~i fpaabjut a centui7 after this period. It
t
Alter
was found to be practicable ; but how to procure such a
quantity as to produce a lucrative return, was not to
be derived from the mere knowledge of the particular-
proportions of the raw materials. Had machinery
reached that degree of perfection in the time of the ill-
fated Dudley which it has since done, we have good
reason to believe that the rapid progress of the pig iron
manufacture would have dated its origin from the sera
of that enterprising genius.
We shall conclude this historical account of the iron Produce of
manufacture, with a view of the progressive quantity ^urnacei ui
produced at the different furnaces in Great Britain at B,'itain-
different periods.
Tons.
250
294
545
907
875
In 1620, the 300 blast furnaces mentioned by
Dudley, which existed in England and Wales,
produced each at an average
At a later period, but previous to the use of pit-
coal, 39 furnaces produced each on an average
In 1788, 24 charcoal furnaces, which were then
going in England, produced each on an
average - - . _
In 1788, 53 blast furnaces, in which coak from
pit-coal was used, yielded each on an average,
nearly - . . _
In 1788, eight furnaces in Scotland produced
on an average, each
In 1796, there were in England and Wales,
104 furnaces, from each of which was obtain¬
ed on an average - » .
In 1796, 17 furnaces in Scotland produced
each on an average
But from the above statement we are not enabled to
draw an accui ate conclusion of the degree of improvement
which has been introduced in blowing machinery ; for
among the furnaces mentioned in I79^> were included
a number of charcoal blasts, which yielded only a small
produce. . But the average produce of iron manufac¬
tured ai pit-coal blast furnaces, at no less an amount than
At melting furnaces - - _ 1200
At forge pig works - . . 2ooo
To what we have now said, we shall only give a view Prices at
of the prices of the produce of this manufacture, anddifi'erent
the channels of consumption for this immense quantity Perit>tJs*
of materials. J
1048
946
Per Ton.
L.6 o o
o
10
o
10
10
10
Charcoal pig iron sold in 1620 for
Ditto for melting in 1788
Ditto in 1798 - _
Coak pig iron in the time of Dudley
Ditto in 1788
Ditto in 1798 - - _
Melting Tron in 1802
The produce of pig iron in England and
and in Scotland, from 168 furnaces, has been calculated
at the immense quantity of 172,000 tons. It will be
impossible to say with absolute precision what are the
channels into which this immense quantity of raw ma¬
terials passes for consumption ; but the following views
will enable the reader to account for part of it.
Wale'
Coasuaifi.
tion of pig
. , < Teas. iron.
Annual consumption in the erection of new fur¬
naces, forges, &c 5000
M111 Annual
2?4
Fnrn;u:e-
Annual consumption at forges in Britain, for
the manufacture of bar iron
Purchased by government in the state of can¬
nons, mortars, &c. on an average ol three
years, including the waste in melting, 6cc.
with what is employed in the navy as bal¬
last - - *
Ditto by the India Company
Ditto for merchantmen
Ballast for India and merchantmen
Principles
of the
blast fur¬
nace.
Plate
CXXXV
f'g- 3-
Deserip-
t;on of. a
fiiiBace.
Bet ns now consider the construction and general
principles of the blast furnace. The term blast is em¬
ployed at iron founderies, to signify the column of air
which is forced into the furnace for the purpose of pro¬
moting combustion. The velocity of this blast is produced
by the blowing machine impelling the contents of the
air-pump through one or two small apertures, and in
this wav a column of air of various density is produced.
Here we propose to avail ourselves of what has been
done by Mr Mushet, formerly of the Calder iron works
near Glasgow, a manufacturer himself, who with much
philosophical discrimination joins a great deal of excel¬
lent practical observation. The many valuable hints
which be lias suggested, will, we trust, not only be ac¬
ceptable, but prove highly beneficial in directing and
assisting the views and operations of those concerned
in this important manufacture.
To have a clear view of his reasonings and observa¬
tions on the nature and principles of the blast furnace,
we shall first give bis description of the building and
apparatus, and then detail what he has said concerning
its management and mode of operation.
Fig. 3. represents a blast furnace with part of the
• blowing machine. A, the regulating cylinder, eight
feet diameter and eight feet high. B, the floating piston,
loaded with weights proportionate to the power of the
machine. C, the valve, by which the air is passed from
the pumping cylinder into the regulator : its length 26
inches, and breadth 11 inches. D, the aperture by
which the blast is forced into the furnace. Diameter
of this range of pipes 18 inches. The wider these
pipes can with conveniency be used, the less is the fric¬
tion, and the more powerful are the effects of the blast.
E, the blowing or pumping cylinder, six feet diameter,
nine feet high : travel of the piston in this cylinder
from five to seven feet per stroke. F, the blowing
piston, and a view of one of the valves, of which there
are sometimes two, and sometimes four, distributed over
the surface of the piston. The area of each is propor¬
tioned to the number of valves: commonly they are
12 + 46 inches. G, a pile of solid stone building, on
which the regulating cylinder rests, and to which the
flanch and tilts of the blowing cylinder are attached.
H, the safety-valve, or cock ; by the simple turning
of which the blast may be admitted to, or shut off from
the furnace, and passed off to a collateral tube on the
opposite side. I, the tuyere, by which the blast enters
the furnace. The end of the tapered pipe, which ap¬
proaches the tuyere, receives small pipes of various dia¬
meters, from two to three inches, called nose pipes.
These are applied at pleasure, and as the strength
and velocity of the blast may require. K, the bottom
of the hearth, two feet square. L, the top of the
U R N A C E.
Tons, hearth two feet six inches square. KL, the height FWnt|,
of the hearth six feet six inches, L is also the bottom -v
of the boshes, which here terminate of the same size as
the top of the hearth •, only the former are round, and
the latter square. M, the top of the boshes, 12 feet
diameter and eight feet of perpendicular height. N,
the top of the furnace, at which the materials are
charged $ commonly three feet diameter. MN, the
internal cavity of the furnace from the top of the boshes
upwards, 30 feet high. NK, total height of the inter¬
nal parts of the furnace, feet. 00, the lining.
This is done in the nicest manner with fire bricks made
purpose, 13 inches long and three inches thick.
70,000
14,899
5>7C0
11,000
5,000
PP, a vacancy which is left all around the outside of
the first lining, three indies broad, and which is beat
full of coke-dust. This space is allowed for any ex¬
pansion which might take place in consequence of the
swelling of the materials by heat when descending to
the bottom of the furnace. QQ, the second lining,
similar to the first. R, a cast-iron lintel, on which the
bottom of the arch is supported. RS, the rise of the
arch. ST, height of the arch ; on the outside 14 feet,
and 18 feet wide. VV, the extremes of the hearth, ten
feet square. This and the bosh-stones are always made
from a coarse gritted freestone, whose fracture presents
large rounded grains of quartz, connected by means of
a cement less pure.
Fig. 4. represents the foundation of the furnace, and Fig. 4,!
a full view of the manner in which the false bottom is
constructed.
AA, the bottom stones of the hearth. B, stratum
of bedding sand. CC, passages by which the vapours,
which may be generated from the damps, are passed oft.
DD, pillars of brick. The letters in the horizontal
view, of the same figure, correspond to similar letters
in the dotted elevation.
Fig. 5. AA, horizontal section of the diameter of the Fig. f:
boshes, the lining and vacancy for stuffing at M. C,
view of the top of the hearth at L.
Fig. 6. vertical side-section of the hearth and boshes •, yjg, <
shewing the tymp and dam-stones, and the tymp and
dam-plates, a, the tymp-stone. b, the tymp-platey
which is wedged firmly to the stone, to keep it firm in
case of splitting by the great heat, c, dam-stone, which
occupies the whole breadth of the bottom of the hearth,
excepting about six inches, which, when the furnace is
at work, is filled every cast with strong sand. 1 his
stone is surmounted by an iron plate of considerable
thickness, and of a peculiar shape cl, and from this call¬
ed the dam-plate. The top of the dam-stone and plate
is two, three, or four inches under the level of the tu¬
yere bole. The space betwixt the bottom of the tymp
and the dotted line is also rammed full of strong sand,
and sometimes fire-clay. This is called the tymp-stop-
ping, and prevents any part of the blast from being un¬
necessarily expended. t
The square of the base of this blast-furnace is 38
feet 5 the extreme height from the false bottom to the
top of the crater is 55 feet.
Having given the above description of the construe-Mod
tion of the furnace, Mr Mushet next proceeds to take a°icr
view of its mode of operation and management. “ The
operations (he observes) I am about to describe have
never as yet received any explanation consonant to true
philosophy or chemical facts j yet there are few which
present
■nace
I ‘tins
a (irepa
fin.
FUR
present a more beautiful chain of affinities, decomposi¬
tion, and recombination, than the manufacture of iron
in all its various stages. An extensive foundery is a la¬
boratory fraught with phenomena of the most interest¬
ing nature in chemistry and natural philosophy : are
we not then justly surprised to find that prejudice still
reigns there j and that the curious manipulations of these
regions are still shrouded with error and misconception1,
as if their dingy structure forbade the entrance of genius,
or consigned her laborious unlettered sons to an endless
stretch of mental obscurity?”
Having described the furnace, he continues, “ I
shall pioceed to detail the train of preparation neces¬
sary. before the furnace is brought to produce good
melting iron.
“ The furnace being finished, the bottom and sides
of it, for two feet up the square funnel, receive a lining
of common bricks upon edge, to prevent the stones from
shivering or mouldering when the fire conies in contact
with it. On the front of the furnace is erected a tem¬
porary fire-place, about four feet long, into the bottom
of which are laid corresponding liars. The side-walls
are made so high as to reach the under surface of the
tymp-stone j excepting a small space, which afterwards
receives an iron plate of an inch and a half thick, by
way of a cover : This also preserves the tymp-stone
from any injury it might sustain by being in contact with
the flame. A fire is now kindled upon the bars, and
is fed occasionally with small coals. As the whole ca¬
vity of the furnace serves as a chimney for this fire, the
draught in consequence is violent, and the body of heat
carried up is very considerable. In the course of three
weeks the furnace will thus become entirely free from
damp, and fit for the reception of the materials : when
this .is judged proper the fire-place is removed, but
the interior bricks are allowed to remain till the opera¬
tion of blowing commences. Some loose fuel is then
thrown upon the bottom of the furnace, and a few bas¬
kets of cokes are introduced $ these are allowed to be¬
come thoroughly ignited .before more are added. In
this manner the furnace is gradually filled ; sometimes
entirely full, and at other times j-Sths or 3-4ths full.
The number of baskets full depend entirely upon the
size of the furnace : that in the plate will contain 900
sen* the C°al is SpHnt’ the weJg|]t of eat-'h bas¬
ket-fun will be nearly nolb. X 9°°=99,OOolb. cokes.
As this quality of cokes is made with a loss of nearly
50 per cent, the original weight in raw coals will be
equal to. 198,0001b. When we reflect that this vast
body of ignited matter is replaced every third day,
when the furnace is properly at work, a notion may be
tormed of the immense quantity of materials requisite,
as also the consequent industry exerted to supply one
or more furnaces for the space of one year.
“ When the furnace is sufficiently heated through-
N A C E.
out, specific quantities of cokes, iron-stone, and blast¬
furnace cinders are added : these are called charges.  ~
liie cokes, are commonly filled in baskets, which, at Charging; it.
all the various iron-works, are nearly of a size. The
weight of a basket, however, depends entirely upon the
nature and quality of the coal, being from Jo to 11 alb,
each (d). i he iron-stone is filled into boxes, which,
when moderately heaped, contain 56H). of torrefied iron¬
stone j they often exceed this when the stone has been
severely roasted. The first charges which a furnace re¬
ceives, contain but a small proportion of iron-stone to
the weight of cokes : this is afterwards increased to a
full liuiden, winch is commonly four baskets cokes,
320II). j two boxes iron-stone, nalb. 5 one box of blast¬
furnace cinders, 60 or yolb. (e). At new works, where
these cinders cannot be obtained, a similar quantity of
limestone is used.
“ ^ be descent of the charge, or burden, is facilitated
by opening the furnace below two or three times a-day,
throwing out the cold cinders, and admitting, for an
lioin at a time, a body of fresh air. This operation is
repeated till the approach of the iron-stone and cinder,
which is always announced by a partial union, and the
dtopping of lava through the iron bars, introduced to
support the incumbent materials while those on the bot¬
tom are carried away. The filling above is regularly
continued, and when the furnace at the top has acquired
a considerable degree of heat, it is then judged time to Time to
introduce the blast j the preparations necessary for apply the
which are the following :— blast.
“ 1 be dam-stone is laid in its place firmly imbedded
in fire-clay j the dam-plate is again imbedded on this
with the same cement, and is subject to the same incli¬
nation. On the top of this plate is a slight depression,
of a curved form, towards that side farthest distant from
the blast, for the purpose of concentrating the scoria,
and allowing it to flow off in a connected stream, as it
tends to surmount the level of the dam. From this
notch to the level of the floor a declivity of brick-work
is erected, down which the scoria of the furnace flows
in large quantities. The opening betwixt the dam and
side-walls of the furnace, called the Jauld, is then built
up with sand, the loose bricks are removed, and the fur¬
nace bottom is covered with powdered-lime or charcoal-
dust. The ignited cokes are now allowed to fall down,
and are brought forward with iron bars nearly to a level
with the dam. The space between the surface of the
cokes and the bottom of the tymp-plate is next rammed
hard with strong binding sand ; and these cokes, which
are exposed on the outside, are covered with coke-dust.
These precautions being taken, the tuyere-hole is then
opened and lined with a soft mixture of fire clay and
loam : the blast is commonly introduced into the fur¬
nace at first with a small discharging-pipe, which is
afterwards increased as occasion may require. In two
M m 2 hours
th/propoititms^^d at^an11 almo®t imP°ssible, under one description, to give a just idea of
nected with a coal of a medium aSrfUrnaces ; .to aV01J b^ing to° diffuse, I shall confine my description con-
?8lb. to 8^1b a 1 ys or a mixture o* splint and free-coal, a basket of which xvill weigh from
fied(l;;treP:ferr.a!fi^ ^ alwT girn t0 ^-frrnace cinders in place of lime j being already vitri-
Wtrid ernst asier fusion, and tenc. to preserve the surface of the hearth by glazing it over with a black
Is
276
1 tiniace-
Fused me¬
tal J et out,
Characters
of the pro¬
duce.
FUR
hours after blowing, a considerable quantity of lava will
be accumulated; iron bars are then introduced, and
perforations made in the compressed matter at the bot¬
tom of the furnace; the lava is admitted to al parts ol
the hearth, and soon thoroughly heats and glazes the
surfaces of the fire-stone. Shortly after this it rises to
a level with the notch in the dam-plate, and by its own
accumulation, together with the forcible action of the
blast it flows over. Its colour is at first black , its
fracture dense and very ponderous ; the form it assumes
in running off is flat and branched, sometimes in long
streams, and at other times less extensive. 11 the pre¬
paration has been well conducted, the colour of the cin¬
der will soon change to white; and the metal, which in
the state of an oxyde formerly coloured will be
left in a disengaged state m the furnace When he
metal has risen nearly to a leve with the dam, 1 Us
then let out by cutting away the hardened loam of the
fauld, and conveyed by a channel, made in sand, to
its proper destination ; the principal channel, or run¬
ner, is called the sow, the lateral moulds are called the
in six days after the commencement of blowing,
the furnace ought to have wrought herself dear, and
have acquired capacity sufficient to contain from 5000
to 7000 weight of iron. The quality ought also to be
richly carbonated, so as to he of value and estimation
in the pig-market. At this period, with a quality ot
coal as formerly mentioned, the charge will have in¬
creased to the following proportions Five baskets
cokes, 4001b. ; six boxes iron-stone, 3361b.; one box
limestone, loolb. , , ,
“ An analysis of the smelting operation, and the ten¬
dency which the individual agents have to produce
change in the quality and quantity of the iron, come
next under consideration. Let us, however, first notice
the characteristic features exhibited by the different
kinds of iron while in fusion, whereby the quality of the
metal may be justly defined. . , .
u When fine (N0 1.) or super-carbonated crude iron
is run from the furnace, the stream of metal, as it issues
from the fauld, throws off an infinite number of bril¬
liant sparkles of carhone. The surface is covered
with a fluid pellicle of carburet of iron, which, as it
flows, rears itself up in the most delicate folds : at first
the fluid metal appears like a dense, ponderous stream,
but, as the collateral moulds become filled, it exhibits
a general rapid motion from the surface of the pigs to
the centre of many points ; millions of the finest undu¬
lations move upon each mould, displaying the greatest
nicety and rapidity of movement, conjoined with an
uncommonly beautiful variegation of colour, which
language is inadequate justly to describe, buch metal,
in quantity, will remain fluid for 20 minutes after it is
run from the furnace, and when cold will have its sur¬
face covered with the beautiful carburet of iron, al¬
ready mentioned, of an uncommonly rich and brilliant
appearance. When the surface of the vessel is not car¬
bureted, it is smooth like forged iron, and always con¬
vex In this state iron is too rich for melting without
the addition of coarse metal, and is unfit to be used in
a cupola furnace for making fine castings, where thin¬
ness and a good skin are requisite.
“ N° 4. or oxygenated crude iron, when issuing from
the blast furnace, throws off from all parts of the fluid
N A C E.
surface a vast number of metallic spars : they arise Furi,
from a different cause than that exerted in the former' ,>
instance. The extreme privation of carhone renders the
metal subject to the combination of oxygen so soon as
it comes into contact with atmospheric air. This truth is
evidently manifested by the ejection of small spherules
of iron from all parts of the surface ; the deflagration
does not, however, take place till the globule has been
thrown two or three feet up in the air ; it then inflames
and separates with a slight hissing explosion, into a
great many minute particles of a brilliant fire. W nen
these are collected they prove to he a true oxyde of
iron, hut so much saturated with oxygen, as to possess no
magnetic obedience. ihe surface of oxygenated iron,
when running, is covered with waving flakes of an obscure
smoky flame, accompanied with a hissing noise ; form¬
ing a wonderful contrast with the fine rich covering of
plumbago in the other state of the metal, occasionally
parting and exhibiting the iron in a state of the greatest
apparent purity, agitated in numberless minute fibres,
from the abundance of the carbone united with the metal.
“ When iron thus highly oxygenated comes to rest,
small specks of oxyde begin to appear floating upon the
surface: these increase in size ; and when the metal has
become solid, the upper surface is found entirely cover¬
ed with a scale of blue oxyde of various thicknesses, de¬
pendent upon the stage of oxygenation or extreme
privation of carbone. This oxide, in common, contains
about 15 per cent, of oxygen, and is very obedient to
the magnet. In place of a dark blue smooth surface,
convex and richly carbonated, the metal will exhibit
a deep, rough, concave face, which, when the oxyde
is removed, presents a great number of deep pits.
This iron in fusion stands less convex than carbonated
iron, merely because it is less susceptible of a state of
extreme division ; and indeed it seems a principle in all
metallic fluids, that they are convex in proportion to
the quantity of carbone with which they are saturated.
This iron flows dead and ponderous, and rarely parts in
shades hut at the distance of some inches from each other.
“ This is a slight sketch of the appearance of the
two extreme qualities of crude or pig iron, when in a
state of fusion. According to the division formerly
made, there still remain two intermediate stages of
quality to be described : these are, carbonated and
carbo-oxygenated iron ; that is N° 2. and 3. of the ma¬
nufacturers. Carbonated iron exhibits, like N° 1. a
beautiful appearance in the runner and pig. The break¬
ings of the fluid, in general, are less fine ; the agitation
less delicate ; though the division of the fluid is equal,
if not beyond that of the other. When the internal
ebullition of the metal is greatest, the undulating shades
are smallest and most numerous : sometimes they assume
the shape of small segments; sometimes fibrated groups;
and at other times minute circles, ol a mellower colour
than the ground of the fluid. TLhe surface of the metal,
exposed to the external air, when cooling, is generally
slightly convex, and full of punctures : these, in iron 01
a weaker and fusible nature, are commonly small in the
diameter, and of no great depth. In strong metal the
punctures are much wider and deeper. This criterion,
however, is not infallible, when pig-iron of different
works, is taken collectively. At each individual work,
however, that iron will be strongest whose honeycombs
are largest and deepest.
“ Carbo*
liace. “ Carbo-ox-ygenated, or N° 3. pig-iron, runs smooth-
v 'ly, without any great degree of ebullition or disengage¬
ment of metallic sparks. The partings upon its surface
are longer, and at greater distances from each other
than in the former varieties : the shape they assume is
either elliptical, circular, or curved. In cooling, this
metal acquires a considerable portion of oxyde ; the
surface is neither markedly convex nor concave 5 the
punctures are less, and frequently vanish altogether.
Their absence, however, is no token of a smooth face
succeeding : in qualities of crude iron oxygenated be¬
yond this, I have already mentioned that a concave sur¬
face is the consequence of the extreme absence of car-
bone ; and that, in proportion as this principle, is absent,
the surface of the iron acquires roughness and asperity.
“ It may perhaps be proper here to mention, once
for all, that although, for convenience, the manufactu¬
rer has, from a just estimation of the value of the metal
in a subsequent manufacture, affixed certain numbers
for determinate qualities of iron, yet it is difficult to
say at what degree of saturation of carbone each respec¬
tive term commences : suffice it then to say, that the
two alternative principles, oxygen and carbone, form
two distinct classes, that in which oxygen predominates,
and that in which carbone predominates j the latter
comprehends N° 1. and 2. of the manufacturers, the
former includes oxygenated, white and mottled ; and the
equalization of these mixtures form, as has already been
noticed, the variety of carbo-oxygenated crude iron.
“ I shall now observe some things relative to the va¬
rious faces which crude iron assumes. N° 1. and 2. with
their intermediate qualities, possess surfaces more or less
convex, and frequently with thin blisters : this we at¬
tribute to the presence of carbone, which being plenti-
iully interspersed betwixt and throughout the particles
of the metal, the tendency which the iron has to shrink
m cooling is entirely done away; it tends to distend the
aggregate of the mass, and to give a round face, by
gradually elevating the central parts of the surface,
which are always last to lose their fluidity.
“ Again, that quality of iron known by the name
of N° 3. or carbo-oxygenated, is most commonly found
with a flat surface. If we still farther trace the appear¬
ance of the surface of pig-iron, when run from the fur¬
nace, we shall find N° 4. either with a white or mottled
fracture, possessed of concave faces rough and deeply
pitted. Beyond this it may be imagined that every
degree of further oxygenation would be productive of
a surface deeper in the curve, and rougher, with addi¬
tional asperities. The contrary is the case: when crude
non is so far debased as to be run from the furnace in
clotted lumps highly oxygenated, the surface of the
pigs is found to be more convex than that of N° 1. iron ;
but then the fracture of such metal presents an impure
mass covered on both faces with a mixture of oxydated
non, of a blueish colour, nearly metallic. In short, this
quality of iron is incapable of receiving such a degree
of fluidity as to enable us to judge whether the convexi¬
ty of its surface is peculiar to its state, or is owing to its
want of division as a fluid, whereby the gradual conso¬
lidation of the metal is prevented.
‘‘Ihese features sufficiently distinguish betwixt the
various qualities of crude iron after they are obtained
nonr the blast furnace: there are, however, criterions
not less infallible, whereby we can prejudge the quali¬
FURNACE.
277
ty of the metal many hours before it is run from the Furnace.
furnace. I hese are the colour and form of the scoria, ' v~—'
the colour of the vitrid crust upon the working bars, Determined
and the quantity of carburet which is attached to it!fl0!n t,!e
The variety of colour and form in the cinder almost ft™‘ofThe
universally indicate the quality of the metal on the scoria,
hearth. Hence, from a long course of experience, have
arisen the following denominations : “ Cinder of sul¬
phury iron “ Cinder of N° 1. N° 2. and N° 3.;”
and Cinder of ballast iron.,, Although at different
woiks, from local circumstances, the same kind of scoria
may not indicate precisely the same quality of iron,
jet toe dilleience is so small that the following descrip¬
tion of the various cinders may convey a very just idea
of their general appearance.
u When the scoria is of a whitish colour and short
form, branching from the notch of the dam, and emit-
ting fiom its stream beautiful sparks of ignited carbone,
resembling those ejected from a crucible of cast steel in
fusion, exposed to external air, or to the combustion of
fine steel filings in a white flame ; if, when issuing from
the orifice of the furnace, it is of the purest white co¬
lour, possessing no tenacity, but in a state of the greatest
fluid division, and, ivlien cold, resembles a mass of heavy
torrefied spar, void of the smallest vitrid appearance,
hard and durable, it is then certain that the furnace
contains sulphury iron, i. e. super carbonated iron. At
blast furnaces, where a great quantity of air is thrown
in per minute, super-carbonated crude iron will be ob¬
tained with a cinder of a longer form, with a rough
flint fracture towards the outside of the column.
“ That cinder which indicates the presence of car¬
bonated iron in the hearth of the furnace, forms itself
into circular compact streams, which become consoli¬
dated and inserted into each other; these are in length
from three to nine feet. Their colour when the iron
approaches the first quality, is a beautiful variegation
of white and blue enamel, forming a wild profusion of
the elements of every known figure ; the blues are
lighter or darker according to the quantity of the metal
and the action of the external air while cooling. When
the quality of the pig-iron is sparingly carbonated, the
blue colour is less vivid, less delicate ; and the external
surface rougher, and more sullied with a mixture of co¬
lour. The same scoria, when fused in vessels which are
allowed to cool gradually, parts with all its variety and
shade, and becomes of a yellowish colour, sometimes
nearly white when the quantity of incorporated metals
has been small.
I he cinder which is emitted from the blast furnace
when carbo-oxygenated (or N° 3.) iron is produced,
assumes a long zig zag form. The stream is slightly
convex in the middle ; broad, flat, and obliquely fur¬
rowed towards the edges. The end of the stream fre¬
quently rears itself into narrow tapered cones, to the
height of six or eight inches : these are generally hollow
in the centre, and are easily demolished, owing to their
excessive brittleness. The colour of this lava is very
various ; for the most it is pale yellow, mixed with
green. Its tenacity is so great, that if, while fluid, a
small iron hook is inserted into it at a certain degree of
heat, and then drawn from it with a quick but steady
motion, 20 to 30 yards of fine glass thread may be
formed with ease. If the colours are vivid and varie¬
gated, the thread will possess, upon a minute scale, all
the
F U R N
tlie various tints of colouring which is found in the co¬
lumnar mass. When by accident a quantity of this
lava runs back upon the discharging-pipe, it is upon t.ie
return of the blast impelled with such velocity as to be
blown into minute delicate fibres, smaller than the
most ductile wire •, at first they float upon the air like
wool, and when at rest very much resemble that sub-
stiincc# . /'vio "\
“ The presence of oxygenated crude iron (_JN 4-J on
the furnace hearth, is indicated by the lava resolving it¬
self into long streams, sometimes branched, sometimes
columnar, extending from the notch to the lowest part
of the declivity j here it commonly forms large, flat,
hollow cakes, or inclines to form conical figures: these
are, however, seldom perfect; lor the quantity of fluid
lava, conveyed through the centre of the column, ac¬
cumulates faster than the internal sides of the cone are
consolidated j and thus, when the structure is only halt
finished, the small crater vomits forth its superabundant
lava, and is demolished. Hie current ol such lava falls
heavi]y from the dam as if surcharged with metal, and
emits "dark red sparks resembling the agitation of straw
embers. Its colour is still more varied than the former
descriptions of scoriae, and is found changing its hues
through a great variety of greens shaded with'browns.
Another variety of scoria, which indicates the same
quality of iron, assumes a similar form ; but has a black
ground colour mixed with browns, or is entirely black.
When the latter colour prevails, the texture of the cin¬
der becomes porous ; the quantity of iron left is now
very considerable, and such as will be easily extracted
in the assay-furnace with proper fluxes. In cases of
total derangement in the furnace, the scoria will still
retain this black colour, although the quantity of metal
may amount to 25 percent.; the fracture, however,
becomes dense, and its specific gravity increases in pro¬
portion to the quantity of metal it holds incorporated.
“ The next source of information, as to the quality
of the iron in the furnace, is to be got from the colour
of the scoria upon the working bars, which are from
time to time inserted to keep the furnace free from
lumps, and to bring forward the scoria. When super-
carbonated crude iron is in the hearth, the vitrid crust
upon the bars will be of a black colour and smooth sur¬
face, fully covered with large and brilliant plates of
plumbago.
“ As the quality of the metal approaches to N° 2.
(carbonated), the carburet upon the scoria decreases
both in point of quantity and size.
“ When carbo-oxygenated iron (N° 3.) is in the
furnace, the working bars are always coated with a
lighter coloured scoria than when the former varieties
exist; a speck of plumbago is now only found here and
there, and that of the smallest size. When the quality
of the metal is oxygenated (N° 4.), not only have the
plates of carburet disappeared, but also the coally co¬
lour on the external surface of the scoria; what now
attaches to the bars, is nearly of the same nature and
colour as the lava emitted at the notch of the dam.
“ These criterions are infallible ; for, as the fusibility
or carbonation of the metal is promoted in a direct ratio
to the comparative quantity of the coally principle in
the furnace, so in the same proportion will the vitrid
crust encircling the working bars exhibit the presence
of that principle in the furnace.
ACE,
“ In the smelting operation a just proportion and as, F«nU
sociation of materials and mechanical construction ought
to be blended in order to produce the rest possible ef.
fects. Under the former are comprehended the cokes,
iron-stone, limestone, and blast; by the latter is under¬
stood the furnace, the power of the blowing-machine,
or the compression and velocity under which the air is
discharged into the furnace, and the genius or mechani.
cal skill of the workmen. According to this division
I shall endeavour to point out the very various effects
which disproportion in any case produces, and vice
versa.
“ In the preceding observations the coal and iron stone
have been traced through their various stages of prepa¬
ration, and that stage pointed out in which they were
most suitable for the profitable manufacture of the me-
tal. It. will be necessary to carry along with us this
fact, that in the exact proportion which the quantity of
carbone hears to the quantity of metal in the ore, and its
mixtures, so will be the fusibility, and of course the va¬
lue of the pig-iron obtained. The importance of this
truth will still farther appear when we consider the very
various qualities of pit-coal, the different proportions of
carbone which they contain, and the various properties
attached to every species of this useful combustible.
“ Among the many strata of coal which I have distil-Naint
led, some I have found to contain 70 parts in the ioo.®0,8' •
This large proportion is peculiar to the clod-coal, used™"1"
at some of the iron works in England, and justly prefer¬
red for the purpose of manufacture, to the purest and
hardest variety of splint-coal. The latter I have found
to average from 50 to 59 parts of carbone in the 100;
and the soft, or mixed qualities of coal, from 45 to 53
parts. Such various proportions of carbone plainly
point out that the operations to be followed at each in¬
dividual iron-work ought not to rest upon precedent, un¬
less borrowed from those works where exactly the same
quality of coal is used. This analysis also lays open
part cf the source from whence originates the widely
different quantities of metal produced per week at va¬
rious blast-furnaces, and the great disproportions of ore
used to different coals.
“ Experience has shewn that the three qualities of
coal just mentioned, will smelt and give carbonation to
the following proportions of the same species of torre¬
fied iron-stone :
112 lb. of clod-coal cokes will smelt - 330 lb,
XI2 lb, of splint-coal cokes will smelt - 105 lb,
112 lb. mixed soft and hard coal cokes will smelt 84 lb,
“ Let the iron-stone be supposed in the blast-furnace
to yield 40 per cent, then we find that the one-twen¬
tieth of a ton of the respective qualities of cokes will
smelt and carbonate the following proportions of iron,
viz. 112 lb. clod-coal cokes, 1301b. iron-stone, at 40 per
cent, 52lb. iron ; 112 lb, of splint-coal cokes, lOjlb,
of the stone == 42 lb, of iron ; and 112 lb, soft and hard
coal cokes, 84 lb. of the iron stone rr 33A *^on,
We then have for the quantity of metal produced by
one ton of each quality of cokes :
Clod-coal 52 X 20 = 1040 lb.
Splint ditto 42 X 20 840 lb.
Mixed ditto 33ts- X 20 ~ 702 lb,
<( This furnishes a datura whereby we easily obtain
tb®
FUR
j j,es. the quantity of the various cokes necessary to produce
W-
279
Bifi'JIce
efpr Ice
from isr-
c-ntl is
«fco
1 one ton of carbonated crude iron by common proper
tion : for if 10401b. of meta! are produced by one ton,
or 22401b. of clod- coal cokes, the quantity of the same
cokes requisite for the production of one ton, or 22401b.
of metal will be-—
T. C.Q lb.
4824.6lb.z02 308
Splint-coal cokes 840:2240::2240:5973.3lb.=:2 1 3 1 9
Mixed ditto 702:2240::2240:7i47.5lb.=z3 337
“ If to the quantity of cokes necessary to manufac¬
ture one ton of crude iron, we add the quantity of vo¬
latile matter driven off in the process of charring, which
may be thus estimated upon the average of each qua¬
lity :
Clod-coal | or 37 J per c. produce in cokes| a 62^perc.
Splint coal —50 -ffOrjo
Mixed coal |—62,5 —37*
“ Then, for the quantity of the respective coals used
in the raw state, we have the following results in pro¬
portion.
T. C. Q. lb.
Clod-coal 5: 4824.6:: 8: 77191 = 3 8 2 19
Splint coal 3 : 5973.3 :: 8 : 11946 =5 6 2 18
Mixed coal 3 : 7147.1 :: 8 : 161581= 8 11 016
“ These great disproportions of quantity, used to fa¬
bricate one ton, or 2240 averdupoise pounds of the same
quality of crude iron, will convey a striking and im¬
pressive idea of the multifarious qualities of coal which
may be applied and made to produce the same effects.
It should also convince the manufacturer that the study
and analysis of his own materials is the first and radical
approach to true knowledge, and certainty of operation.
Divest him of this knowledge, and view him guided by
the customs and rules prevalent at another manufactory,
where the coals and ores may be as different as has been
already mentioned, and we will no longer wonder at
the uncertainty of his results, and the numberless errors
of Ins direction.
“ Before I enter into the practical discussion of the
application of coal, I beg leave to indulge myself in the
following calculations We have already seen that the
production of 22401b. of carbonated crude iron requires
48241b. of clod-coal cokes ; these may be averaged to
contain 4.5 per cent, of ashes, which, deducted from
4824, gives 46071b. of carbone used for one ton of
metal: this sum, divided by 2240, farther gives, for
one lb. of cast iron thus manufactured, 2.0561b. of
carbone.
‘‘ next find that 2240H). of the same metal re¬
quires of splint coal cokes 5973.31b. ; vve farther find,
irom a table of the analysis of coal, furnished in a for¬
mer paper, that 100 parts of the raw coal contained
N A C E.
4.2 parts of ashes. As it is there stated to losq 50 per Furnace
cent, in charring, 100 parts of cokes will contain 8.4 ' v 
of ashes , and 8.4 per cent, deducted from 5973 3
gives 5472 lb. of carbone. This again, reduced by
22401b. gives for each pound of metal manufactured
2.4421b.
Again, 7147.11b. of cokes obtained from soft
mixed coals are consumed for every ton of 2240 aver¬
dupoise pounds of crude iron produced ; every 100 parts
of the same coals contain 3.3 parts of ashes; and 100
parts of cokes contain nearly 6.5 per cent, of ashes
which, deducted from 7147.3, gives 6672.6 of carbone’
which divided by 2240, gives, for the quantity used for
one pound of cast iron, 2.9781b.
“ From these calculations it appears, that 22401b. of
carbonated iron, requires of carbone from clod-coal
46071b.; of carbone from splint-coal, 54721b.; and
of carbone from mixed coal, 66721b.: that one pound
of carbonated iron requires of carbone from clod-coal
cokes 2.0561b. ; from splint, 2.4421b.; from mixed,
2.983II). ; and that carbonated crude iron may be ob¬
tained when widely different quantities of carbone have
been consumed.
“ In seeking for a solution of the latter fact, we must
have recourse to the different degrees of inflammability
of the carbone, according to the various laws of conti¬
nuity imposed upon it in its fossil construction. It can
easily be conceived, that owing to this structure, and
the nature of the interposed ashes, the particles of car¬
bone of some cokes will be more easily oxygenated than
those of others; in the same way that we find splint-
coal, when exposed to ignition in contact with open air,
affords one-third of more cokes than are obtained from
soft mixed coals, though the latter, when distilled, yield
more pure carbone than the former.
By experiment it is proven that 100 grains of
carbonic acid gas is composed of 72 parts of oxygen,
united with 28 parts of carbone : if the quantity of the
carbone of clod-coal, viz. 2.0561b. used for the manu¬
facturing of every pound of cast iron, is reduced to
grains, we will find it to consist of 14392 grains; this,
divided by 28, gives the acidifiable principle of 514
X 100=51400 grains of carbonic acid gas (f) : hence
as one cubic loot of this gas, at 29.84 of barometrical
pressure, and 54.5 of temperature, weighs near 761
grains, we find that in the formation of every pound of
cast iron —67*54 cubical feet of carbonic acid
gas will be formed ; and in the production of one ton
of metal, the astonishing quantity of 151289.60 cubic
feet. This quantity, however incredible it may seem
 1.1 1 r  1 . .. . J -v,..,,
is only what would be formed under the above pressure,
and at the above temperature : when we take into the
account the high temperature at which the decomposi¬
tion and recombination are effected, with the conse¬
quent
is is supposing for the moment, that the whole of the carhone is oxygenated, either by the oxygen
by-,l,e of the. atmospheric air: this,
(F) “ This
boweTrdof'Cf7:7t,‘ u^uarging-pipe Dy tire tiecomposition ot the atmospheric air: this,
cident moisture I < f 16 UI,'a sma11 Portl011’ l,y weight, of the carbone ; and when, by ac-
its decomnosW 1 f • I'1 ' T,0 116 fl,rnaCe’ either tlirouS-h the m^ium of the blast, or of the materials,
of the carbone a!1 018 ?S ^ ^01- oxygen and hydrogen, which may dissolve, and also carry off, a part
»& ,vatcr “ ^ ^ "i ««»
28o
Furnace.
furnace.
when we reflect upon the inequality of the movements
of a blowing machine, and when it is recollected that-
some allowance ought also to be made for what air may
pass through the furnace undecomposed, or may be lost
at the place of entrance.
“ From this coincidence of theory with practice, we
cannot help admiring the rigorous principles on which the
17004 Lavoisierian system is founded ; nor are we less pleased
“ For the splint-coal 2,442 lb. or —=610,5 X to find, that, small as the operations of the chemist may
, . ., • he vet thev are a lust epitome of what takes place in
100=61050 grains of carbonic acid, whic 1 give. the philosophy of extensive manufactories. The follovv-
6I£i2= 82.8 c cubic feet for 1 lb. and 82,85 X 224° ing table exhibits the quantity of carbone which may be
761 •ii used upon an average, with the relative quantity of car-
For the mixed coal bon.c formed, and air used :
manufacture of I lb.—1 ton of iron,
quent increase of elastic force and of volume, our ideas
1 are almost unable to commensurate the sum ot the gas
hourly formed, and thrown off-, ignited to the highest
degree of heat. . _ . , ,
“ Jf the same mode of calculation is adopted with the
other qualities of coal, we will have the following le-
suits
= 185.584 cubic feet for one ton
2.983 or 710 X 100 = 71000 grains carbo¬
nic acid 5 that is,7^°-°- = 93.3 cubical feet for I lb.;
and 93.3 X 2240= 208,992 cubical feet for one ton.
By the same calculation we may attain a pretty accu¬
rate notion of the quantity of atmospheric air necessaiy
to produce 1 lb. or one ton of cast iron } an average of
the three varieties of coal will be sufficiently accurate
, 14392 X 17094 X 20881
for this purpose; thus
!7455t or 2*4935 lb. of carbone are consumed upon
the average of each pound of pig-iren : this is found to
produce of carbonic acid gas —^™—^,34I X *00
= 62.30041 grains j which again divided by 761* the
grains in one cubic foot, gives 81.86 cubic feet for the
was discharged in manufacturing one pound of cast iron.
As carbonic acid contains, as has already been noticed,
7 2 parts of oxygen in 100, then we have for the quan¬
tity of oxygen gas 100 : 72 :: 62400.41 : 44856.29
grains oxygen gas ; and as, at the ordinary temperature
and pressure of the atmosphere, a cubic foot of oxygen
gas weighs 591 grains, we find 44856.29 divided by
591 = 75.89 cubic feet of oxygen gas necessary to
form the acidifying principle of 81.86 cubic feet of
carbonic acid gas j and that the same quantity of oxy¬
gen gas is necessary to the production of one pound of
carbonated crude iron. This leads us to the following
statement for the quantity of atmospheric air used du¬
ring the same operation j first premising that the consti¬
tuent parts of atmospheric air are nearly 73 of azote
and 27 of oxygen gas ; of atmospheric air then neces¬
sary, we have 27 : 100 :: 75.89 : 281 cubic feet.
‘‘ I shall now proceed from mere calculation to matter
of fact, and attempt to prove the correctness of the
former by the approximation of the latter to its results.
Let a blast furnace be supposed to produce 20-§- tons of
pig-iron per week, = 45360 avoirdupoise pounds 5 this
divided by days, hours, minutes, and seconds, gives per
day 6480 pounds, per hour 270, per minute 3^ lb. and
per second 525 grains.
“ From this it is evident that one pound of cast iron
is produced in 13?^ seconds •, experience has shewn
that a blast-furnace, producing, in any of the above
periods, the respective quantity of metal, requires a dis¬
charge of air per minute nearly equal to 1350 cubic
feet ; this, divided by 4,5 lb. the quantity produced per
minute gives, for one pound of iron, 300 cubic feet.
The quantity, by calculation, we have seen to be 281
cubic feet, difference 10 j a sum no way considerable
3
In the manufacture of I lb.—1
The pure carbone requisite is 2.49— 55^5-44 lb’
Carbonic acid formed 81.86—183366.40 cub. ft.
Oxygen gas used 75.89—169993.60 cub. ft.
Atmospheric air employed 281.00—62944^'^® cul3, ft*
“ From the foregoing particulars upon coal may be
learned how much is dependent upon the native con¬
struction of coal and its constituent parts j I shall next
advert to the efiects produced by its improper prepara¬
tion. I 1
“ When coals intended for the blast furnace are suf-Quali|((
ficiently charred, they ought, in point of colour, to be^j
of a silver-gray: their fracture will appear lamellated ;
and porous if splint-coals have been used j softer coals
form themselves into branches slightly curved, and,
when properly prepared, are always very porous. I
have frequently found that the better the cokes were
charred, the more water they will absorb. Coals half
burnt do not take up half so much water, because
their fracture continues in part to be smooth and less
porous than when thoroughly burnt.
“ When half-prepared cokes are introduced into
the furnace, the metal formerly carbonated will lose
its gray fracture, and approach to the quality of oxy¬
genated iron. Their presence is easily detected by the
unusual quantity of thick vapour arising along with
the flame. Besides, the water and sulphur, which raw
coals introduce into the furnace, and which always
impair the quantity of carbone by the various solutions
effected by the presence of oxygen, hydrogen, &c. the
fitness of the coal for combustion, and the support of
the ore, is much diminished by this second course of
ignition and disengagement of bitumen. The pressure
of the incumbent ores also fracture and reduce the
cokes into small pieces, which produce a considerable
portion of coke-dust $ this is partly carried to the top
of the furnace before the blast j sometimes below it
appears in immense quantities, ignited to whiteness,
and liquid as sand. Coal thus detached from the mass,
exposed to the action of a compressed current of air, is
unfit for conveying the carbonic principle to the metal; ;
and as it frequently belongs to the just proportion ol
charcoal necessary to smelt the ores, and to carbonate
their iron, its loss must be felt, and the quality of iron
impaired. m 11
“ When cokes of any quality are exposed to a moist Eft'
atmosphere, so as to absorb water, their effects in the^ jy
blastfurnace become much reduced, and the presence^ ib-
of the water is productive of the most hurtful conse-Soi !
quences in the production of carbonated crude iron. I"11
have found, by repeated experiment, that one pound of
well-
FUR
tcej well prepared cokes will, wlien laid in water, take up
i|. ounce in the space of half an hour; at this rate, a
basket of cokes weighing 80 lb. saturated with water,
will contain J40 ounces of water, or 8^ lb. If the
charge contains six baskets, then we see that upwards
of 50 lb. of water is introduced regularly along with
the charge, furnishing an additional quantity of oxygen
equal to 42^ lb. and of hydrogen equal to 7! lb. j but
it frequently happens that the cokes contain a larger
portion of water than is here stated. When cokes thus
surcharged are introduced in quantity into the blast
furnace, the quality of the metal is not always instan¬
taneously changed, and frequently the colour and form
of the cinder remain long without any great alteration.
The contact of wetted cokes with the ore is first seen
by the great discharge of pale blue gas, with the whiter
flame at the top of the furnacej next, the accumulating
oxyde upon the surface of the pig when consolidating
indicates their presence. Iron thus oxygenated fre¬
quently exhibits, while fluid, that agitation and deli¬
cate partings peculiar to carbonated metal; the re¬
melting of this iron is never attended with advantage,
and is always unprofitable to the founder.
“ From the properties which have been assign¬
ed to pit-coal, the following facts may be dedu¬
ced:——I hat charcoal is the basis of the manufac¬
ture of crude iron ; that its proper application pro¬
duces the most valuable quantities of pig-iron ; that, by
diminishing its relative proportion, or contaminating
its quality by heterogeneous mixtures, the value and
fusibility of the metal is lost 5 but, that, by a proper
increase, and always in proportion to this increase, will
the fusibility and value of the iron be mended. From
the whole, an important lesson may be learned of the
pernicious effects of water in the furnace, and how
absolutely necessary it is to prepare the cokes without
using water, either to damp the fires, as in the usual
mode, or to cool the cinders obtained from the tar
kilns, to prevent their consuming in the open air; in
all this hurtful operation considerable quantities of wa¬
ter become fixed in the cokes, which require a very
great degree of heat to expel.
The preparation of iron stone has already been
fully attended to^ and the phenomena which it exhi-
bits under every stage minutely described. In conse¬
quence of various experiments we are authorised to
draw the following conclusions : That when pure cal¬
careous iron-stone is used, it admits of havino- the
local quantities of cokes diminished j that argillaceous
requires a larger portion than the calcareous genus •
- and that siliceous iron-stone requires a greater pro-
portion of fuel than any variety of the former genera.
>f 'I6 Ilave also seen that fusibility, either connected
with strength or otherwise, is derived from the mix¬
ture of the ores j and that excessive brittleness, inti¬
mately connected with infusibility, is also derived from
the same source. From a review of these facts, we
are forcibly impressed with the importance of com¬
bining the prepared iron-stones with proportions of
tuel suited to their various natures, in order to pro¬
duce all the varieties of iron with the greatest possible
economy. Contemplating farther the same subject it
is easy to be conceived that a want of knowledge’ of
the component parts of iron-stones, and the effects
which individually they produce, must lead to great
* OL. IX. Fart I.
281
N A C E.
uncertainty of operation in the smelting process, Furnace.
wherein the beautiful economy of nature, and even  v——
real property, will be often unprofitably sacrificed to
precedent.
“ Besides the above causes of alteration, dependent The oxy-
upon mixtures of the earths, the existence of oxygen gen of the
in various quantities in the ores ought never to belron‘stone
overlooked _ in proportioning the cokes to the iron¬
stone. This powerful agent, whose form and substance
constantly eludes our vision ; whose existence is only
ascertained by the wonderful changes produced by its
various combinations with the iron; and whose presence
in the same iron-stone, in various quantities, may pro¬
duce such variety of result as to characterise the ores
as containing good or bad iron, surely forms the most
interesting mixture which ores or iron-stones possess.
It will be a momentous epoch in the manufacture of
iron when the existence of such a principle shall be
fully admitted by the manufacturer, and its agency,
from certain visible effects produced, adopted to explain
its accompanying phenomena. Till that period he will
not perceive the utility of ascertaining the quantity of
oxygen, and devising economical methods of taking it
from the ore. An attention to this powerful principle
can alone root out those prejudices so inimical to the
real interests of the manufacturer, and which seem to
glance at nature, as having improvidently combined
her most useful metal with mixtures which could resist
the ingenuity of man, or set his comprehensive intellect
at defiance. In the progress of this great inquiry, is it
not possible that the present expensive exertions may in
part be superseded ? Is it not possible, that, by laying
open the sources of information to individuals at large
a greater mass of intellect may engage in the practice
of this art? While the present extensive and lofty
buildings are necessary, the business is entirely confined
in the hands of men of great capital; the extent of
their manufactures require that a large tract of country
be devoted to their supply ; a natural consequence is,
that innumerable tracts of land are overlooked, or held
unworthy of notice, merely because they cannot, in a
period necessary to clear a great capital and insure a
fortune, afiord the necessary supply of materials. Such
situations, according to the present state of the iron
business, must remain unexplored. Should, however,
a desire for truth once gain footing in the manufactories
of iron, and should this natural impulse of the unpre¬
judiced mind keep pace with other branches of intel¬
lectual information, we may not despair of seeing many
imperfections removed, which were the unavoidable
consequence of the period of their creation.
In the application of iron-stone in the blastfurnace,
the following particulars ought rigorously to be attend¬
ed to:—
“ 1. Their mixture, whether clay, lime, orsilex; their and lts
relative proportions to each other, judging according tootfcer qaa-
the rules formerly laid down ; which of them may admit h'tias lo be
of a diminution of fuel; which of them will afford the con,ideced'
quality of iron at the time requisite; and which of them
will be most likely, by a judicious arrangement, to give
the greatest produce of metal, united with value and
economy. Iron stones, united with large portions of
silex, have already been stated to require a greater pro¬
portion of fuel to carbonate their metal than the other
genera. When ballast or forge-pigs are wanted, it
N n
282
f'urHac1!.
The
FURNACE.
tw, n«P,l • of the utmost importance in blast furnace
is obvious that siliceous iron-stones ought to be used , F _^.i .1:—
not that they contain a greater quantity of iron, bu
because they form a substitute tor the other tad ,
which may be more advantageously smelted
production of more valuable qualities. _
“ 2. The quantity of metal which each indiyidua
iron-stone may contain, is another object of considera¬
tion. Besides the proportion of mixtures, which chiefly cuu^iuij _   
contribute to the fusibility of iron-stones, a seLOli ® fected by a compressed current of air impelled by the
gree of fusibility is dependent upon the r,c1'"® , j 0f a blowing machine, the consequences of
ore in iron j this is so obvious in the use ot the Cumbe ^0,eJ ; eithebr 5n tlt or quality, must
land and Lancashire ores, that the consequences of their the change 01 , _ H .jL
01 uie umiuoi. —— —   „ fllWe.
ductions, management, and direction of these eflects are v—
therefore serious objects of consideration to the manu¬
facturer of iron, since on their proper application the
success of his operation chiefly depends. And here we
shall renew our obligations to Mr Mushet lor his in¬
teresting observations on this subject. “When it is
considered,” he says, “ that in the smelting operation
the reduction of immense quantities of materials is ef-
lana ana .Liaiiociniii.i.
introduction will be perceived, by the change ot t
scoria and metal, in half the time that change would be
effected by ordinary iron-stones. It has been fiequent-
ly noticed, that crude iron contained pure carbonic m
proportion to its fusibility 5 then the more fusible or su-
percarbonated qualities must take up, comparatively, a
considerable portion of the carbonaceous principle from
the fuel. From this results a striking consequence, that
the quantity of fuel should, over and above its relation
to the mixtures, bear a just proportion to the quantity
of iron in the stone : for example, let the weight per
Quantity of charge of fuel at a blast furnace be zpolb. and et this
fL to be be supposed sufficiently to fuse and carbonate the iron
proportion- contained in 3601b. of iron-stone 5 let the quantity ot
ate,10 thef metal be supposed 35 per cent, then the produce will be
ihe ore 1261b. Should a change take place, and iron stone
richer in iron be applied, though the same by weight,
and should this iron stone yield of torrefied stone 45 per
cent, its produce will be i62lb. or 4olb. more than the
former. As there exists no greater proportion ot car-
bone in the furnace, it is evident that the existing quan¬
tity being distributed over nearly one-third ot more
metal, must therefore be in more sparing quantity m
the whole, and the value of the metal consequently re-
The weight of oxygen contained in iron stones
is the next object of serious consideration. I have al¬
ready shewn, from experiment, that our iron stones na¬
turally contain from 9 to 14 per cent, of oxygen, which
r*. . C-    shpivn. that
be very obvious: when, farther, we contemplate the
metal called into existence by means of combustion thus
excited ; when we consider iron as having the most
powerful affinity for the base of that part of the air
which maintains combustion j and when we view the
debased state to which the metal is reduced by coming
into improper contact with it, we must conclude, that
the application of blast in the manufacturing of iron
calls for the most minute and thorough investigation.
In order to take a comprehensive view of this subject,
the following division will be requisite :—
« Istj The intimate connection which the quantity
of blast’bears to the area of the internal cavity of the
furnace, and to the nature of the pit-coal. . ‘
“ 2d, The various modes by which air is procured,
and how these respectively affect the quality ot the air.
“ 3d, The various changes to which air is subjected
by a change of temperature in the atmosphere, with the
consequent effects. 1 •*.
“ 4th, How far increased or diminished velocity and
compression alter the results of the furnace.
“ 5th, The form and diameter of the dischargmg-
pipe.
“ 1st Then, in the construction of a blast-furnace and Qm
blowing-machine, the quantity of air to be nseJ ought.!#
to depend upon the internal dimensions ot the tormer,^
» _•  1,4. 4-r* fnrmprl to the.,..
LU UCUCUVl    .1 U1C
which, again, ought to be formed according to tbe^ lrf
. • 1 TT a. 1  .... li *1 l*ri 11 PQfi
quality of the pit-coal. Upon the softness or hardnesst]ie
of the coal, ought more immediately to depend thenac
=Sl^t„rrefaitio».-ithaSalsohee»|wuS
this quantity of hurtful mixture may be .
by over-roasting or under-roasting the stone •, and that
the bad effects entailed are in the ratio of its combina¬
tion with the iron. From a review of the facts
which have been adduced onfthis subject, its agency
and effects will easily be credited by men of science •,
its property of constituting the acidifying base ot all
the acids readily explains the unalienable consequence
of its presence with acidifiable bases. The effects are
still more pernicious when the oxygen is furnished by
. 1   ..C tut ivnn sfonfi 1 the hv-
capacities, from 30 to 50 feet in height, and from mneoft ,il
to 16 feet diameter at the boshes. Furnaces from 30 to
36 feet are used for the softer qualities of coal, such as
a mixture of free-coal and splint. Furnaces from 36
to 4; are appropriated to the burning of splmt-coa
cokes ; and in Wales, such is the superior strength ami I
quality of the pit-coal, that the furnaces admit ot being
reared to the height of 50 feet. _ ... II
These various qualities of coal, it has been former-
still more pernicious when the oxygen is turnishect by ^^hts of iron-stone, and,
the decomposUion of water .n raw .ro,, stone .e y- j ^ V of ^ ^ capable
drogen in this case, set free, also seizes a portion of the
carbone*, and these abstractions, united to that produced
by the native portion of oxygen in the stone, form an
aggregate which frequently reduces the value of iron
4.0 per cent. So long as the principles of science are
overlooked in the manipulations of the foundery and
forge, the existence of such agents will be treated as
chimeras of the philosopher and the chemist, and the
effects hourly produced by them industriously attributed
to causes which, in point of unity or consistency, will
. i* 1 itiTroctirratinn . 7
to use the language of the manufactory, are
“ of supporting a greater or less burden of mine.
former qualities admit not of having the air discharge
in great quantity, unless it is impelled under an uncom-
ill ^ 1. V* ~ J J     L 1 fl
mon degree of compression and consequent velocity, m-
...1 •. 1 .1   . InC
* Phil. not bear ths slightest touch of investigation .
e.vol.v. The corapression, velocity, and effects of the air are
Mag-
compatible with the operations of a steam-engine,
reason is obvious: when air, loosely compresse , ot
comparatively so, is thrown into a body of ignited iue,
the mechanical structure and continuity ot whose par
tides are soft, the air is much more easily decompose j
the ignition, of course, is more rapid: the descent ot tie
materials is promoted beyond their proper ratio, aW<
IU«! ted
by ;s'
am
,, long before tlie carbonaceous matter has penetrated the
J ore, or united to the metal, to constitute fusibility. I
shall adduce an example, as being the most illustrative
of this doctrine.
“ Suppose a blast furnace, 35 feet high, 11 wide at
the boshes, properly burdened, and producing No 1. pig-
iron. Let the discharge of the air be supposed er’ja| j.'0
a pressure of two pounds and a half upon the inch
or equivalent to one-sixth of the atm^p|iere or ftVg
inches of mercury : under these cir^ms'tances j’t ;t far_
ther be supposed, that 1500 epical feet of air are dis¬
charged in one minute j r^d that the diameter of the
discharging pipe is 2..G25, the area of which is equal to
6.890625 circular inches. Let the discharging pipe
be increased to three inches diameter, and let the same
quantity of air be passed into the furnace ; it is evident
that as the area of the discharging pipe is increased to
nine circular inches, or nearly one-third more than for¬
merly, the compression of air must be proportionally di¬
minished. The alteration is soon perceived by its ef¬
fects ; the quantity of scoria increases from the furnace,
whilst the consumption of the materials above is also*
considerably augmented. In a few hours the scoria will
have undergone a complete change, from pure white,
enamelled with various blue shades, to a green, brown,
or black colour, considerably charged with the oxide of
iron (g). The same effects will continue, in greater
or lesser degree, till all the materials are reduced which
were existing in the furnace at the period of diminished
compression. The philosophy of this fact may be in¬
vestigated in the following manner:—
“ While the just association of proportions remained,
the air was discharged under such a degree of compres¬
sion as to excite proper combustion : the decomposition
of the air by means of the ignited fuel, was not effected
in immediate contact with the separating metal, but
had, by its uncommon degree of density, resisted de¬
composition in the ignited passage, and had been de¬
composed upon the cokes at a greater elevation in the
furnace. As a proof of this, we frequently see a tube
formed throughout the whole breadth of the furnace,
quite black and apparently cold, formed of the fused
materials: when this is removed, a considerable descent
momently takes place of cokes heated visibly beyond
the common pitch : these inflame rapidly, but are soon
again cooled to blackness by the incessant discharge of
air upon them. The descending mixture of iron* and
lava is in like manner cooled along the line of blast-
the tube is again formed, and, if not removed, will re¬
main for days together, while the furnace will be other-
ways working in the best manner.
When by accident or design the compression and
velocity of blast are diminished, the tube begins to
burn, and throws off a great many fiery-coloured sparks
the sides and roof fail, and are carried before the blast
m all directions. Sometimes considerable clots of im¬
perfect iron are recoiled with such violence as to es¬
cape the vortex of blast, and issue from the tuyere-hole
with such velocity as to inflame the air, and fall down
*n the state of oxide. In the end the tuyere will ap¬
pear to flame, and all the passage inwards shews an as-
FURNACE.
in the fuel.
tonishing degree of whiteness. r' ,, .
the air is instantaneously . J ‘‘e necomPosition of Furnace.
ignited passage ; tb' ’ -»lpc ec upon its entering the ' 
the oxygen . • ^.,ron bV Jh,s means is exposed to
of cab- ‘ " ls.dlsermred > and the vast quantity
ic set tree, m consequence of its union with the
iron and carbone, produces the astonishing heat now
visible, but which formerly took place at a more proper
height in the furnace.
From tins it will appear, that although a greater
apparent degree of heat is visibly produced by the sud¬
den decomposition of the air, and a more rapid descent
of materials lor some time is the consequence, yet, as
the quality of the iron is impaired, and as in the end
the furnace will return to its old consumption of mate¬
rials as to quantity, the effects of a loose soft blast are
obviously pernicious.
“ It sometimes happens, that when a loose blast is Pernicious
surcharged with a considerable portion of moisture, oreirec!sof
comes in contact with cokes which had been wet when moist.llre iH
introduced into the furnace, the inflammation which ;'ie a*r 01
takes place at the tuyere is prodigious : fine fire clay
will be melted down and blown to slag in a few mi¬
nutes ; the sides of the furnace, composed of very in¬
fusible fire stone, are next attacked, and in a few hours
will be so completely destroyed as to stop the working
and require immediate repair. Effects similar to those
now described will be felt when the blast is improperly
proportioned to coal of a stronger continuity of frac¬
ture and superior quality. Besides the effects produced
by the sudden decomposition of iron, others of like na¬
ture are produced where a soft coal is used, a small
furnace, and a great discharge of blast.
“ It has been found that crude iron, to be properly
matured, ought to remain in the blast furnace, aecord-
ing to circumstances, 48 to 60 hours ; that is, from the
period that the iron stone is introduced till such time as
the metal begins to occupy its place in the hearth in a
state of perfect separation. \Vhen the contrary is the
case, the mixture arrives at the hottest part of the fur¬
nace before the metal has taken up a sufficient quantity
of carbone from the fuel j the action of the blast, and
the immediate heat by which the ore is surrounded
forces the iron from its connections to the bottom of the5
furnace. The quality is de-carbonated, and reduced
in its value : to restore this again, the local portion of
fue] is increased ; this adds to the expence of manufac¬
turing, and diminishes, in some measure, the smelting
of the furnace.
“ When splint-coal cokes are used in the blast-fur¬
nace, the blast admits of being thrown in under the
highest possible pitch of compression ; the uncommon
density of the charcoal sustains a very powerful dis¬
charge of blast before it is dissipated to facilitate the
general descent. Most frequently, large masses of
these cinders pass through the whole ignited cavity,
and are thrown out below, possessing all the acuteness
of their original form and fracture.
“ This quality of coal is used in all the Curson blast
furnaces, where, to ensure a respectable produce, the
air is discharged under a pressure equal to 3^ pounds
upon the square inch, or 6^- inches of mercury.
N n 2 “ The
C ) The metal will have lost nearly all its carbone, and have become inferior in valpe 25 to 30 per cent.
284
Fumiace.
furnace.
of coal was used at the Devon
“ The same qua,.,,' ~ ^ the bllst of
    non works, where at one u.. » . ° f„rnarP
a 48 inch cylider engine throw.: iQ ^Hrds of geven
the column of mercury supported was up\..
inches ; the quantity of air discharged under St- «.
impelling power, I found to exceed 2600 cu nca eec
1 “ The coals used at the Cleugh, Cleland, and Clyde
iron works, are nearly of the same quality at each—a
mixture of splint and soft coal. The Muirkirk and
Glenbuck iron works have a coal different from any ot
the former, and in some particular spots it considerably
resembles the English clod coal. # f .
„ ,, , “ 2d, The various methods of procuring air tor tlie
directing blast furnace may be reduced to the following -is ,
air into the That procured by cylinders, and discharged 0 1
furnace, furnace by means of a floating piston heavily oaded,
and working in a large receiver or regulating cylinder :•
2d, That wherein pumping cylinders only are used, an
the air thrown into chests inverted in water, called
the water vault: 3d, That mode wherein the air is
discharged from the pumping or forcing cylinder into
an air-tight house, called the air vault.
“ The first method is the original mode of blowing,
and is still much used at those iron works whose erec¬
tion has been prior to the last fifteen years. By this
mode the quality of the air is less subject to alteration
by a change of atmosphere. The principal objection to
this manner of blowing, is the want of capacity in the
receiving cylinder} which cannot be increased^ so much
as to take away the considerable intervals which occur
at different parts of the engine stroke. This effect is
sensibly seen by the speedy and irregular ascent and
descent of the column of mercury. In water blowing
machines, where the air is raised by three or four cylin¬
ders worked by means of a crank, and where the air is
received into an air chest, and forced into the furnace
by the continual action of the blast of each successive
cylinder, the current of the air is steady, and supports
the column of mercury with great uniformity.
“ The use of the water vault has of late years become
ofthTwa- very general among new erected works. Its properties
by cylin¬
ders and
water
blowing
Kiacliines;
by means
of the wa
ter vault.
The air
vault.
are, a steady and very cold blast: the largeness of the
receiving cisterns gives them a sufficient capacity to re¬
tain every pound of air raised by the furnace, and dis¬
tribute it to the greatest advantage. This is not the
case with the floating pistons, where a certain quantity
of spare wind is thrown out at every return of the en¬
gine, lest the great piston and weight should be blown
out of the cylinder altogether; which, indeed, some¬
times happens. The only objection which remains in
force against the use of the water-vault, is the tendency
which the air has to take up a considerable portion of
water in solution, and introduce it into the. furnace. A
judicious arrangement of the conducting pipes would in
some measure obviate this, as well as the more dange¬
rous tendency which water has to rise in a pipe speedily
emptied of its air by the stopping of the engine : a
stream of water thus conveyed to the furnace would be
productive of the most awful consequences:
r “ The air afforded by the air vault is much inferior
to that obtained in the former methods. This immense
magazine of compressed air generates a considerable
portion of heat, which greedily seizes the damps, which
are unavoidable in underground excavations, ami con- j-m
veys them to the furnace. The blast is, however, steady
and uniform j and when the inside of the building is
completely secured against the passage of air, it is pro¬
ductive of considerable effects in the furnace. In the
summer months, however, the air becomes so far debas¬
ed a? to affect the quality of the iron, and change it
from gray' to white. Every change in the temperature
of the atmosphere during this period, is indicated by
various changes in ihe furnace.
“ The largest air-vault hitherto in use was excavated
out of solid rock at the Devor? iron works j the fissures
of the rock admitted considerable quantities of water j
and the same degree of damp would always prevent the
possibility of making the side walls and root air-tight
by means of pitch and paper, &c.
“ Besides the various natures of blast, as to theQuJ
strength and equality of the current afforded by dif-»^
ferent modes of constructing the blowing machines,
variety in the quality of the air obtained is also an in¬
variable consequence : this is sufficiently known by the
effects which it produces in the blast furnace, and
ought to be subject to scrupulous examination.
“ In this, as in other countries, larger produces of
cast iron are obtained in the winter months than during
the summer and autumn seasons : the quality of the me¬
tal is also much more carbonated, and with a less pro¬
portion of fuel. In many parts of Sweden, where the
summer heats are intense, the manufacturer is obliged to
blow out or stop his furnace for two or three months:
not only is he unable to make carbonated metal, hut
is frequently incapable of keeping the furnace in such
trim as to make a produce of any quality whatever. In
Britain, during the months of June, July, and August,
more especially in dry seasons, the quality of the iron,
with the local proportion of fuel, will be depreciated
30 per cent, and the quantity reduced to two-thirdi
or three-fourths. . • n
“ In seeking for a solution of this universally ac¬
knowledged fact, our attention is naturally directed to
an examination of the various states of air. That the
quality of the air in winter is more fit for combustion
than in summer, is a truth which requires no farther
demonstration. Greater coolness, whereby an almost
complete refrigeration of moisture takes place, and the
presence of perhaps a greater relative proportion of oxy¬
gen, may account for this phenomenon. On the con¬
trary, the quality of air during the summer months be¬
comes much contaminated for combustion, by holding
in solution a much greater quantity of moisture : the
abundance of nitrous particles may also diminish the
usual proportion of oxygen.
“ This will account for the inferior effects of com¬
bustion both in common fires and in the blast furnace j
it will also in a great measure tend to solve the curion*
phenomenon of the pig-iron taking up less carbone m
summer, although reduced with a superior quantity ol
fuel. The air discharged most probably contains less
oxygen j yet the metal is much less carbonated than at
other times, when contrary proportions of these exist.
Most probably the deficient carbone is carried off by
dissolving in hydrogen, forming a constant stream ol
hydro-carbonic gas, while the oxygen that is set Tree
unites to the iron; and. while it reduces its quality, at
the
Cf.
> na«
■I S not
,,, itintiy
«
i I tts of
ti lir
: fr the
t\ iler.
the same time the quantity is reduced by a portion of
the metal being lost in the scoria (h).
“ To correct these occasional imperfections in the
quality of the air, and to devise methods to procure air
always fit for proper combustion, ought to be an object
of much consideration to the manufacturer of cast iron.
Whether such a consideration has given rise to the dif¬
ferent modes ol receiving and discharging the air now
in use, I cannot say ; I rather think not: a great quan¬
tity of air has hitherto been a greater object than a
certain and uniform quality $ and in a country where
there is more temperate and cold weather than hot, it
is by far the most important object : to unite both,
however, would be an attainment of the greatest utility,
and would rank the discoverer amongst the well-deserv¬
ing of his country. How far the mechanism of our
present machinery has been adapted to the exigencies
of our atmosphere, will appear upon examining the na¬
ture and properties of the air, judged by its effects upon
the blast furnace.
“ The air produced by the blowing and receiving
cylinder is less changed, and less subject to change, than
that produced and lodged in contact with a vast body
of air or water. If the blowing cylinder is fixed in a
dry cool spot, the only difference which the air under¬
goes is an increase of temperature ; this is so very con¬
siderable, that upon entering the blowing cylinder im¬
mediately after stopping tbe engine, I have found the
thermometer rise 15 to 17I degrees higher than the
surrounding air. That this heat is generated in the cy¬
linder is unquestionable ; but whether it is occasioned
by the friction of the piston leather upon the sides of
the cylinder, or expressed from the air by its severe
compression, I have not yet been able to decide. It
very probably arises from both causes, although the lat¬
ter is sufficient to produce a much greater degree of
heat. What effect this increase of temperature has upon
combustion we are unable to say, as the degree of heat
accumulated will at all times bear a reference to the
temperature of the surrounding air, and as there is no
method likely to be devised where heat would not be
generated by the action of the particles of air upon
each other. When the bulb of a thermometer is held
in the middle of the current of blast, as it issues from
the discharging pipe, a temperature is indicated as
much lower than the temperature of the surrounding
air, as the temperature of the cylinder was higher;
and it is most probable that a much higher degree
would be obtained, were it not for the previous expres-
*ion of some heat in the blowing cylinder. Upon the
whole, I think, the quality of the air obtained in this
way of blowing uniformly most fit for combustion, pro¬
vided the numerous pauses and irregularities of the cur¬
rent of air were done away.
“ Air forced into the furnace under water pressure
always contains a considerable portion of moisture; the
blast of course is colder, as it issues from the discharg¬
ing pipe. The temperature differs so much from that
of the external air as to sink the thermometer from 450
flown to 28° and 3^°» Such effects are produced by
FURNACE. 2g5
air coming into contact with water, that, although the Furnace.
temperature of the atmosphere is 60, 65, to 70, yet the — ¥ 
blast at the orifice seldom rises above 38 : the cold pro¬
duced in this manner is much increased if the air is
surcharged with so much water as to be visible in the
state of a fine spray. The leading feature, therefore,
of the water vault, as to its effects upon the quality of
the air, seems to indicate an almost uniform degree of
temperature in the blast 1 this can only be occasioned
by the warm air in summer taking up a greater portion
of the water in solution, the escape of which at a small
orifice, and under a great degree of compression, pro¬
duces the very great depression of the thermometer. I
have already hinted at the bad effects produced by moist
blasts, and shall, in a proper place, more minutely at¬
tend to them.
“ The most inferior quality of air used in the blast From the
. furnace is that thrown into the air vault, and afterwards air vault,
expressed from thence by its own elasticity and the suc¬
cessive strokes of the engine. The capacity of such a
building is from 60 to 70,000 cubical feet; this, when
filled, generates a much superior degree of beat to that
sensible in the blowing cylinder. As this heat is pro¬
duced many feet distant from any mechanical motion,
it is most evident that it is extricated from the air, and
will readily unite with the moisture which penetrates
the building: the quality of the air introduced into the
furnace will therefore be in proportion to the quantity
of moisture taken up ; this will be much more in sum¬
mer than in winter, as the temperature of the former
exceeds that of the latter. The sensation, on entering
the air vault 111 the coldest months, immediately after
stopping the engine, is exactly similar to that experi¬
enced upon entering a crowded room in the hottest sum¬
mer day; the walls are covered with damp, and the
superior regions of the vaults readily obscure the flame
of a candle. The feeling, upon remaining in the air
vault when the engine is at work, is less marked than
would be expected where so great a compression of air
existed ; the sense of hearing, owing to the moisture in
the conducting medium, is considerably impaired, and
respiration is performed with some difficulty; the light
of a candle is faint, and not visible at the distance of
a few feet.
“ I have explained the necessity of just proportions
existing betwixt the area of the interior of the blast fur¬
nace, the quantity of air thrown per minute, and the
quality of coal. The various modes of blowing, and
their respective effects, deduced from strict observation,
were also attended to. We have now, thirdly, to ad¬
duce examples where the various changes of the atmo¬
sphere, as to heat and pressure, occasion the most sen¬
sible difference in the quantity of materials consumed,
and in the quality and quantity of metal produced.
“ It has been already demonstrated, that the air in
winter, by containing less moisture, is more proper for
combustion, and more calculated to produce carbonated
crude iron, than the air existing at any other season.
From this superior quality the manufacturer obtains
advantages, which induce him to wish for a continuance
of
no^ superabundant azote of the summer atmosphere produce part of these effects, by dissolving
portion of the carbone, and forming carbonated azotic gas, as has been proved by M. Lavoisier.”
ErYects of
chtuiije of
wi-athcr.
Air from
cylinders
preferred*
of cool air throughout the whole year,
are not, however, uniform ; they depend greatly upon
a light or heavy atmosphere. The keener and more
still the air, the more rapid the combustion. During a
asevere frost, thedescentofthe materialsis facilitated horn
one-tenth to one-fifteenth more than in rainy or hazy
weather, and at the same time the quality of the iron is
rather improved than impaired. When a change from
frost to snow or rain takes place, the eflects frequent y
become almost immediately obvious *, the colour J 16
flame at the furnace head is changed J the tuyere of the
furnace inflames, and burns with great violence j the
lava, as it flows from the notch of the dam stone, be¬
comes lengthened and tenacious j the form of it is
changed, and the colour undergoes the most visible al¬
terations •, the iron no longer retains its complete satu¬
ration of carbone, but flows out sensibly impaired ot its
fluidity j and when cold, the privation of carbone is
most evident by the examination of its fracture.
“ When such consequences arise from the transition
so frequent in winter from frost to thaw, it will be ea-
silv conceived that the change effected during the mild¬
er and warmer months must produce proportionally ad¬
ditional effects. The increase of temperature by taking
up, and holding in solution, a much greater portion ot
aqueous vapour, will account for the ordinary eflects
which are annually observable in every work. VV here
these pernicious consequences approach to extremity, a
solution of the phenomenon will likely be obtained by
the examination of the blowing apparatus. If air is fit¬
ted for combustion in proportion as it is free from wa¬
tery solutions, we are not to expect similar results from
these blast furnaces in summer, which are blown by air
from the regulating cylinder, and those blown by air
from a water or air vault. I have for years seen tins
fact verified, and superior quantity and quality of iron
during the hot weather, obtained from a furnace excit¬
ed by means of blast, from the simple regulating cylin¬
der, with a less proportion of fuel, than from furnaces
whose air was expressed by means of the water or air
vault. Observations thus made, where every day the
effects of the different means could be justly estimated
and compared, have led me to the following conclu¬
sion : That the quality of the air, as furnished by
nature in our atmosphere, is uniformly more fit for the
manufacture of crude iron to profitable account, when
discharged simply by means of cylinders and pistons,
than when brought into contact with moisture either in
the water vault or air vault.
“ So imperfect has the quality of the summer air been
found in this country for combustion, where the water
vault was used, that experiments have been made to re¬
pair the deficiency of effect by introducing steam into
the furnace by means of an aperture above the tuyere.
‘Jlje inducing motive to this act, was a belief, that
cambustion was diminished in consequence of a diminu¬
tion of oxygen gas during the summer ; that,^ by intro¬
ducing water upon a surface of materials ignited to
whiteness, decomposition would ensue, a larger quan¬
tity of oxygen would then be presented to the fuel, and
superior effects, as to combustion, obtained in this man¬
ner than hitherto witnessed. The idea was ingenious,
and, in its application to the manufacture of cast iron,
original 5 but the whole train of facts, which have
been detailed, as to the effects of a superabundant
furnace.
These effects quantity of oxygen, was overlooked.
The event pro- Fum,
IJ U C*il J y - -- y *
ved in the most complete manner, an<l on a great scale,
the pernicious effects of moisture. The furnace gra¬
dually became cooled where the steam entered the
heat, set free by the decomposition of the water and the
disengagement of the oxygen, increased to an alarming
pitch a considerable way up the furnace; the quality of
the iron became brittle, and as white in the fracture as
silver ; the introduction of the steam was still continued,
the descending materials were instantly robbed of their
heat to facilitate the decomposition ot the water, and
by and by the furnace closed entirely over, and the ex¬
periment ceased.
“ This experiment, performed in a furnace 18 feet
high, is a complete proof that heat is disengaged from
bodies while they pass from the fluid to the aeriform
state. The first instant of the discharge of steam, a very
considerable portion of heat would be withdrawn from
the fusing materials and united to the water. This, in
its turn, would be ignited to whiteness, and decompo¬
sed upon the metals and cokes, in a superior region of
the furnace. The process continuing for several hours,
the materials at the tuyere were at last so completely
deprived of the caloric by the continual torrent of steam,
that they lost fluidity, cooled rapidly, and at last be¬
came black. Had another aperture for steam and for
air been opened above these, now entirely shut up by
the consolidated materials, the same effects wTould have
been produced ; the immense quantity of caloric, dis¬
engaged by the decomposition of the ignited water,
would now approach nearer to the top of the furnace,
another stratum of fusing materials would again become
consolidated, till in the end the whole furnace would
be set fast from top to bottom. From the introduction
of steam into the blast furnace, either as such, or under
a superior degree of expansive force, the following im¬
portant truths may be learned : That the quantity of
oxygen which enters into our' atmospheric compound is
generally more fit for the manufacture of the superior
qualities of crude iron than any mixture which may be
furnished by the addition of water : that, although the
decomposition of water, by furnishing a superior quan¬
tity of oxygen, and by throwing ofl a regular propor¬
tion of caloric, increases the effects of combustion im¬
mediately in the vicinity of this chemical analysis ; yet,
as the water bad previously abstracted the heat necessary
to its decomposition from the inferior strata, a greater
quantity by no means exists in the furnace. The water,
in fact, only serves as a medium to convey the heat
from one particular spot; but, by attempting to fly oft
with it, meets decomposition, and renders up not only
the abstracted heat, but that which was contained in the
oxygen of its decomposition. <
“ 4th, The compression and velocity of the air dis-Co#!
charged into the furnace, considerably affect the resu^s ^
of the smelting operations. In the consideration of tbis^ jj
subject, the various qualities of coals will be found to
have an intimate connexion with the area of the dis¬
charging pipe and the compression of the blast. It has
already been more than once observed, that a solt or
mixed quality of coal is more susceptible of combustion
than either the eplint or clod coal: ,;he consequence of
this is, that, unless the necessary compression of air is
used, decomposition is too early accomplished, and the
cokes become oxygenated by combustion in a greater
ratie
FURNACE.
ace.
ace. rat*° t^an *s ProPer f°r ^ie carbonation of the metal.
To avoid this, the column of air ought to be dischar¬
ged, in the case of soft coals being unavoidably used,
under such a degree of compression, as to resist entire
decomposition in the ignited passage. In that case, the
iron does not so immediately come into contact with
oxygen, as the decomposition is chiefly affected in the
superior strata of the separating materials. Under the
former circumstance, of a loose unconnected stream of
air being thrown upon cokes easily combustible, the
quality of the metal, with the same quantity of fuel,
becomes oxygenated, the tuyere becomes fiery, and fre¬
quently emits sparks of metallic oxyde. The separating
iron may be viewed as it oozes from the ore in small
globular masses, frequently on fire, changing its state
to that of an oxyde. The combination of oxygen, by
altering its density, makes it subject to the re-action of
the blast, which at times gives it a direction from the
tuyere with considerable violence. Those parts of the
iron (by far the greatest) thus oxydated, which escape
not at the tuyere, mix along with the fused"earths of the
ores and limestone, alter their colour, and flow from
the furnace more unrevived than at their first introduc¬
tion. It is, however, very different, even with this in¬
ferior quality of coal, where the density of the blast is
proportioned to the inflammability of the fuel. Quali¬
ties and quantities of crude iron may be produced from
this, equal to those from coals reckoned of a superior
nature. The metal becomes as highly saturated with
carbonic principle as that made from clod or splint coal.
The tuyere evinces that decomposition is effected in its
proper place. The fluid masses of iron, as they become
expressed from the ore, are shivered into spray, before
the dense column of air, without exhibiting the least
symptom of decomposition. They again unite under
the level of the blast, increase in size, and sink through
the fluid stratum of earths to the bottom of the furnace.
This fact holds out one of the strongest proofs of the
great affinity which carbone and iron mutually possess
towards each other. In the case of the iron separating
in an oxygenated state destitute of carbone, it immedi¬
ately falls a prey to its affinity for oxygen. In the lat¬
ter case, the iron, being completely carbonated, resists
decomposition by the sacrifice of a very small portion
of its carbone. It further proves, that the affinity of
oxygen is greater to carbone than to iron ; and that,
before iron becomes oxydated, all the carbone is taken
up.
“ The continuity of the particles of splint coals ren¬
ders the cokes of difficult combustion, capable of with¬
standing a most powerful discharge of air, in quantity
and in the degree of compression, without entailing ef¬
fects similar to those produced with the use of softer
coals: this renders the operations with splint coal less
subject to casuality and to change. Carbonated iron
with a proper blast is more uniformly obtained, and fre¬
quently a very superior quantity. Similar effects are
produced with the clod coal, but in a more eminent de¬
gree. Discharging pipes are used four inches in the
diameter, and the compression only equal to two pounds
on the square inch; yet the same fatal effects are not
known as in the use of soft coal, which, with such a co-
sumn of air, would require the pressure to be equal to
three pounds and a half upon the square inch at least.
“ 5fll> Upon the form and construction of the dis¬
287
charging pipe effects of more considerable importance Furnace,
depend than is either generally allowed or even concei- 1 j——i
ved. At some iron works, no peculiar shape is adopt-Forrn of,lie
ed : if the tube is sufficient to convey the air, and thedi.sch*r*inK
mouth of it nearly of the size wanted, the interior con-
struction is entirely overlooked. This indifference,
however, is by no means general: variously constructed
pipes are used at different works, and at some places it
is preferred to throw in the air from two pipes whose
areas are only equal to one of the usual size.
“ To understand properly the objectionable parts of
the construction of nose pipes, it must be recollected,
that much has been said to depend upon the blast reach¬
ing the opposite extremity of the furnace, as little im¬
paired of the compactness and velocity of its original
discharge as possible. When it is otherwise, the results
in the internal operations of the furnace must be conse¬
quently altered. If the compression is diminished one-
half or two-thirds when it reaches the opposite wall, de¬
composition in that portion must be effected before the
air has attained its elevated situation in the furnace. It
is even possible to disperse the whole column of air in
such a manner that the ignited materials of the opposite
side may receive little of its effects to promote combus¬
tion.
“ A discharging pipe is frequently used, in length
12 inches or more, the discharging aperture 3 inches,
the other end 5 inches; but this is arbitrary, depend¬
ing upon the size of the adjoining pipe. From a pipe
thus constructed, the air disperses or diverges too sud¬
denly ; and at a small distance from the orifice, a con¬
siderable portion of it answers but imperfectly the pur¬
poses of combustion. Fart of it is speedily decomposed,
and the oxygen brought into immediate, contact with
the iron. The quantity of metal is reduced by the
former, and the quality injured by the latter. Though
long custom, by a continued use of such shaped pipes,
has prevented their pernicious effects from being obser¬
ved, yet they must prove in many cases detrimental to
the economical distribution of air, and the manufacture
of iron.
“ A nose pipe, of another construction, even more
exceptionable, is also used j and the air disperses still
more suddenly, in a degree somewhat proportionate to
the more sudden contracting of the pipe, a considerable
quantity never enters the furnace, but, striking on the
exterior wall, is thence repelled.
“ A discharging pipe, of the following construction, Best form
would obviate, in a great measure, the imperfections of of construe-
the two former: the length of the tapered piece is i2tion.
inches, of the straight pipe, six inches j extreme diame¬
ter, as in the others, five inches; diameter of straight
pipe, three inches. From such a pipe it is conceived
that the blast will proceed to the greatest possible di¬
stance unimpaired in compression and velocity. So far,
therefore, as the absolute force of the blast and breadth
of the furnace will permit, decomposition will be pre¬
vented on the level of the pipe, and the manufacturer
freed from the evils which I have above detailed, as at¬
tendant upon decomposition in that quarter.”
The following is a description, also taken from Mr Descriptioa
Mushet, of an air and a water vault which is employed °f an air
to equalize the discharge of air into a blast furnace. an^water
“ Fig. 7. represents a vertical section of the elevation pjg. ’
of an air vault 60 feet long and 30 feet wide, consisting 0'
of
288
Furnace.
Fig. s.
r 9*
u R N A C E.
the engine is at rest, and the water has assumed Its ie- Furniij
vel, the quantity of water within the chest should be vL
equal to that without.
Fig. io. is a ground plan of fig. p* The cross logsFjg,
of four arches of regularly progressive sizes. This huild-
ing is generally constructed under the bndgehouse,
where the materials are daily collected for filling the ^ ^ ^  
furnace. AB, represents the acc,‘''’ity^0 ^ on whi’c1i the cistern is supported are dotted within, but
top. The space betwixt the arch tops and ^e level ot o^ ^ gpace the flange of thfi chest
‘cte”0.01 netX or.her,nnder part are three feet and outer building. The breadth of the flauge-.op, of
thick,* besides a lining of brick and plaster from 18
inches to two feet. Still further precautions are neces¬
sary, and alternate layers of pitch and stout paper are
requisite to prevent the escape of the compressed air.
C a view of the arched funnel which conveys the air
from the cylinder to the vault. Large iron pipes with
a well fitted door are preferable, and less apt to emit
air. D, an end view of the pipe by which the blast is
carried to the furnace. _ . ,, , ,
“ Fig. 8. is a horizontal section of fig. 7* at the dotted
line a A representing the width of the cross arches, which
are thrown in each partition to preserve an easy com-
munication betwixt the vaults. B, is a section of the
first range of pipes, meant to conduct the air to the fur-
nace. In like manner pipes may be taken oil from anj
part of the vault for the different purposes of blowing
furnaces, fineries, hollow fires, &c. . . ~
“ Fig. Q. represents a vertical longitudinal section ot
what is generally called the water-vault. The walls of
this building may he erected to the height of eight or
nine feet, their thickness similar to those of the air
vault. A brick lining, and even puddling with clay
betwixt it and the stone building, is necessary to pre¬
vent the water from oozing by the accumulated pres¬
sure. A, is an end view of the horizontal range ot
wines which conveys the blast from the blowing cylinder
to the inverted chest. BBB,the range which conducts
the air to the interior ot the inverted chest, and con¬
veys it to the furnaces, proceeding along the extremi¬
ties of the columns broken off at BB. C, an inverted
chest made of wood, iron, or even of well-hewn flags
set on end and tightly cemented, is 54 feet within in
length, 18 feet wide, and 12 feet high. Ihe dimen¬
sions, however, vary at different works. When the
chest is made of wood or iron, it is generally bolted by
means of a flange to the logs on which it is supported,
lest the great pressure of the air should overcome the
gravitation of the chest, and displace it. DD, view of
the centre log, and ends of the cross logs, on which the
chest is laid. These should measure 18 inches in height,
so as that the mouth of the chest may be that distance
from the surface of the floor, and the water allowed to
retreat from the interior of the chest with the least
possible obstruction. EE, the outside walls of the
building. FF, the brick-works, made perfectly water¬
tight. The dotted line G, represents the surface of
the water when at rest. Let the depth of the water,
outside and inside of the chest, be estimated at four
feet. When the engine is at work, should the pressure
of the air have forced the water down to the dotted line
H, three feet and a half distant from the line G, and
only six inches from the mouth of the chest, it follows,
that the water must have risen in the outer building, or
chest three feet and a half above G, and have its
highest surface nearly at rest at I. In this case the
strength of the blast is reckoned equal to seven feet ot
water, or nearly six inches of mercury. The space be¬
twixt the chest and outside budding is three feet. W hen
3
the binding bolts, and thickness of the metal of the
chest, are also drawn. The letters bear a reference to
those in fig. 9.”
An account of some curious phenomena observed by Stngul
Mr Roebuck in the air vault of a blast furnace has been Pj'^
published in the 5th volume of the Transactions of the™"
Royal Society ol Edinburgh. Tdiis, as well as somevlluit
remarks of practical utility on the management of blast
furnaces, we doubt not, will be interesting to our
readers. We shall therefore give it in his own words.
It is addressed in the form of a letter to Sir Janies
Hall.
“ I have (says he) examined my memorandums, con¬
cerning the observations I made on the condensed ai.
in the air vault of the Devon iron works, near Allop-j
on the north side of the frith of Forth 5 and, according
to your request, I now transmit you an account of
them j and also of an experiment I made, when a part¬
ner and manager of these works, in order to increase
the produce of blast furnaces.”
The two blast furnaces at Devon are of large dimen¬
sions, each being 44 feet high, and about 13 feet wide
in the boshes, or widest part, and are formed on a steep
bank, by two pits sunk in a very solid stratum of coarse¬
grained freestone.
These pits were afterwards shaped and lined in the
usual manner of blast furnaces, with common bricks and
fire bricks, and the hearth was laid with large blocks
of the stone that had been dug out, and which serve
the purpose of fire stones. At the back of the two
furnaces, next the bank, the air vault is excavated, and
formed by a mine driven in the solid rock, distant from
the furnaces about 16 feet. Hie bottom of the air
vault is only about four feet higher than the level of the
bottom of the furnaces. This vault has an aperture at
one end to receive the air from the blowing machine,
and has two at the opposite end, one of which receives
the eduction pipe, and the other is a door to give ad¬
mittance occasionally into the vault. As the rock is
extremely close and solid, the vault is dry, except that
a little water oozes very gently from the side next the
bank in small drops, and does not appear to exceed an
English pint in 24 hours.
These furnaces are provided with air, or blast, a& 1
is termed, by the means of a fire-engine of the old, or
Newcomen’s, construction. The diameter of the steam
cylinder is 48-! inches j and the square area of its pistoti
being about l866i square inches, the power of tins
sort of engine cannot be rated at more than ylb. to t
square inch, amounting in all to about 130621b. this
power was employed to work an air pump, or blowing
cylinder, of 78 inches diameter, and about seven feet
long. The number of square inches on the piston 01
the air pump is 4778, and therefore this area, being
multiplied by 2^, will produce 13139, being a resist¬
ance that nearly balances the above-rated powder, »’•
shews that the air, which was expelled from the ai?
pump, could not be condensed more in the ordinary
FURNACE.
^frace. way of working, than with a compressing power of
289
•:
about 2^lb. on each square inch. As the engine was
not regulated, at first, to make a longer stroke than
about four feet eight inches, only one furnace being
used, the quantity of air expelled at each stroke of the
machine was about 155 cubic feet, which it discharged
through a valve into the air vault, about 16 times in a
minute. When two furnaces afterwards were blown,
the engine was regulated to work much quicker, and
jj! isionswith a longer stroke. The air vault is 72 feet long,
air 14 feet wide, and 13 feet high ; and contains upwards
of cubic feet, or above 80 times the contents of
the air pump. The top, sides, and bottom of this vault,
where the least fissure could be discovered in the beds
of the rock, were carefully caulked with oakum, and
afterwards plastered, and then covered with pitch and
paper. The intention of blowing into the vault is to
equalize the blast, or render it uniform, which it effects
more completely than any machinery ever yet contrived
for the same purpose. The air is conducted from the
vault by the eduction pipe, of 16 inches diameter, into
an iron box or wind chest, and from this it goes off to
each furnace, into smaller pipes that terminate in
nozles, or blow-pipes, of only 2-§- to 3^ inches diameter,
at the tuyere of the furnace.
“ When the furnace was put in blast, after having
ciioj  1  _ 1 .1 . , „ °
Tri'iftlie
fan ;
been filled with cokes, and gently heated for more
than six weeks, the keepers allowed it to have but little
blast at first, giving it a small blow-pipe of about 2j
inches diameter, and likewise letting off a very consider¬
able quantity of air, at the escape or safety valve on
the top of the iron wind chest, as it is a received though
erroneous opinion among them, that the blast must be
let on very gradually for several months. From the
construction of this valve, it was impossible to ascertain
the exact proportion of the blast which was thus lost,
but I believe it was very considerable. The conse¬
quence was, that the furnace, after it had been in blast
for several days, never seemed to arrive at its proper
degree of heat, but was always black and cold about
the tuyere in the hearth, and appeared in danger of
choking, or gobbing as it is termed.
“ After various experiments tried in vain, by the
keepers and the company’s engineer, and others' (in¬
deed they tried every thing, except giving the furnace
a greater quantity of air, which, as I afterwards ascer¬
tained, was all that it wanted), they concluded, that
the air vault was the cause of the whole mischief j and
to confirm their opinion, they said they had now dis¬
covered that water was, in considerable quantities,
driven out of the air vault through the blow-pipe, which
cooled the furnace ; and they insisted, that the power
of the engine was such as to force water out of the
solid rock j so that this method of equalizing the blast
never would succeed. The other managing partner
was so much alarmed by these representations, that
he began to consult with the engineer, and others,
about finding a substitute for the air vault at any ex¬
pence. J
“ As the plan of the blowing apparatus had been
InnfpH of  .I j* 1 .
main inclosed in the condensed air while the engine was Fm" ice
blowing the furnace. It is an experiment that perhaps C—
never was made before, as there never existed such an
opportunity. I could not persuade the engineer, or any
other of the operative people about the work, to be my
companions, as they imagined that there was much dan¬
ger in the experiment. Mr Neil Eyrie, however,
one of the clerks of the Devon company, had sufficient
confidence in my representations to venture himself
along with me.
“ The machine had been stopped about two hours Pbeno-
previous to our entering the vault, and we found a"}6113*"
dampness and mistiness in it, which disappeared soon ^le a'r
!*« « i ” — atuo 11 ct 11 ueen
JJH “““Pj at recommendation, and was now so loud-
t ‘ ^    uuvv OU 1UUII-
ly condemned on account of the water, I had other mo¬
tives, than mere interest, for trying to become better
acquainted with the phenomena attending it. I accor¬
dingly determined to go into the air vault, and to ^e-
VOL. IX. Part I. +
after the door was shut fast'upon us, ancUhe engine
began to work in its usual manner. After four or five sensations
strokes of the engine, we both experienced a singular 0t per'01,s
sensation in our ears, as if they were stopped by the %vitilin it-
fingers, which continued as long as we remained in the
condensed air. Our breathing was not in the least af¬
fected. I had no thermometer with me, but the tem¬
perature of the air felt to us the same as that without
the vault. Sound was much magnified, as we perceived,
when we talked to each other, or struck any thing $ par¬
ticularly, the noise of the air escaping at the blow-pipe,
or waste-valve, was very loud, and seemed to return
back to us. There was no appearance of wind to
distuib the flame of our candles j on the contrary, I was
surprised to find, that when we put one of them into
the eduction pipe, which conveys the wind from the
vault to the furnaces, it was not blown out. There
was not the smallest appearance of any drops of water
issuing out of this pipe. The oozing and dropping of
water from the side of the rock, next the bank, seemed
the same as before the condensation was made in the
vault. In short, every thing appeared, in other respects,
the same as when we were in the common atmosphere.
Having remained about an hour in the condensed air,
and satisfied ourselves that no water, during that time,
that we could in the least discover, was agitated and*
forced out of the rock and vault by the power of the
blast, as was imagined and insisted on, we gave the
signal to stop the engine. As soon as it ceased to work,
and the condensation abated, and before the door of the
vault was unscrewed, the whole vault in a few seconds,
became filled with a thick vapour, so that we could
hardly see the candles at four or five yards distance.
The door being now opened, the work people, anxious
to know our situation, and what had occurred, came
into the vault, and prevented any further observations.
“ I now endeavoured to account for this curious ap¬
pearance of the water, which only showed itself occa¬
sionally, in very small quantities, at the tuyere, at a hole
I ordered to be made at the bottom of the wind chest
to collect it more accurately, for it never was ob¬
served, but either when the engine, after working
slowly, was made to work quicker, or, after having been
stopped for a few minutes, was set to work again.
I considered the vapour which we had discovered
in the vault to arise from the moisture of the side of TJie vaP°“r
the rock next the furnace, which being expelled by Ui^vaaltIE
the great heat of the furnace, and converted into va-accounted
pour, was able to force its way through the pores offo*'*.
the rock into the vault, but that being in a manner
confined within the rock, by the pressure of the con¬
densed air, it found itself at liberty to come into the
O0 vault,
furnace.
290
Furnace, vault, only when the condensation abated considerably,
  / / or was totally removed by the going slow, or stopping
of the engine. It also occurred to me, that the air,
in a state of condensation, might possibly be capable
of holding a greater quantity of water in solution,
which might precipitate suddenly into vapour or mist
when the condensation abated. . I imagined, there¬
fore, that the very small quantities ot water we at
times discovered, proceeded from nothing else but this
vapour, in its passage to the furnace along with the
blast, being condensed into water, by the coolness ot
the eduction pipe and iron wind chest. The quantity
of water did not appear to amount to a gallon in twenty-
four hours. , , . . .
“ A few days after I had made tins experiment,
the water ceased entirely to make its appearance,
either at the tuyere, or at the hole in the wind chest,
but the furnace did not come into heat for a long
while after, and indeed not till the keepers let much
more air into it by a larger blow-pipe, and allowed
less air to escape at the safety valve. It is probable
that the rock was now become perfectly dry by the con¬
tinued heat of the furnace. ^
44 My experiment had the good effect to remove all
the prejudices against the plan I had adopted of blow¬
ing the furnaces, and likewise prevented the other
partner from laying out a large sum of money, by
stopping the works, and altering the. blowing machi¬
nery. Indeed, it has since been admitted, by all who
have seen it at work, to be the most simple and effec¬
tive method of equalizing the blast which has yet been
put in practice. ,
Wind gare “ This experiment led me, some time afterwards,
applied and to apply a wind gage that I contrived, to ascertain
its effects, precisely the state of the condensation of the air thrown
into the furnaces. I found that a column ot quick¬
silver was raised five inches, and sometimes, though
seldom, six inches, and, in the interval of the engine to
receive air into the air pump, it fell only half an inch.
At this time only one furnace was worked. But when
two furnaces were in blast, the engine only raised the
mercurial gage about four inches, because the Devon
company, for several reasons, did not, while I conti¬
nued a partner, think proper to allow the blowing ma¬
chinery to be completed, by putting to work their
second boiler of 20 feet diameter for the fire engine,
according to my original design, which, by adjusting
the machinery, would have enabled us to blow two
furnaces with two boilers, with as much effect, in
proportion, as one furnace with one boiler. This in¬
strument had the advantage of enabling the work
people to discover the real power of their blast, and
know the exact condition of the air valves, and the
gearing of the blowing piston j for if these were not
tight, ”and in order, (although the engine might, te
appearance, be doing well, by making the same number
of discharges of the air pump as usual per minute),
vet the wind gage would not rise so high, and would
shew that there was an imperfection somewhere, by
reason of a quantity of air escaping at the valves, or
piston, that could not so easily otherwise be known.
This contrivance was considered as of much use, and
was afterwards always quoted in the company s journal
hooks, to show the actual state of the blowing machine,
in comparing the daily produce of the furnaces.
“ I hope you will not think me tedious, when I Funv
explain to you another experiment, which appears to —
me to he of considerable importance to all manufac¬
turers of cast iron.
“ I had reason to conjecture, from my own obser¬
vations on the effects of blowing machinery on blast
furnaces, as well as from the knowledge I had ac¬
quired from my father Dr Roebuck, and from my
communications with other experienced iron masters,
that a great part of the power of such machinery was
misapplied in general practice, by throwing air into
furnaces with much greater velocity than necessary,The,1
and that, if this velocity was, to a certain degree, di-city 0
minished, the same power, by properly adjusting the Must,
blowing machinery, of whatever nature, would be ca¬
pable of throwing into the furnace a proportionally
greater quantity of air. For, Since the quantities of
any fluid, issuing through the same aperture, are as the
square roots oj the pressure ; it follows, that it would
require four times the pressure, or power, to expel
double the quantity of air, through the same aperture,
in the same time $ but if the area of the aperture was
doubled, then the quantity of air expelled by the same
power, and in the same time, would be increased in
the ratio of the square root of 2 to I, though its velo-,
city would be diminished exactly in the same propor¬
tion. Again : I considered that the quantity and in¬
tensity of heat, produced in blast furnaces, and.conse¬
quently its effects in increasing the produce, might be
only in proportion to the quantity of air decomposed
in the process of combustion, without regard to its
greater velocity •, that is to say, whether or not the
same quantity of air was forced, in the same time,
into the furnace through a small pipe, or through one
of larger dimensions ; for, in attending to the process
of a common air furnace for remelting of iron, where
there is a very large quantity of air admitted through
the large areas between the bar’s, it is well known, that
a much greater intensity of heat is produced than takes
place in a blast furnace •, and yet the air does not enter
into the fire through the bars with increased density or
great velocity. I therefore thought.it probable, that
increasing the quantity of air thrown into the blast fur¬
nace in a considerable degree, although the velocity ov
density might be much less, would have the effect of in-and it;
creasing its heat, and operations, and produce. Andquaiij
as, from the principles above stated, with regard to theco™
machinery, I saw I could greatly increase the quantity
of air thrown into the furnace, by.enlarging the dia¬
meter of the blow pipe, and regulating the engine ac¬
cordingly, without being obliged to employ more power,
I was anxious to make this experiment.
“ A system of management, of which I did by no
means approve, was adopted by the other partners of
the Devon company, soon after the works were begun
to be erected ; and", in the prosecution of it, they or¬
dered their second furnace to be put in blast, without
permitting those measures to be taken that were neces¬
sary to provide and maintain a sufficient stock of mate¬
rials-, and also without allowing their blowing machine
to be completed, according to the original design, by
the addition of its second boiler. As might have been
expected, a trial of several months to carry on two
furnaces, with only half the power of steam that was
necessary, and an inadequate stock of materials, proving
unsuccessful,
w*
and i t-®-
F U B
. nea. unsuccessful, the company, as a remedy, instead of ma-
1 king up the above deficiencies, ordered one of the fur¬
naces to be blown out, and stopped altogether. This
improper measure, however, afforded me the opportu¬
nity of immediately putting in practice the plan I have
mentioned.
“ When one of the furnaces was stopped, the other
continued to be blown by a blow-pipe of 2^ inches
diameter, and the produce of the furnace, for several
weeks thereafter, was not 20 tons of iron per week at
an average. The engine at this time was making
about 16 strokes a minute, with a stroke of the air
pump, about 4 feet 8 inches long; but when I altered
the diameter of the blow-pipe, first to 3, and immedi¬
ately after to inches diameter, and regulated the
Hinl by working gears of the engine, so as to make a stroke of
CTpijaeat.^ {eet 2 Jnc|ies long, and about 19 strokes in a mi¬
nute, on an average, the produce was immediately in¬
creased. It continued to be, on an average of nine
months immediately after this improvement, at the rate
of 33 tons of iron per week, of as good quality as
formerly: for, during this period, from the 21st No¬
vember 1795 to July 30, 1796, this one furnace yield¬
ed 1188 tons of iron. No more coals were consumed in
working the blast engine, or other expences about the
blowing machine incurred, and therefore no more power
was employed to produce this great effect. It is also of
much importance to remark, that the consumption of
materials, from which this large produce was obtained,
vvas by no means so great as formerly. The furnace
required very considerably less fuel, less iron stone, and
less limestone, than were employed to produce the same
quantity of iron by the former method of blowing; and
according to the statements made out by the company’s
orders, as great a change was effected in the economi¬
cal part of the business.
“ From the success of this experiment, so well au¬
thenticated, and continued for several months, I am Jed
to be of opinion, that all blast furnaces, by a proper ad¬
justment of such machinery as they are provided with,
might greatly and advantageously increase their pro¬
duce, by assuming this as a principle, viz. ‘ That with
the given power it is rather hij a great quantity of air
thrown into the furnace, with a moderate velocity, than
by a less quantity thrown in with a greater velocity, that
the greatest benefit is derived, in the smelting of iron
ttones, in order to produce pig-iron? However, it is by
N A C E. 29I
experiment alone, perhaps, that we can be enabled Furnace
to find out the exact relations of power, velocity, 1—‘
and quantity of air requisite to produce a maximum of
efiect (1).”
In order to illustrate what is said above, a ground
plan of the air vault and furnaces of the Devon Iron
Works is given in Plate CCXXVI.; of which the^ ex¬
planation follows.
Explanation of Fig. n.
A, The air vault, formed by a mine driven in thep,v
solid rock of coarse-grained freestone.
P, The blowing cylinder.
C, The pipe that conveys the air from the blowing
cylinder" to the air vault.
D, The reduction pipe that carries the air from the
air vault to the iron wind-chest.
E, The iron wind chest (about 2^ feet cube),
in which is inserted a wind-gage, represented in
fig. 12.
FF, The two blow-pipes for each furnace, which
terminate in apertures of 3^ inches diameter at the
tuyeres of the furnaces.
GG, The two blast furnaces, placed in two pits sunk
in the solid rock.
HH, The tymps of the furnaces from whence the
cast iron is run off into the casting room, LL.
O, The door to give occasional admittance into the
air vault.
The excavation, in which is placed the blowing
machine.
Explanation of Fig. 12.
A, The end ol the wind-gage (about 12 inchesp,-
long), which is open to the atmosphere, being half fill- ‘S' I2‘
ed with quicksilver.
B, The end that is inserted in the iron wind chest,
and exposed to the pressure of the condensed air of the
air vault.
To Mr Mushet we are also indebted for the follow¬
ing account of air furnaces, which are employed in of an"
iron founderies for the purpose of casting large pieces furnace,
of ordnance, and other heavy articles.
These furnaces, he observes, “ are employed for melt¬
ing pig iron with the flame of pit coal. ’Furnaces of
this kind are constructed of various sizes according to
circumstances. The small sizes will run down from
O o 2 seven
(1) “ If Q be the quantity of a fluid, issuing in a given time through an aperture of the diameter D, V its
velocity, and P the power by which it is forced through the aperture : then the area of that aperture being as
D , the quantity of the fluid issuing in the given time will be as VDS, or VD*=Q.
“ Again, this quantity multiplied into its velocity, will be as the momentum of the fluid expelled, or as the
power by which it is expelled, that is, V2 D*=P, or VD^yT*
V
“ Here, therefore, if D is given, V is as yT, as Mr Roebuck affirms. Also, because Vr= and also
^/p
D ’ Q—80 that, while P remains the same, Q will increase as D increases, and V will diminish
in the same ratio.
The pioblem, therefore, of throwing the greatest quantity of air into the furnace, with a given power, strict-
^ 8}fe^| inf’ ^laS no max*mumi but the largest aperture of which the engine can admit must be the best. It is
pro able, however, that there is a certain velocity with which the air ought to enter into the furnace} this will
pro uce a limitation of the problem, which, as Mr Roebuck suggests, is not likely to be discovered but by ex»
periment.” Note by Mr Playfair.
292 I U R N
Furnace, seven to ten hundred weight, and are used in small
w——v— > founderies for what the trade c^W jobbing.
Plate « fig. 13. (Plate CCXXVI.) a ground plan of two
( <r)X^VL ^arge a‘r furnaces, and chimney for melting pig or cast
I3‘ iron with the flame of pit coal.
“ The letters ABCD point out the exterior dimen¬
sions of the stalk or chimney, which is first erected,
leaving two openings or arches into which the fore-part
of the furnaces are afterwards built. Ihe breadth ot
the chimney at the particular place which the plan ex¬
hibits is 16 feet from A to B, and from A to D or from
B to C six feet six inches. The plan is drawn at that
elevation where the flame enters the chimney by the
flue or throat, narrowed on purpose to throw back part
of the flame, and keep the furnace equally hot through¬
out, as may be more particularly viewed in the vertical
section, fig. 14. ,
“ EE, the furnace bars on which the coals rest, and
where the combustion is maintained. #
“ EE, openings called teasing holes, by which the
coals are introduced to repair the fire.
“ GG, fire brick buildings called bridges. These
are meant to concentrate the flame, that it may act as
violently on the metal as possible. Upon the height ot
the bridge much depends in fusing the metal speedily,
and with little loss. The height of this may be seen
in the vertical section, fig. 14. G. .
“ HH, the charging doors, by which the metal is
introduced in the shape and state of pig iron, lumps,
scraps, See. &c. The iron generally occupies the fur¬
nace across to I, called the back wall, and is never
meant to approach the bridge nearer than the dotted
line, lest the metal in melting should run back into
the grates, in place of descending into the general reser¬
voir or cavity below. T-he corners or notches, /i, ht /j, A,
receive a stout cast iron frame lined with fire bricks.
This is hung by means of a chain and pulley, and can
be raised and depressed at pleasure. This frame is, pro¬
perly speaking, the charging door, and is always care¬
fully made air tight by means of moistened sand.
“ KK» the flues or openings by which the flame en¬
ters the chimney. These are 15 inches by 10. On
maintaining these openings of a proportionate size to
the other parts depend in a great measure the powers
and economy of the furnace.
“ EL, lading doors, by which ladles are introduced,
in the case of small furnaces, to lift out the metal and
distribute it to the various moulds.
“ MMMM, binding bolts to limit within proper
bounds the expansion which takes place in the building
when the furnace, is highly heated.
“ Fig. 14. vertical section of one of the furnaces,
1 D 4’ and its appropriate stalk or chimney.
“ E, the grates.
“ F, the teasing hole.
“ G, the bridge.
“ H, the charging door.
“ K, the flue or opening into the chimney.
“ L, the lading door.
“ MM, the binder or binding bolt.
« N, the interior of the stalk or chimney, 30 inches
square.
« 00, the fire brick work, nine inches thick.
“ PP, space of two inches for stuffing with sand.
“ QQ> common brick building.
ACE.
“ RR, cast iron lintels, over which are thrown dou- Fcrnfe
ble nine inch arches, so that at any time t»ie inferior ,
building can be taken down to make repairs, without
shaking or in the least injuring the chimney.
“ S, The dotted lines here are meant to represent
what is called the tapping hole. When a large piece
of goods is to be cast, lifting the metal with ladles
would be impracticable. A sharp-pointed bar is driven
up this opening. The iron then flows freely out into
a large bason of sand made for its reception. It is then
conducted, by collateral channels, into the mould.
“ The space under the curved dotted lines from G to
L, by S, is filled with a mixture of sand and ashes.
When the surface is prepared to melt, the whole of the
bottom receives a stratum of sharp clean sand about two
inches thick. This is broken up at night, and fresh
sand is substituted for it before the fire is kindled in
the morning.
“ Fig. 15. is a horizontal section of the chimney orpjg,,
stalk, taken where the flues assume a perpendicular di¬
rection. The letters in this figure correspond to those
in the vertical section, fig. 14. The height of the
chimney ought not to be less than 45 feet: if 50 feet,
the effect will be sooner and of course better pro¬
duced.
“ The effect wished to be produced in air furnaces is
the fusion of a certain portion of pig or cast iron, for
the purpose of being poured or run into moulds to form
articles of almost every description.
“ The preparation previous to melting is as follows: Prepau
After the bottom of the furnace is laid, and smoothedtionof!
with fresh sand, and all the openings made air tight,toC!
the furnace man introduces a kindling at the teasing
hole, accompanied with new pit coal. In a lew
minutes a considerable volume of dark flame mixed
with smoke is produced. The fire quickly gathers
strength 5 more coal is introduced ; and the furnace
now becomes filled with a yellow-coloured flame. By
continuing this operation for an hour, or an hour and a
quarter, the furnace and flame will have become com¬
pletely white j the latter steady, and at times appa-
rently without motion. The furnace man now judges
the bottom to have been sufficiently hardened for recei¬
ving the pig iron without any risk of sinking. The
charging door is now opened, and the pig metal thrown
carefully and regularly upon that part of the bottom
formerly described as being appropriated for its recep¬
tion. The door is again closed and made air tight, and
the operation of firing continued with unremitting care
and attention.
“ The time of melting depends entirely upon the
quantity of metal introduced. The furnaces described
above are capable of melting from 50 to 60 hundred
weight of metal each, and when there is a moderate
circulation of air they will perform this work in 24 <>r
3 hours. In half an hour after the metal is introduced
it assumes a blackish red colour. It then begins to
brighten with every additional fire, and in about one
hour appears white, and begins to lose shape, and re¬
semble a wreath of snow.
“ An eye accustomed to such heats will now discern
the metal beginning to drop, and run down the inclined
plane in very beautiful streamlets resembling quick¬
silver. Eight or ten of these are visible at a time, and
after proceeding half way down begin to form junctions
with
F U E N
n c3'
Cin •
lUn ft0
be a i«d-
edt iJ-
riu" i
epet on.
with each other, and ilow connected into the general
> cavity or reservoir. By-and-by this becomes filledj
and literally forms a beautifill molten mirror, in which
sometimes part of the interior furnace is reflected.
“ The furnace man, by searching at the bridge with
his fire-iron or teaser, judges when the metal is nearly
all gone. Of this he is certain by looking up from the
peep-hole of the lading door. If the streamlets of the
running metal have ceased, then the whole is melted,
and ready for running out.
“ In the operation of melting, the three following
circumstances ought to be particularly attended to :
the thinness or hotness of the metal ; the waste or loss
sustained in melting ; and the quantity of coals em¬
ployed.
“ The first is of the utmost importance, as many ar¬
ticles in the foundery business require the metal in a
state of the greatest division ; otherwise they will be
found imperfect when taken from the sand, and unfit
for sale. The furnace man, therefore, is always on
the watch to replace the fire as it decays, and keep a
large and sharp volume of flame constantly passing over
the metal.
“ The waste or loss of real metal is also an object of
great importance. This always bears a relation to the
quality of the iron, the strength and cleanness of the
coals, and the judgment and attention of the melter.
Strong iron is found always more difficult to fuse ; this
necessarily exposes it for a long period in contact with
the flames. The reverse happens with metal that is
more fragile, and easier broken in the pig. The length
of the exposure in fusing depends on this ; and other
circumstances being alike, the loss or waste of metal
will also be in the same ratio.
“ There are, however, other facts not unworthy of
notice. N° i. pig iron, or richly carbonated metal,
when run from an air furnace, will be found in point
of quality little better than N° 2. or carbonated iron.
This is owing to a quantity of its carbone being de¬
stroyed during the fusion. The loss in melting N° 1.
non,, therefore, chiefly consists ot carbone ; and the
deficiency of metal ought never, with a clean bottom,
to exceed 1 cwt. in 20.
“ Carbonated or N° 2. iron also becomes deprived of
a considerable portion of its carbonaceous mixture in
fusion j and when run from the air furnace is seldom
better than N° 3. metal. The loss sustained in melting
may be averaged at 7^ per cent.
N 3* P*g non is, after melting in an air furnace,
found whitish or mottled. It is seldom susceptible of
the same nice degree of division as the superior quali¬
ties, and loses in fusion a much larger propoition of
metal, seldom under 10 per cent, and frequently 124
w 15. -x j j:
“ The. quantity of coals requisite to melt a given
quantity of iron is various, as much depends upon the
quality and fusibility of the metal. If the furnace goes
one heat a day with N° I. or 2. iron, the quantity of,
coals will be from 20 to 25 cwt. for a ton of iron. If
two or three heats a day, or as many tons of iron are
melted at one kindling, the proportion of coals will be
nearly weight for weight of the iron melted when the
coals are mixed with a fair proportion of small: with
strong large splint coals, one ton of good pig iron may
ACE.
b3 completely reduced with from 12 to 1 r cwt inclmf r ^
ing the previous heating of the furnace ' uinace..
In the reduction and fusion of ores, {!ie improvement*^*
0 the blowing apparatus, or the machinery contrived for^ IV‘
.ie purpose of forcing a current of air into furnaces
where a high degree ot temperature was necessary b ist
been an important object of consideration u, tl'.eof
manufacturer; and indeed, it appears that the history'^chinery,
and improvement of this kind of machinery have pri
gressively advanced, in some cases have exceeded the
improvement of other departments of the manufactures
ot tins country.
In smelting some metallic ores, as, for instance, those
of lead and tin the magnitude and powers of blowing
machines have been less attended to, because the re-
quisite temperature for that purpose is far inferior to
what is necessary for the reduction of the ores of iron
Bead and tin being naturally fusible, and easily vola-
tilized in a temperature beyond a bright red-heat, have
hithtito fixed the limits with regard to the size of the
furnace and the quantity of blast. The air furnace is
generally employed in the manufacture of Conner ex¬
cepting in small blast furnaces, in which the precipi¬
tated oxide of this metal is received, and they are simi-
ibunderlesl ^ CaIled CUP°'aS’ and “S'd at ir°n
The lead mill, as it is called, or machine for the re¬
duction of the ores of lead, is of a very simple construc¬
tion. In the middle of a square building a water wheel
is erected and to the shaft of this wlel, f„H
whee s of cast iron, about 18 inches in diameter, are
attached. lw0 pairs of bellows placed at equal dis¬
tances, and on each side of the shaft, are supported on
a strong frame of wood. During the revolution of the
shaft of the water wheel, the small wheels are also ear¬
ned round, and alternately depress the end of the lever,
which is attached, by means of an iron chain, to an
equally balanced beam. When this lever descends, the
opposite end of the beam is elevated, and to this end
)ere is attached, by another iron chain, the moveable
surface of the bellows. The blast produced in this wav
is soft, and far inferior, either with regard to quantity
or density, to the blast necessary for an iron furnace.
1 he length of the bellows is usually about 10 feet the
breadth across the breech about five or six, and 'they
move at the rate of about 30 strokes a minute. J
the^usp*n/nVmaniU^aC*U'ir0n,ian-^ Par**cu,ar,y since which
the use of pit-coal was introduced, it is absolutely ne-be of great
cessary to have a more powerful blowing machinery Power in
Ihis however, has always been an essential requisite e man"*
and has been a constant object in this manufacture; fb^T*
in proportion to the quantity of air thrown into the fur¬
nace the produce and quantity of metal is increased.
In the earlier periods of this manufacture, when the
fuel employed was charcoal from wood, the process was
more easily managed. Furnaces which were built of
small size, and which were then called Moomeries, were
considered of sufficient capacity to yield profit, if they
produced a bloom or two of iron in the day, each bloom
amounting to about 90 or 120 lbs. For smaller opera¬
tions, hand bellows, and what were called fuel blasts
were deemed of sufficient power; but when the refining
furnace began to be employed, and the iron manufac¬
ture branched out into the making of pig iron, and the
refining
294
F U B N A C E.
Furnace, refining of it into bar or malleable iron, the advantage
v~—v—•*' and necessity of a powerful blast were immediately seen.
The first moving power introduced was that oi the wa¬
ter wheel •, and this working two or more pairs or lea¬
thern bellows, was found to produce effects sufficiently
powerful for the purpose. _ .
Progressive Machinery constructed in this way, and se in mo
improve. tjon |)y ti)e power of water, continued to be employed
mcnt 0f for tiffs purpose, till the principles of the steam engine
were fully understood, and this powerful machine
came into general use. The steam engine, besides ma-
nv other advantages, could be employed in situations
where the want of water prevented furnaces being
erected, but otherwise commodious, in being near the
necessary materials of ore and fuel. The first substi¬
tute for the leathern bellows were cylinders composed
of wood, closely jointed, and strongly hooped, i hese
in their turn gave place to cylinders of cast iron,
smoothly and accurately bored ; and this kind of ap¬
paratus being discovered and applied in the manufac¬
ture of iron, the blowing machine now assumed a more
perfect and more manageable form.
But without attempting to describe any of the blow¬
ing machines in our own country, the power, and ef¬
fects of which are familiar to those to whom this know¬
ledge is most interesting, we shall give a short descrip¬
tion of an apparatus of this kind, which is set in motion
bv the pressure of a column of water, and is erected
near Namur in the Netherlands. The account of this
machine is given by Baillet, inspector of the mines,
who observes, that its construction is simple,, and not
very expensive, and that it may be kept up without re¬
blowing quiring much repair. Tiffs machine, besides, can be
machine byempj0yed to blow several furnaces at once. It does not
the pres. ;/e any great moving power, and the consumption
of water is much less than in the blowing apparatus of
leather or wood. In consequence of these advantages,
the number of furnaces has been greatly increased since
this apparatus was first erected, and the extent of the
manufacture has been doubled. This apparatus pos¬
sesses another superiority over the ordinary blowing ma¬
chines. The latter, to be put in motion, require a water
wheel •, but the apparatus which is here alluded to, is set
in motion merely by the pressure of a column of water.
The following is the description of this blowing ma¬
chine, as it was first erected at Marche upon the Meuse.
It was invented and. constructed by Janniens, proprietor
of the forges, and it consists of two cylinders of three
feet eight inches diameter, and of thirty inches high,
placed vertically near each other. One of these cylin¬
ders is represented at fig. 16. A piston of wood co¬
vered with leather, (fig. 17.) moves in each cylinder,
and forces the air through the tubes 0, 0, 0, which are
fitted to the upper part of the cylinders, and are con¬
ducted to the different furnaces where combustion is.to
be excited. The base of these tubes is furnished with
valves, to prevent the return of the air. The piston
is, besides, furnished with two lids or covers, w, w,
(fU. 18. and 19.) which open when it descends, and
shut when it rises. The piston is surrounded with a
band of leather in the usual way, to make it tight.
The moving power in this apparatus, is a water
wheel erecteff on the horizontal shaft, s. On this shaft
are fixed the arms t, t, projecting from its circumfe-
rence, which alternately elevate the stalk oi the piston.
sure of
water.
Fig. 16.
Fig. 17.
Fig. iS.
and 19.
The descent of the piston U regulated by the weight/. F«n
which acts as a counterpoise; and the spring.of wood,1—
which is balanced when the stalks 01 the piston are
at their lowest descent, serves to retard the velocity,
and to prevent any sudden or violent stroke.
Two of these cylinders, erected at one ol the forges
at Marche, furnish air to two furnaces, which employ
charcoal from wood, and one with coke from pit-coal.
The stroke of the piston is about 18 inches, and 25
strokes in a minute, and with this length of stroke and
velocity, the two pistons produce nearly about 400 cu¬
bical feet of air. The consumption of water, having a
fall of about 10 feet, is about 80 cubical feet.
The similar cylinders, erected at another furnace at
the same place, move with the velocity of 19 strokes
per minute. The length of each stroke is about 22
inches, so that it produces about 360 cubical feet of air.
For this, with a fall of 10 feet, 75 cubical feet of wa¬
ter are necessary.
In the construction of this blowing machine, no pe¬
culiar difficulty occurs. It is not necessary that the cy¬
linders should be accurately turned in the inside. All
that is required is, to grind or polish their inner suiface
with sand" stone. It was in this way that the cylinders
and apparatus, just described, wrere prepaied.
The piston, which is made of wood, has in the mid-
die of it a mortise, u, fig. 17. and 19. to admit the
stalk, p, which is kept in its place by four bands 01
straps of iron, x, fig. 17* . ,
The band of leather, is about three lines in
thickness, and about five inches broad. It is nailed to
the piston, and ought to be raised above the groove or
gutter, v.
The grooves y, y, are sunk in the piston, in propor¬
tion to the thickness of the leather, and their external
diameter should be somewhat smaller than that of the
cylinder. The large lids or covers of the piston are of
wood, lined with sheep skin ; and their hinges, which
are made of leather, are fixed with screws to the wood:
a bridle of leather limits the extent of the opening.
The small valves, which are fixed at the upper open¬
ing of the cylinders, at the end of the tubes for con¬
ducting the "air, are also of wood, and covered with
sheep skin.
The tubes or pipes which conduct the air are made
of iron plates, or of tinned iron, and they terminate in
pipes of a convenient diameter, and proportioned to
the different furnaces. They should also be furnished
with keys or cocks, for regulating at pleasure the quan¬
tity of the air.
The frame which supports these cylinders is of a very
simple construction, as will appear by inspecting fig. 16.
It is attached and secured to part of the wall of the
building. , .
All that is necessary to keep this apparatus in order,
is with a brush to cover the internal surface of the cy¬
linders with oil once every 10 days.
The following are the dimensions of the pxincips
parts in the old French measure.
The large valves of the piston, 8 inches by 6.
The interval between these valves, 14 inches.
Stalk of the piston, 6 inches square.
The rollers on the axis C Length, 12 inches,
of the wheel. I Diameter, 36 inches.
Diameter
295
Furnace.
Fig'
.FUR
JiCe. Diameter of the cylinder, 38 inches.
,—Height of ditto, 26 do.
Uailiet, who has given t!ie above description, pro¬
poses a new application of the moving force to this kind
of blowing machine \ and he observes, that a very im¬
portant advantage may be derived from these cylinders,
since the simple pressure of a column of water may be
jii, substituted for tbe moving power. In fig. 20. the ap¬
paratus is so arranged as to shew in what way this ef¬
fect may be produced.
The stalk f, of the cylindrical apparatus c, is com¬
mon to the piston of the small cylinder d, in which it
can convey the column of water be. When the cock
h is open, and that at / is shut, the pressure of the co¬
lumn must elevate the stalk f and the piston of the
blowing cylinder. Then the cock h being shut, and
that at l being open, the water of the cylinder d will
flow out, and the stalk /and the piston of the cylinder
will descend. Ihese alternate motions can be easily
managed by means of levers, or regulators at /, fitted
to the stem of the piston, and in the same way as in the
steam engine. The openings at h and / may he regu¬
lated according to the velocity which is required in the
motion of the piston, and the diameter of the cylinder
d will be proportioned to the fall of water £, c, and the
volume of air which is wanted.
Explanation of the Figures.
Fig. 16- exhibits a section and elevation of the blow¬
ing machine.
fir, the wall of the building. 5, the opening in the
wall for the balance beam.
r, one of the two beams which receive the gudgeons
on which the balance beam moves. </, <?, the balance
beam; / the weight which acts as a counterpoise; g-,
the spring of wood.
a brace or strap of leather, which is attached to
the curved head of the beam.
h £, /, m, the frame which supports the cylinders.
m, the blowing cylinder of cast iron.
0, 0, 0, tubes for conveying air to the furnace.
/>, stalk of the piston.
q, a knee or catch attached to the stalk.
r, the horizontal axis of the water wheel.
s, A‘, arms attached to the axis, with rollers which
raise the knee or catch <7, and the piston.
t, t, similar arms and rollers for moving the piston of
the second cylinder.
Fig. 17. Section of the piston.
Fig. 18. The piston seen from above.
Fig. 19. View of the under surface of the piston.
Fig. 17. 18. and 19.
р, stalk of the piston.
w, lids or valves.
с, v, groove in the circumference of the piston.
«, mortise to receive the stalk p.
x, x, straps of iron to support the stalk p.
,?/»/> the band of leather surrounding the piston.
Fig. 20. a, a reservoir of water ; c, a column of
water.
N A C E.
d, a cylinder for water.
e, the blowing cylinder.
/, the stalk common to the pistons of the two cylin¬
ders, d and e. J
g, the pipe for conducting the air.
//, l, cocks for receiving and letting out the water.
t, 1, the regulators, for the purpose of opening and
shutting the cocks.
k, a second blowing cylinder.*
The following is a description by Torelli-Narci, of a
three-blast furnace, which was constructed in the che¬
mical laboratory of the French school of mines.
. 4< -f.1”8 furna<^ (says the author) is destined for fu¬
sing different mineral substances, in order to ascertain
the nature of them ; and the experience of six years
has shown that it answers the intended purpose. By its
means a very intense heat is obtained, and it was em¬
ployed by C. Clouet for repeating his experiments on
the conversion of forged iron into cast steel, which were
attended with full success.
“ Chemists who have seen this furnace seemed desi¬
rous of being better acquainted with the construction of
it : the council even transmitted drawings of it to seve¬
ral persons ; and what has hitherto prevented a descrip¬
tion of it from being given was a desire to ascertain its
power by longer use!
. “ f .long ag° conceived the idea of a fusing furnace,
in which the wind was distributed in three tuyeres
placed in its circumference, and at equal distances from
each other; but I had no opportunity of realizing this
idea till I became attached to the council of mines.
“ Nearly seven years ago a plan was in agitation for
constructing in the laboratory of the school a fusing
furnace capable of producing a very great degree of
heat, in order to operate with facility and speed on lar¬
ger quantities of mineral, and consequently to obtain
more precision in the trials which might be made than
Lad been obtained by the small furnaces before employ-
ed for docimastic experiments.
“ I proposed my ideas : they were approved by the
council of mines ; and I was ordered to cause the fur¬
nace I am about to describe to be constructed. The
principal difference between it and those before used for
the same purpose is, that in the present one the wind is
introduced through three tuyeres, placed at equal dis¬
tances from each other in its circumference, whereas in
common furnaces it enters only by one.
This furnace is round, both outside and inside, and
constructed of very refractory bricks, secured by iron
hoops in such a manner that they cannot be displaced.
It rests on a square base of strong mason work, raised
to a sufficient height above the ground to render it easy
to manage.
“ The bellows are four feet in length, and the mean
breadth of them is about 20 or 21 inches : they are of
wood, and the joints are covered with white leather.
The upper part consists of five folds and two half folds;
the inferior, of two folds and two half folds. They are pla¬
ced eight or nine feet (k) above a wooden box, the joints
of which are covered with leather, and into which the
^ wind
1 T13 arbitrary ; it depends in part on the manner in which tbe bellows are disposed, and on
the height of the chamber in which the furnace is placed.”
* Jour, dc
Alines.
Three-
blast fur¬
nace.
296
Furnace.
F U R N
wlinl as it comes from the .bellows is conveyed hy a
copper pipe, three inches in diameter, adjusted to the
upper part of the box. The box itself is supported by
two iron bars built into the wall. From the lower pait
of this box descend, m a vertical direction, three pipes
of copper, two inches in diameter, bent at right angles
about 45 inches below it, to bring them into a horizon¬
tal position, and to convey the wind to the furnace,
which is about six feet distant. The extremities ot
these pipes are fitted into three tuyeres of forged iron,
fixed at equal distances around the circumference of
the furnace : these three pipes are more or less curved
or bent, to convey the wind into the furnace by the
three apertures made for that purpose.
“ About six inches below the box is adjusted, on each
of the three tubes, which descend in a vertical direc¬
tion, a brass cock about three inches of interior diame¬
ter: these cocks serve to intercept entirely the commu¬
nication between the bellows and the furnace 5 and by
opening them all more or less, or each of them sepa¬
rately, any required quantity of wind may be obtain-
ed (l).
“ These cocks are well fixed to the tubes, and kept
in their place by two clips of iron suited to the diame¬
ters of the tubes, and forming a kind of three collars,
which by means of four screws embrace and confine
them : these pieces of iron are themselves made fast to
two crutches of iron, which support the box and are
fixed to it by screws. The box is kept on the crutches
by two straps, which embrace it at each extremity, and
are fixed by female screws, which are fitted to screws
on the ends of these straps after they have passed
through the horizontal part of the two crutches.
To°give the proper strength to this furnace, a solid
square was constructed of mason-work, about a foot lar¬
ger on each side than the exterior diameter of the sides
of the furnace, which were from 21 to 22 inches from
outside to outside. Bricks were placed on the ground
in the middle of this erection for the extent of 18 inches,
in order to form a bottom, and on this base were placed
the sides of the furnace constructed in the manner about
to be described.
“ I caused to be forged two iron hoops six lines in
thickness, from 2 to 2§ inches in breadth, and about
22 inches of exterior diameter j these two circles were
fastened together by three bars of iron, the distance of
their exterior edge being kept at about nine inches, the
height ef the bricks: these bars are pierced with holes
towards the end rivetted on the circles, and placed at
equal distances on their circumference. One of the
extremes of each of these three bars is left of a sufficient
length to pass beyond the lower circle about an inch, in
order to make them enter into three holes formed in
the brick-work which forms the bottom of the furnace,
ACE.
and by these means to prevent the furnace from becom- Fum
ing deranged. # # yJ
“ This kind of iron frame was filled with bricks si¬
milar to those employed for the bottom of the furnace :
they were rubbed one on the other to smooth them, and
the corners were a little rounded j so that, being placed
upright with their broad sides applied to the iron hoops,
the narrow side stood inwards. By these means all these
bricks were adjusted in such a manner as to touch each
other bv their broadest faces, and to form the sides of
the furnace, the thickness of which was equal to the
breadth of the bricks, and its depth to their length.
Three apertures were reserved for the tuyeres which
terminate the three tubes that convey the wind, by cut¬
ting from as many bricks a portion equal to the thick¬
ness of a brick.
“ These bricks thus adjusted were taken from the
iron frame, and then replaced, putting between them a
cement to connect them firmly and to fill up the joints.
The dust produced by cutting the bricks was reserved
for this purpose j and I desired the workmen to mix
with it a small quantity of clay diluted in a great deal
of water, in order to make a puddle for daubing over
the bricks, and in particular to put between them no
more than was necessary for filling the joints and the
small space left between their faces in consequence of
any inequality left in dressing them.
“ The furnace thus constructed was then placed on
its base, a stratum of the same mortar employed for
filling up the joinings of the bricks being first interpos¬
ed. The extremities of the three iron bars projecting
beyond the lower circle were placed in the holes left in
the base to receive them. The body of the furnace en¬
circled with iron, both by its weight and the gentle
blows given to the iron hoops above the bars which
connected them, expelled the excess of the mortar, and
caused a part of it to enter and unite with that which
filled up the joints of the brick work of the circumfe¬
rence, which rendered it immoveable.
“ The bellows is secured as usual by crutches of iron
and supporters fixed in the wall and to the floor: the
handle is disposed in such a manner, that the rope
which makes it act may be pulled by the same person
who manages the fire of the furnace, which in certain
cases is necessary.
“ The tuyeres of forged iron, which receive the ends
of the copper tubes, are secured in their proper apertures
in the circumference of the furnace by pieces of brick
and mortar similar to that employed for filling up the
joints j and the ends of the copper pipes introduced in¬
to these tuyeres are luted with the same mortar, a little
thickened with brick dust.
“ The apertures of these tuyeres towards the interior
of the furnace is only nine lines in diameter j on which
account,
(l) “ Care must be taken, when the action of the bellows ceases, to shut the cocks, especially when coals are
used in the furnace ; for the hydrogen disengaged from that mineral substance ascends into the box, and when the
bellows are again made to act, may inflame and cause a violent explosion, or even burst the bellows. This acci¬
dent once took place in the furnace here described: the box burst with a loud noise on the first stroke of the bel¬
lows, the gas which filled them having suddenly inflamed j but by good fortune no person was hurt. The same
thing happened at the house of C. Gorlier, locksmith of Paris} one of his bellows burst with a horrid explosion
at the moment when they were put in motion.”
3
Plat(
:xxv
ss.,
F U R N A
ce< account, as the volume of air furnished by the bellows
—J cannot pass so quick as it is produced, it becomes con¬
densed in the box placed above the cocks. By these
means a very uniform blast is obtained, which can also
be regulated by opening more or fewer of the cocks.
“ During more than six years, since this furnace was
constructed, it has suffered no derangement: it is not
even cracked. It is however worn in the inside by the
violence of the heat it has experienced, which has in¬
creased its diameter about two inches. The parts round
the three tuyeres have also got hollowed, so that it has
need of being repaired. It is intended to make it deeper,
and to have a kind of moveable muffs or linings made
of fire clay, in order that its diameter may be reduced
at pleasure : it is meant also to construct it in such a
manner, as to deposit the rest or support for the cruci¬
ble, not on the bottom of the furnace, but on bars of
forged iron placed at the distance of some inches from
that bottom, so as to leave below them a vacuity in
which the blast of the bellows may be diffused, and
from which it may rise, passing between the bars to tra¬
verse the mass of charcoal which surrounds the crucible.
The blast will then produce a more uniform fire, and the
flame can no longer be directed against the sides of the
crucibles } so that the risk of their breaking by sudden
inequalities in the heat will be much less.
This alteration is going to be immediately carried
into execution, and the method proposed for doing it is
as follows:
“ A round frame will be made of forged iron, in
which bricks will be placed in the same manner as
above described. In the lower part of the furnace an
aperture will be reserved for raking out the ashes, which
will be closed by means of a door of baked earth care¬
fully luted with clay. Some inches above the bottom
of the furnace will be placed a grate of forged iron, and
between this grate and the bottom of the furnace the
tuyeres will terminate, and the blast be introduced.
Muffs or linings of very refractory earth will then be
introduced, so as to descend to this grate. There will
be two of them, one within the other, and both within
the body of the furnace. At the lower part these muffs
will be furnished with a rim, projecting outward so as
to leave between the body of the furnace and the muffs
h vacuity, which will be luted at the bottom with clay’
and which will be filled with pounded glass, or any
other substance a bad conductor for heat. 7
The interior muff, or both of them, may he removed
at pleasure to obtain a furnace of greater or less capacity
according to theoperations to be performed. Itisproposed
to make the muff's wider at the top than at the bottom.
C E.
297
Explanation of the Figures.
AP 2r‘ ^lan °f tlie bellows and the furnace.
AtJ, the bellows made of wood, the folds of which are
a 50 of wo°d covered with leather on the joints. CD,
tlie handle which serves for moving the bellows. E, a’
popper tube which conveys the wind of the bellows
into the box EG, in which it is condensed. EG, a
box ol wood serving as a reservoir for the wind conden¬
sed by the bellows. HI, KL, MN, three pipes adapt-
ed to the box EG, and which convey the wind into Furnace.
the inside of the furnace by three tuyeres, I, L, N.  v 
UE, mason work to support the horizontal pipes. Q,
the furnace properly so called, the former of which is
circular, and which is placed on the square mason work
Xtj o, J. j U*
Fig. 22. Elevation of the furnace, the pipes which EV. 22.
'onvLey the b,as‘, the cocks, the condensing box, and
the bellows. AB, the bellows mounted in their place,
and supported by the iron-work necessary for securintr
it, which is fixed in the wall and to the floor. CD
the handle which serves for moving the bellows. E,’
the copper pipe which conveys the blast of the bellows
to the box EG in which it is condensed. At G is a
Jole shut by a large cork stopper, which can be opened
at pleasure. This box is supported by two crutches of
irony, ^ and h, iy built into the wall, and on which it
is nxed by two iron stirrups /, m.
“ F,g- 23. One of the crutches and its stirrup are seen Fig- 11.
represented sidewise at/, /; the extremities, »,o, are
built into the wall and the two ends,/,, 7, of the iron
piece which keeps the box on the horizontal traverse of
he crutch, are tapped, and receive screws which make
them fast to the crutch/ g. HI, KL, MN, are three
pipes which convey the wind into the interior of the
furnace. Q, R, S, T, U, mason work on which is pla¬
ced the furnace Q, and which serves it as a bottom.
Ui', masonry which serves to support the three pipes
that convey the wind to the furnace. XYZ, fig. 22. are
ie tiiree cocks fixed to the three pipes which proceed
from the box to convey the wind to the furnace.
In fig. 24. the dimensions of which are double those Fig * <
°f fag. 22. may be seen the details of one of these cocks. & '
At rysy ty the body of the cock is seen in front ; the
stopper being taken out shows at r and at t the two holes
which receive the tubes that communicate either with
the box or with the tuyeres, u Exhibits the body of the
cnck see" on one side 5 r, the key with its aperture
and its head y. This key, turned round more or less in
its socket, serves to give more or less wind. 1,23 Iron
clips which secure the cocks at the distance they ought
to be from each other, and connect them at the same
time to the iron crutches which support the air-box.
‘‘Fig. 25. a plan of these two clips. They are bentp:*
at the places marked 1, 2, 3, to embrace the body of
t ie three cocks, and secure them in such a manner
that they cannot be deranged when they are opened or
“ Fig. 26. and 27. represent the plan and section of^v l5.
the changes and additions proposed to be made when and *7
the furnace is re-constructed. At I, L, and N are
seen the extremities of the three pipes that enter the
forged iron tuyeres, and convey the wind to the interior
of the furnace, cr, b, and c, indicate the thickness at
t ie upper part of each of the muffs and of the bodv of
c.f Jfur.nace* between which there are two vacuities
failed with pounded glass or some other bad conductor
°c ile,at‘, ^’e £r?te 011 which are deposited the rests
of baked earth destined to receive the crucibles, e, the
crucible, luted and attached with clay to a rest of
baked earth (m).”
Mr
is well known • bu^I do mjt hV” *arSe founderies from the application of two or three tuyeres instead of one
VoL IX. Part 1. d eVe SUCh an ayanSement was ever adopted in small furnaces.
At
298
Furnace.
steel, im
perfect.
F U R N
Mr Collier, in a paper communicated to tlie Man-
—v  Chester Philosophical Society, has delivered some im¬
portant observations on iron and steel, with a more cor¬
rect account of the process for the manufacture ot the
latter than has hitherto been given. To this account
he has added the description of a furnace tor the con¬
version of iron into steel. As his observations and rea¬
sonings are extremely valuable, we shall lay the whole
before our readers in his own words.
. t , « After examining (says (Mr Collier) the works of
diffsrent anlhors who have written on the subject of
for mftUing making iron anil steel, I am persnadeil that the accounts
iron and „;ven by them of the necessary processes and operations
are extremely imperfect. Chemists have examined and
described the various compound minerals containing iron
with great accuracy, hut have been less attentive to
their reduction. This observation more particularly
applies to steel, of the making of which I have not
seen any correct account. . r tl
“ It is singular to observe, how very imperfectly the
cementation of iron has been described by men of great
eminence in the science of chemistry. Citizen lour-
croy states the length of time necessary for the cemen¬
tation of iron to be about twelve hours 5 but it is diffi¬
cult to discover whether he alludes to cast or to bar
steel: for he says, that short bars of iron are to be put
into an earthen box with a cement, and closed up. Now
steel is made from bars of iron of the usual length and
thickness: but cast steel is made according to the pro¬
cess described by Citizen Fourcroy, with this essential
difference *, the operation is begun upon bar steel and
not bar iron. .
“ Mr Nicholson is equally unfortunate in the ac¬
count given in his Chemical Dictionary. He says,
:hat the usual time required for the cementation of
iron is from six to ten hours, and cautions us against
continuing the cementation too long; whereas the ope¬
ration, from the beginning to the end, requires sixteen
days at least. In other parts of the operation he is
equally defective, confounding the making of bar with
that of cast steel, and not fully describing either. In
speaking of the uses of steel, or rather of what consti¬
tutes its superiority, Mr Nicholson is also deficient.
He observes, that ‘ its most useful and advantageous
property is that of becoming extremely hard when
plunged into water.’ He has here forgotten every
thing respecting the temper and tempering of steel in¬
struments, of which, however, he takes some notice m
the same page. 4 Plunging into water’ requires a
little explanation : for if very hot steel be immersed
in cold water without great caution, it will crack, nay,
sometimes break to pieces. It is, however, necessary
to be done, in order to prevent the steel from grow¬
ing soft, and returning to the state of malleable
iron y for, were it permitted to cool in the open air,
the carbone which it holds in combination would be
dissipated (n).
ACE.
“ I shall, at present, confine my remarks to the ope- pulJ1;
ration performed on iron in Sheffield and its neigh- —y, j
bourhood : from whence various communications have proee4|
been transmitted to me by resident friends, and where
I have myself seen the operations repeatedly per¬
formed.
“ The iron made in that part of Yorkshire is pro¬
cured from ores found in the neighbourhood, which
are of the argillaceous kind, but intermixed with a
large proportion of foreign matter. These, however,
are frequently combined with richer ores from Cumber¬
land and other places. The ore is first roasted with
cinders for three days in the open air, in order to expel
the sulphureous or arsenical parts, and afterwards taken
to the furnaces : some ol which are constructed so that
their internal cavity has the form of two four-sided py¬
ramids joined base to base j but those most commonly
used are of a conical form, from 40 to 50 feet high.
The furnace is charged at the top with equal parts of for tie
coal-cinder and lime-stone. The lime-stone acts as aduetitf
flux, at the same time that it supplies a sufficient quan- re’
tity of earthy matter to be converted into scoriae, which
are necessary to defend the reduced matter from calcina¬
tion, when it comes near the lower part of the lurnace.
The fire is lighted at the bottom j and the heat is ex¬
cited by means of two pair ol large bellows blowing al¬
ternately. The quantity of air, generally thrown into the
furnace is from a thousand to twelve hundred square
feet in a minute. The air passes through a pipe, the
diameter of which is from two inches and a quarter, to
two and three quarters, wide. The compression of air
which is necessary is equal to a column of water four
feet and a half high. The ore melts as it passes through
the fire and is collected at the bottom, where it is
maintained in a liquid state. The slag, which falls
down with the fused metal, is let off, by means of an
openintr in the side of the lurnace, at the discretion of
the workmen.
« When a sufficient quantity of regulus, or imper¬
fectly reduced metal, is accumulated at the bottom of
the furnace (which usually happens every eight hours),
it is let off into moulds j to form it for the purposes in¬
tended, such as cannon or pig iron.
14 Crude iron is distinguished into white, black, and
gray. The white is the least reduced, and more
brittle than the other two. The black is that with
which a large quantity of fuel has been used ; and
the gray is that which has been reduced with a suffi¬
cient quantity of fuel, of which it contains a part in
solution.
44 The operation of refining crude iron consists ina«|b >
burning the combustible matter which it holds in so-.^
lution j at the same time that the remaining iron is
more perfectly reduced, and acquires a fibrous tex¬
ture. For this purpose, the pigs of cast iron are
taken to the forge ; where they are first put into what
is called the refinery : which is an open charcoal
fire,
“ AtTreibach, in Carinthia, C. Le Febre, and Hassenfratz member of the council and inspector of mines, saw
about twenty years ago, a large furnace with two tuyeres 5 drawings of which they brought to France, and whic
they represented in the third plate of /’ Art de fabriquer les Canons, by Monge : two pairs of bellows supp y
wind through two opposite tuyeres, and since that arrangement the daily product of metal has been double.
(n) “ It is the opinion of some metallurgists, that a partial abstraction of oxygen takes place, by plunging
metal into cold water.”
itice. urged by a pair of bellows, worked by water
or a steam engine*, but the compression of air, in
the refinery, ought to be less than that in the blast
furnace. After the metal is melted, it is let out of
the fire hy the workmen, to discharge the scoriee ; and
then returned and subjected to the blast as before.
This operation is sometimes repeated two or three
times before any appearance of malleability (or what
the workmen call coming into nature) takes place ;
this they know by the metal’s first assuming a granular
appearance, the particles appearing to repel each other,
or at least to have no signs of attraction. Soon after¬
wards they begin to adhere, the attraction increases
very rapidly, and it is with great difficulty that the
whole is prevented from running into one mass, which
it is desirable to avoid, it being more convenient to
stamp small pieces into thin cakes: this is done by put¬
ting the iron immediately under the forge hammer, and
beating it into pieces about an inch thick, which easily
break from the rest during the operation. These small
pieces are then collected and piled upon circular stones,
which are an inch thick, nine inches in diameter, and
about ten inches high. They are afterwards put into a
furnace, in which the fire is reverberated upon them
until they are in a semi-fluid state. The workmen
then take one out of the furnace, and draw it into a
bar under the hammer; which being finished, they ap¬
ply the bar to another of the piles of semi-fluid metal,
to which it quickly cements, is taken again to the ham¬
mer, the bar first drawn serving as a handle, and drawn
down as before. The imperfections in the bars are re¬
medied by putting them into another fire called the
chafery, and again subjecting them to the action of the
forge hammer.
“ The above method is now most in use, and is
called flourishing; but the iron made by this process is
in no respect superior to that which I am going to de¬
scribe. It is, however, not so expensive, and requires
less labour.
“ The process for refining crude iron, which was most
common previously to the introduction of flourishing, is
as follows.
“ The pigs of cast iron are put into the refinery, as
above, where they remain until they have acquired a
consistence resembling paste, which happens in about
two hours and a half. The iron is then taken out of
the refinery and laid upon a cast iron plate on the floor,
and beaten by the workmen with hand hammers to
knock off the cinders and other extraneous matters
which adhere to the metal. It is afterwards taken to
the forge hammer and beaten, first gently, till it has
obtained a little tenacity ; then the middle part of the
piece is drawn into a bar, about half an inch thick,
three inches broad, and four feet long ; leaving at each
end a thick square lump of imperfect iron. In this
form it is called ancony. It is now taken to the fire
called the chafery, made of common coal; after which
the two ends are drawn out into the form of the middle,
and the operation is finished.
. “ There is aiso a third method of rendering crude Funia
iron malleable, which, I think, promises to he abun- ' v-
dantly more advantageous than either of the two f0r-Anirn-
mer, as it will dispense both with the refinery andi>rovt>(J
r* li o idfwr • o k* rl n11. * ...Ml 1 . pfOCCAS*
chafery : and nothing more will be necessary than a
reverberating furnace, and a furnace to give" the me¬
tal a malleable heat, about the middle- of the opera¬
tion. The large forge hammer will also fall into dis¬
repute, but in its place must be substituted metal rol¬
lers ot diflerent capacities, which, like the forge ham¬
mer, must be worked either by a water wheel, or a
steam engine.
“ It is by the operation of the forge hammer or metal
rollers, that tue iron is deprived of the remaining por¬
tion of impurity, and acquires a fibrous texture.
I he iron made by the three foregoing processes is
equally valuable, for by any of them the metal is ren¬
dered pure; but after those different operations are fi¬
nished, it is the opinion of many of the most judicious
workers in iron, that laying it in a damp place, for
some time, improves its quality ; and to this alone, some
attribute the superiority of foreign iron, more time elap¬
sing between making and using the metal. To the lat¬
ter part of this opinion I can hy no means accede, as it
is well known that the Swedish (o) ores contain much
less heterogeneous matters than ours, and are generally
much richer, as they usually yield about 70 per quintal
of pure iron, whereas the average of ours is not more
than 30 or 40 (p) : add to this, that the Swedish ores
are smelted in wood fires, which gives the iron an addi¬
tional superiority.
“ Iron instruments are case-hardened by heating them
in a cinder or charcoal fire ; but if the first be used, a
quantity of old leather, or bones, must be burnt in the.
fire to supply the metal with carbone. The fire must
be urged by a pair of bellows to a sufficient degree of
heat ; and the whole operation is usually completed in
an hour.
“ The process for case-hardening iron, is in fact the
same as for converting iron into steel, but not continued
so long, as the surface only of the article is to be im¬
pregnated with carbone.
“ Some attempts have been made to give cast iron,
by case-hardening, the texture and ductility of steel]
but they have not been very successful. Table and
penknife blades have been made of it, and, when
ground, have had a pretty good appearance ; but the
edges are not firm, and they soon lose their polish.
Common table knives are frequently made of this me¬
tal.
“ The cementation of iron converts It into steel
a substance intermediate between crude and malleable
iron.
“ The furnaces for making steel are conical build- Furnace f<
ings; about the middle of which are two troughs ofmakinf
brick or fire stone, which will hold about four tons ofstfei*
iron in the bar. At the bottom is a long grate for
fire.
“ A layer of charcoal dust is put upon the bottom of
P P a .the
(o) “ Steel is commonly made of Swedish iron.”
(Pj The iron made from the ore found in the neighbourhood of Sheffield, contains a great deal of nhosphat*
ot non, or sidente, which renders the metal brittle when cold.”
Blistered
steel.
F U R N
the trough; and, upon that, a layer of bar iron, and
so on alternately until the trough is full. It is then
covered over with clay to keep out the air; which, it
admitted, would effectually prevent the cementation.
When the fire is put into the grate, the heat passes
round by means of flues, made at intervals, by the sides
of the trough. The fire is continued until the conver¬
sion is complete, which generally happens in about eight
or ten days. There is a hole in the side by which the
workmen draw out a bar occasionally, to see how far
the transmutation has proceeded. This they determine
by the blisters upon the surface of the bars. If they be
not sufficiently changed, the hole is again closed caie-
fully to exclude the air j but if, on the contrary, the
change be complete, the fire is extinguished, and the
steel is left to cool for about eight days more, when the
process for making blistered steel is finished.
“ For small wires, the bars are drawn under the tilt
hammer, to about half an inch broad and three-six¬
teenths of an inch thick.
Tilted steel “ The change wrought on blistered steel by the tilt
hammer, is nearly similar to that effected on iron from
the refinery by the forge hammer. It is made of a
more firm texture, and drawn into convenient forms for
German “ German steel is made by breaking the bars of blis-
»teel. tered steel into small pieces, and then putting a number
of them into a furnace after which they are welded
together and drawn to about 18 inches long*, then
doubled arid welded again, and finally drawn to the
size and shape required for use. This is also called
shear steel, and is superior in quality to the common
tilted steel.
Cast steel. “ Cast steel is also made from the common blistered
steel. The bars are broken and put into large cruci¬
bles with a flux. The crucible is then closed up with a
lid of the same ware, and placed in a wind furnace.
By the introduction of a greater or smaller quantity of
flux, the metal is made harder or softer. When the
fusion is complete, the metal is cast into ingots, and
then called ingot steel j and that which afterwards
undergoes the operation of tilting, is called tilted cast
steel.
“ The cast steel is the most valuable, as its texture
is the most compact and it admits of the finest polish.
“ Sir T. Frankland has communicated a process, in
the Transactions of the Royal Society, for welding
east steel, and malleable iron together; which, he says,
is done, by giving the iron a malleable, and the steel a
white heat; but, from the experiments which have
been made at my request, it appears, that it is only
soft cast steel, little better than common steel, that will
weld to iron : pure steel will not j for, at the heat de¬
scribed by Sir T. the best cast steel either melts or
will not bear the hammer.
“ It may here be observed, as was mentioned before,
that steel is an intermediate state between crude and
malleable iron, except in the circumstance of its reduc¬
tion being complete j for, according to the experiments
of Reaumur and Bergman, steel contains more hydro¬
gen gas than cast iron, but less than malleable iron j—
less plumbago than the first, but more than the latter ;
—an equal portion of manganese with each *,—less sili¬
ceous earth than either—more iron than the first, but
less than the second. Its fusibility is likewise interme-
A C E.
diate, between the bar iron ami the crude. When steel fUWj,
has been gradually cooled from a state of ignition, it is j
malleable and soft, like bar iron : but when ignited and
plunged into cold water, it has the hardness and brittle'
ness of iron.
“ From the foregoing facts, we are justified in draw¬
ing the same conclusions with Reaumur and Bergman,
but which have been more perfectly explained by Van¬
dermonde, Berthollet, and Monge, that crude iron is
a regulus, the reduction of which is not complete;
and which consequently will difl'er according as it ap¬
proaches more or less to the metallic state. Forged iron,
when previously well refined, is the purest metal ; for
it is then the most malleable and the most ductile, its
power of welding is the greatest, and it acquires the
magnetic quality soonest. Steel consists of iron per¬
fectly reduced and combined with charcoal ; and the
various differences in blistered steel, made of the same
metal, consists of the greater or less proportion of char¬
coal imbibed.
“ Iron gains by being converted into steel, about the
hundred and eightieth part of its weight.
“ In order to harden steel, it must be put into a clean Harder
charcoal, coal, or cinder fire, blown to a sufficient de-steel,
gree of heat by bellows. The workmen say, that nei¬
ther iron nor steel will harden properly without a blast.
When the fire is sufficiently hot, the instrument intend¬
ed to be hardened must be put in, and a gradual blast
from the bellows continued until the metal has acquir¬
ed a regular red heat; it is then to be carefully quench¬
ed in cold water. If the steel be too hot when immer¬
sed in water, the grain will be of a rough and coarse
texture ; but if of a proper degree of heat, it will be
perfectly fine. Saws and some other articles are quench¬
ed in oil.
“ Steel is tempered by again subjecting it to the ac-Teiiipei
tion of the fire. The instrument to be tempered wefe
will suppose to be a razor made of cast steel. First rub
it upon a grit stone until it is bright; then put the back
upon the fire, and in a short time the edge will become
of a light straw colour, whilst the back is blue. Th#
straw colour denotes a proper temper either for a razor,
graver, or penknife. Spring knives require a dark
brown ; scissars, a light brown, or straw colour ; forks
or table knives, a blue. The blue colour marks the
proper temper for swords, watch-springs, or any thing
requiring elasticity. The springs for penknives are
covered over with oil before they are exposed to the fire,
to temper.
Explanation of the Figures.
“ Fig. 28. is a plan of the furnace, and fig. 29. is aT'ig.
section of it taken at the line AB. The plan is takenami)t
at the line CD. The same parts of the furnace are
marked with the same letters in the plan and in the
section. EE are the pots or troughs into which the
bars of iron are laid to be converted. F is the fire¬
place; P, the fire bars ; and R, the ashpit. GG, &£•
are the flues. HIT is an arch, the inside of the bottom
of which corresponds with the line MI, fig. 2,8. and
the top of it is made in the form of a dome, having a
hole in the centre as K, fig. 29. LD, &c. are six chim¬
neys. MM is a dome, similar to that of a glass-house,
covering the whole. At N there is an arched openings
at which the materials are taken in and out of the fur-
nace>
r wee
Imji! fd
proc «l
«gp« -
im
FURNACE.
nace, and which is closely built up when the furnace is
^ charged. At 00 there are holes in each pot, through
which the ends of three or four of the bars are made to
project quite out of the furnace. These are for the
purpose of being drawn out occasionally to see if the
iron he sufficiently converted.
“ The pots are made of fire tiles, or fire stone. The
bottoms of them are made of two courses, each course
being about the thickness of the single course which
forms the outsides of the pots. The insides of the pots
are of one course, about double the thickness of the
outside. The partitions of the flues are made of fire
brick, which are of different thicknesses, as represented
in the plan, and by dotted lines in the bottom of the
pots. These are for supporting the sides and bottoms
of the pots, and for directing the flame equally round
them. The great object is to communicate to the
whole an equal degree of heat in every part. The fuel
is put in at each end of the fire-place, and the fire is
made the whole length of the pots, and kept up as
equally as possible.”
In a memoir published by Du Hamel, the inconve¬
nience and expence which attend the process commonly
in use, for refining lead or separating the silver from
this metal, are pointed out, and a more economical
process is proposed. This process, which is known by
the name of cvpe/lation, is performed in a vessel called
the cupel, which is made of the ashes of the bones of
animals, or of vegetables, after separating, by means
of water, the saline parts which adhere to them. But
the difficulty and expence of obtaining a sufficient quan¬
tity of these materials, led him to contrive something
else as a substitute, which might be less costly and more
easily obtained.
For the purpose of performing the process in the way
here recommended, it is not necessary to make any al¬
teration in the general construction of the furnace. All
that is required is, to have a sufficient number of canals
or openings towards its base, to allow the escape of the
moisture. These canals are covered with a bed of sco¬
ria, on which is raised a pavement formed of the most
porous bricks, and about a brick in thickness. On this
floor or area, which should be a little concave, in the
same way as the ordinary cupels are formed when they
are made of ashes, is placed a quantity of casting or
moulding sand, slightly moistened j and if the sand has
not a sufficient quantity of earth, some clay is added,
to give it consistence, and the whole is carefully mixed
together. This sand is beaten together, and a concave
vessel is made of it, of an equal thickness in all its parts.
When the bason has been uniformly beaten, it will be
proper to sift over its whole surface a small quantity of
wood ashes, well washed with water, and these are also
beaten down with a pestle.
The cupel being thus prepared, the head of the fur¬
nace is put on, and a moderate fire is kindled and kept
up for some hours, to carry off- part of the moisture of
the sand. The remainder is dissipated without inconve¬
nience, by means of the canals, during the process.
After it has been sufficiently dried, the head of the fur¬
nace is again taken off, and allowed to cool a little.
A quantity of straw or hay is put upon the bason or cu¬
pel, to prevent any injury from the weight of the bars
«f lead on the sand. To avoid this still more, it is re-
301
commended to have the lead to he ptmBed cast into r„r»a«.
tne torm ot hemispheres, in place of bars.
A sufficient quantity of lead being introduced into
the lurnace, the head is luted on with baked clay, and
the fire is applied in the usual way. As soon as the
lead is completely fused, the bason appears covered with
the burnt straw: this is removed by means of an iron
instrument, and this operation is repeated several times.
Y\ lien the lead begins to grow red, the action of the
bellows commences, at first softly, and the blast is so
directed that it may strike the centre of the cupel. To
effect this more completely, a small round plate of iron
is attached to the extremity and upper pait of the pipe
by means of a hinge, so that at each blast it is half
raised, and the current of air is directed to the surface
of the fused metal.
After the whole of the scum that rises has been re¬
moved, and the lead is covered with a stratum of li¬
tharge, a small gutter is made by means of a hook for
the purpose, in the sand of the cupel. This is gradual¬
ly and cautiously hollowed, till it is on a level with the
surface of the bath, and then the litharge driven by the
blast towards the anterior part of the furnace, will flow
this way, and spread itself on the floor in the usual way.
V\ hen the operator perceives that the litharge has been
removed, he stops up the gutter with moistened ashes
till another quantity of litharge appears on the surface’
He then re-opens the gutter, which is now made deeper
in proportion to the diminution of the fused metal, but
at the same time taking care that no part of the’lead
escapes, especially towards the end of the process, be¬
cause then a considerable portion of silver would be ear¬
ned off.
. *n t*lls tlie process is conducted till the separa¬
tion of the silver begins to take place, observing at the
same time to increase the heat as the quantity of fused
metal diminishes, because then the silver is collected to¬
gether j and since it is much more difficult to keep it
in fusion than the small portion of lead which remains
combined with it, the separation would be very imper¬
fect, without the application of a sufficient temperature.
Instead of having only one-twentieth of lead, which is
the usual proportion in the common process, the quan¬
tity would be much greater, and this would render the
second operation, the refining of the silver, much more
difficult.
Du Hamel observes, that a cupel of sand, well made,
will answer for the repetition of the process several
times, without renewing it at the end of each opera¬
tion, as is the case with those of ashes. The only pre¬
caution to be observed is, to remove the kind of varnish
of oxyde of lead which remains on the sides of the gut¬
ter by which the litharge flowed out, that the new
sand with which it is to be filled up may combine easily
with the old. J
The length of time which the reverberatory furnace
may be employed in smelting the ores of lead, and even
in reducing litharge, is a proof that the oxyde of lead
acts only on the surface of the cupel, and penetrates a
very small thickness. After the process has been seve¬
ral times repeated, this crust is removed, and it is fused
lor the purpose of obtaining the lead. This process will
be as easy as the reduction of the metal contained in
the ashes of the ordinary cupels, and in much smaller
quantity.
302
F111 n nee.
FURNACE.
quantity. By tlie new metliod, therefore, a ;rreater
* Mem.
I'Inst.
iii. 306'.
3°'
F«. 31
proportion of litharge is obtained •, and it may be add¬
ed, that the sand absorbing a smaller quantity ot oxyde
of’lead, it will contain also a smaller proportion ot sil¬
ver ; for it is well known that the lead which is re¬
duced from the ashes, contains always much more
than that which is produced from the reduction 01 1-
l ,ain place of sand, argillaceous earth may be employ¬
ed in the construction of cupels j but it is necessary that
this earth be well beaten together, and that this process
should be several times repeated, for several days, with¬
out which the clay would be apt to crack, and the
melted lead would flow into the crevices ; an inconve¬
nience which does not arise from the use of sand, even
although it should be mixed with a little earth. And
besides, it is to be observed, that the cupel constructed
of this substance, becomes too hard to allow a gutter
to be easily made for the passage of the litharge. In
this case, it would he necessary that the place by
which the oxyde is to flow out, be made up of sand, or
of ashes. . • 1 • 1
In the formation of the bason or cupel, which is iiere
proposed, it seems to be advantageous to employ two
kinds of sand, the one fine, like that which is used by
the founders, the other coarser, and free from earth.
It is of the latter, the coarse kind, that the first stratum
is formed j and this, after being made of sufficient
thickness, is well beaten with pestles for the purpose 5
on this the fine sand is to he placed, containing a pro¬
per proportion of earth, and it is to be beaten together
in the same way. Both the coarse and the fine sand
are to be moistened a little, that they may adhere toge¬
ther, and afterwards acquire a sufficient degree ol soh-
dity under the pestles. The sand of the inferior layer
being coarser than the other, will absorb the moisture
froni it as it evaporates, and will allow it to pass on ea¬
sily, by means of the canals or openings which are left
for that purpose. This stratum, too, is to remain in its
place, when the fine sand of the cupel is removed, and
that the surface of the stratum of coarse sand may not
be disturbed when the other is removed, a thin layer
of ashes may be thrown upon it, and beaten down, be-
de fore the other stratum is laid on *• t .
The French school of mines appointed a commission,
composed of Hassenfratz, Brochant, and Micbfc, to con¬
sider the best form for the construction of a furnace for
burning lime-stone, or plaster of Paris. After consi¬
dering different forms of furnaces, and reasoning on
their effects, they propose in their report to adopt the
following, which is represented in fig. 30. and 31.
Fig. 30. is a plan of the furnace proposed.
1), the fire-place. E, E, openings for taking out
the substances which are converted into lime or plas-
t€T* , •
P. half of the plan taken at the height of the line
AK of fig. 31- s , , . . A
Q, half of the plan taken at the height oi the line
XY’offig. 31 ... . r . f
Fh'. 31. exhibits a section of the same furnace.
’ B. C are places which remain empty after the in¬
troduction of the substances to be exposed to heat.
B, D, the fires. . „ , ,
E. the opening for the extraction of the suostances
after they are converted into lime or plaster.
O, the throat or vent, ^ TV*,
o, b, openings for regulating the heat, ' -
We shall now conclude this article with a short ac¬
count of the construction and management of furnaces
for chemical purposes.
The following is a description of an essay or cupel-Chcdk
ling furnace. 1. A hollow, quadrangular prism, IlfurnM
inches broad and nine inches high, is constructed with
iron plates, and it ends at top in a hollow quadrangular
pyramid, seven inches high ; the latter terminating in
an opening seven inches square. Ihe prism is closed
at bottom with another iron plate, which serves as a
bottom. .
2 Near the bottom a door three inches high ami
five inches broad, is opened. This leads to the ash
hole. ... r 1 l •
3. Above this door, and six inches from the basis,
another door is opened, of the figure of a segment of a
circle, four inches broad at the bottom, and three in¬
ches and a half big in the middle.
4. Three iron plates are then to be fastened to the
fore-part of the furnace, the first of them should be n
inches long, half an inch high, and so fastened with
three or four rivets, that its lower edge may rest against
the bottom of the furnace. Between this plate and the
side of the furnace a space must be left, so wide that the
sliders of the lower door, which are made of a thicker
iron plate, may move easily in the groove. Ihe se¬
cond iron plate, which is 11 inches long, and three
inches high, is fastened parallel to the first, in the space
between °the two doors. Both the upper and lower
edges of this plate form grooves with the side of the
furnace, for receiving the sliders which shut the doors,
The third plate, of the same dimensions with the first,
is rivetted close above the upper door, and forms a
groove for receiving the edge of the sliders which move
that door.
5. For the purpose of closing the doers, two sliders
of iron-plates must he adapted to each of them. These
sliders are moved in the grooves. The two sliders be¬
longing to the upper door have each a hole near the
top *, in the one there is a small hole 7- of an inch broad,
* inch long ; and the other a semicircular opening one
inch high and two broad. To each slider there is a
handle attached, to lay hold of it when it is moved.
6. Five round holes, an inch diameter, are bored in
the furnace, two in the back part, and two in the fore
part, five inches from the bottom j hut 34 inches from
each side of the furnace. The fifth hole is at the height
of an inch above the upper edge of the upper door.
7. The inside of the furnace must be armed with
iron hooks, about three inches from each other, and pro¬
jecting \ inch. The use of these hooks is to secure the
lute with which the furnace is to be lined.
8. A moveable, hollow, quadrangular pyramid, also
of iron, and 3 inches high, is to be fitted to the upper
opening of the furnace, 7 inches broad, and ending
above in a hollow tube, three inches in diameter, about
2 inches high, nearly cylindrical, but converging a
little at the top. This tube serves to support a funnel
for conveying the smoke into the chimney. Ihis covei
has two handles to lay hold of it. To secure the cmei
on the furnace, an iron plate is rivetted to the rig R
and left of its upper edge, and turned down towar *
the inside, *0 that a furrow may be made, open e‘
^ fore
F« ’e
Coal t foi
fiw ■
lode o
ith th
rBaceJi
F U R N
fore and behind, for receiring the lateral edges of the
cover.
9. A square ledge, made of thick iron plate, is fixed
at the top of the upper edge of tiie lower door, for
supporting the grate and the lute, and, that it may be
easily introduced into the cavity of the furnace, it should
be of two pieces.
10. Iron bars are then to be fixed in the inside of
the furnace, for supporting the fuel. These must be
equal in length with the diameter of the furnace, about
inch thick, and inch distant from each other.
They are supported at their extremities by a square
iron ledge.
11. To prevent the dissipation of the heat, and the
destruction of the iron, by being repeatedly made red
hot, the inside of the furnace must be lined with
lute, about a finger’s breadth, or rather more, in
thickness.
For luting furnaces, Dr Black recommended a
simple mixture of sand and clay. The proportions for
resisting the violence of fire are four parts of sand to
one of clay j but when designed for the lining of fur¬
naces, he uses six or seven of sand to one of clay, the
more effectually to prevent the contraction of the latter j
for it is known from experiments, that clay, when ex¬
posed to a strong heat, contracts the more in proportion
to its purity. The sand settles into less bulk when wet,
and does not contract by heat, which it also resists as
well as the clay itself.
Besides this outside lining next the fire, Dr Black
uses another to be laid on next the iron of the furnace ;
and this consists of clay mixed with a large proportion
of charcoal dust. It is more fit for containing the
heat, and is put next to the iron, to the thickness of
an inch and a half. That it may be pretty dry when
first put in, he takes three parts by weight of the
charcoal dust, and one of the common clay, which
must be mixed together when in dry powder, other¬
wise it is very difficult to mix them perfectly. As
much water is added as will form the matter into balls ;
and these are beaten very firm and compact by means of
a hammer upon the inside of the furnace. The other
lute is then spread over it to the thickness of about half
an inch, and this is also beaten solid by hammering j
after which it is allowed to dry slowly, that all cracks'
and fissures may be avoided ; and after the body of the
furnace is thus lined, the vent is screwed on and lined
in the same manner. It must then be allowed to dry
for a long time ; after which a fire may be kindled
and the furnace gradually heated for a day or two!
The fire is then to be raised to the greatest intensity;
and thus the luting acquires a hardness equal to that
ol free-stone, and is afterwards as lasting as any part
of the furnace. J
To perform an operation in this furnace, two iron bars
an inch thick, and of sufficient length to project a little
ueyond the holes of the furnace, are passed through four
lower holes, which are placed before and behind, directly
opposite to each other. These bars support the muffle,
which is introduced through the upper opening of the
turnace, and placed upon the bars, in such a way that
he open side of it may he near the inner border of the
upper door. The fuel is introduced through the top of
e turnace, and the best fuel is charcoal made of hard
ACE.
303
uriiace.
wood. It should he reduced to small pieces, that they F
may readily fall between the muffle and the sides of the —~v •
furnace. The muffle is to he covered with fuel, to the
height of several inches. The pieces of charcoal should
not he too small, because they may fall immediately
through the interstices of the grate, or be too rapidly
consumed, and thus increasing the quantity of ashes,
obstruct the current of air.
As the management of the fire is of great importance, Manage-
for the success of operations in the furnace, the follow-me,lt °l the
ing directions may be attended to. To increase thefiie*
heat to the utmost, the door of the ash-hole may he
left open j the sliders of the upper door drawn towards
each other, so as to touch in the middle, and the cover
and funnel adapted to its tube, placed on the top of
the furnace. The heat is still farther increased by
putting red burning coals into the open upper door.
By shutting the upper door with the slider, which has
a narrow oblong hole in it, the heat is diminished, and
it is still farther diminished by shutting the door with
the other slider, having the semicircular hole. The
heat is also diminished by removing the funnel at the
top of the cover ; and the heat is less by partially or
totally shutting the door of the ash-hole, because then
the current of air necessary to excite combustion is ob¬
structed.
1 ue heat of the furnace is also increased in propor¬
tion to the diminished size of the muffle. The heat is
stronger too, according as the muffle has more and larger
segments cut out of it, as the sides of it are thinner, and
as the number of vessels placed in the hinder part of it
is increased j and the contrary. It may be here ob¬
served, that when many of the conditions necessary to
produce strong heat are wanting, the operator, with all
his sagacity, will scarcely be able to excite combustion
in such a degree in common assay furnaces as to succeed
well in Ins opeiations j and even when he employs bel¬
lows, and introduces coals by the upper door. The
grate, therefore, ought to be placed nearly three Indies
below the muffle, that the air rushing through the ash-
hole, may not cool its bottom, and that the smaller
coals, almost already consumed, and the ashgs, may more
easily fall through the interstices of the grate j larger
coals, fit for keeping up the requisite degree of heat,
must be used. The funnel is added, that the blowing
of the fire being increased by means of it as much as
possible, may be brought to the degree that is wanted j
for the fire may be at any time diminished, but without
the assistance of proper apparatus, it cannot always be
increased at pleasure.
Explanation of Fig. 32, 33, and 34.
1 32* c* hi body of the assay furnace.
b b, c c, top of the same.
d, opening at the top of the furnace.
e, door leading to the ash hole.
f upper door.
gg, hh, it, the iron plates rivetted on the furnace,
which form the grooves in which the doors slide.
k k, 11, the sliding doors.
the hole in one of the doors j 7?, the semicircular
hole.
0 0, the holes for receiving the bars which support
the muffle.
A
Fig. 31.
3°4
Farnace.
Fi?. 3J.
Fi- 34-
Portable
Sfuraaee.
F U K N A C E.
p, a hole above the upper edge of the upper door, for
Introducing a rod to stir the fire.
g, the pyramidal cover,
r, tube or funnel at the top.
s s, its handles.
Fig. 33. represents a longitudinal section of a re¬
verberatory furnace, 18 feet long, 12 broad, and p*
high.
a, the building.
b, the ash-hole.
c, channel for the evaporation of the moisture.
df the grate.
e, the fire-place.
J\ the inner part of the furnace.
g, a bason formed of sa nd.
h, the cavity containing the melted metal.
?■, a hole through which the scoria is removed.
k, the passage for the flame and smoke, or the lower
part of the chimney, to be carried to the height of 30
feet. ...
/, a hole in the root, through which the ore is intro¬
duced into the furnace.
rig- 34- i® a longitudinal section of a refining fur¬
nace.
a a, the building.
the channels to carry off the moisture.
c, other small channels, which meet in the middle of
the bason.
d, the bason made of bricks.
e, a layer of ashes.
/, the hollow or bason containing the melted metal,
g, the hole for the smoke and flame.
h A, two openings for admitting the pipes of the bel¬
lows.
*, the vault or dome of the furnace.
A, the fire-place.
/, the grate.
m, a hole below for the admission of air.
m, a hole in the vault, which serves to cool the fur-
naCe.
A. convenient portable blast furnace, contrived by
Mr Aikin, and described by him in the 17th vol. of the
Philosophical Magazine, will probably be useful to
gome of our chemical readers. “ It is (he says) parti¬
cularly adapted to those who, like myself, can only de¬
vote a small room and a moderate share of time to these
pursuits.
“ Dr Lewis, in his Commerce of the Arts (page 27.),
describes a very powerful blast furnace formed out of a
black-lead pot, which has a number of holes bored at
small distances in spiral lines all over, from the bot¬
tom up to such a height as the fuel is designed to reach
to. This is let half way into another pot, which last
receives the nozzle of the bellows, so that all the air
sent in is distributed through the spiral holes of the up¬
per pot, and concentrates the heat of the fuel upon the
crucible, which is placed in the midst.
“ The furnace which I am going to describe re¬
sembles very closely this of Dr Lewis 5 with this dif¬
ference, however, that the air-holes are only bored
through the bottom of the pot, and this merely stands
upon another piece, instead of being let into it. It vs
on this account somewhat more commodious, and 1 ima- Fun j,
gine not less powerful. #
“ I'»g- 35- is a v*ew> an<l fig- a secti°n* °f
furnace. It is composed of three parts, all made out ^
of the common thin black-lead melting pots sold in Lon¬
don for the use of the goldsmiths. The lower piece, A, ,
in the bottom of one ot the pots, cut oft so low as on¬
ly to leave a cavity of about one inch, and ground
smooth above and below. The outside diameter over
the top is 54 inches. The middle piece or fire-place,
B, is a larger portion of a similar pot with a cavity
about six inches deep, and measuring 7^ inches over
the top, outside diameter, and perforated with six blast
holes at the bottom. These two pots are all that are
essentially necessary to the furnace for most operations :
but when it is wished to heap up fuel over the top of a
crucible contained within, and especially to protect the
eyes from the intolerable dazzle of the fire when in full
heat, an upper pot, C, is added of the same dimensions
as the middle one, and with a large side opening cut
out to allow an exit to the smoke and flame. L has
also an iron stem with a wooden handle (an old chisel
will do very well), to lift it off and on.
“ The bellows (which are double) are firmly fixed,
by a little contrivance which will take off and on, to a
heavy stool, as is represented in the plate j and their
handle should be lengthened, to make them work easier
to the hand. To increase their force on particular oc¬
casions, a plate of lead may be tied on the wood of the
upper flap. The nozzle is received into a hole in^ the
pot A, which conducts the blast into its cavity. Irom
hence the air passes into the fire-place, B, through six
holes, of the size of a large gimlet, drilled at equal
distances through the bottom of the pot, and all con¬
verging in an inward direction, so that, if prolonged,
they would meet about the centre of the upper part of
the fire. The larger hole through the middle of the
bottom of the same pot is for another purpose. Fig. 37.r‘S'
is a plan of the same, showing the distribution of these
holes.
“ As a stand or support for the crucible, I have
found no method so good as to fit an earthen stopper
into the bottom of the pot B, through the large centre
hole which is made for this purpose. This keeps the
crucible in its proper place, in stirring down the coals
and managing the fuel. These stoppers are made with
great ease and expedition out of the softened fire-brick
sold in London. A piece ot this brick, made to re¬
volve a few times within a portion of iron or earthen¬
ware tube, presently takes the form of its cavity, and
comes out a very neat portion of a cylinder or cone, ac¬
cording to the shape of the tube, from which the
stoppers may readily be fashioned. Fig. 38. represents Pig ■
one of those .toppers, which is also seen in its proper
place in fig. 36. supporting a crucible.
“ As the construction of this furnace (exclusive of
the bellows and its stool) it is easy to any one at all used
to these little manual operations, I trust that {^working
chemist will allow me to add a few words on the method
which I have found the most convenient and economi¬
cal. Almost any broken pot of the proper width will
furnish the lower piece A 5 and often the middle and
upper pieces may be contrived out of the same refuse
matter. Dr Lewis advises a saw to cut these pots
but
F URN AC E
PLATE CCXXV
Ay. ^
Ay 3.
Ay. A
/'/-/. <y.
Ay.
Ayy?.
My./Z.
F r R X A (’ E
PLATE CCXXVJ
E. Afi tc/i c/l/ru/fi
FFKNiVCE.
PLATE CCXXVTL
W&irry&tta/f/ Jhefc +
y
Furnace. tl,t most saws are to<> thick, and when a little used,
the teeth get rounded off, which makes them work
intolerably slow. I have found by far the best tool
to be an old table knife, or rather two of them, worn
thin by use, and hacked and jagged as deeply as pos¬
sible, by striking the edges strongly against each other.
These work well and expeditiously, and when they
become dull are again roughened by the same simple
means. The holes may be drilled with a common
gimlet of the largest size, and a little steadiness of
hand will easily enable the operator to give them the
oblique direction with sufficient accuracy j for much is
not required. To make a smooth surface to the parts
intended to adapt to each other, first wear them down
a little with the soft fire-brick, and then grind them
with water on a flat free-stone (a sink-stone for ex¬
ample), and lastly make them entirely fit by rubbing
one surface on the other. 6
“No kiting of any kind is ever required; so that
the whole may be set up and taken down immediately.
Nor is it necessary to bind the pots with metal hoops ;
for they are thick enough to endure considerable
blows without breaking; and yet they will bear, with¬
out cracking, to be heated as suddenly and intensely as
possible. In short, the black-lead crucible seems to be
the best material that could possibly be devised for these
purposes.
. “ The heiat wIlich this little furnace will afford is so
intense, and so much more than would at first sight be
' exPecte.d so trifling an apparatus, that it was only
the accidenta! fusion of a thick piece of cast iron in it
that led us to suspect its power. The utmost heat which
furnace.
we have procured in this furnace has been i67°ofa r
Wedgwood pyrometer piece, which was withdrawn ^
from a very small Hessian crucible when actually sink-
ng down inoa state of porcellaneous fusion. A Lady
heat of 150 to 155 may be usually depended on, if
the fii-e be properly managed and the bellows worked
with vigour. This is sufficient for most operations in
chemistry; and the economy in time and fuel is ex-
reme, since a furnace of the given dimensions will very
well raise to the above point of heat in from five to ten
minutes a Hessian crucible of such a diameter, that the
average thickness of burning fuel around its bottom is
not more than one inch and a half. A smaller crucible
wi take a higher heat, but at the risk of its softening
and falling in by the weight of the incumbent fuel. g
Coak, or common cinders taken from the fire iust
when the coal ceases to blaze, and broken into very
small pieces, with the dust sifted away, form the bes^
fuel for the highest heat. A light spongy kind of coak
formed of a mixture of coal and charcoal, called Davey'l
patent coal, also answers extremely well. Charcoal
alone has not weight enough, when broken so small as
it must be to he close m this little fire-place, to with-
stand the force of the blast when very violent. A bit
of lighted paper, a handful of the ve/y small charcoal
called in London small coal, and 10 or 12 strokes of the*
b°1!™’ ” A™ m ataos, as m»„y
anous little alterations and arrangements, which
will readily occur to the practical chemist, will fit this
little apparatus for distillation with an earthern retort,
gSbeSf&“ PaSS';'i tl'r°'J*h tbe fire> ^ing
FUR
Furr. 6 1 ” additional points and lines drawn on a dial bv
rfYv=Tf ’ TJ' r ,he. siS"s 0f the “■'inn. length
of days, parallels of declination, azimuths, points of the
rffinZt&f C,"ef Cit:“’ Bab*Uic’
SefSSriT.’ “ d:s°rdcr PeCUliar t0
lUKIl or Fur, in Commerce, signifies the skin of
.everalwild beasts dressed i„ alunAith the hair on ,
other? Tie rd d7S’ b'V Pri"CeS'
: ,k,nds moSt 1,1 use are those of the ermine
sable, castor, hare, rabbit, &c. See Mustella.
It was not till the later ages that the furs of beasts
Y I"'0'6 ^IUXl"7,’ TlK m°re refi"ed natl°ns
Thom Y f 68 “Y “Se °f tl,em ■’ th°s» “ione
rnT fom’er s‘.-sn»t,zed as barbarians were clothed
a the skins of animals. Strabo describes the Indians
overed with the skins of lions, panthers, and bears;
foxes 1 &CythianS Cl°thed whh skins of
Picture of i56 Tiadrupeds. Virgil exhibits a
Chich o/r kt6 Sa-Va§e H^erboreans> si*«ilar to that
clothL 0f il C!,r,cuAmnav*gators can witness to in the
Polished people.Wl AmencanS’ unseen befoi,e b)r any
Gens ejfrcena virum Riphceo tunditur Euro;
M pecudumfulvis velantur corpora setis.
Vol. IX. Part I.
fur
Most part of Europe was at this time in similar cir¬
cumstances. Caesar might be as much amazed with
the skin-dressed heroes of Britain, as our celebrated
Cook was at those of his new-discovered regions.
What time has done to us, time, under humane
conquerors, may effect for them. Civilization may
take place; and those spoils of animals, which are at
present essential for clothing, become the mere objects
ot ornament and luxury. J
It does not appear that the Greeks or old Romans
ever made use of furs. It originated in those regions
where they most abounded, and where the severity of
the climate required that species of clothing. At first
it consisted of the skins only, almost in the state in
which they were torn from the body of the beast: but
as soon as civilization took place, and manufactures
were introduced, furs became the lining of the dress
and often the elegant facing of the robes. It is pro¬
bable that the northern conquerors introduced the
fashmn int° Europe.. We find, that about the year
522, when Totila king of the Visigoths reigned in
Italy the buethons (a people of modern Sweden),
found means, by help of the commerce of numberless
intervening people, to transmit, for the use of the Ro¬
mans, saphilinas pelles, the precious skins of the sables.
As luxury advanced, furs, even of the most valuable
species, were used by princes as linings for their tents:
thus Marco Polo, in 1252, found those of the Cham
Q* of
Furr.
FUR
Furr
of Tartary lined with ermines and sables
the last ‘zibdines and zamholines. He says that those
and other precious furs were brought irom countries
far north ; from the land of Darkness, and regions al¬
most inaccessible by reason of morasses and ice. llie
Welsh set a high value on furs as early as the time ot
Howel Dda, who began his reign about 940. In the
next age, furs became the fashionable magnificence ot
Europe. When Godfrey of Boulogne and his follow¬
ers appeared before the emperor Alexis Comnenus, on
their way to the Holy Land, he was struck with the
richness of their dresses, tarn ex astro quam aunfrrgio et
niveo opcre harmelino et ex mardrino grisioque ctvano.
How different was the advance of luxury in 1 ranee
from the time of their great monarch Charlemagne,
wbo contented himself with the plain fur of the
otter! Our Henry I. wore furs ; yet in h.s distress was
obliged to change them for warm Welsh flannel. But
in the year 1337 the luxury had got to such a head,
that Edward HI. enacted, that all persons who could
not spend a hundred a-year should absolutely be pro-
. 1 .1   ti.io cofleG nf finerv. These, from
[ 306 ] FUR
He calls sound discovered a short time before by Mr Strange,
and called by him Queen Charlotte s sound, the la- »
titude of which is 51 degrees north, longitude 128
west.
The snow Lark, Captain Peters, of 220 tons and
40 men, sailed from Macao in July 1786. Uei desti¬
nation was Kamtschatka (for which she was provided
with a suitable cargo of arrack, tea, &c.), Copper
islands, and the N. W. coast. Captain Peters was di¬
rected to make his passage between Japan and Corea,
and examine the islands to the north of Japan, said to
be inhabited by hairy people which, if Captain Cook
had lived, would not have been left to the trench to
determine. No account having been received of this
vessel since her departure, there is every reason to fear
she has perished.
In the beginning of 1786, two coppered vessels
were fitted out at Bombay, under the direction of
James Strange, Esq. who was himself a principal owner.
These vessels were the snow Captain Cook of 300
tons, and snow Experiment of 100 tons. They pro
hibited the use of this species of finery. These, from
their great expence, must have been foreign furs, ob¬
tained from the Italian commercial states, whose traffic
was at this period boundless. How strange rs the re¬
volution in the fur trade! The north of Asia at that
time supplied us with every valuable kind j at present
we send, by means of the possession of Hudson s Bay,
furs, to immense amount, even to Turkey and the
distant China. _ . „ . 1 .
History of the Fur Trade.—During Captain Cook s
last voyage to the Pacific ocean, besides the various
Scientific advantages which were derived from it, a
new source of wealth was laid open to future navigators,
bv trading for furs of the most valuable kind on the
north-west coast of America. The first vessel which
engaged in the new branch of trade pointed out by
that great navigator, was equipped by some gentlemen
in China. She was a brig of 60 tons and 20 men,
rommanded by James Hanna. She sailed from the
Typa the end of April 1785 j proceeded to the north¬
ward, along the coast of China*, passed through
Diemen’s straits, the south end of Japan ; and arrived
at Nootka in August following. Soon after her ar¬
rival, the natives, whom Captain Cook had left un¬
acquainted with the effect of fire-arms tempted pro¬
bably by the diminutive size of the vessel (scarce longer
than some of their own canoes) and the small number
of her people, attempted to board her in open day,
but were repulsed with considerable slaughter. 11ns
was the introduction to a firm and lasting friendship.
Captain Hanna cured such of the Indians as were
wounded*, an unreserved confidence took place j they
traded fairly and peaceably *, a valuable cargo ot iurs
was procured j and the bad weather setting in, he left
the coast in the end of September, touched at the
Sandwich islands, and arrived at Macao the end ot
December the same year. .
Captain Hanna sailed again from Macao in May
Sng6 in the snow Sea-Otter of 120 tons and 30 men,
and returned to Macao in February 1787. In this
second voyage he followed his former track, and ar-
lived at Nootka in August *, traced the coast from
thence as far as 53 degrees, and explored the extensive
ceeded in company from the Malabar coast to Batavia*,
passed through the straits of Macassar, where the Ex¬
periment was run upon a reef, and was obliged to haul
ashore upon Borneo to repair j from thence they steer¬
ed to the eastward of the Palaos islands; made bul-
phur island; and arrived at Nootka the end of June
following. From Nootka, where they left their sur¬
geon’s mate (Mackay) to learn the language and col¬
lect skins against their intended return (but who was
brought away in the Imperial Eagle the fohowing
year), they proceeded along the coast to Queen Char¬
lotte’s sound, of which they were the first discoverers *,
from thence in a direct course to Prince William s
sound. After some stay there, the Experiment pro¬
ceeded to Macao (their vessels being provided with
passes by the governor-general of Goa) : the Captain
Cook endeavoured to get to Copper island, but with¬
out success, being prevented by constant west winds.
Two coppered vessels were also fitted out by a so¬
ciety of gentlemen in Bengal, viz. the snow Nootka
of 200 tons, and the snow Sea Otter of 100 tons,
commanded by John Meares and William lipping,
lieutenants in the royal navy. The Nootka sailed in
March 1786 from Bengal; came through the China
seas ; touched at the Bashees, where they were very
civilly treated by the Spaniards, who have taken pos¬
session of these islands ; arrived at Oonalashka the be¬
ginning of August; found there a Russian galliot and
some furriers ; discovered accidentally near Cape C>re-
ville a new strait near Cook’s river, 15 leagues wide
and 20 loner; saw some Russian hunters in a small ay
between Cape Elizabeth and Cape Bear ; and arrived
in Prince William’s sound the end of September.
They determined wintering in Snug Corner Cove,
lat. 60. 30. in preference to going to the Sandwich
islands, which seem placed by Providence for the com¬
fort and refreshment of the adventurers in this trade,
and were frozen up in this gloomy and frightful spoi
from the end of November to the end of May.
the severity of the winter they last their third an
fourth mates, surgeon, boatswain, carpenter, and cooper,
and twelve of the fore-mast-men; and the remain er
were so enfeebled as to be under the necessity of aHVj'
F U B
a..fi ing to the commanders of the King George and Queen
Charlotte, who just at this time arrived in the sound,
for some hands to assist in carrying the vessel to the
Sandwich islands, where, giving over all further
thoughts of trade, they determined (after getting a
sea-stock of fish off Cape Edgecumbe) immediately to
proceed. The Nootka arrived at Macao the end of
October 1787.
The Imperial Eagle, Captain Barkley, fitted out by
a society of gentlemen at Ostend, sailed from Ostend
the latter end of November 1786} went into the bay
of All Saints; from thence, without touching any¬
where, to the Sandwich islands, and arrived at Noot¬
ka the beginning of June ; from thence to the south,
as far as 47° which space he discovered some
good and spacious harbours. In the lat. of 470 46',
lost his second mate, purser, and two seamen, who
were upon a trading party with the long-boat, and im¬
prudently trusting themselves ashore unarmed, were
cut oft by the natives. This place seems to be the
same that Don Antonio Mourelle calls the Ilha de los
Dolores, where the Spaniards going ashore to water,
were also attacked and cut oft'.
The King George of 320, and the Queen Charlotte
of 200 tons, commanded by Captains Portlock and
Dixon, who served under Captain Cook in his last
voyage, were fitted, out by a society of gentlemen in
England, who obtained a privilege to trade to the north¬
west coast of America, from the South Sea and East
India companies.
These vessels sailed from England the beginning of
September^ 1785 J touched at the Falkland islands,
Sandwich islands, and arrived at Cook’s river in the
month of August. From thence, after collecting a
few furs, they steered in the end of September for
Prince William’s sound, intending, it is said, to winter
there j but were prevented entering by heavy storms
and extreme bad weather, which obliged them to bear
away, and seek some other part of the coast to winter
at. The storms and bad weather accompanied them
till they arrived off Nootka sound, when they were so
near the shore, that a canoe came off to them : but
though thus near accomplishing their purpose, a fresh
storm came on, and obliged them finally to bear away
for the Sandwich islands, where they remained the win¬
ter months j and returning again to the coast, arrived
in Prince William’s sound the middle of May. The
King George remained in Prince William’s sound 5
and during her stay, her long-boat discovered a new
passage from the sound into Cook’s river. The Queen
Charlotte proceeded along the coast to the south ;
looked into Behring’s bay, where the Russians have
now a settlement; examined that part of the coast
from 56° to 50°, which was not seen by Captain Cook,
and which consists of a cluster of islands, called by Cap¬
tain Dixon Queen Charlotte's Islands, at a considerable
distance from the main, which is thus removed farther
to the eastward than it was supposed to be : some part
of the continent may, however, be seen from the east
side of these islands j and it is probable the distance
does not anywhere exceed 50 leagues. On this esti¬
mation, Hudson’s House, lat. 530, long. 1060 27^681,
will not be more than 800 miles distant from that part
of this coast in the same parallel. It is therefore not
improbable, that the enterprising spirit of our Cana-
FUR
dian furriers may penetrate to this coast (the com¬
munication with which is probably much facilitated
by lakes or rivers), and add to the comforts and luxu¬
ries of Europe, this invaluable fur, which in warmth,
beauty, and magnificence, far exceeds the richest furs
of Siberia. Queen Charlotte’s islands are inhabited
by a race of people differing in language, features, and
manners, from all the other tribes of this coast. Among
other peculiarities, they are distinguished by a large in¬
cision in the under lip, in which is inserted a piece of
polished wood, sometimes ornamented with mother of
pearl shell, in shape and size like a weaver’s shuttle,
which undoubtedly is the most effectual mode of de¬
forming the human face divine that the ingenious de¬
pravity of taste of any savage nation has yet discover¬
ed. These ships, after disposing of their furs in China,
were loaded with teas on account of the English com¬
pany, sailed from Wampoa, and arrived in England,
after an absence of three years.
The year after the departure of the King George
and Queen Charlotte, the same society to which they
belonged fitted out two other vessels, viz. the Princess
Royal of 60 tons, and the Prince of Wales of 200
tons, commanded by Captains Colnet and Duncan,
the former of whom had served under Captain Cook.
These vessels left England in August 1786 ; touched
at New Year’s harbour on Staten Land, where they
left an officer and 12 men to kill seals against the ar¬
rival of a vessel which was to follow them from Eng¬
land j from thence they proceeded directly to Noot¬
ka, where they arrived the 6th of July, sickly and in
bad condition, and found here the Imperial Eagle,
which had left Europe some months after them. Leav¬
ing Nootka, they steered along the shore to the north¬
ward, and soon after fell in with the Queen Charlotte.
In the beginning of 1788, Captain Meares sailed
again with two other vessels, the Felice, which he
commanded himself, and the Iphigema, Captain Doug¬
las, to Nootka sound. Here he purchased of the
chief of the district a spot, on which he built a house
for his residence and more convenient intercourse with
the natives, hoisting the British colours thereon, sur¬
rounding it with a breast-work, and mounting a three
pounder on the front. Having so done, he sent Mr
Douglas in the Iphigenia to trade along the northern
coast, while he himself proceeded to the south j and
by presents to the chiefs obtained the ports Cox and
Effingham, and the promise of an excellent trade with
the natives of the district, and also some other places,
which he took possession of in the name of the king.
Captain Douglas likewise, by presents to the chiefs of
the countries he visited, obtained similar privileges,
no other European vessel having sailed there before
him.
_ On their return to Nootka, they found a vessel fi¬
nished which the commander had laid down before his
departure. This, which he named the North-West
America, he left at Nootka with the Iphigenia,
while he sailed with a cargo of furs in the Felice to
China.
A few days after his arrival at China, two vessels,
the Prince of Wales and Princess Royal, came to Can¬
ton from their trading voyage above mentioned. Cap¬
tain Meares, fearing a competition of interests might
be injurious to both parties, proposed a copartnership,
Q q 3 which
[ 307 1
FUR [ ] FUR
t'uiT. which was mutually agreed to j and another ship was
—~v-1 purchased by the firm, and called the Argonaut. In
the month of April 1787, Captain Meares gave Mr
Colnet the command of the Princess Royal and Ar¬
gonaut, which were loaded with stores and articles esti¬
mated sufficient for three years trade, besides several
artificers, and near 70 Chinese, who intended to be¬
come settlers on the north-west coast of America, un¬
der protection of the new company.
In the mean while, the Iphigenia, and North-West
America (the vessel built at Nootka), having wintered
in Sandwich islands, returned to Nootka in the latter
end of April. Soon after which, two Spanish ships ot
war, under the command of Don Martinez, anchored
in the sound. For a few days mutual civilities passed
between the Spanish captain and Mr Douglas ; hut at
the end of about a week, Don Martinez summoned
the latter on board his own ship the Princessa, telling
him he was his prisoner, and that the king of Spain
had commanded him, Don Martinez, to seize all ves¬
sels he should find on that coast. He therefore in¬
structed his officers to take possession of the Tphigenia,
which they accordingly did in the name of his Catho¬
lic majesty 5 and the officers and crew were conveyed
as prisoners on board the Spanish ships, where they
were put in irons, and otherwise ill treated.. Immedi¬
ately after this, Don Martinez took possession^ of the
little settlement, hoisting the standard of Spain, and
modestly declaring all the lands from Cape Horn to
60 degrees north latitude belonging to his master. To
aggravate the insult, he forcibly employed the crew of
the Iphigenia in building batteries, &.c. and offered no
kind of violence to two American vessels that were at
the same time in the harbour. At this time the
North-West America was sent to explore the Archipe¬
lago of St Lazarus. On her return to Nootka, she met
with a similar treatment, and the skins she had collect¬
ed were seized, with the rest of her cargo.
A few days after the Princess Royal (which we
have mentioned as leaving Canton in company with
the Argonaut) arrived. The Spanish commander, for
reasons that do not appear, suffered her to depart. The
skins collected by the North-west America were ship¬
ped on board her for the benefit of her owner, and she
proceeded to trade in the neighbouring isles. On the
3d of July, the Argonaut arrived at the sound j and
Don Martinez, after making every profession of civi¬
lity to Mr Colnet the commander, took possession of
the said ship in the name of his master, and made
prisoners of the crew. Soon after, the Princess Royal
returning to receive instructions from Mr Colnet, di¬
rector of the enterprise, was seized by the Spanish cap-
tain.
The crews of the British vessels were differently dis¬
posed of j some sent to China by the American vessels,
and others to Spanish America: but the Chinese were
all detained, and employed in the mines which were
opened on the lands purchased by Captain Mears.
WThat these mines consisted of, we are nowhere inform¬
ed. Mr Colnet was so much affected at the failure of
the enterprise, as to be deprived of reason.
This, as soon as known, occasioned a spirited re¬
presentation from the British court to that of Spain j
at the same time, that vigorous preparations were made
for war in case adequate satisfaction should be refused.
Matters, however, were prevented from coming to ex- jrWi,
tremities, by a compliance on the part of Spain, after
many delays and much artifice of negotiation, with the
requisitions of Britain : in consequence of which, among
other advantages unnecessary to be here recited, the
whole trade from California to China is completely laid
open ; and the British allowed the full exercise of na¬
vigation and commerce in those parts of the world
which were the subject of discussion.
In some accounts of the voyages above mentioned,
the fur trade in those parts has been greatly magnified.
In that published by Captain Portlock, however, this
officer observes, that the gains hitherto have certainly
not been enviably great } although the merchants have
no doubt found the trade lucrative.
History of the Fur Tradefrom Canada to the North¬
west.—The following account of this trade is extracted
from Mr M‘Kenzie’s Narrative of his Voyages and
Travels from Montreal, through the North-west Con
tinent of America, and to the Pacific ocean.
“ The fur trade, he says, from the earliest settlement
of Canada, was considered of the first importance to
that colony. The country was then so populous, that,
in the vicinity of the establishments, the animals whose
skins were precious in a commercial view, soon became
very scarce, if not altogether extinct. They were, it is
true, hunted at former periods, but merely for food and
clothing. The Indians, therefore, to procure the ne¬
cessary supply, were encouraged to penetrate into the
country, and were generally accompanied by jsome of
the Canadians, who found means to induce the remotest
tribes of natives to bring the skins which were most in
demand, to their settlements, in the way of trade.
“ It is not necessary for me to examine the cause,
but experience proves that it requires much less time
for a civilized people to deviate into the manners and
customs of savage life, than for savages to rise into a
state of civilization. Such was the event with those
who thus accompanied the natives on their hunting and
trading excursions j for they became so attached to the
Indian mode of life, that they lost all relish for their
former habits and native homes. Hence they derived
the title of Coureurs des RoA, became a kind of pedlars,
and were extremely useful to the merchants engaged in
the fur trade ; who gave them the necessary credit to
proceed on their commercial undertakings. Three or
four of these people would join their stock, put their
property into a birch-bark canoe, which they worked
themselves, and either accompanied the natives in their
excursions, or went at once to the country where they
knew they were to hunt. At length, these voyages ex¬
tended to x 2 or 15 months, when they returned with
rich cargoes of furs, and followed by great numbers cf
the natives. During the short time requisite to settle
their accounts with the merchants, and procure fresh
credit, they generally contrived to squander away all
their gains, when they returned to their favourite mode
of life: their views being answered, and their labour
sufficiently rewarded, by indulging themselves in ex¬
travagance and dissipation during the short space of
one month in 12 or 15.
“ The indifference about amassing property, and the
pleasure of living free from all restraint, soon brought
on a licentiousness of manners which could not long
escape the vigilant observation of the missionaries, who
had
F
FUR
had much reason to complain of their being a dis¬
grace to the Christian religion 5 by not only swerving
from its duties themselves, but by thus bringing it in¬
to disrepute with those of the natives who had be¬
come converts to it; and, consequently, obstructing
the great object to which those pious men had de¬
voted their lives. They, therefore, exerted their in¬
fluence to procare the suppression of these people, and
accordingly no one was allowed to go up the country
to traffic with the Indians, without a license from the
government.
“ At length, military posts were established at the
confluence of the different large lakes of Canada,
which, in a great measure, checked evil consequences
that followed from the improper conduct of these fores¬
ters, and, at the same time, protected the trade. Be¬
sides, a number of able and respectable men, retired
from the army, prosecuted the trade in person, under
their respective licenses, with great order and regulari¬
ty, and extended it to such a distance, as, in those
days, was considered to be an astonishing effort of com¬
mercial enterprise. T.hese persons and the missionaries
having combined their views at the same time, secured
the respect of the natives, and the obedience of the peo¬
ple necessarily employed in the laborious parts of this
undertaking. I hese gentlemen denominated themselves
commanders, and not traders, though they were intitled
to both those characters : and, as for the missionaries,
if sufferings and hardships in the prosecution of the
great work which they had undertaken, deserved ap¬
plause and admiration, they had an undoubted claim to
be admired and applauded : they spared no labour and
avoided no danger in the execution of their important of¬
fice; and it is to be seriously lamented, that their pious
endeavours did not meet with the success which they de¬
served for there is hardly a trace to be found, beyond
the cultivated parts, of their meritorious functions.
“ The cause of this failure must be attributed to a
want of due consideration in the mode employed by the
missionaries to propagate the religion of which they
were the zealous ministers. They habituated them¬
selves to the savage life, and naturalized themselves to
the. savage manners, and, by thus becoming dependant,
as it were, on the natives, they acquired their contempt
rather than their veneration. If they had been as well
acquainted with human nature, as they were with the
articles of their faith, they would have known, that the
uncultivated mind of an Indian must be disposed by
much preparatory method and instruction to receive the
revealed truths of Christianity, to act under its sanc¬
tions, and be impelled to good by the hope of its re¬
wards, or turned from evil by the fear of its punish¬
ments. They should have begun their work by teach¬
ing some of those useful arts which are the inlets of
knowledge, and lead the mind by degrees to objects of
higher comprehension. Agriculture, so formed to fix
and combine society, and so preparatory to objects of
superior consideration, should have been the first thing
introduced among a savage people : it attaches the wan¬
dering tribe to that spot where it adds so much to their
comforts ; while it gives them a sense of property, and
of lasting possession, instead of the uncertain hopes of
the chase, and the fugitive produce of uncultivated
wilds. Such were the means by which the forests of
[ 309 ]
FUR
Paraguay were converted into a scene of abundant cul¬
tivation, and its savage inhabitants introduced to all the
advantages of a civilized life.
“ The Canadian missionaries should have been con¬
tented to improve the morals of their own countrymen,
so that by meliorating their character and conduct’
they would have given a striking example of the effect
of religion in promoting the comforts of life to the sur¬
rounding savages; and might by degrees have extend¬
ed its benign influence to the remotest region of that
country, which was the object, and intended to be the
scene, of their evangelic labours. But by bearing the
light of the gospel at once to the distance of 2500 miles
from the civilized part of the colonies, it was soon ob¬
scured by the cloud of ignorance that darkened the hu¬
man mind in those distant regions.
“ Ihe whole of their long route I have often travel¬
led, and the recollection of such a people as the mis¬
sionaries having been there, was confined to a few su¬
perannuated Canadians, who had not left that country
since the cession to the English, in 1763, and who par¬
ticularly mentioned the death of some, and the distres¬
sing situation of them all. But if these religious men
did not attain the objects of their persevering piety, they
were, during their mission, of great service to the com¬
manders who engaged in those distant expeditions, and
spread the fur trade as far west as the bank of the Sas-
katchiwine river, in 530 north latitude, and longitude
102* west.
“ At early period of their intercourse with the
savages, a custom was introduced of a very excellent
tendency, but is now unfortunately discontinued, of not
selling any spirituous liquor to the natives. This ad¬
mirable regulation was for some time observed, with all
the respect due to the religion by which it was sanction¬
ed, and whose severest censures followed the violation
of it. A painful penance could alone restore the of¬
fender to the suspended rites of the sacrament. The
casuistry of trade, however, discovered a way to gratify
the Indians with their favourite cordial, without incur¬
ring the ecclesiastical penalties, by giving, instead of
selling it to them.
“ But notwithstanding all the restrictions with which
commerce was oppressed under the French government,
the fur trade was extended to the immense distance
which has been already stated ; and surmounted many
most discouraging difficulties, which will be hereafter
noticed ; while, at the same time, no exertions were
made from Hudson’s Bay to obtain even a share of the
trade of a country which, according to the charter of
that company, belonged to it, and, from its proximity,
is so much more accessible to the mercantile adventurer.
“ Of these trading commanders, I understood, that
two attempted to penetrate to the Pacific ocean, but
the utmost extent of their journey I could never learn ; .
which may be attributed, indeed, to a failure of the un¬
dertaking.
“ For some time after the conquest of Canada, this
trade was suspended, which must have been very ad¬
vantageous to the Hudson’s Bay company, as all the
inhabitants to the westward of Take Superior were ob¬
liged to go to them for such articles as their habitual
use had rendered necessary. Some of the Canadians
who had lived long with them, and were become at¬
tached'
Furr.
Jfapr
FUR [ 3
taclit-a to a savage life, accompanied tliem thither an-
--v*—' nually, till mercantile adventurers again appeared trom
their own country, after an interval of several years,
owing, I suppose, to an ignorance of the country in
the Conquerors, and their want of commercial confi-
dence in the conquered. There were, indee ,
discouragements, such as the immense length of the
journey necessary to reach the limits beyond which this
commerce must begin j the risk of property i .he ex-
peaces attending such a long transport j and an igno
lance of the language of those who, from their ex¬
perience, must be necessarily employed as the interme¬
diate agents between them and the natives. But, not¬
withstanding these difficulties, the trade by ^grees, be¬
gan to spread over different parts to which it had been
carried by the French, though at a great risk of the
lives, as well as the property, of their new possessors,
for the natives had been taught by their former allies to
entertain hostile dispositions towards the English, trom
their having been in alliance with their natural enemies
the Iroquois •, and there were not wanting a sufficient
number of discontented, disappointed people to keep
alive such a notion 5 so that for a long time they were
considered and treated as objects of hostility. 10 prove
this disposition of the Indians, we have only to refer to
the conduct of Pontiac, at Detroit, and the surprise and
takincr of Michilimakinac, about this period.
“ Hence it arose, that it was so late as the year
1766, before which the trade I mean to consider
commenced from Michilimakinac. The first who at¬
tempted it were satisfied to go the length of the river
Camenistiquia, about 30 miles to the eastward of the
Grande Portage, where the French had a principal
establishment, and was the line of their communication
with the interior country. It was once destroyed
by fire. Here they went, and returned successful in
the following spring to Michilimakinac. Their suc¬
cess induced them to renew their journey, and incited
others to follow their example. Some of them remained
et Camenistiquia, while others proceeded to and beyond
the Grande Portage, whieh since that time has become
the principal entrepot of that trade, and is situated in a
bay, in latitude 48. north, and longitude 90. west. Af¬
ter passing the usual season there, they went back to
Michilimakinac as before, and encouraged by the trade,
returned in increased numbers. One of these, Thomas
Curry, with a spirit of enterprise superior to that of his
contemporaries, determined to penetrate to the furthest
limits of the French discoveries in that country *, or at
least till the frost should stop him. For this purpose he
procured guides and interpreters, who were acquainted
with the country, and with four canoes arrived at Fort
Bourbon, which was one of their posts, at the west end
of the Cedar lake, on the waters of the Saskatchiwine.
His risk and toil were well recompensed, for he came
back the following spring with his canoes filled with
fine furs, with which he proceeded to Canada, and
was satisfied never again to return to the Indian
country.
“ From this period people began to spread over every
part of the country, particularly where the French had
*cun w;,!.established settlements*.1’ . , , .
Fi*r After continuing the detail of the history of the
’3Fm<te>p. 1.fo*-which we must refer to the work itself, Mr Mac¬
kenzie proceeds to inform us of the concern which lie
is ] FUR
himself had in it, when in the year 1785, he was as- f,
sumed as a partner, on condition of going into the In-
dian country to take an active share in the business.
After some struggles, from jealousy and rivalship, with,
another company who had been some time in the trade,
a union between the two companies was formed. This
happened in 1787, and the following is Mr Mackenzie’s
account of its success, and of the extent and mode of
conducting this trade.
“ This commercial establishment,” he proceeds, “was
now founded on a more solid basis than any hitherto
known m the country j and it not only continued in full
force, vigour, and prosperity, in spite of all interference
from Canada, but maintained at least an equal share of
advantage with the Hudson’s Bay Company, notwith¬
standing the superiority of their local situation. I he
following account of this self-erected concern will mani-
fest the cause of its success.
“ It assumed the title of the North-West Company,
and was no more than an association of commercial men,
agreeing among themselves to carry on the fur trade,
unconnected with any other business, though many of
the parties engaged had extensive concerns altogether
foreign to it. It may be said to have been supported
entirely upon credit j for whether the capital belonged
to the proprietor, or was borrowed, it equally bore in¬
terest, for which the association was annually account¬
able. It consisted of twenty shares, unequally divided
among the persons concerned. Of these, a certain pro¬
portion was held by the people who managed the busi¬
ness in Canada, and were styled agents for the Compa¬
ny. Their duty was to import the necessary goods from
England, store them at their own expence at Montreal,
get them made up into the articles suited to the trade,
pack and forward them, and supply the cash that might
be wanting for the outfits •, for which they received, in-
dependent of the profit on their shares, a commission on
the amount of the accounts, which they were obliged
to make out annually, and keep the adventure of each
yeav distinct. Two of them went annually to the
Grande Portage, to manage and transact the business
there, and on the communication at Detroit, Michih-
makinac, St Mary’s, and Montreal, where they recei¬
ved stores, packed up, and shipped the company’s fun
for England, on which they had also a small commission.
The remaining shares were held by the proprietors, who
were obliged to winter and manage the business of the
concern with the Indians, and their respective clerks,
&c. They were not supposed to be under any obliga¬
tion to furnish capital, or even credit. If they obtain¬
ed any capital by the trade, it was to remain in the
hands of the agents j for which they were allowed in¬
terest. Some of them, from their long services and in¬
fluence, held double shares, and were allowed to retire
from the business at any period of the existing concern,
with one of those shares, naming any young man in the
company’s service to succeed him in the other. Senio¬
rity and merit were, however, considered as affording a
claim to the succession, which, nevertheless, could not
be disposed of without the concurrence of the majority
of the concern $ who, at the same time relieved the se¬
ceding person from any responsibility respecting the
share that he transferred, and accounted for it accord¬
ing to the annual value or rate of the property $ so that
the seller could have no advantage but that of getting
the
. F u. R. [3
rr the share of stock which he retained realised, and re-
ceiving for the transferred share what was fairly deter¬
mined to be the worth of it. The former was also dis¬
charged from all duty, and became a dormant partner.
Thus, all the young men who were not provided for at
the beginning of the contract, succeeded in succession to
the character and advantages of partners. They enter¬
ed into the company’s service for five or seven years,
under such expectations, and their reasonable prospects
were seldom disappointed : there were indeed, instances
when they succeeded to shares, before their apprentice¬
ship was expired, and it frequently happened that they
were provided for while they were in a state of articled
clerkship. Shares were transferable only to the con¬
cern at large, as no person could be admitted as a part¬
ner who had not served his time to the trade. The
dormant partner indeed might dispose of his interest to
any one he chose, but if the transaction were not ac¬
knowledged by his associates, the purchaser could only
be considered as his agent or attorney. Every share
had a vote, and two thirds formed a majority. This
regular and equitable mode of providing for the clerks
of the company, excited a spirit of emulation in the dis¬
charge of their various duties, and, in fact, made every
agent a principal, who perceived his own prosperity to
be immediately connected with that of his employers.
Indeed, without such a spirit, such a trade could not
have become so extended and advantageous, as it has
been and now is,
“ In 1788, the gross amount of the adventure for
the year did not exceed 40,000!. : but by the exertion,
enterprise, and industry of the proprietors, it was brought
in eleven years to triple that amount and upwards j
yielding proportionate profits, and surpassing, in short,
any thing known in America.
“ Such, therefore, being the prosperous state of the
company, it, very naturally, tempted others to inter¬
fere with the concern in a manner by no means benefi¬
cial to the company, and commonly ruinous to the un¬
dertakers.
“ In 1798 the concern underwent a new form, the
shares were increased to forty-six, new partners being
admitted, and others retiring. This period was the ter¬
mination of the company, which was not renewed by
all the parties concerned in it, the majority continuing
to act upon the old stock, and under the old firm $ the
others beginning a new one ; and it now remains to be
decided, whether two parties, under the same regula¬
tions and by the same exertions, though unequal in
number, can continue to carry on the business to a sue-
11 ] F U K
cesstu! issue. The contrary opinion has been held,
which, if verified, will make it the interest of the par¬
ties again to coalesce : for neither is deficient in capital
to support their obstinacy in a losing trade, as it is not
to be supposed that either will yield on any other terms
than perpetual participation.
“ It will not be superfluous in this place, to explain
the general mode of carrying on the fur trade.
“ Ihe agents are obliged to order the necessary
goods from England in the month of October, eighteen
months before they can leave Montreal $ that is, they
are not shipped from London until the spring following,
when they arrive in Canada in the summer. In the
course of the following winter they are made up into such
articles as are required for the savages ; they are then
packed into parcels of ninety pounds weight each, but
cannot be sent from Montreal until the May following;
so that they do not get to market until the ensuing
winter, when they are exchanged for furs, which come
to Montreal the next fall, and from thence are shipped,
chiefly to London, where they are not sold or paid for
before the succeeding spring, or even as late as June;
which is forty-two months after the goods were ordered
in Canada; thirty-six after' they had been shipped from
England ; and twenty-four after they had been for¬
warded from Montreal ; so that the merchant, allowing
that he has twelve months credit, does not receive a re¬
turn to pay for those goods, and the necessary expences
attending them, which is about equal to the value of
the goods themselves, till two years after they are con¬
sidered as cash, which makes this a very heavy business.
There is even a small proportion of it that requires
twelve months longer to bring round the payment,
owing to the immense distance it is carried, and from
the shortness of the seasons, which prevent the furs,
even after they are collected, from coming out of the
country for that period (a).
“ The articles necessary for this trade, are coarse
woollen cloths of different kinds ; milled blankets of
different sizes ; arms and ammunition ; twist and carrot
tobacco ; Manchester goods ; linens, and coarse sheet-
ings ; thread, lines, and twine ; common hardware ;
cutlery and ironmongery of several descriptions; ket¬
tles of brass and copper, and sheet-iron; silk and cot¬
ton handkerchiefs; hats, shoes, and hose ; calicoes and
printed cottons, &c. &c. &c. Spirituous liquors and
provisions are purchased in Canada. These, and the
expence of transport to and from the Indian country,
including wages to clerks, interpreters, guides, and ca¬
noe-men, with the expence of making up the goods for
the
(a) “ This will be better illustrated by the following statement:
We will suppose the goods for 1798 ;
The orders for the goods are sent to this country - - - _ .
They are shipped from London
They arrive in Montreal _ -
They are made up in the course of that summer and winter.
They are sent from Montreal - - . . _
They arrive in the Indian country, and are exchanged for furs the following winter
Which furs come to Montreal
And are shipped for London, where they are sold in March and April, and paid for in
May or June - „ „ „ .
25 th Oct. 2 796.
March 1797.
June 1797°
May 1798.
1798-9,
Sept. 1799,,
28oo0,-
Furr.
FUR [ 3l
the market, form about half the annual amount against
the adventure. ,
“ This expenditure in Canada ultimately tends to the
encouragement of British manufactory, for those who
are employed in the different branches of this business,
are enabled by their gains to purchase such British ar¬
ticles as they must otherwise forego.
« The produce of the year of which I am now speak¬
ing, consisted of the following furs and peltries :
6000 Lynx skins,
600 Wolverine skins,
1650 Fisher skins,
106,000 Beaver skins,
2X00 Bear skins,
1500 Fox skins,
4000 Kitt fox skins,
4600 Otter skins,
17,000 Musquash skins
32,000 Marten skins,
li8oo Mink skins,
100 Backoon skins,
3800 Wolf skins,
700 Elk skins,
750 Deer skins,
u,    1200 Deer skins dressed,
500 Buffalo robes, and a quantity of castoreum.
“ Of these were diverted from the British market,
being sent through the United States to China, 13,364
skins, fine beaver, weighing 19,283 pounds; 1250 fine
otters, and 1724 kitt foxes. They would have found
their way to the China market at any rate, but this de¬
viation from the British channel arose from the follow¬
ing circumstance:
“ An adventure of this kind was undertaken by a re¬
spectable house in London, half concerned with the
North-West Company in the year 1792. The furs
were of the best kind, and suitable to the market; and
the adventurers continued this connexion for five suc¬
cessive years, to the annual amount of
the winding up of the concern of i’jg2f X793» I794>
1795, in the year 1797, (the adventure of 1796 not
being included, as the furs were not sent to China, but
disposed of in London), the North-West Company ex¬
perienced a loss of upwards of 4O5OO0I. (their half,)
which was principally owing to the difficulty of getting
home the produce procured in return for the furs from
China, in the East India Company’s ships, together
with the duty payable, and the various restrictions of
that company. Whereas, from America there are no
Impediments; they get immediately to market, and the
produce of them is brought back, and perhaps sold in
the course of twelve months. From such advantages
the furs of Canada will no doubt find their way to Chi¬
na by America, which would not be the case if British
subjects had the same privileges that are allowed to
foreigners, as London would then be found the best
and safest market.
« But to return to our principal subject.—We shall
now proceed to consider the number of men employed
in the concern: viz. 50 clerks, 71 interpreters and
clerks, 1120 canoe men, and 35 guides. Of these, five
clerks, 18 guides, and 350 canoe men, were employed
for the summer season in going from Montreal to the
Grande Portage, in canoes, part of whom proceeded
from thence to Rainy Lake, as will be hereafter ex¬
plained, and are ca\\e&pork-eaters, or goers and comers.
These were hired in Canada or Montreal, and were
absent from the 1st of May till the latter end of Sep¬
tember. For this trip the guides had from 800 to 1000
livres, and a suitable equipment; the foreman and
steersman from 4^® 600 livres; the middle men from
3
2 ] FUR
250 to 350 livres, with an equipment of one blanket, f
one shirt, and one pair of trowsers; and were maintain- |
ed during that period at the expence of their employ- Fntf,
ers. Independent of their wages, they were allowed to
traffic, and many of them earned to the amount of their
wages. About one-third of these went to winter, and
had more than double the above wages, and equipment.
All the others were hired by the year, and some times
for three years ; and of the clerks many were appren¬
tices, who were generally engaged for five or seven
years, for which they had only xool. provision and
clothing. Such of them who could not be provided for
as partners, at the expiration of this time, were allowed
from xool. to 300I. per annum, with all necessaries, till
provision was made for them. Those who acted in the
twofold capacity of clerk and interpreter, or were so
denominated, had no other expectation than the pay¬
ment of wages to the amount from 1000 to 4000 livres
per annum, with clothing and provisions. The guides,
who are a very useful set of men, acted also in the ad¬
ditional capacity of interpreters, and had a stated
quantity of goods, considered as sufficient for their
wants, their wages being from 1000 to 3000 livres.
The canoe men are of two descriptions, foremen and
steersmen, and middlemen. The two first were allow¬
ed annually 1200, and the latter 400, livres each. The
first class had what is called an equipment, consisting
of two blankets, two shirts, two pair of trowsers, two
handkerchiefs, 14 pounds of tobacco, and some trifling
articles. The latter had 10 pounds of tobacco, and all
the other articles: those are called north men, or win¬
terers ; and to the last class of people were attached
upwards of 700 Indian women and children, victualled
at the expence of the company.
“ The first class of people are hired in Montreal five
months before they set out, and receive their equip¬
ments, and one-third of their wages in advance ; and
an adequate idea of the labour they undergo may be
formed from the following account of the country
through which they pass, and their manner of proceed-
ing.
“ The necessary number of canoes being purchased,
at about 300 livres each, the goods formed into pack¬
ages, and the lakes and rivers free of ice, which they
usually are in the beginning of May, they are then dis¬
patched from La Chine, eight miles above Montreal,
with eight or ten men in each canoe, and their bag¬
gage ; and 65 packages of goods, 600 weight of bis¬
cuit, 200 weight of pork, three bushels of pease, for
the men’s provision; two oil cloths to cover the goods,
a sail, &c. an axe, a towing-line, a kettle, and a
sponge to bail out the water, with a quantity of gum,
bark, and watape, to repair the vessel. An European
on seeing one of these slender vessels thus laden, heap¬
ed up, and sunk with her gunwale within six inches of
the water, would think his fate inevitable in such a
boat, when he reflected on the nature of her voyage;
but the Canadians are so expert that few accidents
happen
FURSTENBURGH, a town and castle of Ger-o/Jfl
many, the capital of a county of the same name, 30^
miles north-west of Constance. E. Long. 8. 27*
Lat. 47. 57.
FURTHCOMING, in Lau)t the name of an action
competent
F U S
[ 313 ]
F U S
heoffl
»
iiien.
competent to any person who has used arrestment in but formerly wore cans like t!,* l
‘ the hands of his debtor’s creditor, for havim, the «„h. .,,1.71 S!j'ke ‘ 6 l »i>gh
the hands of his debtor’s creditor, for having the sub¬
ject arrested declared his property.
FURUNCLE, or Boil, in Surgery, a small resist-
ing tumour, with inflammation, redness, and great pain,
arising in the adipose membrane, under the skin. See
Surgery Index.
FURZE. See Ulex, Botany Index.
FUSANUS, in Botany, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the polygamia class. The hermaphrodite calyx
is quinquefid $ there is no corolla; there are four sta¬
mina ; the germen beneath ; there are four stigmata;
the fruit a plum.
FUSAROLE, in Architecture, a moulding or or¬
nament placed immediately under the echinus, in the
Doric, Ionic, and Composite capitals.
FUSE, or Fuze, in artillery. See Fusee.
FUSEE, in clock-work, is that conical part drawn
by the spring, and about which the chain or string is
wound ; for the use of which, see Clock and Watch.
Fusee, or Firelock. See Musquet.
Fusee, Fu%e, or Fuse, of a bomb or grenado, is that
which makes the whole powder or composition in the
shell take fire, to do the designed execution.
Fuzes are chiefly made of very dry beech wood, and
sometimes of hornbeam, taken near the root. They
are turned rough, and bored at first, and then kept for
several years in a dry place ; the diameter of the hole
is about one-fourth of an inch ; the hole does not come
quite through, leaving about one-fourth of an inch at
the bottom; and the head is made hollow, in the form
of a bowl.
The composition for fuzes is saltpetre 3, sulphur 1,
and mealed powder 3, 4, and sometimes 5. This com¬
position is dx-iven in with an iron driver (whose ends are
capped with copper to prevent the composition from
taking fire), and equally hard as possible ; the last
shovel full being all mealed powder, and two stands of
quickmatch laid across each other being driven in with
it, the ends of which are folded up into the hollow top,
and a cap of parchment tied over it till used.
When these fuzes are driven into the loaded shell,
the lower end is cut off in a slope, so that the compo¬
sition may inflame the powder in the shell : the fuze
must have such a length as to continue burning all the
time the shell is in its range, and to set fire to the
powder as soon as it touches the ground, which in¬
stantly bursts into many pieces. When the distance of
the battery from the object is known, the time of the
shell’s flight may be computed to a second or two;
which being known, the fuze may be cut accordingly,
by burning two or three, and making use of a watch or
a string by way of a pendulum to vibrate seconds.
FUSIBILITY, in Natural Philosophy, that quality
of bodies which renders them fusible. Gold is more
fusible than iron or copper ; but less so than silver, tin,
and lead. Borax and other substances are frequently
mixed with metals, to render them more fusible.
FUSIL, in Heraldry, a bearing of a rhomboidal fi¬
gure, longer than the lozenge, and having its upper
and lower angles more acute and sharp than the other
two ,n *^e middle. It is called in Latin fusus, “ a
spindle,” from its shape.
FUSILIERS, Fusileers, or Fuxileers, in the mi
somewhat shorter. There are three’regimentsTnlhe
British service : the royal regiment of Scotch fuzileers
raised in 1678 ; the royal regiment of English fuzileers
raised in 1685 ; and the royal regiment of Welsh fuzi¬
leers raised in 1688-9.
FUSION, the state of a body rendered fluid by fire.
See Fluidity, and Chemistry Index.
FUST, or Faust, John, was a goldsmith of Mentz,
and one of the three artists to whom the valuable in¬
vention of printing has been usually ascribed. The
names of the other two were Guttemberg and Schoeffer.
It seems impossible, however, to determine with cer¬
tainty, whether Fust had any other merit in the business
than that of supplying Guttemberg with money, who
had been making some attempts with carved blocks at
Strasburgh, before he visited Mentz. To Schoeffer,
the son-in-law of Fust, we are indebted for the inven¬
tion of punches and matrices, by means of which this
noble art was afterwards carried to perfection. That
work which may be regarded as the origin of the true
typographic art, was the “ Durandi Rationale Divino-
rum Officiorum,” published in 1459, by Fust and
Schoeffer, which was soon followed by a copy of the
Bible, both executed in a very masterly manner.
We are informed that Fust went to Paris in 1462,
in order to dispose of a part of the second edition of his
bible, which he was enabled to sell considerably lower
than bibles in manuscript, yet some reckoned themselves
overcharged by him, and some pretend that he was even
accused of magic, but for the belief of this there ap¬
peals ^to be no rational foundation. It seems certain
that lust was never in Paris after the year 1466; but
that he was in that metropolis then, is proved by a note
at the end of a copy of Cicero’s Offices, intimating that
the first possessor received it from John Fust at Paris, in
1466. It is extremely probable that he died that year
of the plague, to which 40,000 of the inhabitanrs fell
a sacrifice in the months of August and September.
This opinion is farther corroborated by this circum¬
stance, that the name of Schceffer alone was prefixed
to the books which were published at Mentz after that
period.
This man has been frequently confounded with John
Faust, better known by the name of Dr Faustus, a pre¬
tender to the art of magic, who was first a theologian,
then a student of medicine, and last of all sold himself
to the devil for 24 years, at the expiration of which
peiiod it seems the devil came to carry oft his purchase,
and dashed out the doctor’s brains against the wall
about midnight. This wretched romance has no doubt
been invented by the monks, to blacken the reputation
ol the great I ust, whose art deprived them of the emo¬
luments arising from the copying of manuscripts. See
(History of) Printing.
Fust, in Architecture, the shaft of a column, or the
part comprehended between the base and the capita!,
called also the naked.
FUSTIAN, in Commerce, a kind of cotton stuff,
which seems as it were whaled on one side.
Right fustians should be altogether made of cotton-
yarn, both woof-and warp ; but a great many are made,
the warp of which is flax, or even hemp.
There are fustians made of several kinds, wide, nar-
i:.„_„ , , ' : ’ ‘ me nn- mere are tustians made or several kinds, wide, nar-
Vnr r ; v^-p0 /r aln<e()l as ^ie rest °f the infantry, row, fine, coarse ; with shag or nap, and without it.
’ul. 1.2V. irart 1. + r> _ -»-»
* B r ruSTIAit
Fusilier*
Fusiian.
F U S [ 3
fustian FuSTIAK is also use€ for a bombast style, or a high
[) swelling kind of writing, made up of heterogeneous
FQnUKatlo. parts.
FUSTICK, or Fustock, a yellow wood, that
grows in all the Canbbee islands, and is used in dye-
jng yellow. It is a species of AIorus. See BoiANY
Judex. And for its properties, see CHEMISTRY and
Dyeing Index.
FUSTIGATIO, in the Roman customs, a punish¬
ment inflicted by beating with a cudgel. This punish¬
ment was peculiar to freemen j for the slaves were
scourged or lashed with whips.
14 ] F ' U Z
FUTTOCKS, in a ship, the timbers raised over rHli
the keel, or the encompassing timbers that make her j
breadth.
FUTURE, something to come hereafter. We say, a^"-"
future state, a future contingency: there is none but
God to whom future things are present.
Future, or Future Tense, in Grammar, denotes an
inflection of verbs, whereby they denote, that a thing
will be in some time yet to come. See Grammar.
FUZES, or Fusees, in artillery. See Fusee.
FUZILEERS. See Fusileers.
G.
G. the seventh letter and fifth consonant of oor
"''"*■"“'^-^5 alphabet-, though in the alphabets of all the
oriental languages, the Hebrew, Phenician, Chaldee,
Syriac, Samaritan, Arabic, and even Greek, G is the
third letter. The Hebrews call it ghimel oxgimel, q. d.
“ camel j” by reason it resembles the neck of that ani¬
mal j and the same appellation it bears in the Samari¬
tan, Phenician, and the Chaldee ; in the Syriac it is
called gamel, in Arabic gum, and in Greek gamma.
The gamma (F) of the Greeks is manifestly the gi¬
mel (a) of the Hebrews or Samaritans. All the dif¬
ference between the gamma and gimel consists in this,
that the one is turned to the right, and the other to
the left, according to the different manners of writing
and reading which obtained among those different na¬
tions $ so that all the pains Salmasius has taken on So-
linus, to prove that the G was derived from the. Greek
kappa, is lost.
From the Greeks the Latins borrowed their form of
this letter ; the Latin G being certainly a corruption
of the Greek gamma F, as might easily be shown had
our printers all the characters and forms of this letter
which we meet with in the Greek and Latin MSS.
through which the letter passed from F to G.
Diomed, lib. ii. cap. Tie Lit era, calls G a new letter.
His reason is, that the Romans had not introduced it
before the first Punic war 5 as appears from the rostral
column erected by C. Duilius, on which we every¬
where find a C in lieu of G. It was Sp. Carvilius who
first distinguished between those two letters, and invent¬
ed the figure of the G$ as we are assured by Teren-
tius Scaurus. The C served very well for G $ it be¬
ing the third letter of the Latin alphabet, as the F or
y was of the Greek.
The G is found instead of C on several medals :
VaiUant. Num. Imperat. tom. i. p. 39.
M. Beger produces a medal of the Familia Ogulnia,
where Gar is read instead of Car, which is on those
ofM. Patin. But the C is more frequently seen on
medals in lieu of G j as, Aucustalis Callaecia
Cartacinensis, &c. for Augustalis, &c. Not
that the pronunciation of those words was altered, but
only that the G was unartfully or negligently cut by
the workmen ; as is the case in divers inscriptions of the G
eastern empire j where AVC, AUCC, AUCCC, are fre-w
quently found for AUG, &c.
The northern people frequently change the G into
V or W , as in GalluSy alius ; Gallia, ITillici, Vallio,
&c. For, in this instance, it must not be said that the
French have changed the W into G ; because they
wrote Gallus long before Wallus or Wallia was known,
as appears from all the ancient Roman and Greek
writers. And yet it is equally true, that the French
change the W of the northern nations, and V conso¬
nant, into G *, as, Williehnus, “ William,” into Guil¬
laume ; Wulphilas into Gulphilas; Vascon into Gas¬
con, &c.
The letter G is of the mute kind, and cannot be
any way sounded without the help of a vowel. It is
formed by the reflection of the air against the palate,
made by the tongue as the air passes out of the throat;
which Mai tianus Capella expresses thus, G spirituscum
palalo ; so that G is a palatal letter.
The modern G takes its form from that of the La¬
tins. In English it has two sounds, one from the
Greek F and the Latin, which is called that ot the
hard G, because it is formed by a pressure somewhat
hard on the fore part of the tongue against the upper
gum 5 which sound it retains before a, 0, u, l, r; as
gate, go, gull. At the end of a word it is always hard,
as ring, sing, &c. The other sound, called that of the
soft Gy resembles that ofy,- and is commonly, though
not always, found before e and i, as in gesture, giant,
&c. To this rule, however, there are many exceptions;
G is often hard before i, as give, &c. and sometimes
before e, as get, &c. It is also hard in derivatives from
words ending in g, as singing, stronger, &c. and gene¬
rally before er, at the ends ot words, as finger. G is
mute before n, os gnash, sign. Gh has the sound of the
hard G in the beginning of a word, os ghostly; in the
middle, and sometimes at the end, it is quite silent, as
right, though. At the end of a word Gh has often the
sound off as laugh, rough, tough.
As a numeral, G was anciently used to denote 400 j
and with a dash over it thus G, 40,000.
As an abbreviature, G. stands for Gains, Gelhus,
gens.
G A B [3
< genSy genius, &c. G. G. for gemma, ges.sit, gcsserunt,
j &c. G. 0. for genio civitatis or Ccesans. G. L. for
dm. Gains hbertus, or gemo loci. G. V. S. for genio urbis
^'——‘sacrum. G. B. for genio bom. And G. T. for genio
tutelari.
In music, G is the character or mark of the treble
cleff; and from its being placed at the head, or mark¬
ing the first sound in Guido’s scale, the whole scale took
the name of gamut.
GABALE, in Mythology, a deity worshipped at
Heliopolis under the figure of a lion, with a radiant
head j and it is thus represented on many medals of
Caracalla.
GABARDINE, from the Italian gavardina, has
been sometimes used to denote a coarse frock, or mean
dress. In this sense it is used by Shakespeare in his
Tempest and Merchant of Venice, and by Butler in his
Hudibras, book i.
GABARA, or Gabbara, in antiquity, the dead
bodies which the Egyptians embalmed, and kept in
their houses, especially those of such of their friends as
died with the reputation of great piety and holiness, or
as martyrs. See Embalming, and Mummy.
GABEL, (Gabella, Gablum, Gablagium), in French
Gabelle, i.e. F"ectigal, hath the same signification among
the ancient English writers thnt gabel/e hath in France.
It is a tax ; but hath been variously used, as for a rent,
custom, service, <&c. And where it was a payment of
rent, those who paid it were termed gab/atores. When
the word gabel was formerly mentioned without any ad¬
dition to it, it signified the tax on salt, though after¬
wards it was applied to all other taxes.
In the French customs, the gabel, or tax on salt,
computed to make one-fourth of the whole revenue of
the kingdom, is said to have had its rise in France in
1286, under Philip the Fair. Philip the Long took
a double per livre on salt, by an edict in 1318, which
be promised to remit when he was delivered from his
enemies-, which was renewed by Philip de Valois in
1345 j and the duty was raised to four deniers per
j livre-, King John resumed it in 1355, and it was grant¬
ed to the dauphin in 1358, to ransom King John. It
was continued by Charles V. in 1366; after his de¬
cease it was suppressed, but revived again by Charles
VL 1 1381. Louis XI. raised it to 12 deniers per
livre ; and Francis I. in 1542 to 24 livres per muid :
and it has been considerably augmented since that time;
so that a minot of salt latterly paid a duty of 52 livres
8 sols and 6 deniers. Philip de Valois first established
granaries and officers of the gabelles, and prohibited
any other persons from selling salt: from which time
the whole commerce of salt for the inland consumption
continued wholly in the king’s hands, every grain
thereof being sold and distributed by his farmers and
officers created for the purpose.—This oppressive tax
was abolished by the National Assembly.
GABIT, in Ancient Geography, a town of Latium,
midway almost between Rome and Preneste to the east,
often mentioned in the history of Tarquin the Proud.
Cinctus Gabinus denoted a particular way of tucking
the gown, by drawing it forwards on the breast, and
tying it into a knot; as the people of Gabii did at a
solemn sacrifice, on the sudden attack of an enemy, in
order to be fitter for action. In this manner the consul
used to declare war, to sacrifice, and burn the spoils of
15 ] G A B1
the enemy ; and then he was said to be prcecinctus.
The place now extinct.
GABINIAN LAWS, in Roman antiquities; laws
instituted upon several occasions by persons of the name
ot Gabinius. The first was the Gabinia lex de Comitiis
by A. Gabinius the tribune, in the year of Rome 614'
It required, that in the public assemblies for electing
magistrates, the votes should be given by tablets, and
not viva voce—Another de Comitiis, which made it a
capital punishment to convene any clandestine assembly,
agreeable to the old law of the 12 tables. Another de
Militia, by A. Gabinius the tribune, year of Rome
685. It granted Pompey the power of carrying on
the war against the pirates, during three years, and of
obliging all kings, governors, and states, to supply him
with all the necessaries he wanted, over all the Medi¬
terranean sea, and in the maritime provinces as far as
400 stadia from the sea.—Another de Usura, by Auk
Gabinius the tribune, year of Rome 685. It ordain¬
ed that no action should be granted for the recovery of
any money borrowed upon small interest to be lent upon
larger. This was an usual practice at Rome, which
obtained the name oiversuramfacere.—Another against
fornication.
GABIONS, in Fortification, baskets made of ozier
twigs, of a cylindrical form, six feet high and four
wide ; which, being filled with earth, serve as a shelter
from the enemy’s fire.
GABLE or Gabel End, of a house (from gaval,
Welsh), is the upright triangular end from the cornice
or eaves to the top of the house.
GABRES, or Gavres, a religious sect in Persia
and India; called also Gebres, Guebves, Gevres, Gaurs,
&c. Sea Magi.
The Turks call the Christians Gabres, q. d. Infidels,
or people of a false religion ; or rather as Leunclavius
observes, Heathens or Gentiles: the word among
the Turks, having the same signification as Pagan or
Infidel among the Christians, and denoting any thing
not Mahometan.
In Persia the word has a more peculiar signification;
wherein it is applied to a sect dispersed through the
country, and said to be the remains of the ancient Per¬
sians or followers of Zoroaster, being worshippers of
fire. They have a suburb at Ispahan, which is called
Gaurabad, or “ the town of the Gaursfi where they
are employed in the meanest and vilest drudgery ; some
of them are dispersed through other parts of Persia ;
bnt they principally abound in Kerman, the most bar¬
ren province in the whole country, where the Maho¬
metans allow them liberty and the exercise of their re¬
ligion. Several of them fled many ages ago into India,*
and settled about Surat, where their posterity remain
to this day. There is also a colony of them at Bom¬
bay. They are a poor, ignorant, inoflensive people,
extremely superstitious, and zealous for their rights,
rigorous in their morals, and honest in their dealings.
They profess to believe a resurrection and a future
judgment, and to worship only one God. And though
they perform their worship before fire, and direct their
devotion towards the rising sun, for which they have
an extraordinary veneration, yet they strenuously main¬
tain that-they worship neither; but that these are the
most expressive symbols of the Deity, and that for this
reason they turn towards them in their devotional ser-
R r 2 vices.
GAD
vices.—However, some have supposed, that these are
Persians converted to Christianity, who, being after¬
wards left to themselves, mingled their ancient super¬
stitions with the truths and practices ot Christianity,
and so formed for themselves a religion apart: and they
allege, that throughout the whole of their system ol
doctrine and practice, we may discern the marks and
traces of Christianity, though grievously defaced j the
annunciation, the magi, the massacre of the infants,
our Saviour’s miracles, his persecutions, ascension,
&c.
GABRIEL, the name of one of the principal an¬
gels in heaven. It signifies the strength of God. I here
are a few events, in which this exalted being was con¬
cerned, recorded in Scripture. He was sent to the pro¬
phet Daniel, to explain to him the vision of the ram and
goat, and the mystery of the seventy weeks, which had
been revealed to him. He was sent to Zecharias, to
declare to him the future birth of John the Baptist. Six
months after, he was sent to Nazareth to the Virgin
Mary, to warn her of the birth of Jesus Christ.
The Orientalists add several particulars to what the
Scriptures inform us concerning the angel Gabriel.
The Mahometans call him the faithful spirit; and the
Persians, by way of metaphor, the peacock of heaven.
We read, in the second chapter of the Koran, that
whosoever is an enemy to Gabriel shall be confounded.
It was Gabriel, they believe, who brought to Mahomet
their false prophet the revelations which he published ;
and it was he who conducted him to heaven mounted
upon the animal Borak.
Gabriel, St, an island lying in the great river La
Plata, South America, which was discovered by the
celebrated navigator Sebastian Cabot, in the year
1526.
GABRIELITES, in ecclesiastical history, a sect
of Anabaptists that appeared in Pomerania in I530,
They derive their name from Gabriel Scherling ; who,
after having been for some time tolerated in that coun¬
try, was obliged to remove, and died in Poland.
GAD, a Jewish prophet, the seer or domestic pro¬
phet of King David, and his adviser in all matters of
importance. Wrhen the displeasure of the Almighty
was roused against David and the children of Israel for
numbering the people, Gad received a commission to
wait upon the king, and make him an offer of three
evils as a punishment for his offence. These were fa¬
mine, war, or pestilence, the last of which was chosen
by David, the ravages of which were terrible beyond
description, and produced genuine repentance in the
hearts of survivors. To perpetuate the memory of this
event, Gad ordered an altar to be erected in the thresh¬
ing floor of Oman the Jebusite, around which place, it
is said, the temple was afterwards built. Wre learn
from the Old Testament that Gad was an author, who
wrote a history of his own times, of which much use
appears to have been made by the compilers of the
books of Samuel and Chronicles. Gad was also the
name of one of the twelve patriarchs, or sons of
Jacob.
Gad, in Ancient Geography, a district of the Trans¬
jordan Palestine, situated between Gilead and the king¬
dom of Bashan to the north, and the kingdom of the Amo-
rites, to the south j having the Jordan to the west, and
G A F
bounded by various people on the east $ so called from
a tribe of that name. _ ||
Gad, among miners, a small punch of iron, with a Gaflfei,
long wooden handle, used to break up the ore. '~V-
One of the miners holds this in his hand, directing
the point to a proper place, while the other drives it
into the vein, by striking it with a sledge hammer.
GAD-Bee, or Gad-Fly. See Oestrus, Entomolo¬
gy Index,
GADARA, in Ancient Geography, a town of the
Persea, or Transjordan, in the Decapolis, a very strong
place. Restored by Pompey after its demolition by the
Jews (Josephus). After Herod’s death, it was joined
to the province of Syria by Augustus.
GADARENORUM Acer, in Ancient Geography,
the country of the Gadarenes, called by Matthew the
country of the Gergesenes, because it was a district
that lay between Gadara and Gergesa, otherwise called
Gei'asa, both which lay within the Decapolis on the
other side Jordan.
GADES, or Gadira, in Ancient Geography, a
small island in the Atlantic, on the Spanish coast, 25
miles from the Columns of Hercules. It was sometimes
called Tartessus and Erythia according to Pliny. Ge-
ryon, whom Hercules killed, fixed his residence there.
Hercules, surnamed Gaditanus, had there a celebrated
temple, in which all his labours were engraved with ex¬
cellent workmanship. The inhabitants are called Ga-
ditani.
GADUS, a genus of fishes belonging to the order of
jugulares. This genus includes the cod, the whiting,
the torsk, &c. See Ichthyology Index.
GAELIC language. See Highlands.
GiETULIA, in Ancient Geography, a country of
Africa, lying to the south of Mauritania, called Gcetu-
lia Propria, and Vetus. Gcetuli, the people, were dis¬
tinguished by different epithets ; as Nigri, Autololes,
Darce and Baniurce, (Pliny. The Gcetuli were among
the first inhabitants of Africa : a rough, unpolished peo¬
ple, living on venison and the spontaneous productions
of the earth *, a roving, wandering people, who took
up with the first place in which night surprised them,
(Sallust).
GAFF, a sort of boom or pole, frequently used in
small ships, to extend the upper edge of the mizen •,
and always employed for the same purpose on those sails
whose foremost edges are joined to the mast by hoops
or lacings, and which are usually extended by a boom
below. Such are the main sails of all sloops, brigs, and
schooners.
GAFFAREL, James, a French divine, and very
learned writer, born about 1601. He acquired great
skill in the oriental and several other languages ; and
was particularly versant in the cabbalistic and occult
sciences, which he learned, exposed, and refuted. Car¬
dinal Richelieu made choice of him for his library
keeper, and sent him into Italy to collect the best ma¬
nuscripts and books. He published a book entitled C'«-
riositex Innauies, i.e. Unheard-of Curiosities. It is said
the cardinal designed to employ him in his grand pro¬
ject for the reunion of religions. He died in 16S1,
aged 80. He had been labouring for many years, and
had almost finished a history of the subterranean world ’r
containing an account of the caves, grottoes, vaults,
catacombs,
[ 316 ]
Jartl
I ‘Se
Plat
tin
GAG [3
catacombs, and mines, he had met with in 30 years
travels.
GAGATES, or Jet. See Jet, Mineralogy
Index.
GAGE, in our ancient customs, signifies a pledge
or pawn, given by way of security. The word is only
properly used in speaking of moveables j for immove¬
ables, hypothcca is used.
If the gage perish, the person who received it is
not to answer for it, but only for extreme negligence,
&c.
Gage is also used for a challenge to combat: (See
Cartel). In which sense, it was a pledge, which the
accuser or challenger cast on the ground, and the other
took up as accepting the challenge ; it was usually a
glove, gauntlet, chaperoon, or the like. See Combat,
and Duel.
Gage, is only now retained as a substantive. As a
verb, the G is changed into JF, and of gage is form¬
ed wage: as to wage law, to wage deliverance,
q. d. to give security a thing shall be delivered. See
Wage.
If a person who has distrained be sued for not hav¬
ing delivered what he had taken by distress, he should
wage, or gage, or gager, deliverance j that is, put iu
surety that he will deliver them.
Mort-GAGE, is that which is left in the hands of the
proprietor, so that he reaps the fruits thereof.
In opposition to ins-gage, where the fruits or reve¬
nues are reaped by the creditor, and reckoned on the
foot of the debt, which diminishes in proportion there¬
to, Ihe second acquits or discharges itself 5 the first
does not.
Gage, in the sea language. When one ship is to,
windward of another, she is said to have the weather-
gage of her. I hey likewise call the number of feet
that a vessel sinks in the water, the ship’s gage ; this
they find by driving a nail into a pike near the end, and
putting it down beside the rudder till the nail catch
hold under it j then as many feet as the pike is under
water is the ship’s gage.
Gage, among letter founders, a piece of box, or
»ther hard wood, variously notched ; the use of which
is to adjust the dimensions, slopes, &;c. of the different
sorts of letters. See Foundery.
Gage, in joinery, is an instrument made to strike a
line truly parallel to the straight side of any board or
piece of stufl. Its chief use is for gaging of tenons
true, to fit into mortises ; and for gaging stuff of an
equal thickness. It is made of an oval piece of wood,
fitted upon a square stick, to slide up and down stiffly
thereon, and with a tooth at the end of a stall, to score,
to strike a line upon the staff at any distance, accord-
■ ug to the distance of the oval from it.
Sliding Gage, a tool used by the mathematical in¬
strument makers for measuring and setting oft' the dis¬
tances.
&•<? Gage, an instrument invented by Dr Hales and
Dr Desaguliers for finding the depth of the sea; the
description whereof is this. AB (fig. 1.) is the gage
bottle, in which is cemented the gage tube Ffin the
>rass cape at G. The upper end of tube F is hermeti¬
cally sealed, and the open lower end/is immersed in
mercury, marked C, on which swims a small thickness
or surface of treacle. On the top of the bottle is screw-
17 ] GAG
ed a tube of brass HG, pierced with several holes to
admit the water into the bottle AB. The body K is a ’
weight hanging by its shank L, in a socket N, with a
notch on one side at m, in which is fixed the catch / of
the spring S, and passing through the hole, L, in the
shank of the weight K, prevents its falling out when
once hung on. On the top, in the upper part of the
brass tube at H, is fixed a large empty ball, or full
blown bladder I, which must not he so large, but
that the weight K may be able to sink the whole under
water.
The instrument thus constructed is used in the fol¬
lowing manner. Jhe weight K being bung on, the
gage is let fall into deep water, and sinks to the bot¬
tom : the socket N is somewhat longer than the shank
L ; and therefore, after the weight K comes to the
bottom, the gage will continue to descend till the
lower part ol the socket strikes against the weight j
this gives liberty to the catch to fly out of the bole L,
and let go the weight K: when this is done, the ball
or bladder I instantly buoys up the gage to the top of
the water. While the gage is under water, the water
having free access to the treacle and mercury in the
bottle, will by its pressure force it up into the tube
F/ and the height to which it has been forced by the
greatest pressure, viz. that at the bottom, will be shown
by the mark in the tube which the treacle leaves behind
it, and which is the only use of the treacle. This
shows into what space the whole air in the tube F/ is
compressed ; and consequently the height or depth of
the M'ater which by its weight produced that compres¬
sion, which is the thing required.
If the gage tube F/ be of glass, a scale might be
drawn on it with the point of a diamond, showing, by
inspection, what height the water stands above tlie°bot-
tom. But the length of 10 inches is not sufficient for
fathoming depths at sea, since that, when all the air in
such a length of tube is compressed into half an inch,
the depth of water is more than 634 feet, which is not
half a quarter of a mile.
If, to remedy this, we make use of a tube 50 inches
long, which for strength may be a musket barrel, and
suppose the air compressed into the hundredth part of
half an inch j then by saying, as 1 : 99 :: 400 : 39600
inches, or 3300 feet; even this is but little more than
half a mile, or 2640 feet. But since it is reasonable
to suppose the cavities of the sea hear some proportion
to the mountainous parts of the land, some of which
are more than three miles above the earth’s surface ;
therefore, to explore such great depths, the Doctor
contrived a new form for the sea gage, or rather for
the gage tube in it, as follows. BCDF (fig. 2.) is
a hollow metalline globe, communicating on the top
with a long tube AB, whose capacity is a ninth part
of that globe. ^ On the lower part at D, it has also a
shoit tube DE, to stand in the mercury and treacle.
The air contained in the compound gage tube is com¬
pressed by the water as before; but the degree of com¬
pression, or height to which the treacle has been for¬
ced, cannot there be seen through the tube : there¬
fore, to answer that end, a slender rod of metal or
wood, with a knob on the top of the tube AB, will
receive the mark of the treacle, and show it when
taken out.
If the tube AB be 50 inches long, and of such a
hois
Gag*,
Gage.
Fig. 3.
GAG [ 3'
bore that every inch in length should be a cubic inch
of air, and the contents of the globe and tube toge¬
ther 500 cubic inches j then when the air is com¬
pressed within an hundredth part of the whole, it is
evident the treacle will not approach nearer than hve
inches of the top of the tube, which will agree to the
depth of 3300 feet of water as above. Iwice this
depth will compress the air into halt that space neaily,
viz. inches, which correspond to 6600, which is a
mile and a quarter. Again, half that space, or I* inch,
will show double the former depth, viz. 13200 leet, or
24 miles •, which is probably very nearly the greatest
depth of the sea. . ^
Bucket Sea Gage, an instrument contrived by IJr
Hales to find the ditferent degrees of coolness and salt¬
ness of the sea, at different depths : it consists of a
common household pail or bucket, with two heads :
These heads have each a round hole in the middle,
about four inches in diameter, covered with square
valves opening upward j and that they may both open
and shut together, there is a small iron rod fixed to
the upper part of the lower valve, and the other end to
the lower side of the upper valve. So that as the buc¬
ket descends with its sinking weight into the sea, both
the valves may open by the lorce of the water, which
by that means has a free passage through the bucket.
But when the bucket is drawn up, then both the valves
shut by the force of the water at the upper part of the
bucket*, so that the bucket is drawn up full of the
lowest sea water to which it has descended. When the
bucket is drawn up, the mercurial thermometer fixed
in it is examined j but great care must be taken to ob¬
serve the degree at which the mercury stands, before
the lower part of the thermometer is taken out of the
water in the bucket, lest it be affected by the different
temperature of the air. In order to keep the bucket
in a right position, there are four cords fixed to it,
reaching about three feet below it; to which the sink¬
ing weight is fixed. The result of several trials with
this gage was, that when it was let down to different
depths, from 360 feet to 5346 feet, in lat. 2J. 13. N-
and long. 25. 12. W. it was discovered by the ther¬
mometer, that the cold increased gradually in propor¬
tion to the depths, till it descended to 39CO feet, viz.
near ^ths of a mile, whence the mercury in the ther¬
mometer came up at 53°; and though it was afterwards
sunk to 5346 feet, i. e. a mile and 66 feet, it came up
no lower: the warmth of the water upon the surface,
and that of the air, was all that time 84°. When the
water in the bucket was become of the same tempera¬
ture with that on the surface of the sea, equal quanti¬
ties of both were weighed and tried by the hydrome¬
ter ; that from below was found to be the heaviest, and
consequently the saltest.
Dr Hales was probably led to the construction of
this sea gage from an instrument invented by Dr Hook,
and designed for the same purpose. This consists of a
square wooden bucket C, (fig. 3.) whose bottoms are so
contrived, that as the weight of A sinks the iron B, to
which the bucket C is fastened by two handles D, D,
on the end of which are the moveable bottoms or valves
EE, and thereby draws down the bucket, the resist¬
ance of the water keeps up the bucket in the posture
C, whereby the water, whilst the bucket was descending,
hath a free passage through it j whereas, as soon as the
8 ] GAG
bucket is pulled upwards by the line F, the resistance G,
of the water to that motion beats trie bucket down-'"
wards, and keeps it in the posture G, whereby the in¬
cluded water is kept from getting out, and the ambient
water kept fiom getting in. Phil. Trans. ^N° ix. p. 149*
and N° xxiv. p. 447. or Abr. vol. ii. p. 26s.
Aqueo-mercurial Gage, is the name of an apparatus
contrived by Dr Hales, and applied in various forms
to the branches of trees, in order to determine the
force with which they imbibe moisture. Let e r, (fig. Fig. J
4.) he a cylindric glass, e. gr. of an inch diameter
within, and eight inches long. Into this glass is in¬
troduced the branch of a young thriving apple tree
b, about three feet long, with lateral branches j the
diameter of the transverse cut i being
inch. Having fitted the joint r to the tube at r, by-
folding a piece of sheep’s skin round the stem, it is ce¬
mented with a mixture of bees wax and turpentine
melted together, in such proportion as to make a
very stiff clammy paste when cold, and over the cement
folds of wet bladders are bound firmly with pack
thread. To the lower end e of the large tube, a small¬
er tube 3 e is cemented, being about 4 °f an inch dia¬
meter, and 18 inches long, and in substance full 4 of
an inch thick. These tubes are cemented together at
e with common hard brick dust or powdered chalk ce¬
ment, and the joint is farther secured with the cement
of bees wax and turpentine, over which a wet bladder
is bound. The apparatus being thus prepared, the
branch is turned downwards, and the glass tube up¬
wards, and then both tubes are filled with watei j with
the finger applied to the open end of the small tube,
it is inverted and immersed in the glass cistern .r, full
of mercury and water. In this situation the lowei end
of the branch was immersed six inches in water, viz.
from r to i; the water W’as imbibed by the branch at
its transverse cut ? ,* and during its ascent into the sap
vessels of the branch, the mercury rose in the tube ^ a
from the cistern x, so that in half an hour it was risen
54 inches high, as far as *. The height of the mer¬
cury indicated, in some measure, the force with which
the sap was imbibed, though not the whole force *, be¬
cause while the water was imbibed by the branch, its
transverse cut was covered with innumerable little he¬
mispheres of air, and many air bubbles issued out of the
sap vessels, which partly filled the tube e rt as the water
was drawn out of it ; and therefore the height of the
mercury could only be proportionable to the excess of
the quantity of water drawn off above the quantity ol
the air which issued out of the wood. If the quantity
of air issuing from the wood had been equal to the
quantity of water imbibed, it is plain that the meicu-
ry could not rise at all, because there would be no
room for it in the tube : hut if nine parts in twelve of
the water be imbibed by the branch, and only three
such parts of air issue into the tube in the same time
the mercury must rise near six inches, and so propor-
tionably in other cases. Dr Hales observed, that the
mercury rose highest, in most cases, when the sun was
clear and warm, and that it subsided three or toui
inches towards evening, but rose again the next day
as it grew warm, though seldom so high as at first-
Dr Hales adapted the size and shape of the glass appa¬
ratus to a great variety of branches of several sites an
of different kinds of trees, and repeated the experiment
above
GAG
roc
l
above describeil, mitUUts mutandis, m a variety of in¬
stances. See his Vegetable Statics, vol. i. chap, ii p.
84, &c.
Tide Gage, the name of an instrument used for
determining the height of the tides by Mr Bayly, in
the course of a voyage towards the south pole, &c. in
the Resolution and Adventure, in 1772, 1773, 1774,
and 1775- Bhis instrument consists of a glass tube,
whose internal diameter was seven-tenths of an inch,
lashed fast to a ten-feet fir rod, divided into feet, inches,
and quarters : this rod was fastened to a strong post
fixed upright and firm in the water. At the lower end
of the tube was an exceeding small aperture, through
which the water was admitted. In consequence of
this construction, the surface of the water in the tube
was so little affected by the agitation of the sea, that
its height was not altered one-tenth of ah inch, when
the swell of the sea was two feet j and Mr Bayly
was certain, that with this instrument he could discern
a difference of one-tenth of an inch in the heiohl of the
tide. &
Wind Gage, an instrument for measuring the force
of the wind upon any given surface. It was invented
t/ w^° S‘ves ^,e following description of it,
Phil. Trans, vol. Ixv.
This instrument consists of two glass tubes AB, CD,
(fig. 5.) of five or six inches in length. Their bores,*
which are so much the better for being equal, are about
four-tenths of an inch in diameter. They are connected
together like a siphon, by a small bent glass tube a b,
the bore of which is about one-tenth of an inch in di¬
ameter. On the upper part of the leg AB there is
a tube of latten brass, which is kneed, or bent per¬
pendicularly outwards, and has its mouth open to¬
wards F. On the other leg CD, is a cover with a
round hole G in the upper part of it two-tenths of an
inch in diameter. This cover and the kneed tube are
connected together by a slip of brass e d, which not
only gives strength to the whole instrument, but also
serves to hold the scale HI. The kneed tube and co¬
ver are fixed on with hard cement or sealing wax.
lo the same tube is soldered a piece of brass e, with
a round hole in it to receive the steel spindle KL; and
at/there is just such another piece of brass soldered to
the brass hoop g h, which surrounds both legs of the
instrument. There is a small shoulder on the spindle
at/ upon which the instrument rests, and a small not
at 1, to prevent it from being blown olf the spindle by
the wind. The whole instrument is easily turned
round upon the spindle by the wind, so as always to
present the mouth of the kneed tube towards it. The
end of the spindle has a screw on it; by which it may
be screwed into the top of a post or a stand made on
purpose. It jias .also a hole at L, to admit a small le¬
ver for screwing it into wood with more readiness and
facility. A thin plate of brass k is soldered to the
Kneed tube about half an inch above the round hole G
so as to prevent rain from falling into it. There is
ikewise a crooked tube AB (fig. 6.) to be put occa¬
sionally upon the mouth of the kneed tube F, in order
0 prevent ram from being blown into the mouth of the
«b. uSTai';. ‘ “ ltft 0Ut a11 "is111' ” Reposed i„
ta;Ib/l°r.‘ie0r"'-0menl"moffl,e ™J “y be ascer-
y the assistance of this instrument, by filling
r 319 ] gag
the tubes half full of water, and pushing the scale a
little up or down t.ll the o of the scale, when the in¬
strument is held up perpendicularly, be on the line with
the surface of the water in both legs of the wind-
gage. The instrument being thus adjusted, hold it un
perpendicularly, and turning the mouth of the kneed
tube towards the wind, observe how much the water
is depressed by it in the one leg, and raised in the
other. The sum of the two is the height of a column
of water which the wind is capable of sustaining at
that time ; and every body that is opposed to that
wind will be pressed upon by a force equal to the
weight of a column of water, having its base equal to
the altitude of the column of water sustained by the
wind in the wind gage. Hence the force of the wind
upon any body where the surface opposed to it is known
may be easily found j and a ready comparison may be
made betwixt the strength of one gale of wind and that
of another.
The force of the wind may be likewise measured
with this instrument, by filling it until the water runs
out of the hole G. For if we then hold it up to the
wind as before, a quantity of water will be blown out;
and if both legs of the.instrument are of the same bore,
the height of the column sustained will be equal to
double the column of water in either leg, or the sum
of what is wanting in both legs. But if the legs are
of unequal bores, neither of these will give the true
height of the column of water which the wind sustain¬
ed. But the true height may be obtained by the fol¬
lowing formulae.
Suppose that after a gale of wind which had blown
the water from A to B (fig. 7.) forcing it at the sameFi
time through the other tube out at E, the surface of '
the water should be found standing at some level DG,
and it were required to know what was the height of
the column EF or AB, which the wind sustained.
In order to obtain this, it is only necessary to find the
height of the columns DB or GF, which are con¬
stantly equal to one another ; for either of these added
to one of the equal columns AD, EG, will give the
true height of the column of water which the wind sus¬
tained.
I. Let the diameters, AC, EH, of the tubes be
respectively represented by cd; and let a=AD or
EG, and a~DB, or FG : Then it is evident, that
the column DB is to the column EG as c2x to d1a.
But these columns are equal. Therefore c*xzzd*a *
, , d*a . ’
and consequently —.
2. But if at any instant of time whilst the wind was
blowing, it was observed, that, when the water stood
at E, the top of the tube out of which it is forced,
it was depressed in the other to some given level BF*
the altitude at which it would have stood in each, had*
it immediately subsided, may be found in the fo*Ilow-
ing manner: Let £=AB or EF.—Then it is evident
that the column DB is equal to the difference of co¬
lumns EF, FG. But the diflerence of these columns
is as d2b—d*x ; and consequently x~—
d2b
For the cases when the wind blows in at the narrow
leg of the instrument : Let AB=EF=:^, EG or
AD=ro, GF=DB=:a?, and the diameters EH, GA,
respectively
G A I [320
respectively —d,ct as before. Then it is evident, that
the column AD is to the column GF as ac* to
But these columns are equal; therefore d%xz=.a c* j and
consequently is also evident that the column
AD is equal to the difference of the columns AB, DB }
but the difference of these columns is as b c2 c* x.
b c*
Therefore d%x=b c'—c'x. Whence we get ^r=^-p.
The use of the small tube of communication a b
^hg. 5.) is to check the undulation of the water, so that
the height of it may be read off from the scale with ease
and certainty. But it is particularly designed to prevent
the water from being thrown up to a much greater or
less altitude than the true height of the column which
the wind is able at that time to sustain, from its re¬
ceiving a sudden impulse whilst it is vibrating either
in its ascent or descent. As in some cases the water
in this instrument might he liable to freeze, and thus
break the tubes, Dr Lind recommends a saturated so¬
lution of sea salt to be used instead of it, which does
not freeze till Fahrenheit’s thermometer falls to o.
GAHNIA, a genus of plants belonging to the hex-
andria class. See Botany Index.
GAIETA, an ancient, handsome, and strong town of
Italy, in the kingdom of Naples, and in the Terra di La-
voro, with a fort, citadel, harbour, and bishop’s see. It
■was taken by the Austrians in 1707, and by the Spa¬
niards in 1734. It is seated at the foot of a mountain
near the sea, in E. Long. 13. 37. N. Lat. 41. 30.
GAIN, the profit or lucre a person reaps from his
trade, employment, or industry. Some derive the word
from the German getvin : whereof the Italians had made
gundagno; the French and English
There are legal and reputable gains, as well as sordid
and infamous ones. What is gained by gaming is
of the latter description. Such gains are not acknow¬
ledged by law, so that the payment is not legally bind¬
ing on the loser.
Gain, in Architecture, is the workman’s term for the
bevelling shoulder of a joist or other timber. It is used
also for the lapping of the end of the joist, &c. upon a
trimmer or girder and then the thickness ot the
shoulder is cut into the trimmer-, also bevelling up¬
wards, that it may just receive the gain ; and so the
joist and trimmer lie even and level with the surface.
This way of working is used in floors and hearths.
To Gain the Wind, in sea language, is to arrive on
the weather side or to windward of some other vessel in
sight, when both are plying to windward, or sailing as
near the wind as possible.
GAINAGE, GainagiuM, in our ancient writers,
signifies the draught oxen, horses, wain, plough, and
furniture, for carrying on the work of tillage by the
baser sort of sokeraen and villains.
Gainage is the same with what is otherwise called
tv (linage. Bracton, lib. i. cap. 9. speaking of lords and
servants, says, Ut sieos destruant, quod salvum non possit
eis esse wainagium suum. And again, lib. iii. tract. 2.
cap. I. Villanus non amerciubitur, nisi salvo wuinagio
suo: For anciently, as it appears both by Magna
Charta, and other books, the villain, when amerced, had
bis gainage or wainage free, to the end his plough might
not stand still j and the law, for the same reason, does still
3
] GAL
allow a like privilege to the husbandman j that is, his Gat
draught horses are not in many cases distrainable. |
Gainage is also used for the land itself, or the profit
raised by cultivating it.
GAINSBOBOUGH, a town of Lincolnshire in
England, 148 miles from London, seated on the east
hank of the Trent, which brings tolerably sized vessels
with the tide up to the town, about 40 miles from the
Humber. It is a large well built town, with a pretty
good trade, is noted for its ale, and has the title of an
earldom. W. Long. I. 45* •tja^ 53- r^'^le
north marsh in its neighbourhood is noted for horse
races. The Danes who invaded the kingdom brought
their ships up to this place ^ and it was here that
Sweno the Dane was murdered by one of the English,
while revelling with his companions. In the year
1643 a battle was fought here between the royalists
and the parliament forces under Cromwell. The num¬
ber of inhabitants in 1811 amounted to 5172, of whom
nearly 600 were employed in trade and manufactures.
GALACTOPHAGI, and Galactopotas, in an-
tiquity, persons who lived wholly on milk, without
corn or the use of any other food. The words are
compounded of milk $ Qafur, to eat; and
wATflf of I drink. .
Certain nations in Scythia Asiatica, as the Getae,
Nomades, &c. are famous, in ancient history, in quality
of galactophagi, or milk-eaters. Homer makes their
eloge, Iliad, lib. iii.
Ptolemy, in his geography, places the Galactophagi
between the Riphaean mountains on one side, and the
Hyrcanian sea on the other.
GALANGALS, in the Materia Medica. See
KiEMPEERIA.
GALANTHUS, the Snow-Drop, a genus of plants
belonging to the hexandria class, and in the natural
method ranking under the ninth order, Spalhaceas. See
Botany Index.
GALASHIELS, a small town in Selkirkshire m
Scotland, situated on the stream called Gala Water,
at the place where it joins the Tweed. Galashiels and
its neighbourhood have been long famous lor the ma¬
nufacture of coarse woollen cloth, known by the name
of Galashiels grey. The improved state of the agri¬
culture of this vicinity is much commended. Galashiels
is 30 miles S. E. from Edinburgh, and had 986 inha¬
bitants in 1811.
GALATA, a great suburb belonging to Constan¬
tinople, opposite to the seraglio, on the other side of the
harbour. It is here the Greeks, Armenians, Franks
Christians, and .Tews inhabit, and are allowed the exer¬
cise of their respective worships.
GALATiEA, or Galath;ea, in fabulous history,
a sea nymph, daughter of Nereus and Doris. She was
passionately loved by the Cyclops Polyphemus, whom
she treated with coldness and disdain j while Acis, a
shepherd of Sicily, enjoyed her unbounded affection.
The happiness of these two lovers was disturbed by tie
jealousy of the Cyclops, who crushed his rival to pieces
with a piece of a broken rock while he reposed on the
bosom of Galatsea. The nymph was inconsolable toi
the loss of Acis and as she could not restore him to
life, she changed him into a fountain. _
GALATIA, the ancient name of a province 01
Asia Minor, now called Amasia. It was bounded on
the
GAG E S
PI^ITE ccxxvm
Fig ■ 3.
OiKT Sl'.A GAGE .
Fuj. /.
voi it VOOT hod .
h..-, iib .1-, |0
,a:. 7" ,,
7. s ■! id
 S 
i S ■■■
I no So 7b So ip ip bo
)«?«•’•> » -■ 1
A*?. J’.
WIND GAGE
-Aw// IF. \-D.Z/'.(inr EtW/i!'
I ,tw
GAL [321] GAL
the east by Cappadocia, on the west by Blthynla, on avarice. Exemntions werp l •
the south by Pamphyha, and on the north by theEuxine the crime of murder was blotted out^ ’ ***
■ea. It WH, the n.„h part of Phrygia Mag„a , hut purchased, with a largITum of l y’ ‘tucrr"’'
upon being occupied by the Gauls was called Galatia; larities in the emneror’s minister* , fg,U'
and because situated amidst Greek colonies, and itself people • and whenTalha A g atly dlsP,ea.sed tl*e
mixed with Greeks, Gallogrceda. Strabo'Jails" it'Gn- Sy Ukhte'ha^to^ll^L1!:?01^618 ^
latia and Gallogr&cia; hence a twofold name of the ed to the tbronp tbpvP • wl\en !ie was rais’
people i Gala,, and Gallogrvci. The Greeks called it his age ttd ’the SI Z bT h" ^ 73<1 ^
Gallia Parva; to distinguish it from the Transalpine, virtues which had shone 1 r- 1, • V- 'ie 7 le
both which they called Galatia. It was reduced unde; vate man *" Galba when a pri-
the subjection of the Romans in the time ofTuotstus thle and l e lth^ ?PP'Tn- ',l,,ern,he aSCended th<i
and is now in the hands of the Turks. HertsfS „d " ’Cot he dn. , !f the
founded a church, to which he directed that epistte if hlt’peX ° emp'r°r and °f a father
which is still known by the name of the Epistle to the GALBANUM in Vhnrn,n„. „ • • r
Galatians, and was written to reclaim them from the the stem of an umbellifernn • 1 a g.UIR .ls^inS ^rom
observation of Jewish ordinances, into which they had “arts ofTfS
been seduced by some false teachers. The imVp qS l u* ? ^ubon, Botany Index.
GALAX, a genus of plants belonging to the pent- tenacfois ofl ,^0^ a° ^ 18 sem1,Pellucid»
andria class, and in the natural method ranking with and a bitterish warm^i" t°,S°nJe ““P16388”*, smell;
those of which the order is doubtful. See BotaIv iolouicd ma st wlZh nn h b'tterj0rt “ in Pak
GALAXY, in Astronomy, that long, white, lumi- posed of eZr ,wtef,;arS cir„nve™kfra^0,n''
nous track, which seems to encompass the heavens like a dark greenish oil is to be oMained f 7 tliat *
.wall, scarf, or girdle : and which is easily perceivable distilSLn whZ Cn reMated rliZ, TP b7
in a clear night, especially when the moon does not ap. of an elegant skv ’blue co'oi r Tl, tmns, become,
pear. The Greeks call it r«A«S,«, Gala™, of raA., banum a?e said b„ZZ f ^ P“"- T ? °f «al'
yatAeultg, Milk ; on account of its colour and appearance: vinegar or W'ter ^ bnf fh q I|s.sove entire]y in wmc,
the Latins, for the same reason, call it viaZctea rnTruawirhreVardtothr. if™ a"'7 ^‘'*1
milky way. It passes between Sagittarius and Gemini, wine or oils prove i lore effect [U,£ ’ iu^ d° Spmt i°f
and divides the sphere into two parts ; it is unequally Test d,°solvenfTs a ZZ, I, t';‘S !I,e
broad ; and in some parts is single, in others double. and one of wate- G'll" ° W° partS.5plr.lt of wlne
°"ro-
.^disposed in the regions of the heavens answering port. Whe'nTh^iZ iSSsI hmd buZhZa’j”‘
Others, finding that the Galaxy was seen all over K Caflry/.ier toP sa,ls (that is, hoisted up to the
the globe, that it always corresponded to the same fixed blfis vL stronZll ^ “ '“ff ^ ^r6” i
.tars, and that it transcended the height of the highest gale When tS i? 7 '3 “ ff’ n”"'?’ “ frMb
planets, set aside Aristotle’s opiniont and placed t e Umm be irbuUil fi- l v" 0n£ “““ rc""?’
Galaxy in the firmament, or region of the fixed stars more of If I , ?d ‘,,0,w,nS- mf «f ‘l>em finds
■nd concluded it to be nithing^ut an temCof gZ away from .ht^ ‘h'7 ,hat ^ ^
an inhnite number of minute stars. Gatv 71.. TrT, • . j i i . .
hafta^uis^i:'1^^;?^; 3th^ai5!8t8;fbr?^-r^n,s:
innumerable multitude of little stars, so remote ^hat irati n ataR T3 CU°Se" lnin‘!ter of BaPt‘st congre-
quaked eye confounds them. See Asxaox’oMy, brac,ical, wt^,,;"
bornTthTD8 Sur,c,Dfis’a R“”a? rpE™’ ^ St/
solitary pursuits, chiefly to avoid the suspicions of Nero. nisSr birft S He Z'P PTwP ^
^ PUt t0 d^P^ t ^/chltthTtnall,^ otih/'at^
saluted emperor° Whe'nh0"110"^’ ^ pilbhcly c°nformity, than to submit to it contrary to his con-
b. sn&rThZelfTo t "a8 a n't” ‘be ",r0n,'> Scie”ce’ He afterward, engaged b/philip Lord
noosed the goods of the .®?vern® f favourites, who \I barton as tutor to his sons, whom he attended to an
Vol. ix.r«t I. 1° 6 t0 P y ,btir academf « Caen in Normandy; and when this duty
* S * wan
GAL
[ 322 3
GAL
was fulfilled, he became pastor over a congregation of
private conventiclers in Holborn. He died in 1678 ,
and is principally known by an elaborate work, .n-
titled the Court of the Gentiles, calculated to show
that the Pagan philosophers derived their most sublime
sentiments from the Scriptures.
Gate Dr Thomas, a learned divine, born at
Scruton in Yorkshire, in the year 1636, was educate
at Cambridge, and at length became P^>te^r ^
Greek language in that university. He was a ter
lards chosen head master of St PauPs school, London
and was employed by the city in writing those elegant
inscriptions on the monument erected in memory of
he conflagration in 1666. In 1676 he was collated
to a prebend in the cathedral of St Paul’s , and was
likewise elected a fellow of the Royal Society to
which he presented a Roman urn with its ashes. About
the vear 1607, he gave to the new library of Trinity col-
leae^ in Cambridge, a great number of Arabian manu¬
scripts •, and in the same year he was admitted dean of
York. He died in that city in 1702J and was interred m
the cathedral, where a monument, with a Latin inscrip-
0„, was erected to his memory. He was a learned
divine, a great historian, one of the best Greek scholars
of his age, and maintained a correspondence with the
most learned men abroad as well as at home. He pub¬
lished, 1. Histories Poetic* Antiqui Scriptores, octavo.
2. Opuscula Mythologica, Ethica, etPhysica, in Gieel
and Latin, octavo. 3. Herodoti Histona, fo 10. 4.
Histories Anglican* Scriptores qmnque,m toiio. 5.
Histori* Britannic*, Saxonic*, Anglo-Dame*, her ip-
tores quindecim, in folio. 6. Bhetores Selech, Sec.
GALEA, in antiquity, a light casque, head piece,
or morrion, coming down to the shoulders, and com¬
monly of brass; though Camillus, according to Plutarch,
ordered those of his army to be of iron, as being the
stronger metal. The lower part of it was called buccula,
and on the top was a crest. The velites wore alight
galea, made of the skin of some wild beast to make it
more terrible.
GALEASSE, a large low-built vessel, m which both
sails and oars are used, and the largest of all the vessels
that make use of the latter. It may carry twenty guns,
and has a stern capable ol lodging a great number 0
marines. It has three masts, which are never to be
lowered or taken down. It has also thirty-two benches
of rowers ; and to each bench six or seven slaves, who
sit under cover. This vessel is at present used only )y
the Venetians. . ..
GALEGA, a genus of plants belonging to the dia-
delphia class; and in the natural method ranking
under the 32d order, Bapilionace*. See Botany
GALEN, Claudius, in Latin Golems, prince of
the Greek physicians after Hippocrates, was born at
Pergamus in the Lesser Asia, about the year 131. His
father was possessed of a considerable fortune ; was well
versed in polite literature, philosophy, astronomy, and
geometry ; and was also well skilled in architecture.
He himself instructed his son in the first rudiments of
Gale
GaUr
sources of literature that were to be found at home,
he resolved to travel, in order to converse with the most
able physicians in all parts, intending at the same time
to take every opportunity of inspecting on the spot
the plants and drugs of the countries through which
he passed. With this view he went to Alexandria,
and staid some years in that metropolis of Egypt;
from thence he travelled through Cilicia; passed
through Palestine ; visited the isles of Crete and Cy-
prus; and made two voyages to Lemnos in order to
examine the Lemnian earth, which was then esteemed
an admirable medicine. With the same view he went
into the Lower Syria, in order to obtain a thorough
insight into the n'ature of the opobalsamum, or balm
of Gilead ; and having completed his design, returned
home by the way of Alexandria.
Galen had been four years at Pergamus, where his
practice was attended with extraordinary applause,
when some seditious commotions induced him to go to
Rome where he resolved to settle: but the proots hs
gave of his superior skill, added to the respect shown
him by several persons of very high rank, created him
so many enemies among his brethren of the faculty,
that he was obliged to quit the city, after haying
resided there four or five years. But he bad not long
returned to Pergamus, when he was recalled by the
emperors Aurelius and Verus. After their death he
retired to his native country ; where he died about the
year 200. He wrote in Greek ; and is said to have
composed two hundred volumes, which were unhappily
burnt in the temple of Peace. _ The best editions of
those that remain, are, that printed at Basil in 1538,
in five volumes, and that of Venice in 1625, in seven
volumes. Galen was of a weak and delicate constitu¬
tion, as he himself asserts ; but he nevertheless, by his
temperance and skill in physic, arrived at a great age;
for ft was his maxim, always to rise from table with
some degree of appetite. He is justly considered as
the greatest physician of antiquity, next to Hippocra¬
tes ; and he performed such surprising cures, that he
was accused of magic. . . , r xr '
Galen, a military township in the state ot INew-
York, situated on the creek of Cauadaque, about 12
miles north-west of Cayuga lake, and 13 south by east
of Great Sodus. .
GALENA, a name given by mineralogists to a spe¬
cies of lead ore. See LEAD-Mine, and MINERALOGY
Index. It was also the original name given by Andro-
machus to the theriaca, from its effect in bringing on a
pleasing calm over the blood and spirits on taking 1 •
GALENIA, a genus of plants belonging to the oc-
tandria class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 13th order, Succulent*. See Botany Index.
GALENIC, or Galenical, in Medicine, that
manner of considering and treating diseases, founded
on the principle of Galen, or introduced by GalEN.
This author, collecting and digesting what the physi¬
cians before him had done, and explaining every thing
according to the strictest doctrine of the Per,Patet'® *
set physic on a new footing : he introduced the 1
He himself instructed his son in the first rudiments of set physiccn new and
learning, and afterwards procured bim the grgt^st tn ^ ^ ^ the fou’r humourg or temperaments.
VI ..... e,.., GALt™ U ngJnveOlj «»»* “Uo
GAL [ 323 ] GAL
sioned by a division of the practitioners of medicine
into two sects, which happened on the introduction of
chemistry into medicine. Then the chemists, arrogat¬
ing to themselves every kind of merit and ability, stir¬
red up an opposition to their pretensions, founded on the
invariable adherence of the other party to the ancient
practice. And though this division into the two sects
of galenists and chemists has long since ceased, yet the
distinction of medicines which resulted from it is still
sometimes observed.
Galenical medicines are those which are formed by
the easier preparations of herbs, roots, &c. by infusion,
decoction, Sic. and by combining and multiplying in¬
gredients; while those of chemistry draw their more
intimate and remote virtues by means of fire and ela¬
borate preparations, as calcination, digestion, fermen¬
tation, Sec.
GALENISTS, a denomination given to such phy¬
sicians as practise, prescribe, or write, on the galenical
principles; and stand opposed to the chemists. See
Galenical. At present the galenists and chemists
are pretty well accommodated ; and most of our physi¬
cians use the preparations and remedies of both.
Galenists, or Galenites, in church history, a branch
of Mennonites or Anabaptists, who take in several of
the opinions of the Socinians, or rather Arians, touch¬
ing the divinity of our Saviour. In 1664 the Water-
iandians were divided into two parties, of which the
one were called Galenists, and the other Apostolians.
They are thus called from their leader Abr. Galenus,
a learned and eloquent physician of Amsterdam, who
considered the Christian religion as a system that laid
much less stress on faith than practice; and who was
for taking into the communion of the Mennonites all
those who acknowledged the divine origin of the books
of the Old and New Testament, and led holy and vir¬
tuous lives.
GALLON. See Galleon.
GALEOPSIS, a genus of plants belonging to the
didynamia class ; and in the natural method ranking
under the 42d order, Verticillatce. See Botany
Index.
GALERICULUM, was a cap worn both by men
and women amongst the ancient Romans. It consisted
of skin, which was so neatly dressed with human hair,
that the artificial covering could scarcely be distinguish¬
ed from the natural. It was used by those whose hair
was thin; and by wrestlers, to keep their own hair
from receiving any injury from the nasty oils with
which they were rubbed all over before they exercised.
It seems to have resembled our wigs.
GALIANI, Ferdinand, an eminent Italian wri¬
ter. See Supplement.
GALIC or Gaelic Language. See Highlands.
GALICIA, a province of Spain, bounded on the
north and west by the ocean, on the south by Portugal,
and on the east by Asturias and the kingdom of Leon.
The air is temperate along the coast; but, in other
places, it is cold and moist. It is but thinly peopled;
and the produce is wine, flax, and citrons : the soil is
unequal, but affords good pasture. St Jago di Compo-
stella is the capital town.
GALILEE, once a province of Judea, now of
Turkey in Asia, was bounded by Mount Lebanon on
the north, by the river Jordan and the sea of Galilee
on the east, by the Chison on the south, and by the
Mediterranean on the west. It was the scene of many
of our Saviour’s miracles ; but the bounds of the coun¬
try are not now well known, nor yet the places where
many of the towns stood.
GALILEANS, a sect of the Jews. Their founder
was one Judas a native of Galilee, from which place
they derived their name. Their chief, esteeming it an
indignity for the Jews to pay tribute to strangers, raised
up his countrymen against the edict of the emperor Au¬
gustus, which had ordered a taxation or enrolment of
all the subjects of the Roman empire.
They pretended that God alone should be owned as
Master and Lord, and in other respects were of the
opinion of the Pharisees ; but, as they judged it un¬
lawful to pray for infidel princes, they separated them¬
selves from the rest of the Jews, and performed their
sacrifices apart.
As our Saviour and his apostles were of Galilee, they
were suspected to be of the sect of Galileans ; and it
was on this principle, as St Jerome observes, that the
Pharisees laid a snare for him ; asking, Whether it was
lawful to give tribute to Ctesar; that in case he denied
it, they might have an occasion of accusing him.
GALILEO Galilei, the famous mathematician
and astronomer, was the son of a Florentine nobleman,
and born in the year 1564. He had from his infancy
a strong inclination to philosophy and the mathema¬
tics ; and made prodigious progress in these sciences.
In 1592, he was chosen professor of mathematics at
Padua; and during his abode there he invented, it is
said, the telescope ; or, according to others, improved
that instrument, so as to make it fit for astronomical ob¬
servations: (See Astronomy, N* 27.). In 1611, Cos¬
mo II. grand duke of Tuscany, sent for him to Pisa,
where he made him professor of mathematics with a
handsome salary, and soon after inviting him to Flo¬
rence, gave him the office and title of principal philo-
sopher and mathematician to his highness.
He had been but a few years at Florence, before he
was convinced by sad experience, that Aristotle’s doc¬
trine, however ill grounded, was held too sacred to b§
called in question. Having observed some solar spots
in 1612, he printed that discovery the following year
at Rome ; in which, and in some other pieces, he ven¬
tured to assert the truth of the Copernican system, and
brought several new arguments to confirm it. For these
he was cited before the inquisition ; and after some
months imprisonment, was released upon a simple pro¬
mise, that he would renounce his heretical opinions,
and not defend them by word or writing. But having
afterwards, in 1632, published at Florence his “ Dia¬
logues of the two greatest systems of the world, the
Ptolemaic and Copernican,” he was again cited before
the inquisition, and committed to the prison of that
ecclesiastical court at Rome. In June 22d N. S. that
year, the congregation convened: and in his presence
pronounced sentence against him and his books, ob¬
liging him to abjure his errors in the most solemn man¬
ner j committed him to the prison of their office dur¬
ing pleasure; and enjoined him, as a saving penance^
for three years to come, to repeat once a-week the
seven penitential psalms: reserving to themselves, how¬
ever, the power of moderating, changing, or taking
away altogether or in part, the above*inentioDed punish-
S s 2 ment
Galilee
(1
Galileo.
G
GH'ileo ment and penance.    ,
H a prisoner till 1634; and his « Dialogues of the system
Gall, of the World1’ were burnt at Home.
—v—^ He lived ten years after this, seven of which were
employed in making still further discoveries with his te¬
lescope. But by the continual application to that in¬
strument, added to the damage he received in his sight
A L [ 324 ] G A L
On this sentence, he was detained of the bile, owing to the heat of the preceding summer.
On this occasion he takes notice ot a common mistake
among physicians, who frequently prescribe elixir of vi¬
triol in those diseases where vinegar or lemon juice
would be much more effectual.
From this effect of acids on the gall, he also thinks,
we may see why the immoderate use of acids is so per-
strumem, auucu Tj""6” " „rew gradually weak- nicious to digestion. It is necessary to health that the
from the nocturnal air, Z bore gall should be in some degree acrid and alkalescent:
er, till he became to y i but as acids have the property of rendering it perfectly
mild and sweet, they must be proportionably pernici¬
ous to the due concoction and assimilation of the food;
which without an acrid bile cannot be accomplished.
Hence the body is deprived of its proper nourishment
and support, the blood becomes vapid and^ watery,
and a fatal cachexy unavoidably ensues. This hath
been the case with many unfortunate persons, who, in
order to reduce their excessive corpulency, have indul¬
ged themselves in the too free use of vinegar. From
the mild state of the gall in young children, Dr Per-
cival also thinks it is, that they are so much troubled
with acidities.
GALL-Bladder. See Anatomy, N° 97.
Gall, in Natural History, denotes any protuberahc*
or tumour produced by the puncture of insects on plants
and trees of different kinds.
These galls are of various forms and sizes, and no
less different with regard to their internal structure.
Some have only one cavity, and others a number of
small cells communicating with each other. Some of
them are as hard as the wood of the tree they grow
whilst others are soft and spongy; the first being
G&li
er, tin ne ueurtms ^ .v r
this calamity with patience and resignation, worthy ot
a great philosopher. The loss neither broke his spirit,
nor hindered the course of his studies. He supplied
the defect by constant meditation : whereby he prepared
a large quantity of materials, and began to dictate his
own conceptions ; when, by a distemper of three months
continuance, wasting away by degrees, he expired at
Arcetti near Florence, in January 1042, JN. 0. in the
ySth year of his age. . „ .. . ^
' Among various useful inventions of which Galileo was
the author, is that of the simple pendulum, which he
had made use of in his astronomical experiments. lie
had thought of applying it to clocks *, but dui not exe¬
cute it: the glory of that invention was reserved tor
Vicenzio his son,' who made the experiment at \ enice
in 1640 ; and M. Huygens afterwards carried this in¬
vention to perfection. He wrote a great number of
treatises, several of which were published m a collec¬
tion by Signior Mendessi, under the title of Z opera di
Galileo Galilei Lynceo. Some of these, with others of
his pieces, were translated into English and published
by Thomas Salisbury, Esq. in his mathematical collec¬
tions See. in two volumes folio. A volume also of his
letters to several learned men, and solutions of several
problems, were printed at Bologna in quarto. Besides
these, he wrote many others, which were unfortunately
lost through his wife’s devotion *, who, solicited by her
confessor, gave him leave to peruse her husband s manu¬
scripts ; of which he tore and took away as many as he
said„were not fit to be published.
GALINACEUS lapis. See Gallinaceus.
GALIUM, a genus of plants belonging to the te-
trandia class ; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 47th order, Stellatce. See Botany Index.
GALL, in the animal economy. See Bile.
Gall was generally given amongst tlie Jews to per¬
sons suffering death under the execution of the law, to
make them less sensible of their pain; but gall and
myrrh are supposed to have been the same thing ; be¬
cause at our Saviour’s crucifixion, St Matthew says,
they gave him vinegar to drink mingled with gall;
whereas St Mark calls it wine mingled with myrrh.
The truth of the matter perhaps is, that they distin¬
guished every thing bitter by the name of gall. The
Greeks and Romans also gave such a mixture to persons
suffering a death of torture.
A great number of experiments have been made
upon the gall of different animals, but few conclusions
oan be drawn from them with any certainty. Dr Per-
cival, however, hath shown, that putrid bile may be
perfectly corrected and sweetened by an admixture of
the vegetable acids, vinegar, and juice of lemons. These,
he observes, have this effect much more completely than
the mineral ones : and hence, he thinks, arises the great
usefulness of the vegetable acids in autumnal diseases;
which are always attended with a putrescent disposition
termed gall nuts, and the latter berry galls, or applt
galls. . . .
The general history of the gall is this. An insect 01
the fly kind (the cynips) is instructed by nature to taka
care for the safety of her young, by lodging her eggs
in a woody substance, where they will be defended
from all injuries: she for this purpose wounds the leaves
or tender branches of a tree ; and the lacerated vessels,
discharging their contents, soon form tumours about th#
holes thus made. The external coat of this excrescence
is dried by the air; and grows into a figure which bears
some resemblance to the bow of an arch, or the round¬
ness of a kernel. This little ball receives its nutriment,
growth, and vegetation, as the other parts of the tree,
by slow degrees, and is what we caU the gall nut. The
worm that is hatched under this spacious vault, finds in
the substance of the ball, which is as yet very tender, a
subsistence suitable to its nature; gnaws and digests it
till the time comes for its transformation to a nymph,
and from that state of existence changes into a fly. Af¬
ter this, the insect, perceiving itself duly provided with
all things requisite, disengages itself soon from its con¬
finement, and takes its flight into the open air. Tb*
case, however, is not similar with respect to the gall
nut that grows in autumn. The cold weather frequent¬
ly comes on before the worm is transformed into a fly,
or before the fly can pierce through its enclosure. Tb«
nut falls with the leaves; and although you may ima¬
gine that the fly which lies within is lost, yet in reality
it is not so ; on the contrary, its being covered up so
close, is the means of its preservation. Thus it spend*
the winter in a warm house, where every crack ana
cranny of the nut is well stopped up; and.lies buried »»
GAL
[ 325 3
GAL
it were under a heap of leaves, which preserves it from
the injuries of the weather. This apartment, however,
though so commodious a retreat in the winter, is a per¬
fect prison in the spring. The fly, roused from its le¬
thargy by the first heats, breaks its way through, and
ranges where it pleases. A very small aperture is suf¬
ficient, since at this time the fly is but a diminutive
creature. Besides, the ringlets whereof its body is
composed dilate and become pliant in the passage.
Oak galls put, in a very small quantity, into a solu¬
tion of vitriol in water, though but a very weak one,
give it a purple or violet colour : which, as it grows
•tronger, becomes black; and on this property depends
the art of making our writing ink, as also the arts of
dyeing and dressing leather, and other manufactures.
See Ink, Chemistry Index.
The best galls come from Aleppo : these are not
quite round and smooth like the other sorts, but have
several tubercles on the surface. Galls have a very
austere styptic taste, without any smell : they are very
strong astringents, and as such have been sometimes
made use of both internally and externally, but are not
much taken notice of by the present practice. Some
recommend an ointment of powdered galls and hogs
lard as very effectual in certain painful states of hsemor-
rhois j and it is alleged, that the internal use of galls
has cured intermittents after the Peruvian bark has
failed. A mixture of galls with a bitter and aromatic
has been proposed as a substitute for the bark.
Gall, St, a considerable town in Swisserland, and
in the Upper Thurgow, with a rich and celebrated ab¬
bey, whose abbot is a prince of the empire. This place
has for some time been a republic, in alliance with the
cantons. It is not very large j but well built, neat,fand
populous. It contains about 10,000 inhabitants, who,
are chiefly employed in the linen manufacture ; and
make annually, it is said, 40,000 pieces of linen, of 200
ells each; which renders it one of the richest towns in
Swisserland. The inhabitants are Protestants j for
which reason there are often great contests between them
«nd the abbey about religious affairs. It is seated in a
narrow barren valley, between two mountains, and up¬
on two small streams. E. Long. 2. 59. N. Lat. 47.
Gall-Fly. See Cynips, Entomology Index.
GALL A, an Abyssinian nation, originally dwelling,
as Mr Bruce supposes, under the line, and exercising
the profession of shepherds, which they still continue
to do. For a number of years, our author tells us,
they have been constantly migrating northwards, though
the cause of this migration is not known. At first they
had no horses j the reason of which was, that the coun¬
try they came from did not allow these animals to breed :
hut as they proceeded northward and conquered some
of the Abyssinian provinces, they soon furnished them-
*«lvea with such numbers, that they are now almost en¬
tirely cavalry, making little account of infantry in their
trmies. On advancing to the frontiers of Abyssinia,
the multitude divided, and part directed their course to¬
wards the Indian ocean $ after which, having made a
nettlement in ‘the eastern part of the continent, they
turned southward into the countries of Bali and Dawaw,
which they entirely conquered, and settled there in the
year I537< Another division having taken a westerly
course, spread themselves in asemicircle along the banks
of the Nile j surrounding the country of Gojam, and
passing eastward behind the country of the Agows, ex¬
tended their possessions as far as the territories of the
Gongas and Gafats. Since that time the Nile has been
the boundary of their possessions j though they have
very frequently plundered, and sometimes conquered,
the Abyssinian provinces on the other side of the river,
but have never made any permanent settlement in these
parts. A third division lias settled to the southward of
the low country of Shoa, which the governor of that
province has permitted, in order to form a barrier be¬
twixt him and the territories of the emperor, on whom
he scarcely acknowledges any dependence.
The Galla are of a brown complexion, and have
long black hair ; but some of them who live in the val¬
leys are entirely black. At first their common food was
milk and buttery but since their intercourse with the
Abyssinians, they have learned to plough and sow their
land, and to make bread. They seem to have predi¬
lection for the number seven, and each of the three di¬
visions already mentioned is subdivided into seven
tribes. In behaviour they are extremely barbarous ; and
live in continual war with the Abyssinians, whom they
murder without mercy as often as they fall into their
hands. They cut off the privities of the men, and bang
them up in their houses by way of trophies ; and are so
cruel as to rip up women with child, in hopes of thus
destroying a male. Yet notwithstanding their excessive
cruelty abroad, they live under the strictest discipline
at home $ and every broil or quarrel is instantly punish¬
ed according to the nature of the offence. Each of the
th ree divisions of the Galla above mentioned has a king
of its own j and they also have a kind of nobility, from
among whom the sovereign can only be chosen : how¬
ever, the commonalty are not excluded from rising to
the rank ot nobles if they distinguish themselves very,
much in battle. None of the nobility can be elected
till upwards of 40 years of age, unless he has with his
own hand killed a number of enemies which added to
his own age makes up 40. There is a council of each
of the seven tribes, which meets separately in its own
district, to settle how many are to be left behind for the
governing and cultivating of the territory, and other
matters of importance. These nations have all a great
veneration for a tree which grows plentifully in their
country, called wanxey, and which these superstitious
people are even said to adore as a god. Their assem¬
blies for the choice of a king are all held under one of
these trees j and when the sovereign is chosen, they put
a bludgeon of this wood in his-hand by way of sceptre,
and a garland of the flowers upon his head.
The Galla are reported to be very good soldiers,
especially in cases of surprise 5 but, like most other
barbarians, have no constancy nor perseverance after the
first attack. They will, however, perform extraordi¬
nary marches, swimming rivers holding by the horse’s
tail, and thus being enabled to do very great mischief
by reason of the rapidity of their movements. They
are excellent light horse for a regular army in a hostile
country j but are very indifferently armed, on account
of the scarcity of iron among them. Their principal
arms are lances made of wood sharpened at the end
and hardened in the fire j and their shields are com¬
posed only of one single fold of bull’s hide ; so that
they are extremely apt. to warp by heat, or become, too
soft
Gall.
326 ] GAL
the principal was Cornelius, who flourished about the
1600. He learned the art of engraving from his fa- y
ther, and imitated his stiff stile, till he went to Rome,
where he resided a considerable time, and there acquir-^ ^
ed that freedom, taste, and correctness of drawing,
which are found in his best works. He settled at
Antwerp upon his return from Italy, where he carried
on a considerable commerce in prints. His best punts
are those done after Rubens.
GALLEON, in naval affairs, a sort of ships em¬
ployed in the commerce of the West Indies. The Spa¬
niards send annually two fleets; the one for Mexico,
which they call the Jiota ; and the other for Peru, which
they call the galleons* See Flota. ....
J3y a general regulation made in Spain, it has been
established, that there should be twelve men of war and
five tenders annually fitted out for the armada or gal¬
leons ; eight ships of 600 tons burden each, and three
tenders, one ot 100 tons, for the island Margarita,
and two of 80 each, to follow the armada j for the
GAL [
soft in wet weather. They are exceedingly cruel;
and make a shrill horrid noise at the beginning of
every engagement, which greatly terrifies the horses,
and very often the barbarous riders which oppose them.
The Galla, according to Mr Bruce’s account, are
somewhat below the middle size, but extreme y light
and nimble. The women are fruitful*, and sutter so
little in childbearing, that they do not even confine
themselves for a single day after delivery. They
plough, sow, and reap the corn, which is trodden out
by the cattle *, but the men have all the charge of
cattle in the fields. In their customs they are filthy
to the last degree *, plaiting their hair with gut® oi
oxen, which they likewise twist round then* middle, and
which by the quick putrefaction occasion an abominable
stench. They anoint their heads and whom bodies with
butter or grease ; in which, as well as in other respects,
they greatly resemble the Hottentots It has been sup¬
posed that they have no religion whatever, but ^   
Bruce is of opinion that this is a mistake. ^ New Spain Heet, two ’ships of 600 tons each, and two
he says is undoubtedly worshipped by all the - ~ * * ** 41 - *«»,«
a god : ’and they have likewise certain stones which are
worshipped as‘gods : besides these, they worship the
moon, and some stars, when in certain positrons, and at
moon- aim sumc   * . .
some particular seasons of the year. They all believe in
a resur rection ; and have some faint notions of a state of
happiness, but no idea of future punishment. Some of
them to the southward profess the Mahometan religion,
but those to the east and west are generally Pagans.
All of them intermarry with each other j but will not
allow strangers to live among them, though the Moors
have at last found out a method of trading safely with
them. The commodities they deal m are blue Surat
cloths, myrrh, and salt*, the last being the most va.ua-
The marriages among the Galla are celebrated with
some of the disgusting customs of the Hottentots *, and
after these ceremonies the bridegroom promises to give
the bride meat and drink while she lives, and to bury
her when dead. Polygamy is allowed among them j
but it is singular, that among these people the women
solicit their husbands to take others to their embraces.
The reason of this custom is, that the men may have
numerous families of children, who may be capaole ot
defending them against their enemies *, as the Gal a, ac¬
cording to our author, always fight in famines, whether
against foreign enemies or with one another. ^
GALLAND, Anthony, a learned antiquarian,
member of the Academy of Inscriptions, and professor
of Arabic in the Eoyal College of Pans, was born ot
poor parents at Rollo, a village in Picardy. Having
studied at the Sorbonne and other universities, he tra¬
velled into the east*, where he acquired great skill in the
Arabic tongue, and in the manners of the Mahome¬
tans. He wrote several works; the principal ot which
are *l. An account of the Death of the Sultan Osman,
ard the Coronation of the Sultan Mustapha. 2. A
Collection of Maxims, drawn from the works of the
Orientals. 3. A Treatise on the Origin ot Coffee.
4. The Arabian Nights Entertainments, &c.
GALLANT, or GalaNT, a French term adopted
into our language, and signifying polite, civil, and well
bred, with a disposition to please, particularly the ladies.
It also signifies brave or courageous.
GALLE, the name of several engravers, or whom
tenders of 80 each 5 and for the Honduras fleet, two
ships of 500 tons each : and in case no fleet happened
to sail any year, three galleons and a tender should be
sent to New Spain for the plate.
They are appointed to sail from Cadiz in January,
that they may arrive at Porto Bello about the middle
of April *, where, the fair being over, they may take
aboard the plate, and be at Havannah with it about
the middle of June *, where they are joined by the flota
that they may return to Spain with the greater safety.
GALLEOT, a small galley designed only for chase,
carrying but one mast and two pattereroes j it can
both sail and row, and has 16 or 20 oars. All the
seamen on board are soldiers, and each has a musket
by him on quitting his oar.
GALLERIES, in Gardening, are certain orna¬
ments made with trees of different kinds*, which m
very common in all the French gardens, but are seldom
introduced into the British ones, especially since the
taste for clipped trees has been exploded, lor those,
however, who may still choose to have them, Mr Mil¬
ler gives the following directions.
In order to make a gallery in a garden with porticoes
and arches, a line must first be drawn of the length you
design the gallery to be j which being done, it is to be
planted with hornbeam, as the foundation of the galle¬
ry. The management of galleries is not difficult, ihey
require only to be digged round about*, and sheered a
little when there is occasion. The chief curiosity re¬
quired is in the ordering the fore part of the gallery,
and in forming the arches. Each pillar of the porticoes or
arches ought to be four feet distant from another, and tne
gallery 12 feet high and 10 feet wide, that there may be
100m for two or three persons to walk abreast. VV hen the
hornbeams are grown to the height of three feet, the
distance of the pillars well regulated, and the gr°u
work of the gallery finished, the next thing to be done
fnrm thp frontisniece; to perform which, you muA
is to form the frontispiece j to perform which, you
stop the hornbeam between two pillars for that purpose,
which forms the arch. As it grows, you must wills
your sheers cut off those boughs which outshoot the 0-
thers. In time they will grow strong, and may be kep
in form by the sheers. Portico galleries may be covei-
ed with lime trees. ' GAIiLEKY,
G A L> [ 327 ] GAL
;r», GALLERY, in Architecture, a covered place in a
house, much longer than broad, and usually in the wings
" of a building, its use being chiefly to walk in.
Gallery, in Fortification, a covered walk across the
ditch of a town, made of strong beams covered over
with planks, and loaded with earth : sometimes it is
covered with raw hides, to defend it from the artificial
fires of the besieged.
Gallery of a Mine, is a narrow passage or branch
of a mine carried on under ground to a work designed
to be blown up. See Mine.
Gallery, in a ship, that beautiful frame, which is
made in the form of a balcony, at the stern of a ship
without board ; into which there is a passage out of the
admiral’s or captain’s cabin, and is for the ornament of
the ship.
GALLEY, a kind of low flat-built vessel, furnished
with one deck, and navigated with sails and oars, par¬
ticularly in the Mediterranean. By the Greek authors
under the eastern empire, this kind of vessel was called
and yvRftx *, and by the Latin authors of the same
time, ga/ea ; whence, according to some, the modem
denomination. Some say it was called galea, on ac¬
count of a casque or helmet which is carried on its prow,
as Ovid attests, de Tristibus. The French call it gal ere;
by reason, they say, that the top of the mast is usually
cut in the form of a hat, which the Italians call galero.
Others derive both galea, and galere, from a fish by
the Greeks called yaXiami or %i<pixs, and by us the
sword-fish, which this vessel resembles. Lastly, Others
derive the galley, galea, galere, galeasse, &c. from the
Syriac and Chaldee gaul, and galin, a man exposed on
tfie water in a vessel of wood.
The largest sort of these vessels is employed only
by the Venetians. They are commonly 162 feet long
above, and 133 feet by the keel j 32 feet wide, with
23 feet length of stern post. They are furnished with
three masts, and 32 banks of oars j every bank con¬
taining two pars, and every oar being managed by six
or seven slaves, who are usually chained thereto. In
the fore part they have three little batteries of cannon,
of which the lowest is of two 36 pounders, the second
of two 24 pounders, and the uppermost of two 2 poun¬
ders: three 18 pounders are also planted on each quar¬
ter. The complement of men for one of these galleys
is 1000 or 1200. They are esteemed extremely con¬
venient for bombarding or making a descent upon
an enemy’s coast, as drawing but little water ; and
having by their oars frequently the advantage of a ship
of war, in light winds or calms, by cannonading the lat¬
ter near the surface of the water ; by scouring her
whole length with their shot, and at the same time
keeping on her quarter or bow, so as to be out of the
direction of her cannon.
The galleys next in size to these, which are also
called half galleys, are from 120 to 130 feet long, 18
feet broad, and nine or ten feet deep. They have two
masts which may be struck at pleasure $ and are fur¬
nished with two large lateen sails, and five pieces of
cannon. They have commonly 25 banks of oars, as
described above. A size still less than these are called
quarter galleys, carrying from 12 to 16 banks of oars,
ihere are very few galleys now besides those in the
Mediterranean, which are found by experience to be of
little utility except in fine weather} a circumstance
which renders their service extremely precarious. They Galley,
generally keep close under the shore, but sometimes Galli.’
venture out to sea to perform a summer cruise. w—y—
GALLEY-Worm, in Zoology. See Iulus, Entomo¬
logy Index.
GALLI, in antiquity, a name given to the priests
of Cybele, from the river Gailus in Phrygia } but of
the etymology of the name we have no certain account.
All that we learn with certainty about them is, that
they were eunuchs and Phrygians, and that in their
solemn processions they danced, bawled, drummed,
cut and slashed themselves, played upon timbrels,
pipes, cymbals, &c. and driving about an ass loaded
with the sacred rites and trumpery of their goddess.
When a young man was to be initiated, he was to
throw off his clothes, run crying aloud into the midst
of their troop, and there draw a sword and castrate
himself} after this he was to run into the street with
the parts cut off, in his hand, throw them into some
house, and in the same house put on a woman’s
dress. |
These priests had the names also of Curetes, Cory-
bantes, and Dactyli. The chief priest was called Archi-
Gallus. This order of priesthood is found both amongst
the Greeks and Romans. See an account of them in
Lucret. lib. ii. and Itiv. Sat. vi.
Galli, the Gauls.' See Gallia and Gauls.
Galli, five small desolate islands on the coast of the
Principato Citra of Naples. They are supposed to be
the Syrenusae, or islands once inhabited by the Sirens,
which Ulysses passed with so much caution and hazard.
Great revolutions, however, have been occasioned in
their shape, size, and number, by the effects ®f
subterranean fire } and some learned persons go so
far as to assert, that these rocks have risen from the
bottom of the sea since Homer sang his rhapsodies }
consequently, that those monsters dwelt on some other
spot, pi'obably Sicily or Capri. The tradition of Si¬
rens residing hereabouts is very ancient and universally
admitted 5 but what they really were, divested of their
fabulous and poetical disguise, it is not easy to disco¬
ver. See Siren.
The Sirenusse were only three in number} and there¬
fore if these and the Galli be the same, two more must
have since risen, or the three have been split into five by'
a subterraneous convulsion. On the largest is a watch-
tower, and the next has a deserted hermitage. The -
principal island is only a narrow semicircular ridge
covered with a shallow coat of soil} two other little
islands and some jagged rocks just peeping above the
waves, correspond with this one so as to trace the out¬
line of a volcanical crater. The composition of them
all is at top a calcareous rock, extremely shaken, tum¬
bled, and confused, mixed with masses of breccia, dis¬
posed in a most irregular manner; below these is lava,
and the deeper the eye follows it the stronger are the
marks of fire : below the surface of the water, and in
some places above it, the layers are complete blocks of
basaltes. Hence it is presumed by some that central fires
have heaved up to light the torrefied substances that
originally lay near their focus, with all the intermediate
strata that covered them from the sea. The layers in¬
cline downwards from east to west; the air seems tc
have forced its way into part of the mass while fu¬
sion, and by checking its workings caused many large
caverns
tJalli
GAL [
caverns to be left in it. These islands are uncultivated
„ and uninhabited since the old hermit of St Antonio
Gatliard. died. Myrtle covers most of the surface. ~ 7
  *  GALLIA, a large country of Europe, called Ga/fl-
tia by the Greeks. The inhabitants were called Ga//t,
Celt*, Celtibcri, and Celtoscythce. Ancient Gaul was
divided into four different parts by the Romans, called
Gallia JBelgica, Narbonensis, Aquitama, and LeUica.
Gallia Belgica was the largest province, bounded by
Germany, Gallia Narbonensis, and the German ocean ;
and containing the modern county of Alsace, Lorraine,
Picardy, with part of the Low Countries, and of Cham¬
pagne, and of the Isle of France. Gallia Narbonensis,
which contained the provinces now called Languedoc,
Provence, Dauphin/, Savoy, was bounded^by the Alps
and Pyrenean mountains, by Aquitania, Belgium, an
the Mediterranean. Aquitania Gallia, now called the
provinces of Poitou, Sanlonge, Guienne, Berry, Litnosin,
Gascogny, Auvergne, &c. was situated between the a-
rumna, the Pyrenean mountains, and the ocean. Gal¬
lia Celtica, or Lugdunensis, was bounded by Belgium,
Gallia Narbonensis, the Alps, and the ocean. It con¬
tained the country at present known by the names ot
Lyonnais, Touraine, Tranche Compte, Senenois, im'itx-
erland, and part of Normandy. Besides these grand
divisions, there is often mention made of Gallia Gisal-
pina or Citerior, Transalpina or Ulterior, which reiers
to that part of Italy which was conquered by some or
the Gauls who crossed the Alps. By Gallia Cisalpma,
the Romans understood that part of Gaul which lies in
Italy, and by Transalpina, that which lies beyond the
Alps, in regard only to the inhabitants of Rome. Gai-
lia Cispadana, and Transpadana, is applied to a part ot
Italy conquered by some of the Gauls*, and then it
means the country on this side of the To, or beyond
the Po, with respect to Rome. By Gallia 1 ogata, the
Romans understood Cisalpine Gaul, where the Roman
gowns, togce, were usually worn. Gallia Narbonensis
was called Braccata, on account of the peculiar covering
of the inhabitants for their thighs. The epithet of
Comata is applied to Gallia Celtica, because the peop e
guffered their hair to grow to an uncommon length.
The inhabitants were great warriors, and their valour
overcame the Roman armies, took the city of Rome,
and invaded Greece in different ages. They spread
themselves over the greatest part ol the worlu. I iey
were very superstitious in their religious ceremo¬
nies, and revered the sacerdotal order as if they had
been gods. They long maintained a bloody war
against the Romans, and Csesar resided ten years in
their country before he could totally subdue them. Bee
Gaul.
GALLIARD, or Gagliarda, a sort of dance
anciently in great request $ consisting of very differ¬
ent motions and actions, sometimes proceeding terra a
terra or smoothly along j sometimes capering; some¬
times along the room, and sometimes across. The
word is French, galliarde, or rather Italian ; and li¬
terally signifies, gay, merry, sprightly.” This dance
was also called Romanesque, because brought from
^°Thoinot Arbeau, in his Orchesography, describes it
as consisting of five steps, and five positions of the feet,
which the dancers performed before each other, and
328 ] GAL
whereof he gives us the score or tablature, which is of Galli
six minims, and two triple times. > ji
GALLIARD A, in the Italian music, the name of Gallif.
a tune that belongs to a dance called a Galliard. Ibe /,iW
air of it is lively and in triple time.
GALLIC acid. See Chemistry Index.
GALLICAN, any thing belonging to France ; thus
the term Gallican church denotes the church of France,
or the assembly of the clergy of that kingdom.
GALLICISM, a mode of speech peculiar to the
French language, and contrary to the rules of gram¬
mar in other languages. With us it is used to denote
such phrases or modes of speech in English as are form¬
ed after the French idiom.
GALLINACEUS lapis, a glossy mineral substance
supposed by some to be produced by the operation of vol¬
canic fires; and is thought to be the lapis obsidianus of
the ancients. See Obsidian, Mineralogy Index.
GALLINiE, an order of birds. See Ornitho¬
logy Index.
GALLINACEOUS, an appellation given to the
birds of the order of the gallinae.
GALLING, or Excoriation, in Medictne. See
Excoriation. .
Galling of a Horse's Back, a disorder occasioned
by heat, and the chafing or pinching of the saddle.
In order to prevent it, some take a hind’s skin well
garnished with hair, and fit it neatly under the pannel
of the saddle, so that the hairy side may be next the
horse. . ,
When a horse’s back is galled upon a journey, taka
out a little of the stuffing of the pannel over the swell-
inw, and sew a piece of soft white leather on the inside
of&the pannel: anoint the part with salt butter, and
every evening wipe it clean, rubbing it till it grow soft,
anointing it with salt butter, or, for want of that
with grease : wash the swelling, or hurt, every even¬
ing with cold water and soap ; and strew it with salt,
which should be left on till the horse be saddled in the
See Fulica, Ornithology /»•
a sea-port town of Italy, in the
morning.
GALLINULE.
dex.
GALLIPOLI, _ t
kingdom of Naples, and in the Terra-di-Otranto, wita
a bishop’s see. It stands on a rocky island, joined to
the continent by a bridge. From the remotest anti¬
quity this was a station so favourable to commerce,
that every maritime power wished to secure it; and it
is a reproach to government, that nothing has beea
done to improve its natural advantages : at present,
Mr Swinburne informs us, it has neither harbour nor
shelter for shipping. Charles II. demolished Uaili-
poli for its adherence to Frederick of Arragon. I'1®
Venetians treated it with great cruelty in the ijtli
century: and in 1481 it was pillaged by the lurk i.
To preserve it from future calamities, Charles v. re¬
paired and strengthened its fortifications; and, since
that period, it has enjoyed the benefits of peace and
trade, which have rendered it the most opulent and
gayest town upon the coast, though its inhabitants do
not exceed 9000 in number. Consumptions and spit
ting of blood are rather frequent here, occasioned by
the great subtility of the air, which is ventilated from
every quarter. The buildings are tolerable, and som®
[
ID
Hois
GAL
of tlie churches have good paintings. The cotton
trade brings in about 30,000 ducats a-year. Good
muslins, cotton stockings, and other parts of apparel,
"'are manufactured here, and purchased by the Proven¬
cals 5 for Gallipoli has no direct trade with the metro¬
polis. Silk and saffron were formerly objects of
traffic j but heavy duties and oppression have caused
them to be abandoned. 1 he wine of tins territory is
good; but from dryness of climate, and shallowness of
soil, the vintage frequently fails in quantity; and
then the Gallipolitans have recourse to Sicily for a
supply. Oil is the great support of the place : two
thirds of the produce of its olive plantations are ex¬
ported to France, and the north of Italy ; the re¬
mainder is sent to Naples, and other ports of the king¬
dom. Neapolitan merchants, by means of agents set¬
tled at Gallipoli, buy up the oils, from year to year,
long before an olive appears upon the tree ; and the
price is afterwards settled by public authority. The
Neapolitans sell their oil to the merchants of Leghorn ;
and, if faithfully served by their factors in Terra di
Otranto, ought to double their capital in two years.
But, to balance this advantage, they run great risks,
pay exorbitant interest, and have frequent bankrupt¬
cies to guard against. E. Long. 15. 28. N. Lat. 40.
29.
Gallipoli, a sea-port town of Turkey in Europe,
in the province of Romania, seated at the mouth of
the sea of Marmora, with a good harbour and a bishop’s
see. It contains about 10,000 Turks, and 7000
Greeks and Jews. The bazar or bezestein, the place
where merchandises are sold, is a handsome structure,
with domes covered with lead. It is an open place,
and has no other defence than a paltry square castle.
The houses of the Greeks and Jews have doors not
above three feet and a half high, to prevent the Turks
riding into their houses. E. Long. 26. 44. N. Lat.
40. 24.
GALLIUM. See Galium, Botany Index.
GALLO, an island of the South sea, near the sea-
coast of Peru, in South America, which was the first
place possessed by the Spaniards when they attempted
the conquest of Peru ; it is also the place where the
bucaniers used to come for wood and water, and to refit
their vessels when they were in these parts. W. Long.
88. 0. N. Lat. 2. 30.
Gallo-Grcecia, a country of Asia Minor, near Bi-
thynia and Cappadocia. It was inhabited by a colony
of Gauls, who assumed the name of Gullogreeci because
a number of Greeks had accompanied them in their
emigration. See Galatia.
GALLOTS, John, born at Paris in 1632, was
an universal scholar, but chiefly noted for having been,
,n conjunction with M. de Sallo who formed the plan,'
the first publisher of the Journal des Sf avails. The
first journal was published January 5. 1665; ^,ut these
gentlemen criticised new works so rigorously, that the
whole tribe of authors united and cried it down. De
ballo declined entirely after the publication of the
, rd number: but Gallois ventured to send out a
fourth, on January 4. 1666 ; though not without a
most humble advertisement at the beginning, wherein
it was declared, that the author “ would not presume
to criticise, but simply give an account of the books.”
Dns, with the protection of M. Colbert, who was
Vol. IX. Part I. |
GAL
329 ]
greatly taken with the work, gradually reconciled the Gaj;
public to it : and thus began literary journals, which (j
have been continued from that time to this, under Gallows.
various titles, and by various writers. Gallois con- '  
tinned his journal to the year 1674, when more im¬
portant occupations obliged him to turn it over to o-
ther hands. M. Colbert had taken him into his house
to teach him Latin ; and when he lost his patron in
1683, he was first made librarian to the king, and
then Greek professor in the royal college. He died in
1707.
GALLON, a measure of capacity both for dry and
liquid things, containing four quarts. But these quarts,
and consequently the gallon itself, are different, ac¬
cording to the quality of the things measured : For in¬
stance, the wine gallon contains 231 cubic inches, and
holds eight pounds avoirdupois of pure water; the
beer and ale gallon contains 282 solid inches, and
holds ten pounds three ounces and a quarter avoirdu¬
pois of water; and the gallon for corn, meal, &c. 2725;
cubic inches, and holds nine pounds thirteen ounces of
pure water.
GALLOP, in the manege, is the swiftest natural
pace of a horse, performed by reaches or leaps; the
two fore feet being raised almost at the same time ;
and when these are in the air, and just ready to touch
the ground again, the two hind feet are lifted almost
at once. The word is borrowed from the barbarous
Latin calupare, or calpare, “ to run.” Some derive it
fi°m cabalhcure; others from the Greek KxX?rcd^inf to
spur a horse.
GALLO! ER, in artillery, is the name of a car¬
riage which serves for a pound and a half gun. This car¬
riage has shafts so as to be drawn without a limber, and
is thought by some to be more convenient and prefer¬
able to other field carriages ; and it may likewise serve
for our light three and six pounders.
GALLOWAY, a county of Scotland, which gives
the title of Earl to a branch of the noble family of
Stuart. It is divided into two districts ; the western,
called Upper Galloway, being the same with Wigton-
shire ; and the eastern, or stewartry of Kirkcudbright,
called Lower Galloway. See Kirkcudbright and
WlGTONSHIRE.
Mull oj Galloway, the most southerly cape or pro¬
montory of Scotland, in the county of Galloway, and
on the Irish sea.
Galloways is the name of a peculiar sort of hor¬
ses, so called from the county of Galloway in Scot¬
land, vvhere they are bred. Tradition reports that
this kind of horses sprang from some Spanish stallions,
which swam on shore from some of the ships of the fa¬
mous Spanish armada, wrecked on the coast; and
coupling with the mares of the country, furnished the
kingdom with their posterity. They were much esteem¬
ed, and of a middling size, strong, active, nervous, and
hardy.
GALLOW S, an instrument of punishment, where¬
on persons convicted capitally of lelonv, &c. are exe¬
cuted by hanging.
Among our ancestors it was called furca, “ fork ;”
a name by which it is still denominated abroad, parti¬
cularly in France and Italy. In this latter country,
the reason of the name still subsists ; the gallows being
a real fork driven into the ground, across the legs
T t whereof
G A. L [
Hows svliereof is laid a beam, to which the rope is tied.
o
{) Furca. .
Calvani. CALLUS, Cornelius, an ancient Itoman poet,
     born at Forum Julium, now called Frejus in France.
He was a particular favourite with Augustus Ctesar,
who made him governor of Egypt: but his mal¬
administration there occasioned his banishment, and
the loss of his estate ; for grief of which he put an
end to his own life. He wrote lour books of love
elegies ; and Virgil has complimented him in many
^Callus, or Cock. See Phasianus, Ornithology
^ CJALLY, in printing, a frame into which the
compositor empties the lines out of his composing-
stick, and in which he ties up the page when it is com-
pleThe o-ally is formed of an oblong square board, with
a ledge mi three sides, and a groove to admit a false
bottom called a golly slice. . T(. i ,
GALVANI, Lewis, was born at Bologna in Italy,
in the year 1737. There many of his relations had
arrived at distinguished eminence in jurisprudence ana
divinity, and he himself had the honour of giving his
name to a supposed new principle in nature, which of
consequence is called Galvanism, although this great
man gave it the name of animal electricity, irom a
330 ] GAL
See understanding, and a lover of science, happened to Qabr
witness the phenomena, of which she instantly informed r
her husband. On his arrival he repeated the experi¬
ment, and discovered that the convulsions only bap-
pened when the scapel was in contact with the nerve,
and a spark was drawn from the conductor at the same
time. After an almost endless variety of experiments,
conducted with great ingenuity, which it would be
foreign to the design of this article to enumerate here,
he concluded that all animals have within them an
electricity of a peculiar nature ^ that this fluid is con¬
tained in most parts, but is most apparent in the nerves
and muscles •, that it is secreted by the brain, and
diffused by the nerves through various parts of the
body. 1, r j
He compared each muscular fibre to a small .Leyden
phial, and attempted to explain the phenomena of mus¬
cular motion by analogies taken from that instrument.
He first thought of its pathological influence in regard
to rheumatic, convulsive, paralytic, and other nervous
affections. His first publication on this grand discovery
was entitled Aloysii Galvani cle viribus Electricitatis in
Motu Mu scalar i Comment arius, which made its appear¬
ance in 4to, in the year 1791, and was printed for the In-
stitute of Bologna. By this work the attention of philo¬
sophers both in Italy and other countries was instantly
roused, and it was soon followed by numerous publications,
man gave it the name of amma eecic E f ■ ’ of wll;ch the sentiments of Galvani were defend-
S ToiOl “oTconvent, ed, and in o.be, .be, .ere opposed. The .celebea.ed
the monks of which were celebrated for their attach¬
ment to the solemn duty of visiting the dying. He
wished much to become a member of this order, but
was prevailed on to relinquish the idea by one of the
brotherhood, after which he turned his whole attention
to the study of medicine in its various branches. He
studied under Beccari, Tacconi, Galh, and in a parti¬
cular manner Galleazzi, who took him into his own
house j and he afterwards became his son-in-law. He
acquired great reputation by his inaugural thesis, De
Ossibus, in 1762, and was soon after chosen public lec¬
turer in the university of Bologna, and reader in ana¬
tomy to the institute of that city. So much admired
was his talent for lecturing, that vast numbers constant¬
ly attended him •, and he employed his few leisure hours
in making experiments, and in the useful study of com¬
parative anatomy. We find in the Memoirs of the In-
V.itute of Bologna, a number of curious observations on
the urinary organs, and on the organs of hearing in
^Soob after his anatomical and physiological know¬
ledge was fully established throughout the Italian schools,
a mere accident led him to that interesting discovery
which will transmit his name with honour to the latest
posterity. His amiable wife, for whom he cherished
the most ardent love, and with whom he had been
united for a number of years, was in a declining state
of health, and was using a soup of frogs by way of re¬
storative. Some of these animals being skinned for this
purpose, were lying on a table in GalvanBs laboratory,
where also stood an electrical machine. One of those
who assisted him in conducting his experiments, unin¬
tentionally brought the point of a scapel near the crural
nerves of a frog which lay near the conductor, when
the muscles of the limb were very strongly convulsed.
Madame Galvani, who was a woman of a penetrating
Volta turned his attention to the subject, and adduced a
number of arguments to prove that Galvani’s opinion
respecting animal electricity was erroneous, deriving the
phenomena from the electric matter of the atmosphere,
and allowing the nerves and muscles no higher place
than that of the most sensible tests hitherto discovered.
The doctrine of Volta received many admirers and ad¬
vocates j yet there are still numbers to be met with in
the learned world who support the sentiments of Galva¬
ni, who still adhere to his original theory, in the de-
fence of which he displayed much candour and modesty,
as well as ingenuity, by which he may be justly consi¬
dered as deserving that distinguished place among the
experimental philosophers, which the union of his name
with the most interesting natural phenomena will pro¬
bably secure to him for ever. See Galvanism.
These important inquiries, joined to the duties of his
office as a professor, and his extensive practice in the
capacity of surgeon and man-midwife [accoucheur}, in
both which he eminently excelled, afforded abundant
scope for his indefatigable industry. He composed a
variety of memoirs on topics connected with his profes¬
sion j but these, as far as we know, have never been
published. He delighted to converse with men of sci¬
ence, in whose company new publications were read,
and their merits investigated, which was certainly a va¬
luable source of intellectual improvement.
The character of Galvani in private life is allowed to
have been most amiable j and his sensibility, which was
naturally strong, received a violent shock in the death
of bis amiable wife, in the year I79°* ^*1‘s eV?nt
brought upon him the most alarming melancholy, which
he even delighted to encourage, by visiting her tomb
in the nunnery of St Catharine, and pouring forth hi*
unavailing lamentations over her grave. He was ever
punctual in the discharge of the duties of bis religi°n»
GAL [ 33* J GAL
tn; even to the minutest rite, as he never lost the pious im-
pressions vvliich were made upon his mind at an early
period of life. To this cause we may probably trace
back his determination never to take what was called
the civic oath of allegiance to the Cisalpine republic,
for which he was barbarously deprived of all his offices
and dignities. Devoured by melancholy, and nearly
reduced to a state of indigence, he took up his residence
in the house of his brother James, a man of respectabi¬
lity, where he fell into a state of extenuation and debi¬
lity. At this time even republican governors appear Galvan’*
to have been ashamed of their brutal conduct towards ' yr—L
such an extraordinary man ; in consequence of which a
decree was passed for restoring him to his chair in the
university, together with its emoluments ; but this fit of
generosity was too long in seiz.ing them. He departed
this life on the yth of November, 1798, in the 61 st
year of his age, amidst the tears of his friends, and the
regret of the public, in whose death the learned world
has been deprived of one of its brightest ornaments.
GALVANISM.
IF two pieces of metal, the one of zinc, and the
other of silver, or the one of zinc and the other of
copper, or, what answers the purpose equally well, a
penny piece and a half crown piece, be so placed that
(he one shall touch the upper surface of the tongue,
and the other shall touch its under surface, while the
edges project over the point 5 as often as the edges of
the metals in this situation are brought into contact, a
peculiar sensation is produced in the tongue 5 there is
something like a slight shock of electricity, and there
is perceived at the same time an austere, astringent, or
metallic taste.
If a bit of tin-foil be placed on one of the eyes, and
a bit of copper held between the teeth or touching the
tongue, and a communication be formed by means of
a wire between the piece of metal on the eye and that
on the tongue, a flash of light is seen, and this is
produced as often as the communication is completed.
But, in the above experiments, if metals of the same
kind be employed, no perceptible effect whatever is
produced.
If a pile composed of 50 or 60 pairs of plates of zinc
and silver, or zinc and copper, be arranged in a regular
series, with pieces of cloth moistened in a solution of
common salt placed between each pair 5 and if one hand,
previously moistened with water, touch the lower pair,
and the other hand, also moistened, touch the upper pair
of plates, the moment the communication between the
bottom and top of the pile is completed, a smart shock
is felt *, and if 50 or 60 pairs of plates of copper and
zinc be arranged in a trough as will be afterwards
described, and the spaces between the pairs be filled
with water, to which about -j-^-th of pretty strong nitric
acid has been added, a similar shock is perceived, when
the hands wetted with water touch the plates at the ex¬
tremities of the trough. If a communication by means
of wires and two pieces of well-prepared charcoal he
made between the extremities of the trough, a very
brilliant combustion is excited every time the two pieces
of charcoal are brought into contact. By placing tin-
foil, gold leaf, white or yellow Dutch metal or brass
leaf, on a wire connected with one end of the trough,
and touching the metallic leaves with a plate of copper
or zinc connected with a wire from the other end of
the trough, a rapid and brilliant deflagration is exhibit¬
ed every time that the communication is effected.
The phenomena which are thus produced have re-whatL un-
ceived the name of Galvanism, from the name of Gal-derstood by
vani, who first observed and published an account 0fgalvanism.
some of them, and the power by which these effects are
produced has been denominated the galvanic power or
fluid. From its effects on animals being similar to
those of the electrical fluid, it was at first called animal
electricity 1 but then the knowledge of galvanism %vas
limited to its effects on animals, and it was supposed to
depend on something peculiar to animal life.
In the following treatise we propose to give a view
of the progress and present state of galvanism j and for
this purpose we shall arrange the whole under two great
divisions. Under the first, we shall consider the phe¬
nomena of galvanism, or detail the facts which have
been ascertained with regard to this power. The se¬
cond part will be occupied in the history, progress, and
theories, which have been held with regard to the na¬
ture of galvanism.
part 1. or the phenomena of galvanism.
IN ti eating of the phenomena of galvanism, its pro¬
gressive history suggests an arrangementsufficiently con¬
venient for taking a view of the effects of the galvanic
fluid. Those effects, which are to be regarded as strict¬
ly chemical, were altogether unknown, till after its ap¬
plication to animals, and a great mass of facts relative
to its effects on animal life had been accumulated. We
may therefore first consider the effects produced on
animals by the operation of the galvanic fluid, and in
the next place those effects which are strictly chemical.
But before we proceed to this, it is necessary that the
nature and construction of the apparatus, by which these
effects were produced, should be understood. These
topics, therefore, shall be the subjects of the three fol¬
lowing chapters. In the first we shall treat of the con¬
struction ol the apparatus by which the phenomena of
galvanism are produced 5 the second will be employed
in considering the effects of the galvanic fluid on ani¬
mals; and the third will comprehend a view of its che¬
mical effects.
T t 2
Chap.
332
Chap. I. Of the Construction of the Apparatus for
exhibiting the Phenomena of Galvanism.
GALVANISM. Part.
them, and the spine is cut through, but without dlvid- Ocustr!
ing the nerves. A portion ot the inferior pait of the tionn
spine is afterwards to be separated, that room may be Appara,
Apparatus
at first
simple.
Plate
CCXXIX
fig. I-
Methods
p re pa riiii
irogs for
experi¬
ments.
On the first discovery of galvanism, the apparatus for
exhibiting its effects was extremely simple. It con¬
sisted merely of two pieces of different metals, such as
has been described above, by which a peculiar sensation
is produced on the tongue. This, it has been stated, is
eftected by means of a piece of zinc and a piece ot cop¬
per, the one placed on the upper surface, and the other
on the under surface of the tongue, while the projecting
edges are brought into contact. In the same way, and
with such an apparatus, a great variety of experiments,
especially in cold-blooded animals, were exhibited, when
the knowledge of this remarkable power was first an¬
nounced and investigated. .
For the purpose of exhibiting some of the simpler
effects of galvanism, we shall describe the following
• apparatus, which is of very easy construction. AB,
fig. J. is zinc wire, sharp at the point A, and fixed in
the wooden stand C. If the frog prepared in the way
which we shall immediately desciibe, be fixed on the
point of the wire at A, and a gold or a silver wire (a
silver tea spoon will answer the purpose) be brought
into contact with the side of the wire as at the point
D 5 and while in contact with the wire at D, it is
brought into contact with the teet of the frog at E or
F, the effect of the galvanic power will be immediate¬
ly’perceived. The limbs of the animal will be strong¬
ly convulsed, and will exhibit as much motion by the
contraction of the muscles as if it were alive, and in
full vigour. But if a zinc wire, similar to AB, were
substituted for the gold or silver wire, no such effect
would be produced.
of Frogs, as they are most easily found, and as they
, are, perhaps, more convenient in other respects, have
been oftener the subject of galvanic experiments than
any other animal. To prepare them for these experi¬
ments, various methods have been followed. Some
physiologists propose to remove only the integuments,
and lay bare the muscles, while others open the cavi¬
ties of the thorax and abdomen, remove the viscera
which are contained in these cavities, and bring into
view the nerves and muscles which are there distiibut-
ed. Some again, after the above previous preparation,
separate all the parts between the origin of the nerve
and its insertion in the muscle, so that the latter may
be attached by means of tlse nerves only, to the trunk
of the body •, while others, after a similar preparation,
cut off the animal’s head, that the effects produced by
galvanism may not be confounded with the voluntary
movements of the living animal. By another mode
of preparation, each of the parts is separated from the
body by dissection, after laying bare tbe muscles and
nerves.
But in general a frog is understood to be prepared
when it is divided with a pair of scissars into two por¬
tions, through the middle of the body and spine. The
viscera are then removed, as well as the integuments of
the inferior extremities. As the sciatic nerves of this
animal rise very high upon the spine, they are distinct¬
ly seen after this treatment. When it is intended, as
in "some experiments, to arm the nerves, as it is called,
h pair of sharp-pointed scissajs is introduced beneath
left for covering the nerves with a bit ot tin-foih Ihis
is what is usually understood by arming or coating the
nerves. In some experiments it will be found more
convenient to separate the lower extremities from the
trunk, and to employ the crural nerve.
Phenomena similar to the above may be produced by
placing a frog A prepared in the way described above,
on a plate of zinc B, fig. 2. and on a plate of silver or Fig. s
copper C. If tbe communication between the plates £
and B be completed by means of the conductor D, the
muscles of the frog are immediately thrown into strong
convulsions, and these motions are icnewed as often as
the contact is made by the conducting wire and the two
metals. • j it j 6
The apparatus we have now described attoids ansicKi(
example of the simplest galvanic combination, or whatvau,,
is usually denominated a single galvanic combination.
Here it may be observed, that this combination must con¬
sist of three different conductors. T. he conductors of elec¬
tricity have been arranged into two principal classes :
to the first belong the metallic substances and charcoal,
which have been otherwise called dry and perfect con¬
ductors j tbe second class consists of the imperfect con¬
ductors, which are water and other oxidating fluids,
and the substances which contain these fluids. But al¬
though the conductors of electricity, for the sake of
couveniency, are thus arranged, they differ from each
other in their conducting power, and this difference is
greatest among the substances comprehended under the
second class. Now, if the three conductors of the gal¬
vanic fluid be all of the first class, or all of the second,
the effect is scarcely perceptible. An active, simple
galvanic combination, then, must consist of three dif¬
ferent bodies, one conductor must belong to one class,
and two different conductors must be taken from the
other class. In fig. 3. and 4. are exhibited examples Fig.
of active simple galvanic combinations. In fig. 3. the»i“M
letters AB mark the bodies belonging to the first class
or perfect conductors j and a marks the body belong¬
ing to the second class, or imperfect conductors ; and
in fig. 4. A marks one body belonging to the first
class, and ah two bodies belonging to the second
class, or the imperfect conductors. Of the three
bodies forming a galvanic combination, if two of them
belong to the first class, and one to the second, this
combination is said to be of the first order \ but if one
of tbe three bodies only belong to the first class, and
two to the second, the combination is said to be of the
second order. Fig. 3. is a galvanic combination of the
first order, and fig. 4. is one of the second. This may
be further illustrated by examining fig. 5, 6, 7, which N-
consist of two bodies only, and therefore are not active '
combinations $ and also by examining fig. 8 and 9.
which consist of three bodies, but two of them are ot
tbe same kind, and therefore act as a single body. In
the last five figures, the capital letters denote the bodies
belonging to the first class, and tbe small letters those
belonging to the second.
In the single active galvanic combination, or the sim¬
ple galvanic circle, the two bodies of one class must be
in contact with each other in one or more points, while,
at the same time, they are coanected together at other
points
fa j !•
fon !C*
. U'jj f
ipp ;IIS'
icti of
galv sm
»tcc r::*'
tier'
cl1, fi ■ 1
icli
G A L V
points with the body belonging to the other class. Thus,
if a prepared frog is convulsed by the contact of the
same piece of metal in two different places, the, fluids
of those parts, which must be somewhat different from
each other, are the two conductors of the second class,
and the metal constitutes the third body for the con¬
ductor of the first class. But if two metals be employ¬
ed, the fluids of the prepared animal differing little from
each other, are to be considered as one body of the se¬
cond class.
Here it may be necessary to anticipate a little, by ob¬
serving, that in a simple galvanic circle, the conductor
or conductors of one class must have some chemical ac¬
tion upon the other conductor or conductors, other¬
wise no galvanic action would be produced, or at least
a very feeble one, from the combination of three bodies.
This galvanic action, too, seems to be in proportion to
the degree of chemical action, from which some have
|g»Iy i
tirc!( (
the £
per
supposed, that tills chemical agency is the primary cause
of the phenomena.
It is found that the most active galvanic combinations,
or galvanic circles belonging to the first order, are
those in which turn solids possessing different degrees of
oxidability, are combined with a fluid which is capable
of oxidating at least one of the solids. Gold, silver,
and water, do not form an active galvanic combination,
because water is incapable of oxidating either of these
metals; but if a small quantity of nitric acid, or any
other fluid which may be decomposed bv the silver, be
mixed with water, au active galvanic circle may thus
be formed.
If zinc, silver, and water, or zinc, copper, and wa¬
ter, he combined together, an active galvanic circle is
formed, and the water will be found to oxidate the
zinc, if it bold any portion of atmospherical air in solu¬
tion, and still more so, if it contain oxygen. But the
combination of the same substances forms a much more
powerful galvanic circle, if a little nitric acid be add¬
ed to the water, because then the fluid has a strong ac¬
tion on the zinc, and oxidates it.
Galvanic combinations belonging to the second or¬
der are found to be most powerful, when two conduc¬
tors of tlie second class have different chemical actions
on the conductors of the first class, while at the same
time they have an action upon each other. As an ex¬
ample of this, copper, silver, or lead, combined with a
solution of an alkaline suiphuret, and diluted nitric acid,
constitute a very active galvanic circle.
The following is a list of galvanic circles of the first
order, composed of two conductors of the first class, and
one ot the second.
Zinc with gold, or charcoal, or silver, or copper, or
tin, or iron, or mercury ; and water containing a small
quantity of any of the mineral acids.
iron, with gold, or charcoal, or silver, or copper,
ov tin« a»d a weak solution of any of the mineral acids,
as above.
I in, with gold, or silver, or charcoal, and a weak so¬
lution of any of the mineral acids, as above.
Lead, with gold, or silver, and a weak acid solution,
as above.
Any of the above metallic combinations, and com¬
mon water, viz. water containing atmospherical air* or
especially water containing oxygen air.
topper, with gold, or silver, and a solution of nitrate
A N I S M.
333
of silver and mercury; or the nitric acid ; or the ace- Constino
tou*acid- . , , . . . non of*
Oliver, W'ltli gold, and the nitric acid. Apparatus.
The following is a list of galvanic circles of the se- ‘ v—^
cond order, consisting of one conductor of the first class. J*
and two of the second. ’ Ot the se¬
cond order.
Charcoal, or
Copper, or
Silver, or
Lead, or
Tin, or
Iron, or
Zinc,
with water, or with
a solution of any hy¬
drogenated alkaline
sulphurels, capable
of acting on the
first three metals on¬
ly 5
and a solution of
nitrous acid, or
oxygenated mu¬
riatic acid, &c.
capable of acting
upon all the me¬
tals.
But the eftects of the galvanic fluid are extremely
feeble, when they are limited to the operation of even
the most powerful simple combinations. In the pro¬
gress of the knowledge of galvanism it was soon found,
that these effects might he combined and increased to
almost any degree. This is done by connecting toge¬
ther a number of active simple combinations, which,
it is to be observed, must be so disposed that they may
not counteract each other. A number of simple com- Baited*.,
binations thus connected together have received the
name of batteries; and these batteries are said to be¬
long to the first and second order, according as the sim¬
ple combinations of which they are formed, are com¬
posed of substances of the first or second order of con¬
ducting powers. Thus, for example, if a plate of zinc
be laid upon a plate of copper, and a piece of moisten¬
ed card or leather be laid upon the zinc, and a similar
arrangement of three other pieces be laid upon the first,
and any number of combinations of the same kind be
continued, taking care that they are always arranged
in the same order, the whole will form a battery of the
first order. But if a plate of copper be connected with
a piece of cloth moistened with water, and the latter
with another piece of cloth, moistened with a solution
of suiphuret ot potash, and this be connected with ano¬
ther piece of copper, repeating the same series to any
convenient number, a battery of the second order will
be formed of the whole.
Battei ies of the second order have been arranged by
Mr Davy into the three following classes, i. The most
feeble battery is composed, when single metallic plates
are so arranged that two of their surfaces or opposite
extremities are in contact with different fluids, the one
of which is capable, and the other is incapable, of oxi¬
dating tbe metal, a regular series of such combinations
are formed. 2. When single combinations or elements
of the series are each composed of a single plate of a
metallic substance, capable of acting upon sulphurated
hydrogen, or upon sulphurets dissolved in water, ac¬
companied with portions of a solution of suiphuret of
potash on one side, and water on the other. 3. The
third class is the most powerful, being formed when
metallic substances oxidable in acids, and capable of
acting on solutions of sulphurets, are connected as plates
with oxidating fluids, and solutions of suiphuret of
potash, and so arranged that the opposite sides of every
plate may undergo different chemical changes, the mode
of alteration being regular.
The first attempt to increase the effects of the gal*t;our^lie
vanic fluid, by combining a series of simple circles, wasde lasses
made by Volta ; to this he gave the name couronne de
tosses.
33
Construc¬
tion of
Apparatus
il
Pile of
Volta.
G A L V
tosses. The following is the construction and mode of
applying this apparatus. Apr
Take any number of cups or glass tumblers A, > ,
D E fig. 10. Fill them about three-iourths full vviti
any of the saline solutions, which will be alterwards e-
scribed, as that of common salt or sal ammoniac in wa-
ter. To one extremity of a bent brass wire solder a
plate of zinc of about two inches in d.aaneter, andjo
the other extremity of the same wire, solder in the same
manner a plate of copper of the same diameter I he e
connecting wires are represented in the figuie by the
S, «, «.• ana the plates of the different metals
are marked tvkli the letters Z and C, via.. and
per. In arranging the plates in the vessels, it ought to
be observed, that a plate of zinc and a p ate of coppci
belonging to different wires, must he fn the saine vessel^
and never two plates of the same kind. Thus in t e
first vessel A, there is a plate of copper-, m the
B connected by the same wire, there is a plate ot zit ,
in the same vessel B, there is also a plate of copper,
which is connected by means of another wire to a p
of zinc in the third vessel C. The same order and ar-
vangement are to be observed to whatever number ot
plates and vessels the series may extend. .
P Suppose now that the apparatus has been arranged in
the way described above, and the vessels have been fi -
led with a solution of common salt in water it the num¬
ber of vessels be not less than ten or twelve a slight
shock will be felt by immersing one hand m the vessel,
at one extremity of the series, and the other hand in
the vessel at the other extremity as tor instance, by
putting the fingers of one hand in the vessel A, g- -
and suddenly plunging the fingers of the other hand in
the vessel E. The shock will perhaps be more sensibly
felt by previously wetting the palms of both hands, and
taking a silver or pewter spoon in each hand immerse
the handle of the one into the vessel A, and the handle
of the other into the vessel E. , , ,,
The strength of this apparatus depends on the num¬
ber of series of plates and vessels employed. But it is
obvious that this series, from the nature of the appai atus,
could not be greatly extended, so as to afford any great
increase of power. This occurred very early to he in¬
genious discoverer, as an insurmountable objection to
the use of this apparatus. The views of this philosopher
in investigating the nature of galvanism, seem at this
time to have been chiefly directed to the discovery o
instruments or apparatus, by means of which he might
be enabled to augment its power. In the prosecution
of his inquiries, therefore, he contrived another appa¬
ratus, which was afterwards known by the name of the
galvanic pile, and sometimes, but more rarely, by that
of the voltaic pile or pile ot Volta, from the name of
the discoverer. This apparatus is constructed in the
following manner. , , ,
A pile of moderate strength may be constructed of
6o oairs of plates of zinc and copper, each plate being
about two inches diameter; it may be constructed also
with similar plates of zinc and silver, or ot almost any
tvvo other dissimilar metals. Such piles nave been very
conveniently constructed, with half crown pieces and
piates of zinc of the same size, or more conveniently
with penny pieces and plates of zinc of the same dia¬
meter! But of whatever different metals this kinu of
apparatus is to be constructed, the same order oi ar-
Pmlj
Cons:.
Uoi!j
Appaiju,
A N I S M.
raogrment is to be observed throughout the whole
series*
Suppose the metals to be employed in the construc¬
tion of the pile are zinc and copper, (and these from
views of economy have been most frequently employed),
an equal number of pieces of cloth, pasteboard, or
leather, of the same diameter with the metallic plates,
is to be prepared. The use of these pieces of cloth is
to retain the moisture, by means of which the com-
munication between the plates is formed, and the gal¬
vanic combinations are completed ; and in proportion
to the length of time during which the pieces of cloth
or other substances retain the fluid which they have ab¬
sorbed, the operation of the pile continues. The pile
is formed by placing a pair of plates, one of zinc, and
one of copper, upon a stand, the one immediately above
the other. Upon this pair of plates is then placed a
piece of cloth which has been soaked in some saline so¬
lution, as that of common salt, or sal ammoniac. Up¬
on this piece of cloth is placed another pair of plates,
arranged in the same order as the first pair. It makes
no difference which of the metals is placed first in the
series, only it is necessary to take care that the same
order be observed throughout the whole pile. It
the series, for instance, begins with copper, it runs in
the following order : copper, zinc, cloth $ copper, zinc,
cloth, &c. to whatever number of pairs of plates and
pieces of cloth the series may extend.
But if the number of series amount to 6o pairs, it
will be necessary to have rods to confine the pairs of
plates, and to retain them in a perpendicular column;
for without this the weight at top would be so consi¬
derable that the least inclination to one side (and this
could not well be avoided) would derange the whole
apparatus. The rods which have been employed for this
purpose have been sometimes made of glass, and some¬
times of wood. When wood is used, it should be
pretty dry, or baked, by which means its conductiHg
power is either greatly diminished or entirely de¬
stroyed. ... a- 4
The pile being constructed in this manner, its ettects
may be observed, by applying the fingers of one hand
moistened with water to the lowest pair of plates, and
then touching with the fingers of the other hand, mois¬
tened in the same manner, the upper pair oi plates,
thus completing the communication between the extre¬
mities of the pile. Every time that this communica¬
tion is made, a sensation is experienced, similar to a
slight shock of electricity. The intensity of tins shock
is in proportion to the number of the pairs of plates,
the nature of the fluid employed, and the care with
which the pile has been erected, or the time that it has
continued in action. With a pile of 6o pairs of plates,
the shock will he perceptible through the fingers,
or the whole of the hand, and in some persons, when
it is in full activity, it will extend as high as the
elbows. . , . , . , r . _
In making experiments with tins kind of apparatus,
it will be found that 50 or 60 pairs of plates will be a
sufficient number to be erected in one pile j but to in¬
crease the power of the galvanic fluid, a number 0
piles may be connected together. This may be done
in two ways j either by combining the separate action
of the different piles employed 5 as, for instance, if three
piles are constructed, let the pairs of plates be arranged
I. G A L V
uc- ill each exactly in the same way, and let the conduct-
Lf j'ng substances, as wires, pass from the top and bottom
|lus' of each to one common conductor. In this case we
i‘"mJ have the action of three different currents of the gal¬
vanic fluid ; but whatever number of piles may be em¬
ployed, their mutual action may be so combined, that
the whole effect may be produced by one single cur¬
rent. Suppose the metallic plates of one pile are ar¬
ranged in the following order; copper, zinc, cloth 5
copper, zinc, cloth, &c.: then the plates of the second
must be arranged in a different order, namely, zinc,
copper, cloth ; zinc, copper, cloth, &c. and the plates
of the third in the same way as the first, viz. copper,
zinc, cloth ; copper, zinc, cloth, &c. The three piles
being thus arranged, let a metallic conductor, as a slip
of copper or zinc, be placed between the tops of the
first and second pile, and a similar conductor be placed
between the bottom of the second and third piles ; and
when they are thus connected together, let the fingers
of one hand, moistened, be placed at the lowest pair of
plates of the first pile, and the fingers of the other hand,
also moistened, be brought in contact with the upper
pair of plates of the third, a violent shock will be felt.
The shock will be the same as if the whole number of
pairs of plates of which the three piles are composed
were formed into a single pile ; for the same order of
arrangement being observed from the bottom of the first
pile to the top, and from the top of the second pile to
the bottom, and again from the bottom of the third
pile to the top, the current passes uninterruptedly
through the whole series, as if it were uniformly ar¬
ranged in one pile.
The effects of this apparatus may be farther observ¬
ed in its chemical action. If the circle is completed,
or the communication between the extremities of the
apparatus by means of charcoal be formed, a spark is
produced. This is done by attaching a piece of well
prepared charcoal to a wire which communicates with
one extremity of the apparatus, and another similar piece
of charcoal to another wire communicating with the
other extremity ; if the two pieces of charcoal be
brought into contact, thus completing the circle, a
spark will be observed, and this may be repeated as
long as the activity of the pile continues. The chemi¬
cal effects of such an apparatus are also exhibited in the
decomposition of water. The apparatus for effecting
this decomposition, and the method of using it, will be
afterwards described.
But it was soon found that the effects of this pile,
although when it is first erected it possesses consider¬
able energy, in a very short time it becomes extremely
feeble, and at last altogether imperceptible. This is
owing to the pieces of cloth or other substance which is
interposed between the pairs of plates being deprived
of their moisture, either by evaporation, or by being-
squeezed out, from the weight of the plates. The lat¬
ter effect, it is obvious, must be in proportion to the
height, and consequently the incumbent pressure of the
upper on the lower part of the pile ; and besides this,
the liquid as it oozes out, trickles down the sides of the
pile, so that the different pairs of plates are less per¬
fectly insulated than they otherwise ought to be, to pro¬
duce the full effect.
Various contrivances were thought of to obviate
'bese inconveniences, and the first which was proposed
V N I S M. 3-,-
was announced by the ingenious inventor of the pile Construe
himself. Volta inclosed his piles, after they were erected tion of
with wax or pitch. By this contrivance which he put Apparatus.
in practice on two columns or piles, each consisting of ^ v 
20 plates, he succeeded so far in preventing the incon¬
veniences alluded to above, that their effects continued
nearly undiminished for several weeks. By other con¬
trivances the plates and pieces of cloth or pasteboard
were arranged horizontally, by which means some of
the inconveniences of the upright column were avoid¬
ed j among these the unequal pressure was removed,
but still it was found that the evaporation continued, so
that it was not long before its operation began to dimi¬
nish, and at last to be entirely interrupted.
As it was found that the chemical effects of the pile
were greatly increased by employing plates of a larger
surface, even when the number was greatly diminish¬
ed, piles were erected both on the continent and in
Britain, with plates from 10 to 14 inches square.
Twelve or fourteen pairs of plates of the above size,
arranged in the same way as those which have been
already described, produced very considerable chemical
effects, such as burning phosphorus, setting fire to gun¬
powder, and deflagrating gold and silver leaf. The
pieces of thick cloth or pasteboard moistened with wa¬
ter, to which a certain proportion of nitric acid was
added, were usually employed in the construction of
this pile; but it is unnecessary to mention that it was
attended with similar inconveniences to those which
accompanied the smaller pile. These inconveniences
probably led to another and more effectual contrivance
for exhibiting the effects of galvanism. But before we
give an account of these, we shall farther illustrate the
nature and construction of the pile with an explanation
of fig. 11. and 12.
Fig. 11. is a representation of a pile composed ofijg.
copper, zinc, and pieces of pasteboard, soaked in some
saline solution. The pile is erected on the stand A,
and the different parts of which it is composed are re¬
tained in their perpendicular position by means of the
three rods made of glass or baked wood, b, b, b. The
pieces of metal are marked c, z, and the pasteboard
p, in the order in which they are placed. The pile
being erected from bottom to top in the same order,
let a piece of wire e be inserted under the lower pair
of plates, and let another wireyj be kept in contact
with the upper surface of the upper pair of plates ;
the different parts being thus disposed, if the fingers of
one hand moistened be brought in contact with the
wire e, and the fingers of the other hand, also moisten¬
ed, be brought in contact with the wire f, a shock will
be felt, and thus it will be found tliAt the energy of the
pile will continue till the moisture of the pieces of paste¬
board has evaporated, or the peculiar change which
takes place on one of the metals during its action, and
which will be taken notice of afterwards, has been ef¬
fected.
I ig. 12. exhibits a view of a combination of three Fig. 12.
piles, A, B, C. In the column A the arrangement is
copper, zinc, pasteboard; copper, zinc, pasteboard,&c.:
in the column A, this arrangement is reversed, from
the bottom of the column, which is zinc, copper, paste¬
board ; zinc, copper, pasteboard, &c.; because it must
be the same as if the column B were placed upon the
top of the column A, the points A and B being brought
iuto
336
G A L V A
Construc¬
tion of
Apparatus.
»3.
Galvanic
trough.
Fig.
14
Casting
the *inc
plates.
into contact, only having a piece of pasteboard inter¬
posed. The third column C is arranged in the same
manner as the column A, viz. copper, zinc, pasteboar j
’ copper, zinc, pasteboard, &c. Thus then, the three
columns are so arranged, that the different series suc¬
ceed each other from the bottom of column A to the
top, from the top of column B to the bottom, and from
the bottom of column C to the top, as if the vyho e had
been disposed in one column A. A communication is
then formed between the top of the column A and he
top of column B, by a metallic conductor D, and be¬
tween the bottom of column B, and the bottom of co¬
lumn C, by means of the metallic conductor It
then the fingers of one hand moistened are brought in¬
to contact with the wire F, which communicates with
the bottom of column A, and the fingers ol the other
hand also moistened are brought into contact with the
wire G, a smart shock will be felt, from the comb.ned
action of the three columns or piles.
The inconveniences of the pile, as we have already
hinted, were soon felt by those who were eager in the
investigation of galvanism, and who wished their ex¬
periments to continue with undiminished energy, that
they might be enabled to ascertain with precision the
new and curious facts which presented themselves.
These inconveniences, it is very probable, suggested
the improvements in galvanic apparatus which we are
now to describe. „ . . ,
By the invention of the trough, for which we are in¬
debted to the ingenuity of Mr Cruikshank of Woolwich,
the progress of galvanism became rapid and brilliant;
for by this means philosophers were enabled not only to
give a longer duration to their experiments, but to com¬
mand a degree of energy in the galvanic fluid, which,
before the discovery of this apparatus, was not even sus¬
pected. This apparatus, we believe, is now almost uni¬
versally employed for galvanic experiments. VS e shall
therefore give a more detailed account of the method ot
constructing and using it. .
Troughs with plates of various sizes have been con¬
structed, from 2 to 6, 8, and even 14 inches square ;
hut, as an example, we shall suppose the following
trough to he constructed with plates of about lour
inches square. A wooden trough AB, hg. 13* 18 e
made of baked mahogany •, the length may be about
qo inches, and, as we shall suppose the number ot
pairs of plates to be 50, an equal number of grooves
is to be cut on the sides ami bottom of the inside ot
the trough. These grooves are to be cut at equal dis¬
tances from each other, and the width of each groove
is to be such, as to correspond nearly to the thickness ot
each pair of plates, so that the latter may slip easily in¬
to the grooves.
of The plates are like those which have been already
described in the construction of the pile made ol zinc
and copper. No difficulty has ever occurred in pro¬
curing plates of copper for this purpose-, because all
that is necessary is to cut them out ot sheets ol cop¬
per of the requisite thickness to any size that is want¬
ed But the case has been very different with regard
to plates of zinc, especially where large plates were re-
nuired. Attempts have been made to cast them in
moulds of sand, such as are used for casting different
utensils of other metals-, but these attempts it would
appear, have been generally unsuccessful. The method
N I S M. Pa
which it is said has succeeded best in forming plates of Co,
any considerable size is the following. The zinc of tij
which the plates are to be composed is to be melted Apfi
in a narrow-mouthed vessel, so that a small surface of
fused metal may be exposed. The reason of this is, that
the metal when it reaches a certain temperature is very
rapidly oxidated in consequence of the strong affinity
between this metal and oxygen. The metal in this state
is converted into a fine ilocculent substance, known by
the name of flowers of zinc. This change, therefore,
as it is attended with a loss of the metal, is to be as
much as possible avoided. A mould of stone of the di¬
mensions of the proposed plates (in this case four
inches), and about one-eighth of an inch in thickness,
is to be prepared -, but one formed of brass is found to
answer the purpose still better. When the metal is in
perfect fusion, the plates should be cast as quickly as
possible, because, as the metal cools rapidly, cavities
and imperfections would appear on the surface from its
flowing unequally.
The plates of zinc being prepared, plates ot copper
which need not exceed one-tenth of the thickness of the
zinc plates are to be cut out of a sheet of copper to the
requisite dimensions, viz. corresponding to the size ot
thp zinc plates. The copper plates must be reduced
by hammering to a smooth and plane surface that they
may appiy exactly to the surface of the zinc plates, anti
be in contact in as many points as possible.
The plates being thus prepared are to be soldereds,,!
■ 1 » * 1   l. \.~ it" is wnt”. tft np. tlit
together-, but it must be observed that it is not to betlu te
through the whole extent of the plate. It is found
quite sufficient to solder them about one-fourth of an
inch from the edges. The solder employed for tins
purpose is soft solder j and great precaution must be
observed that the union at the edges be so close as to
prevent any of the liquid with which the cells in the
trough are to be filled from entering between the plates;
for otherwise the power of its action would be greatly
interrupted or perhaps entirely destroyed.
The operation of soldering was performed with con¬
siderable difficulty by many workmen -, at least, it was
found that in many cases the plates were either not m
contact when the dimensions were large, or the joints
were not perfectly secure. We are not certain in w.mt
way this operation is generally performed, but we know
that this difficulty has been obviated by the following
contrivance. The inside angles on the edges ot the
plates, that is, on the sides of the plates which are to
be united together, are filed away, so that, vilien the
plates are brought into close contact, a triangular groove
all round the edge of the pair of plates remains. H”8
groove is filled with solder, and the operation is con¬
ducted in the usual way. Plates soldered according to
this contrivance have been found to answer the purpose
extremely well. But this inconvenience is now rendere
less embarrassing since the discovery of rendering zme
malleable and flexible was made, for plates of zinc 0.
this description are of a much more equal thickness
are thinner and smoother, so that the coppei can
brought into a closer contact. The plates which
been prepared of malleable zinc have the copper to e
over the edge of the zinc plates, and in this way t ey
are secured without difficulty, by soldering. ^
In whatever way the pairs of plates are to oe secure*,
so that they may remain in close contact, they are a t<^
p
:t I. G A L V
rac. wards to be fixed in tbe grooves of the box prepared
of for their reception; and here it is to be observed that
atus. each individual pair of plates is to be completely insu-
—J lated. This is done by means of a particular kind of
cement, the use of which is not only to retain the pairs
of plates in their places, and to render their insulation
complete, but also to defend the wood of the box against
the action of the fluid which is employed to fill the cells
of the trough.
^ for The cement which is employed for this purpose is
^ composed of rosin, bees-wax, and fine brick dust, or
iates. powdered red ochre. Different proportions of these
substances, it would appear, have been recommended in
the construction of galvanic troughs. According to
gome, five parts of rosin, four of bees-wax, and two of
powdered red ochre, are found to answer this purpose
extremely well. The rosin and bees-wax are melted
together, that they may be completely incorporated,
and the red ochre is afterwards added. According to
others, four ounces of bees-wax, eight ounces of rosin,
and about an ounce of fine brick dust, melted together
in the same way, are also found to answer the same
purpose equally well. With this cement, the pairs of
plates are secured in the grooves, and the intervening-
spaces on the inside of the bottom and sides of the
trough are also covered with it, to defend the wood
from the action of the fluid. It is scarcely necessary
to observe, that the plates are to be arranged in the
same way throughout the trough as the first pair ; that
is, if the copper side of the first pair of plates be
towards the end of the trough at B, all the other
pairs are to be so arranged as to have their copper
sides towards the same point B, and the zinc sides
towards the other end of the trough A. The plates
being arranged in this way, the end of the trough B
is called the copper end of the trough or battery, and
the end A is called the zinc end.
Superior advantages are derived from arranging the
plates in this way, to that of constructing them in the
method described for the pile ; for in this way the
fluid can be applied more equally and with greater
facility ; the apparatus is more convenient for per¬
forming experiments; its action continues for a con¬
siderably longer time, and there is little or no trouble
in cleaning the plates after the operation. It is other¬
wise with the pile, for, after it has been once used,
tbe surface of the zinc plates is so much oxydated,
that before they can be, employed again, they must
be scoured or filed, which, it is obvious, must be a
troublesome and tedious process ; but in the trough
the oxydated surface of the plates is cleaned in every
successive operation, the fluid which is employed dis¬
solving the oxide which has collected on the surface of
the zinc plates.
•iqi ,t0 I” treating of the construction and action of the pile,
we have already observed that different saline solutions
were employed, to moisten the pieces of cloth or paste¬
board interposed between the pairs of plates. These so-
lutions were muriate of soda or common salt, muriate of
ammonia or sal ammoniac, and sometimes sulphate of
potash. Similar solutions will answer the purpose of
i mg the cells of the trough, but these are found to be
weaker than solutions of the acids ; and, besides, as
they are apt to crystallize on the plates, it becomes ex¬
tremely troublesome to clean the trough. Acid solutions,
V ol. IX. Part I. f
A N I S M. 337
therefore, which are more powerful, have been proper- Constmc-
ly preferred ; and the acid which seems to answer best, lion of
on diflerent accounts, is the nitric ; the proportion to be Apparatus,
employed, it is obvious, must vary according to the
strength of the acid. Of the common acid of the shops,
one part with 16 of water will form a pretty active
mixture ; but when the acid is stronger, it may be ne¬
cessary to add 20 parts of water. But this mixture is
attended with the inconvenience of the evolution of ni¬
trous gas, which, it is well known, is extremely disa¬
greeable, and is injurious to respiration ; and, on ac¬
count. of the high price of nitric acid, when a large
quantity of this mixture is required, it becomes very
expensive. Sulphuric acid mixed with water has also
been employed for the same purpose, and it is found to
answer very well. The use of this acid, however, is
liable to many serious objections. Its action is too
rapid ; and, by its operation on the zinc, hydrogen gas
is disengaged in such quantity as to be inconvenient
to the operator. So much heat is evolved during its
action, that tbe cement which is used for securing the
plates in the trough, is apt to be rendered soft and
loosened. Muriatic acid also has been employed, and
this is recommended by some as in different respects the
most convenient. One part of muriatic acid and l6 of
water form a mixture which answers the purpose ex¬
tremely well. The action of this mixture is slow and
uniform, and the quantity of hydrogen gas which is
evolved is so small as to produce little inconvenience.
The use of this acid is attended with another advantage,
that the plates are kept uniformly clean.
Whatever mixture has been employed, unless the
operation has been continued for a very long time,
when it is emptied from the trough, it may be bottled
up, and reserved for future use; and if the most power¬
ful action of the trough is not required, the same mix¬
ture may be employed several times. Here it may be
worth while to notice, that the precaution of emptying
the trough should be invariably observed, as soon as the
experiments for which it was filled and prepared are
finished ; by this management there will be a consider¬
able saving, both of tbe fluid and of the surface of the
plates, which undergo oxidation. In filling the trough
with the fluid, it should be observed that it does not
rise higher than about | of an inch from tbe upper edge
of the plates ; and after the filling of the trough is
completed, the upper edges of the plates, as well as the
edges of the trough, should be carefully wiped dry, that
there may he no communication between the fluid in
the cells, but through the metallic substances.
A trough composed of 50 plates of three inches square
will be found suitable for a great variety of useful and
entertaining experiments; hut when it is found necessary
to produce a more powerful action of the galvanic fluid,
a greater number of pairs of plates, or the same num¬
ber with a larger surface, according to the nature of the
action required, must be employed. We have already
observed, that several columns or piles may be so con¬
structed as to have the full effect of their combined
action, in the same way as if they formed a single pile.
By similar management, different troughs or batteries
may he so arranged as to combine together the effects
of each, as if they constituted a single trough or battery.
And all that is necessary to observe is, that to whatever
extent the series may be carried, the surface of each of
U a the
338
Construc¬
tion of
Apparatus.
iS
Apparatus
for decotn-
po-ing
water.
the plates must be opposed to the surface of a different
plate i as, for instance, the zinc surface ot one oi the
plates must he constantly opposite to the copper suriace
if the next plate in the series. The different troughs
thus uniformly arranged, are to be connected together
by means of metailic conductors. A slip of copper, t
instance, about half the width of the trough, is inserted
i,y its opposite extremities in the cells of the ends of
two of the troughs. . . ...
When the plates are of a very large siz.e, their weig i ,
with that of the quantity of flnid required to « 1 he
cells renders the trough very unmanageable. It is then
necessary to fix It in a frame of sufficient strength, to
support L weight by means of axles of brass or iron,
fixed to the outside of the box. By this contrivance
the fluid can be easily poured out into a proper m..
placed under the trough. . , , r ai..
We shall afterwards speak more particularly o the
effects of plates of different extent of surface : here,
however, it may be necessary to observe, that in com¬
bining together two or more troughs or batteries,
have the full effect of such a number of plates as may
be employed, in proportion to the extent of their sur¬
faces, the surface of the plates m each trough should be
the same j otherwise, if troughs of different extent o
surfaces he employed, the action of that ^ugh which
has the largest surface is diminished, and reduced .o that
of the action of the trough whose plates have the smalles
extent of surface. This circumstance is necessary to be
attended to, for, if it be overlooked in the construction
or combination of different batteries, the effects will be
feeble as to produce disappointment without the
cause being known. . , , , _
In making experiments with the trough, the com¬
munication is to be formed between the two extremities,
or the circle is to be completed in the same way as has
been alreadv directed in the management of the pile.
For this purpose there is a projecting piece ot wood
fixed to the upper edge of each of the ends of the trough j
this is perforated so as to admit a piece of wire which
masses through to the fluid in the two last cells at the
extremity of the trough. If then the wires are placed
in this situation, and the moistened fingers ot one hand
touch the wire at one extremity, while the moistened
fingers of the other hand are brought into contact with
the wire at the other extremity ot the trough, a shock
will be feltand in this way the circle is completed.
The other parts of the apparatus which are necessary
to conduct experiments with a trough of this description,
are so simple as scarcely to require any particular de¬
scription. All that is wanted for deflagrating metals is
to have a bent wire fixed at one extremity of the
trough, and to have a polished plate of copper or zinc
communicating with the other extremity of the trough
by means of a flexible wire. The metal to be defla¬
grated is placed upon the bent wire, and the metallic
plate is brought into contact with it.
The apparatus for the decomposition of water is the
following. A glass tube, G, H, fig. n. about three
inches long, and -§■ inch in dian^r, is furnished with a
tj<rht cork at the upper end G, through which cork the
wire i communicating with the upper part of the pile,
passes. It may be also furnished with a cork at the
other extremity H, but this must have grooves cut on
GALVANISM. b Pari.,
its sides, to allow the water to escape trom the tube, Coimi
'T't.o Tvlrf. K rnmmunicatine with the bottom of the tiou.
The wire K communicating with the bottom of the lion,
pile, passes through this cork *, or without the cork at
this extremity, it the tube is retained in its perpendi- ^
cular position by any other contrivance, the wire Iv may
he passed within the tube. When this operation is to
commence, the tube is to be filled with water, the coik
at the upper extremity G being made air-tight, and
then it is to be inverted, and the extremity H to be
placed in a small cup or bason of water *, alter which the
wire K being introduced, the circle is completed be¬
tween the wires through the medium of the water in
the tube, the decomposition of which will go on as long
as the communication and the action of the pile are
continued. This process will be observed by bubbles
of air escaping from one of the wires, and rising to the
top of the tube j or if the wires are of gold orof platina,
bubbles of air will be seen passing from the extremity
of both wires, and this air collecting at the top of the
tube, forces out a quantity of water equal to the space
which it occupies. The same experiment may be made
by means of a still simpler apparatus. It the wires com¬
municating with the extremities of the pile are intro¬
duced into a small glass phial filled with water, and in¬
verted in a bason of water, the same process of decom¬
position will go on.
But an apparatus which is rather more complicated,
hut at the same time sufficiently convenient, is usually
employed for this purpose. A small brass cup, E, g*
^13. is supported by the wire F, which is fixed in the
hole of the projecting piece of wood D, at one end of
the trough j from the centre of the cup there arises a
pair of brass pincers, which hold a piece of wire of gold
or platina G. Over the pincers is placed a glass tube
HI, which has at the upper extremity, I, a brass cap,
to the inside of which is fixed another piece of wire of
gold or platina. The two wires should be at alitt.e
distance from each other, as they appear in the figure.
The tube is then filled with water, and is inverted over
the pincers in the brass cup, which is also filled with
waterand thus, by means of the water in the tube, a
communication is formed between the two wires. A
wire proceeding from the other extremity of the tioug
C, is connected with the top of the tube I, and, as soon
as this comunication is formed, the process oi tie e-
composition of the water in the tube commences j tor
the galvanic circle, or the communication between the
extremities of the trough or battery is completed. Ihe
gases, as they are disengaged from the wires in the
, tube, rise to the top, and the water which occupied the
space now filled with air, is forced out into t ie cup.
This process goes on as long as the communication con
tinues, or till the surface of the water is lower than t e
extremity of the upper wire, when the communication
is interrupted, and then the operation ceases. ^
With these observations we conclude what was intend¬
ed to be said concerning the construction of galvanic ap¬
paratus. We shall notice what may be farther neces¬
sary to be explained, in the course of the detail which
is to be given of the experiments in galvanism, or o
the influence of the galvanic fluid on animals, as well
as its chemical effects. We, therefore, now proceed,
in the following chapter, to the consideration ot some ot
these phenomena*. Cmt.
■t I.
ctsof
G A L V
G 'I'ism CHAP. II. Of the Effects of the Galvanic Fluid on
* “ma!s: Animals.
U«rv
It has been already observed, that the first effects of
ell deity, galvanism were exhibited on animals j and indeed it was
supposed that these effects could only be exhibited by
means of animals; and hence, from the coincidence
which was observed with the properties of electricity
already known, it was denominated animal electricity.
The first experiments which were made in investi¬
gating the nature and properties of the galvanic fluid,
were chiefly performed on cold-blooded animals. It
was indeed from observing its effects on them, as we
shall find afterwards in tracing its history, that the
discovery was first made. This discovery was made on
the frog, and since that time the frog has been oftener
the subject of galvanic experiments than any other
animal. From being found in great numbers, from
being conveniently got, as well as from the irritability
of the muscular fibre, as it is denominated by physiolo¬
gists, continuing for a long time, it has perhaps be¬
come the devoted victim of those investigations.
We have already mentioned a simple experiment
with a prepared frog, in which it forms the communi¬
cation between two dissimilar metals. When the frog,
as in fig. I. is prepared, that is, skinned, and the lower
extremities separated from the spine, and suspended on
the zinc wire AB, if the extremities of the frog be
touched with a different metallic substance, such as gold
or silver, while this metallic substance is in contact
with the zinc wire at the point D, the limbs of the frog
are thrown into convulsions, and this takes place as often
as the communication is formed.
Soon after the discovery of Galvani, and after the
result of his experiments and opinions on the subject of
this discovery was announced to the world, the attention
of philosophers became much occupied in repeating and
extending these experiments. Among others, Valli, an
Italian physician, instituted a series of experiments, an
account of which was communicated to the French
m ;of
and
tli) rench
ptyta. philosophers, who soon after repeated them. As these
pti experiments afford us not only a pretty full view of
the effects of the galvanic fluid on animals, but also
the state of galvanism at the time, we shall here detail
them.
Experiment I.—When two metallic coatings or slips
of metal, the one of lead, and the other of silver, were
placed on a frog, fastened to a table, the coating of lead
being placed on the belly of the animal, and that of
silver on the pelvis, and a communication being formed
by means of a slip or wire of copper, strong convulsive
motions were produced in the animal.
Exper. 2.—The coating or slip of lead which was
employed in the preceding experiment, was removed,
and the abdomen was left bare. The copper wire was
then applied to the abdomen the same way as before,
while its other extremity was in contact with the
coating of silver on the pelvis; convulsive motions were
still produced, but they were less sensible than in the
former experiment, and sometimes did not succeed at
all.
Exper. 3—When two coatings of the same metal
were employed, as, for instance, silver or gold, the
effects produced by means of copper forming the com*
A N I S M, 339
munication, were found to he much fuller ; and when Effects of
the coatings were of similar metals, such as copper, lead, Galvanism
or tin, and the metal forming the communication was011 Aoinmls.
the same, no effect whatever was produced.
Exper. 4.—By placing the coating on the abdomen
in a horizontal direction, so that the points of contact
became less numerous, the effects were found to be
proportionally diminished ; but when the coating was
brought into full contact with the surface of the ab¬
domen, it was observed that they became equally
powerful as before.
Exper. 5.—A frog was skinned and cut transversely
through the middle; the nerves of the thighs were laid
bare, joined together, and placed on a slip of gold,
while the thighs themselves were in contact with a
piece ot silver. When the metallic conductor of copper
was applied, slight contractions were produced. It was
found also that contractions took place when both the
coatings were ot silver; but wdien coatings of tin,
copper, or lead, were substituted for the silver coating
which surrounded the nerves, powerful contractions
took place. The gradation observed in the action of
the metals, is the following. Lead produced the
strongest contractions, next the tin, and lastly the
copper ; but in proportion as the vitality of the animal
diminished, the metals were found also to lose their
power of producing motion. The metals which re¬
tained this property longest were lead, tin, and zinc.
Exper. 6.—When plumbers lead was employed on
each side as a coating, and when the metal forming the
communication was the same, no effect was produced ;
but when lead of different qualities, as, for instance, lead
of the assayer and plumbers lead, was used, and the
metal forming the communication being either the one
or the other, very singular effects took place.
While it was found that these two kinds of lead, by
changing the different metals, were no longer suscep¬
tible of producing any effect in one of the coatings,
silver, gold, bismuth, antimony, or zinc, substituted for
the lead, produced very powerful contractions; and,
what seemed still more singular, when the pieces of lead
in the first part of this experiment were re-applied,
slight convulsions took place.
Exper. 7.—-After a short interruption of the experi¬
ments on the same animal, it appeared that it became
susceptible of pretty strong convulsive motions, when
the same experiments were repeated.
Exper. 8.—-When the galvanic power seemed to be
nearly exhausted in the frog, it was found that the
different metals, when they produced, by their contact,
new convulsions, did not, when this effect could be no
longer produced, leave to the animal the power of ex¬
hibiting anew any contractions with coatings of the dif¬
ferent kinds of lead, as in experiment 6.
Exper. 9.—The following is the gradation of the
diminution of effect, till it entirely ceased, when the
plumbers lead always formed one of the coatings.
With the assayers lead forming the other coating,
the action became feeble, and it at last ceased. The
next in order was tin, the next antimony, and so on
in the order in which they are named as follows :
zinc, copper, gold, silver. Iron, it was observed, had
lost its power of producing any effect before the anti¬
mony ; but whether it was deprived of this property
before lead and tin, was not ascertained.
Uua Exper, 10.
340
Effects of
Galvanism
on Animals,
GAL
Expet\ io.—Zinc, on losing the property of exciting
convulsions in a frog, on which experiments had been
made for an hour, was not found susceptible of any
farther action, when the communication was formed
by means of lead ; but it was observed as a very
singular circumstance, that contractions were still pio-
duced by this metal the moment that the person en¬
gaged in the experiment removed the conductor, and
interrupted the circle. This experiment was frequent¬
ly repeated.
Expcr. ll.—The upper part of a frog which was
skinned, and divided transversely, had the crural nerves,
as in the former experiments, armed with a piece of
lead, and placed in a glass filled with water, while the
lower part was placed in another glass, also filled with
water. Strong contractions were produced when the
communication was formed by means of different per¬
sons holding each other by the hand, while two of them
touched the water in the glasses. One of them held in
his hand a piece of metal, which was brought into con¬
tact with the coating of lead.
Expcr, i 2.—When any one individual of the persons
who thus formed the chain of communication between
the two glasses withdrew himself, so that the communi¬
cation was interrupted, no effect was perceptible..
Expcr. 13.—When the frog was arranged in the
same way as in experiment 11. having its parts placed
in two glasses, no motion was excited when a communi¬
cation was established with two fingers $ nor was any
motion produced, when a person with one band armed
with a piece of metal, touched the body of. the frog,
while he brought a finger of the other hand in contact
with the metallic coating of the crural nerves. But by
placing one finger on the inferior part of the frog, he
touched with a piece of metal the coatings of the nerves,
powerful contractions were produced.
Exper. 14.—When the animal was touched with a
metallic substance in an insulated state, no perceptible
effect was observed ; but when the metals ceased to be
insulated, very considerable motions were invariably
produced.
Exper. 15.—The fore leg of a rabbit was separated
from the body ; the brachial nerves were laid bare
and armed with a bit of sheet lead. The communica¬
tion between the lead on the nerve and one of the
contiguous muscles was made with a piece of silver, and
strong convulsive contractions took place in the limb ;
but when this experiment was varied, by substituting
for the metallic conductors, plumbers and assayers
lead, no farther motion was produced. When one of
the coatings employed was lead, and the other iron,
no perceptible motion was observed. But when lead as
one of the coatings, was employed with silver, gold,
copper, zinc, or antimony, as the other coating, the
motions and contractions of the limb were renewed.
The motions were very slight, which were produced by
means of a coating of bismuth, along with a coating of
lead.
Exper. 16.—This experiment was instituted to ascer¬
tain the state of the electricity in the animal which was
the subject of it. With this view, the animal was pla¬
ced in a vessel containing one or two of Coulomb’s elec¬
trometers, and it was then successively electrified, both
positively and negatively j and in both of these cases
the balls of the electrometer were so much influenced
VANISH. _ Pm; I,
by the animal, as to shew, not only that its electricity jr^, ^
was in a state of perfect rest, both before and during GaWt> „
the time of the experiment, but also to exhibit in the°a Abi k
system of the body on which the experiment was made,
in a very distinct and striking manner, phenomena quite
analogous to those of the Leyden phial.
Exper. 17.—The left crural nerve of a living frog
was tied with a ligature so strongly, that the animal
was deprived of the power of motion in that part of toe
limb below the point where the ligature was fixed 5 but
when the nerve was armed with a metallic coating, in
the way described in the former experiments, and a
communication was formed between the part ot the
nerve above the ligature and the muscle, the motion
and contraction of the limb were excited.
Exper. 18.—The ligature was afterwards placed on
the left crural nerve, and brought in contact with the
muscle. It was also fixed in such a way on the right
crural nerve, so that part of it projected : the left part
of the animal was then quite paralytic, and without mo¬
tion, and the convulsive contractions which were pro¬
duced when the communication was iormed, were en¬
tirely limited to the right side ; but when the same
left crural nerve was more completely laid bare, and
separated from the muscular substance which surround¬
ed it, its conducting power was restored, and the com¬
munication being established, the convulsive motions
became pretty strong. When, however, the ligature
was again brought into contact with the muscle, the
limb was again deprived of its power of motion.
Exper. 19.—One of the crural nerves of a frog be¬
ing laid bare, was armed with a piece of sheet lead;
and a communication having been formed between this
nerve and the other crural nerve, which was unarmed,
very strong convulsive motions were produced.
Exper. 20.—-When one of the crural nerves was arm¬
ed with two pieces of lead at different places in its
course, and a communication formed between the two
parts by a metallic conductor, violent agitations follow¬
ed. It was observed, too, that the same effects took
place, when the whole of the nerve was laid bare, and
completely separated from the surrounding muscle,
Exper. 21.—A similar experiment was made on a
hot-blooded living animal. The animal selected for tins
purpose was a guinea pig ; but when the communica¬
tion was established in the usual way, no effect follow¬
ed, from which any thing precise or satisfactory could
be deduced. \
With a view to discover during what length ofl«r'- '
time frogs, which were made the subjects of these ex’^t<Jti
periments, could resist their effects, and retain
power of having motion excited in them, \alli made^ucc,
a number of experiments. At 10 o’clock at night he frogs
prepared two frogs, which on the following morning at
seven o’clock he found had become extremely feeble,
but not entirely deprived of the power ot motion.
Slight convulsions were excited in both by means ot
the galvanic apparatus $ hut an hour having elapsed,
they ceased to afford any farther symptoms of vitality.
No effort that could be made succeeded in producing
motion. In other cases he prepared frogs, which by
the following morning were found to be quite dry, and
then no symptoms of motion could be exhibited. He
separated several of the muscles from the body of a
frog, and after having torn them, he found it impossible
to
Oi dro.
t Pf **!
11. G A L V
,.s 0f to excite the irritability by any mechanical stimulus
j uism whatever ; but, alter previous preparation, and by
! imali.means of a metallic conductor, motion was produced.
The same naturalist made a variety of experiments,
to ascertain the eft'ects of galvanism on animals which
were destroyed with opium, and other narcotic substan¬
ces ; but the results of his experiments on animals to
which opium had been exhibited internally, as well as
applied externally, were found to be very different from
each other. Four frogs were destroyed by means of
powdered tobacco, were rendered completely insensible
to any mechanical stimulus, and seemed to be in a state
of total stupefaction $ but by the application of the
galvanic apparatus, symptoms of vitality appeared, and
slight motions were produced. A number of lizards
being poisoned with tobacco, exhibited, at the time of
their death, convulsive motions ; but they still conti¬
nued to afford symptoms of vitality and motion on the
application of galvanism.
Animals were destroyed in a variety of ways, with a
view of ascertaining what were the effects of galvanism,
after the principle of life seemed to be extinguished. A
small bird, which was for some time immersed in hy¬
drogen gas, or inflammable air, shewed no symptoms of
vitality or motion j but, on the application of galva¬
nism, convulsive contractions of its limbs were produ¬
ced. Two kittens were killed in azotic gas, and the
fore legs were separated and prepared in the usual way.
The same effects were produced as in the experiment
with the bird.
Some animals were destroyed with the extract of
hemlock j but it did not appear that the effects on the
application of the galvanic apparatus were at all dimi¬
nished by means of this poison. In frogs which were
exposed to the exhalation of corrupted animal matters,
perceptible motions were observed by means of galva¬
nism •, but these were very feeble.
Moscati deprived several frogs of life, by placing
them in the vacuum of an air pump 5 and when these
were subjected to experiment with the galvanic appara¬
tus, slight motions were produced ; but it was observed
that these, although they followed each other in rapid
succession, were excited with some difficulty. Here it
was found that the blood was extravasated in the cellu¬
lar membrane of the muscles, by which the flesh was
tinged with a deep red colour. To this circumstance
was ascribed the feeble effects produced in the above
experiment, as it was supposed that the blood carried
oft part of the galvanic fluid, and thus prevented its
action on the muscular fibres, through the medium of
the nerves. This opinion was supported by another ex¬
periment, which was made on prepared frogs, in which
there was no extravasation of blood ; and in this case
the galvanic eflects did not seem to be in any degree
diminished.
Before proceeding farther with an account of the ex¬
periments of the particular effects of galvanism on ani¬
mals, we shall here relate two of a more general nature,
the one with regard to the effects produced by the pe¬
culiar application of the metallic conductor, and the
other with respect to the velocity of the galvanic fluid
I® being increased, without increasing its intensity.
, 1 A difference, which appeared to he a very singular
fact, was observed in the mode of applying the metallic
conductor, to excite motion in animals by means of
A N I S M. 34I
galvanism. It was found, that the motions produced ££ctsof
in the animal by this means were generally more power-Ga vaoism
ful, when the conductor was applied, first to the00 Animal*.
muscles, and then to the coating, than if the reverse v  
had taken place; that is, by applying first to the coat¬
ing, and afterwards to the muscles ; and indeed when
the galvanic power began to be nearly exhausted, no
motion whatever could be excited when the application
was made, first to the coating and then to the muscles,
while at the same time, by the contrary mode of appli¬
cation, motion could be easily produced.
The other fact alluded to is, that the velocity of the ve 0’L of
galvanic fluid may he increased without increasing the the pd™-
degree of its intensity. This was proved by M. Vallinic fu,id
in the following experiment. By means of a chain,inc‘,ea!t<1
which was in contact with the nerves of a prepared IVofT’ .wl,ii0Ut ,
fie completed the galvanic circle. Ihe animal at firstinunsiir.
exhibited convulsive contractions, but afterwards re¬
mained for some time without motion. When the con¬
ductor was removed to a very small distance, motion
was again excited in the animal ; soon alter, however
this ceased. But when an insulated conductor was
brought to the muscles of the frog, the motions were
immediately renewed ; and when they again ceased, a
communication being formed between the operator him¬
self and the conductor, the contractions were again ex¬
cited. The conclusion which he deduced from the
above experiment was, that the galvanic influence is
constantly the same, however various the modes of its
application. The same result, however, he observes,
would not be obtained, if the experiment were made,
on an animal in which the principle of life was in full
vigour.
From a number of experiments which were made by
the same physiologist, it appeared that certain intervals
were necessary, in order to obtain the same intensity of
action in animals subjected to the influence of the gal¬
vanic fluid. Frogs, mice, rats, and tortoises, were the
subjects of these experiments ; they were destroyed bv
means of different poisons, or by respiring some of the
noxious gases. In applying the galvanic apparatus to
these animals, an interval of several minutes was requir¬
ed, when the motions excited became feeble, or had
nearly ceased ; and then, after this interval bad elapsed,
the same effects, and almost equally powerful as before,
were produced.
With regard to the conducting power of the blood-CordifeliKc
vessels, two questions were proposed to Valli, by Vicqpower of
D’Azyr. 1. Whether the blood-vessels are to be con-blood ves-
sidered as conductors of the galvanic fluid. And, 2.sels invcs'J
Whether, by coating the blood-vessels instead of tbet,gB£ef?‘
nerves, any motion through their medium could be ex¬
cited ? In the solution of these questions Valli observed,
that the blood-vessels are undoubtedly to be considered
as conductors of the galvanic fluid ; but in whatever
way this is effected, it seems to be through the
nerves alone, in consequence of the way in which thev
are disposed, that muscular motion can be excited.
The arteries and veins, he farther observes, are to be
considered as less powerful conductors than the nerves;
for no motion is obtained, if the vessels, without hav¬
ing any communication with the nerves, be distributed
directly to the muscles. The tendons also, when the
same communication is established, are also conductors
as well as the bones, if they have not been deprived of
the
G A L V A N I
*7
Effects on
drowned
animals,
Sec.
342
Effects of tin; periosteum. The membranes also possess this con-
Galvaiiism ducting power ; hut exhibit no motions when the com-
on Animals.piun;cation with the nerves is interrupted.
'—^  It had been observed, that the nerves, when dry,
exhibited, by means of friction, some symptoms of elec¬
tricity. With a view to ascertain whether, m this dry
state, the nerves were conductors of the galvanic fluid,
and whether motions could be excited through this me¬
dium, Valli made several experiments •, but in all these
he was unsuccessful, for no motion was produced. In
a series of experiments which were made on fowls, he
found that ligatures applied to the nerves, did not pre¬
vent the contractions of the muscles, provided these li¬
gatures were not applied to the nerves in immediate
contact with the muscles.
In order to ascertain what would be the ettects ot the
galvanic fluid on animals which were drowned or suffo¬
cated, Yalli made a number of experiments. Several
pullets were drowned, and kept so long under water,
that no symptoms of life appeared. By the application
of the galvanic apparatus, muscular contractions vvere
produced in some, while others, by the same applica¬
tion, exhibited no motion whatever. The same experi¬
ment was repeated on six pullets, which were also
drowned j and on the application of the apparatus,
strong convulsive motions were produced. These con¬
tinued for nearly the space of an hour. In others which
were also drowned, the brain and wings were laid bare j
and after this previous preparation, when the galvanic
apparatus was applied, strong muscular contractions
were excited : none of the animals, however, as was ex¬
pected, were restored to life. Similar experiments,
followed by the same result, were made on rabbits.
Several pullets were exposed to the action of different
gases, as hydrogen, nitrous, and azotic gases, and did
not afterwards, by any mechanical stimulus whatever
that could be applied, exhibit symptoms of life. The
galvanic apparatus being applied, very feeble contrac¬
tions were produced ; and these succeeded each other
after long intervals. Similar experiments were made
with the same view, on frogs, and it appeared that these
animals could resist the effects of those gases better than
the others. Nitrous gas, he found, was more injurious
than hydrogen gas. In some of the frogs on which the
experiments were made, the application ot the galvanic
apparatus produced violent agitations *, but having re¬
peated three or four shocks, no farther motion could be
excited, not even after some interval had elapsed.
To ascertain what were the effects of different kinds
of air on animals subjected to the galvanic apparatus,
he separated the hinder extremities of a frog, exposed
the one to the action of nitrous gas, and the other to
that of atmospherical air. After being subjected for a
short time to the action of these airs, the galvanic appa¬
ratus was applied. Contractions were produced in
both 5 but those which were induced in the limb ex¬
posed to the nitrous air, were feebler than the other 5
and when the action of the nitrous air was continued be¬
yond a very limited time, no motion whatever could be
excited. The same experiment was made on limbs ex-
ppsed to the action of hydrogen gas; and it appeared
that its effects in destroying the irritability of the mus¬
cular fibre, or in diminishing its susceptibility of being
acted upon by galvanism, were less powerful than the
nitrous gas. Azotic gas was also found to produce ef*
N 1 S M. ^ Par.
fects on frogs somewhat similar. The heart was indeed
observed to palpitate after the death of the animal GalvaiJ,
but, in general, the contractions which were induced0“Ani(|,,
by galvanism were extremely feeble. . _ r 1
It would lead us too much into detail to mention all
the experiments which were made by this naturalist.
We shall therefore only add a short account of the ge¬
neral results. # jfii
j. In frogs newly killed, he found, that a single me- ResnM
tallic conductor was sufficient to excite convulsive con-Yalli’,
tractions-, and that in producing these motions, it wasP*™'
not found essentially necessary to apply a coating either
to the muscle or nerve. Scissars, in which the steel ap¬
peared to be of a bad quality, might be successfully
employed as a conductor j but gold, silver, copper, lead,
and tin, in general, produced no eftect.
2. The galvanic fluid was found to pass through glass
and sealing wax j but it was necessary that these sub¬
stances should have their temperature considerably in¬
creased.
3. Water in which the temperature was pretty high,
or when raised to the boiling point, seemed to prevent
the effects of galvanism from taking place, or at least
diminish them greatly.
4. Water, the temperature of which was very much
reduced, seemed also to be deprived of the property of
conducting the galvanic fluid.
5. It was found, that when an individual formed
part of the chain, in cases where the galvanic apparatus
was applied to the prepared feet of rabbits, cats, and
dogs, the latter were unsusceptible of motion.
6. The diaphragm of a dog was immersed in a vessel
of water, and so placed in the vessel, that the phrenic
nerve, previously armed, projected from it and on
touching the coating with a piece of gold or silver coin,
while one of the fingers of the other hand was put into
the water, feeble contractions were excited in the
muscle. In some other experiments on the same muscle
of horses, it was found that no motion could be induced
by means of galvanism, while the same power, with the
same intensity, constantly excited contractions in that
of dogs.
7. A metallic wire, which was entirely covered
with sealing wax, produced no motion in frogs,
which began to be exhausted when it was employed as
a conductor. This was stated by Valli, as a proof that
the galvanic fluid passes along the surface of con¬
ductors.
8. A ligature on the nerve, when placed near to the
muscle, or in contact with it, interrupted or diminished
the effects of galvanism : it was found also, that a liga¬
ture, applied in the same way, prevented the eflects of
artificial electricity.
9. A ligature was applied, at a small distance from
the muscle, to the crural nerve of a frog, and another
was prepared in the same way, but without any liga¬
ture j these being subjected to experiment, it appeared
that galvanism produced a more perceptible action in
the latter than in the former.
10. Weak shocks of artificial electricity produce mo¬
tion in the muscles of that leg only where no ligature
has been applied to the nerve; but in the other, muscu¬
lar contractions can be excited by means of the galva¬
nic apparatus. From this experiment, it was attempted
to deduce a method of subjecting the intensity of galva-
?h i.
nism to calculation.
G A L V
If, for example, it is found that
;
h -
roe i by
Fi) .na,
^ ni=m ^,e effccts °f artificial electricity are considered as
^ mds-amounting to five, six, or seven degrees, and this power
js insufficient to excite contractions, while they are pro¬
duced by means of galvanism, it may he said that the
latter is five, six, or seven degrees stronger than the
former.
11. Valli did not succeed in effecting the muscular
contraction of the heart by means of galvanism 5 nor
did he succeed in similar experiments made on the
stomach, intestines, or bladder, although he armed or
applied metallic coatings to the nerves of all these
organs.
12. To produce contractions in the wing of a fowl,
the nerves of which were coated and previously steeped
in oil, very powerful shocks of artificial electricity were
found requisite ; but the effects of the galvanic fluid
did not, by this process, seem to be at all diminished :
it retained its whole energy.
Fontana, in his experiments and investigations on
this subject, found, that he could accelerate the mo¬
tions of the heart, when these motions were going on ;
and when the motions had ceased, could bring it to
produce contractions. By placing the heart between
two pieces of metal, zinc and antimony, so that it shall
be in contact with both, and then forming a communi¬
cation by means of a metallic conductor between the
two metals, its motions are excited, even after it is se¬
parated from the body and cut in pieces. According
to the experiments of Marsigli, part of the heart of a
fowl, placed on a piece of charcoal, and another por¬
tion put on a piece of pasteboard, covered with tinfoil,
gave repeated contractions, and was strongly con¬
vulsed.
M. Delametherie made a variety of experiments, at
a very early period, on this subject. The following are
some of the general results of these experiments.
1. He found that the effects of galvanism in a pre¬
pared frog were feeble.
2. That it possesses the greatest intensity at the time
when the animal has been just deprived of life ; from
this he infers, that the intensity of the effect must he
greater in the living animal; from which he thinks it
follows, that it is only by means of good conductors
that the galvanic fluid can be conveyed from the nerves
to the muscles of a fi’og; and it is by means of the me¬
tals, which may vary in the degree of their conducting
power, that this communication is established.
3. Plumbago and charcoal were found to be inferior
in their conducting power to metallic substances ; but
by their means the galvanic fluid could be conveyed
from the nerves to the muscles of a frog.
4. He did not find from his experiments that this ef¬
fect could be produced by forming the communications
by means of animal substances ; for when a person
touched at the same time the nerves and muscles of a
frog which had been laid bare, the same effect did not
follow.
Volta, whose name has been already mentioned as
the inventor and improver of the apparatus by means of
which the galvanic power could be greatly increased,
was, at the same time, one of the most zealous and the
niost indefatigable inquirers into its nature and proper¬
ties. I he views which this philosopher entertained
with regard to the nature of this fluid, were different
ky V
A N I S M. ^ ^
from those of Ga Ivan I. They are distinguished for their Effects of
01 igmality, exhibit a train of careful investigation, and Ctaivanism
have served as an excellent foundation on which the0"
superstructure of galvanism was quickly raised. We
shall therefore give a pretty full detail of the experi¬
ments and reasonings of this philosopher; and from the
importance of his views, which we have stated above,
it will not be less acceptable to the reader, if this de¬
tail be given, as we propose to do, in bis own words.
In this, indeed, something of what belongs to the second
part of this treatise, will he unavoidably anticipated ;
but the sacrifice of strict method to perspicuity, will,
we are persuaded, be readily admitted as a sufficient
apology for this deviation.
To understand clearly the peculiar views which Vol¬
ta has embraced in the observations which we have now
referred to, it will be necessary to anticipate a little
farther, by stating, that, according to Galvani, the
fluid which bears his name is a peculiar kind of electri¬
city, which resides in the organs of the animal, and is
essentially and inseparably connected with them. But,
according to the theory of Volta, the whole phenomena
of the galvanic fluid depend entirely on artificial elec¬
tricity, which is excited into action, or put in motion,
when conductors of a different nature are brought into
contact ; and these, he thinks, are to he considered as
the primary exciters. The motion of this fluid is indu¬
ced in three different ways, that is, by means of three
conductors at least, which are of a different nature, be¬
ing so arranged as to form the communication or circle.
In the first way, two metals or conductors of the first
class, of a dissimilar nature, are employed. These are
brought directly into contact by one of their extremi¬
ties ; but the communication between the other extre¬
mities is established by means of moist conductors, or
conductors belonging to the second class. This fluid is
put in motion another way, by a single metallic con¬
ductor of the first class, placed between two moist con¬
ductors of a dissimilar nature, between the latter of
which a communication is established. In the third
way of exciting the action of this fluid, or putting it in
motion, a communication is formed among three con¬
ductors, each of which is of a different nature. To il¬
lustrate the variety of action observed in these conduct¬
ing substances, the following account of the experiments
of this naturalist, with his views and reasonings, was
communicated by him in letters to Gren.
“ If a tin bason, says he, be filled with soap-suds,
lime-water, or a strong ley, which is still better, and
if you then lay hold of the bason with both your hands,
having first moistened them with pure water, and apply
the tip of your tongue to the fluid in the bason, you
will immediately be sensible of an acid taste upon your
tongue, which is in contact with the alkaline liquor.
This taste is very perceptible, and, for the moment,
pretty strong ; but it is changed afterwards into a dif¬
ferent one, less acid, but more saline and pungent, until
it at last becomes alkaline and sharp in proportion as
the fluid acts more upon the tongue, and as the activity
of its peculiar taste and its chemical power, more called
forth, produce a greater effect in regard to the sensation
of acidity occasioned by the stream of the electric fluid,
which, by a continued circulation, passes from the tin
to the alkaline liquor, thence to the tongue, then
through the person to the water, and thence to the
tin/
galvanism.
3+4 .
Effects of tin again. I explain the phenomenon in this manner
Galvanism according to my principles j and indeed it cannot be
un Animals, explained in any other, as every thing tends to confirm
" my assertion, and to prove it in various ways. I he
contact of different conductors, particularly the metallic,
including pyrites and other minerals as well as charcoal,
which I call dry conductors, or of the first class, with
moist conductors, or conductors of the second class, agi¬
tates or disturbs the electric fluid, or gives it a certain
impulse. Do not ask in what manner •, it is enough
that it is a principle, and a general principle. This
impulse, whether produced hy attraction or any other
force, is different or unlike, both in regard to the dif¬
ferent metals and to the different moist conductors, so
that the direction, or at least the power with which the
electric fluid is impelled or excited, is different when
the conductor A is applied to the conductor B, and to
another, C. In a perfect circle of conductors, where
either one of the s'econd class is placed between two
different from each other of the first class, or, contrari¬
wise, one of the first class is placed between two of the
second class different from each other, an electric stream
is occasioned by the predominating force either to the
right or to the left*, a circulation of this fluid, which
ceases only when the circle is broken, and which is re¬
newed when the circle is again rendered complete.
This method of connecting the different conductors
will be more readily comprehended by turning to the
figures, where the capital letters denote the different
conductors or exciters (moteui's) of the first class, and
the small letters those of the second class. Fig. 3. and
4. express the two cases above mentioned.
“ I consider it as almost superfluous to observe, that
when the circle consists merely of two kinds of con¬
ductors, however different or however numerous the
pieces may be of which each consists, two equal powers
are opposed to each other, that is, the electric fluid
is impelled with equal force in two different directions,
and consequently no stream can be formed from right
to left, or, contrariwise, capable of exciting convulsive
movements.
“ There are other cases, however, and other modes
of combination, where the powers are equally in equi¬
librium, and where no current of the electric fluid can
take place j or, at least, none of such a force as to make
an impression on the tenderest nerves, or to excite any
convulsive movement in the best prepared frog that
may be placed in the circle, notwithstanding the inter¬
vention of two or more different kinds of metals. This
is the case when each of these metals is placed between
two moist conductors, or of the second class, and which
are very nearly of the same kind j or when, in a circle
of three pieces, two of them of the same metal, and one
of a different metal, are so connected, that the latter is
immediately between the other two.
“ When one of the ends of a piece of metal, which
is a conductor of the first class, is immediately applied
to another of the same class, but, instead of immediately
touching with the other end, the other piece touches an
intermediate conductor of the second class, either great
or small, either a drop of water, a piece of raw or boiled
flesh, or of sponge not moist, paste of meal, jelly, soap,
cheese, or the white of an egg boiled to hardness ; in
this new combination, where a conductor of the second
class is between two of the first class, the powers are no
Part
longer opposed to each other j and this is sufficient to Effect;,;
determine an electric stream. When, therefore, a pre-Galvan,
pared trog is placed as the conductor of the second on Anit !
class, it will always be violently agitated as often as1
this circle is made complete.
44 It may be readily perceived that the twro last ex¬
periments coincide with those announced by M. Hum¬
boldt, where a drop of water, a small bit of fresh meat,
or a very thin stratum of any fluid, performs the whole
wonder. When another drop of water, or any other
aqueous conductor, is applied between the other end of
the first conductor and the other corresponding piece,
each piece of metal is insulated, as l shall express it,
between two aqueous conductors j but then the powers
from right to left, and from left to right, are again
completely opposed to each other j consequently the
electric stream is impeded, and the frog remains without
any movement. It is, therefore, absolutely necessary
that two different metals or conductors of the first class,
should be in immediate contact with each other, on the
one side, while with their opposite ends they touch con¬
ductors of the second class.
44 We might consider this mutual contact of two
different metals as the immediate cause which puts the
electric fluid in motion, instead of ascribing that power
to the contact of the two metals with the moist con¬
ductors. Thus, for example, in fig. 3. instead of ad-
mitting two difl'erent actions, at least, in regard to the
magnitude of the power, one where B comes in contact
with a, and another where A comes in contact with a
also, by which an electric current arises in the direction
from A to B, we might suppose only one action at the
point where B comes in contact with A, which impels
the fluid in that direction. In both suppositions the
result, as may easily be seen, is the same. But though
I have reasons for adopting the first as true rather than
the second, yet the latter represents the proposition with
more simplicity, and it may be convenient to adhere to
it in the explanation, as it affords a readier view of it.
We may then say, that in the cases above stated, no
effect will be produced, because here there is no mutual
contact of different metals j the effect also will be null,
when a conductor of the first class, on two opposite
sides, is in contact with two others of the same class;
for the actions therefore are in equilibrium $ and, lastly,
that an electric current will be occasioned by the action
which arises from the contact of conductors of the first
class, and which is counteracted by no other contact oi
the like kind.
“ Having seen the result of employing three pieces
of metal, or conductors of the first class, viz. two of
one kind and one of a different, when combined
sometimes in one way and sometimes in another, with
conductors of the second class, we shall now try what
will be the result, according to my principles, with
four pieces of metal, two of which are of one kind,
for example, zinc, when connected with moist con¬
ductors of different kinds.
“ I shall first observe, that when they are connected
in a circle, the powers which endeavour to put the
electric fluid in a streaming movement, will be op¬
posed to each other, and in perfect equilibrium, and
that consequently no movement can take place in the
frog, here supposed to be the meist conductor a, m a
part of it, however irritable and well prepared it may
I,
lijl!.
gdi s of t>e 5 avK^ ^ ^!e CKperlmcni; 1>g made with accuracy and
Sjiism the necessary precaution, so that the metals, in particu-
piw na'Har, he very clean and dry at the points of contact, it
' will perfectly confirm what I have above said ; the frog
will experience no agitation, no convulsive moment.
“ These movements, on the other hand, took place,
as might he foreseen from my principles, as often as
I omitted one of the middle pieces, or changed the
order.
“ The conductors of the second class, which, in all
the figures, are denoted by small letters, may be cops
with water, in which the ends of the pieces of metal
denoted by the large letters are immersed j or sponges
or other bodies which have imbibed aqueous moisture.
They may he either large or small, and may consist of
one or more pieces, provided they be in proper contact ;
they may also be persons, if their skin be moistened at
the places of contact, &c. By the last method the ex¬
periments will he very beautiful and incessant, when the
circle consists of three or more persons (I have formed
it frequently of ten, and even more), ot two or more
frogs properly prepared, and of four pieces of metal, two
of silver and two of iron, tin, and particularly zinc.
The change of effect, when you change the connection,
is striking.
“ Let the position be as represented in fig. 14. where
g is the prepared frog, which the two persons/>,/?, hold
in their hands, one on the one side by the feet, and the
other on the opposite by the rump. Z, Z, are two plates
of zinc, which are held also by these persons, and A, A
two pieces of silver, which are held by a third person,
denoted also by p. It must not be forgotten that the
hands should be very moist, as the dry skin is not a con¬
ductor sufficiently strong. As in this chain the actions
of the electric exciters are opposed to each other, and
in exact equilibrium, as may be readily perceived, no
convulsion or agitation in the frog will take place.
“ Now, let one of the metallic pieces A, Z, which
stand between the two persons, p, p, or between any
other moist conductors, be left in combination as it is j
and let the position of the two other metallic pieces
A, Z, be reversed, by converting fig. 14. into fig. 15.
(so that the actions, instead of being contrary, will act
together to impel the electric fluid to one side or to
produce the same current) j or introduce between A
and Z another person, or any other conductor of the
second class, so that the chain be formed as in fig. 16.5
or take away one of the pieces A, Z, in fig. 14. and
make the chain like those of fig. 17. and 19.; or, in
the last place, remove the whole two pieces A, Z, either
in the one or the other side, as represented fig. 19. (by
which means it will correspond with fig. 17. as the
whole chain p,g,p,p, may he considered as a single
moist conductor of the second class). In all these
combinations, which are represented by fig. 15. 16. 17.
pff & l8. and 19. the actions arising from the metallic con¬
tacts are no longer contrary to each other, or in equi¬
librium, as they were in fig. 14.; consequently an
electric stream is produced, and the frog^, which I
suppose to lie properly prepared, and which forms a part
of the chain, will be violently agitated as often as the
circle, when broken at any one place, particularly be¬
tween metal and metal, is again restored.
“ In regard to the experiment where a moist con-
ductor, or one of the second class, is to be introduced
Vol. IX. Part I. 4,
0ALVANISM
h\ ■
h
between the two pieces A, Z (fig. 16.), that iV, between
two di tie rent metals, a drop of water, or a small bit of
moistened sponge, or a thin stratum of any fluid, soap
or any other viscous matter, will be quite sufficient, as
has been already observed. This surprising experi¬
ment I generally make in such a manner, that, instead
of the piece ol the metal, I employ a cup or spoon
filled with water, and then cause the person who holds
the perfectly dry and pure stick of tin, to touch with
the stick sometimes the perfectly dry sides of the spoon
or cnp, and sometimes the water contained in them.
It is wonderful to. see, that, as by the latter method,"
the violent agitation of the frog never ceases, the first
method, which corresponds with fig. 14. does not pro¬
duce the least irritation ; unless by accident there be a
small drop of water, or a thin stratum of moisture, at
tiie place ol contact, by which the case represented fit)-.
16. would be restored. This may serve to shew with
what care and attention the experiment must he made,
in order to guard against error or deception, which
might so easily arise; and everywhere exhibit ano¬
malies.
“ When I introduce water or any other moist body,
great or small, not merely between one pair of metallic
pieces, A, Z, as fig. 16. but between two pairs, as re¬
presented fig. 20. each piece of metal is between like £
moist conductors, and by these means all the actions
are again rendered contrary, or brought into equili¬
brium ; or, according to the other mode of viewing
the matter, there is no longer any action, for want of
the mutual contact of two different metals, which, as
we have seen, is certainly necessary to excite an electric
current. and it is always found that the frog' experi¬
ences no agitation.
I shall not enlarge farther on these combinations,
which may be varied ad infinitum with a greater number
of metallic pieces, and by which one may be enabled
to foretel the phenomena which, according to my prin¬
ciples, will always be found to take place. It will be
sufficient, for the present, to draw this conclusion, that
in a circle consisting merely of two conductors, how¬
ever different they may be, their mutual contact can
produce no electric stream sufficient to excite sensibi¬
lity, or muscular movement; and that, on the contrary,
this effect infallibly follows as often as the chain is*
formed of three conductors, one of one class, and two
different from each other of another class, which come
into mutual contact with each other, and that this effect
will be stronger, the greater the difference is between
the latter ; that in other cases, where there are more
than three different conductors, the effect either is not
produced, or will be produced in different degrees, ac¬
cording as the forces called forth by the difl'erent com¬
binations, which will be expanded at each heterogeneous
contact, and which are often in opposition, and endea¬
vour to impel the electric fluid in opposite directions,
are perfectly in equilibrium with each other (which
must be a very rare case), or when the sum of those
which exert themselves in one direction is more or less
exceeded by the sum of those which act in another di- .
rection.
“ I shall here, however, leave the two complex
combinations, and return to the simple cases, those with
three different conductors, represented by fig. 3, which
are more demonstrative; or, in other words, those with
X X two
345
fleets of
G a’ Vfinism
on AninmK
ig. 20.
344
Lfteets of
Galvanism
uit Animals.
G A L V
two different metals or conductors of the first class,
which are in contact with each other, and are applied
on the other side to moist conductors, or conductors ol
the second class. This method has been commonly
employed since Galvani’s discovery, and is in exact
A N I S M, _ , Par;,
or a thin stratum of a mucous, saline, &c. fluid, with p,(Y,t
which the bow has been rubbed over, and which on CtaivaiJ
this side is between the metal and the water. ■mAniJL
“ The very considerable difference in regard to the
quantity of effect in the before-mentioned experiments
employed since Galyani s discovery, an r ‘ ‘ already shews, that if the electric stream excited by
proportion with the diversity of metals, on w u ' jg strongCSt towards a certain metal, when that
aider the whole phenomena to depem . . metai js nlaced between a certain fluid on the one side,
“ The other method of combination, w iic i s - P - , , id on tiie ()tl1t.r? there are. other fluids
.1 w- -  / J • f
sed hv fid- 4. or that of a metal placed between two riit-
ferent moist conductors, for example, between water on
the one side, and an aqueous, saponaceous, or saline
fluid on the other, I discovered in the autumn of 1794 j
and though since that period I have repeated the much
varied experiments of different persons both foreigners
and others, among which was that of Humboldt, and
though I wrote to several correspondents respecting it,
that tight has not yet been thrown on this new pheno¬
menon which it seems to deserve. .
“ The singular circumstance before mentioned, in
regard to the acid taste when the tongue is brought
into contact with an alkaline liquid, belongs, as you
may perceive, to this second method of exciting the
F4. 21
Hectric fluid, and putting it in circulation (it tlie tin
vessel be touched on the outside by the hand moistened
with water, and on the inside by the alkaline liquor),
and shews that this current is no less strong and active
than that excited by the first method, viz. by emp oy-
ino- two sufficiently well-chosen metals, such as ead
and copper, iron and silver, zinc and tin. I must here
observe, that though with tin alone, placed between
water and an alkaline liquor, you obtain nearly the
effect which is produced by two of the most different
metals, as silver and zinc, combined with any conduc¬
tor whatever of the second class ; you can obtain the
same, and even in a higher degree, with iron alone or
silver alone, when the iron is introduced between water
on the one side and nitrous acid on the other, or when
the silver is applied between water and a solution of
sulphur or pot-ash. ...
“ If you take a frog, the head of which has been
cut off, and which has been deprived of all life by
thrusting a needle into the spinal marrow, and immerse
it, without skinning it, taking out the bowels, or any
other preparation, into two glasses of water, the rump
into one, and the leg into the other as usual, it will be
strongly agitated and violently convulsed when you
connect the water in both glasses by a bow formed of
tvvo very different metals, such as silver and tin or lead,
or, what is better, silver and zinc; but this will by no
means be the case when the two metals are less different
in regard to their powers, such as gold and silver, sil¬
ver and copper, copper and iron, tin and lead. But
what is more, the effect will be fully produced on this
%o little prepared frog, when you immerse in one of the
two glasses the end of a bow merely of tin or zinc, and
into the other glass the other end of this bow, which
has been rubbed over with a little alkali. \ou may
perform the experiment still better with an iron bow,
one end of which has been covered with a drop or thin
coating of nitrous acid ; and beyond all expectation,
when you take a silver how having a little sulphur of
potash adhering to the end of it.
44 Fig. 21. represents the form of this experiment,
where g is the frog ; a, o, the two glasses with water ;
A, the bow formed of one single metal, and m the drop
and another fluid on the other, there are other fluids
which produce a greater effect with another kind of
metal ; so that it will he necessary to discover by expe¬
riment the particular arrangement of conductors suited
to each metal, in which the fluids or conductors of the
second class must be disposed according to their activi¬
ty. I have paid great attention to this circumstance,
and have formed several tables, which I shall publish
as soon as I have brought them to perfection.
“ I shall here, however, only observe, that in order
to class, in some manner, the innumerable different
moist conductors of this kind, I distinguish them into
aqueous, spirituous, mucous, and gelatinous, saccharine,
saponaceous, saline, acid, alkaline, and sulphurous (li¬
vers of sulphur) liquids; that I make subdivisions in
the acids down to the best known simple mineral acids,
(as I find in this respect great difference between the
nitrous and the muriatic acids), comprehending the
principal vegetable acids and the acids of galls ; and
do the same in regard to the saline fluids, accoiding as
they are solutions of neutral salts, earthy salts, and
particularly metallic salts.
“ When it can be determined in what order all these
kinds of fluids follow each other, in regard to the
power in question, tor the metal A, and another for
the metal B, &c. we shall then he in a condition to
determine what place must he assigned to a great num¬
ber of other heterogeneous fluids, whether mineral, ve¬
getable, or animal, which belong to several of the
above classes. In general, the order for the greater
part of the metals hitherto observed is as follows : 1st,
pure water; 2d, water mixed with clay or chalk (which
shows a pretty different effect when the before-mention¬
ed experiment is made with two glasses, a bow of tin
or zinc, and a properly prepared frog, which has a
sufficient degree of vitality) ; 3d, a solution of sugar;
4th, alcohol ; 5th, milk ; 6th, mucilaginous fluids ;
7th, animal gelatinous fluids ; 8th, wine ; 9th, vinegar,
and other vegetable juices and acids; 10th, saliva;
nth, mucus of the nose; 12th, blood; 13th, brains;
14th, solution of salt; 15th, soap-suds ; 16th, chalk-
water; 17th, concentrated mineral acids; 18th, strong
alkaline leys ; 19th, alkaline fluids ; 20th, livers of sul¬
phur. With some metals there is, however, a consi¬
derable deviation from this order, in regard to livers
of sulphur, alkaline fluids, and the nitrous and saline
acids. . _ ...
“ As to the metals, which in their position between
these different fluids are more or less proper for the
electric effect in question, I have found in general,
that tin exceeds all others, and that silver is the worst;
except when one of the fluids betwixt which the silver
is placed is water, or any other aqueous conductor,
and the other liver of sulphur : in this case silver far
exceeds zinc, and even tin. Iron also produces a much
greater effect than any other metal, when it is in con¬
tacts on the one side, with mere water or an aqueous
p tl.
G A L V
E
G
on
ls 0f conductor, and on the other with the nitrous acid,
„ nisni were it even only a drop. The excitement occasioned
imals jn both cases is wonderful j since it exceeds, as I have
already remarked, that produced, according to the
usual method, by means ot a double metallic bow, even
of different metals, as zinc and silver, applied to con¬
ductors of the second class of the same kind. It is suf¬
ficiently strong and powerful to produce convulsive
movements in a half-prepared frog, the bowels of which
have not been taken out, when one of the two moist
conductors is a concentrated alkaline solution, and the
metal placed between them is zinc, or rather tin.
With other metals and other fluids you can seldom pro¬
duce convulsions in a frog, if it be not perfectly prepa¬
red, or at least embovvelled.
“ The reader will readily perceive, that when a bow
of one and the same metal touches with both its ends
the same kind of saline water, the same acid, the same
alkaline fluid, &c. an electric steam will not take
place, as happens also when it touches on each side
merely water: in that case two opposite actions are op¬
posed to each other, and keep each other in equili¬
brium. That these contrary powers, however, may be
in perfect equilibrium, it is necessary that the fluids ap¬
plied to both ends of the homogeneous metalline bow
be exactly of the same kind and of the same strength.
For this reason the most careful attention and a certain
dexterity are required, in order to ensure success to the
experiment, which I have often performed to the great
astonishment of the spectators, and which any one may
repeat as was done by my friend Humboldt. That
philosopher has already published some of the most
striking and decisive of these experiments in his second
letter; and I shall here give a more particular account
of them.
“ Having placed a completely or only half-prepared
frog as usual in two glasses of water, take a very clean
bow of silver (it will be best when it has been washed
with water from the glasses), and immerse both ends of
it at once, or the one after the other, in the glasses; no
agitation of the frog will be occasioned. Repeat the
experiment, after you have daubed over one end of the
bow with the white of an egg, liquid glue, saliva, mu¬
cus, blood, a solution of tartar, or any other fluid or
conducting substance sufficiently different from pure
water. First, immerse the pure end, or that moistened
merely with water, in the water of one of the glasses j
and afterwards the other end, daubed over with the
above substances, in the water of the other glass j you
will then infallibly produce a convulsive movement in
the frog, and several times in succession, if you draw
cut the bow and again immerse it until nothing more
of the above substances is left adhering to the metal,
or until the metal, with its ends in both the glasses,
touches only pure, or nearly pure, water. Daub both
the above substances uniformly over both ends of the
bow, and immerse them at the same time in both the
glasses of water, and no convulsions will arise. They
will often be produced in newly prepared and highly
irritable frogs, when the saline fluid, or, in general, the
substance with which the two ends of the bow are
daubed over, is not perfectly the same, or when the
substance at the one end is more diluted than at the
other, &c. Wash and clean carefully the one end of
the bow, daub over the other more or less, and convul-
A N I S M. 34 7
sions will be again produced as soon as the circle is made Effects of
complete by the double immersion of the bow. Clean Galvanism
both ends completely, and no agitation will arise, as in on A,umals.
the first experiment. v—"'
“ F or comparative experiments of this kind, I would
recommend viscous fluids or substances rather than sa¬
line, because the latter are too soon dissolved in the wa¬
ter. It oft-times happens that the convulsions of the
frog, when it is completely prepared and highly irri¬
table, take place, though both ends of the metallic bow
are daubed over with the same kind of saline fluid.
The cause of this is, that when one end is immersed in
the water after the other (and it may be easily seen that
it is impossible to do so in a moment with sufficient ac¬
curacy), the one end of the bow loses a portion of its
saline substance sooner than the other, or at least the
adhering part is more diluted by the water, so that the
fluid with which both ends have been daubed over is
no longer the same.
“ For these experiment I would also recommend sil¬
ver, as a metal that is less liable than others to be at¬
tacked and changed by saline and other liquids. Tin,
lead, copper, and in particular iron, are more suscepti¬
ble of lasting variations ; so that bows of these metals,
and of iron above all, retain for a long time the power
of producing convulsions in a newly prepared and high¬
ly irritable frog, even when both the ends of the bow
are immersed in two glasses of water, although the
places of the metal, attacked by any of the saline fluids,
have been carefully washed and cleaned. A superfi¬
cial alteration in the metal is sufficient to produce this
change, as may be easily seen. These variations often
shew themselves to the eye by a yellow blackish spot,
&c. which it is difficult to remove. I do not here
speak of lasting variations, that proceed to a greater
depth, which can be produced in tbe end of the metal¬
lic bow, and particularly in iron, when its hardness is
changed j a process by which such a bow can be ren¬
dered capable of producing not only convulsions in
frogs, but also a particular sensation on the tongue, and
light before tbe eyes, if both its ends, made perfectly
clean, are only brought into contact with pure water.
These, and many other experiments of the like kind,
form tbe chief subject of my first letter to the abbe
Vassali, professor of natural philosophy at Turin, writ¬
ten in the beginning of the year 1794, and afterwards
published with the other in Brugnatelli’s Journal.
“ If silver be less exposed to be attacked bv saline
and other fluids (except by liver of sulphur, which in¬
stantaneously renders it black) ; if it be less susceptible
of considerable and lasting variations, and has therefore
this advantage over other metals, that it is liable to
fewer irregularities j tin, on account of its greater ac¬
tivity, that is, the strength of the effects which it pro¬
duces by being brought into contact with almost all
moist conductors, as I have already observed, is to be
preferred to silver, and in a certain degree to all other
metals. Tbe experiment 1 have already described with
a tin bason filled with an alkaline fluid, and held in the
hands moistened with water, by which an acid sensa¬
tion is excited on the tongue when brought into con¬
tact with the above fluid, is a proof of it j for it would
be vain to expect a like effect from a bason of lead,
iron, or copper, and much more so from one of silver.
With the latter it would he obtained only when it con-
X x 2 tained
,43 . G A L V /
Effects of tainetl Hqnul liver of sulphur •, and in that case the acid
Giivanism taste would be pretty strong.
on Animal*. 11 he electric fluid is excited also with the greatest
strength and activity, when the metal is tin, between
water and a saline fluid : but it will be exc.ted with
still greater energy to produce an acid sensation mi the
tongue when the tin is between water and an insipid
mucilaginous fluid •, or when the experiment is made
with a tin bason filled with a solution of gum, liquid
glue, white of an egg, &c. The other metals, in like
circumstances, produce some effect, but much weaker .
silver produces the weakest, except with liver ot sul¬
phur, as I have already observed.
“ A like experiment, which I made three yeais ago,
and exhibited to various persons, not with two different
fluids and one metal, as in that above described, but
contrariwise, with two metals of a different kind and a
fluid, is already known. I took a bason of tin (one ot
vine is better), placed it on a silver stand, and filled it
with water. When any of the persons in company ap¬
plied the tip of his tongue to the water, he found it
perfectly tasteless as long as he did not touch the silver
stand but as soon as he laid hold ot the stand, and
grasped it in his hands well moistened, he experienced
on the tongue a very perceptible and pretty strong acid
taste. This experiment will succeed, though the effect
is proportionality weaker, with a chain of several per¬
sons who hold each other’s hands, after they have been
moistened with water, while the first applies the tip 01
his tongue to the water in the bason, and the last lays
hold with his hands of the silver stand.
u If these experiments, in regard to the taste excited
on the tongue by the action of two different metals, are
striking, the others, in regard to the taste excited, mo¬
dified and changed by one metal between two different
fluids, are no less so, and they are also newer. . 1 hey
are still interesting on this account, that they discover
to us the cause of that taste often perceived in water
and other liquids, which is more or less considerable or
various when drunk from vessels of metal, and particu¬
larly of tin. When the outer extremity of the vessel
is applied to the under lip, rendered moist by the sali¬
va, and the tongue is extended so as to be in contact
with the water, beer, wine, &c. in the vessel, or when
the tongue is bent as is done in drinking, is there not
then a complete circle, and is not the metal between
two more or less different liquids, that is, between the
saliva of the under lip and the liquor in the cup or ves¬
sel ? A stronger or weaker electric stream must thereby
be occasioned, according as the fluids are different—a.
stream which will not fail in its way to affect the sensi¬
ble organs of the tongue in the said circle.
41 Besides the two methods already considered, of
producing an electric current, that is, by means of one
or more moist conductors, or conductors of the second
class, placed between two different metals or conductors
of the first class y or contrariwise by means of a con¬
ductor of the first class placed between two of the se¬
cond class, also different; there is still a third method
of exciting the electric fluid, though in a degree so
much weaker, that it is scarcely capable of causing con¬
vulsions in a perfectly prepared frog, in which there is
still a strong degree of vitality. This new method
consists in forming the circle of three different conduc¬
tors, all of the second class, without the intervention
N I S M. Part,
of one of the first or a metal one. Some think they
find in this method a strong objection against my prin- .GaNajJ||
• , on Aniiifc 1
dole. . 1— " T*1
Fig. 22. represents this third method compared with jWjl ;
the other two. In the experiments of Professor Yalli, "l j
respecting which so much noise has been made without
any reason, t represents the leg ot the frog, and parti¬
cularly the hard tendinous part of the muscu/usgaslroc.
nemius; m the rump, or the muscles of the back, or the
ischiatic nerves, to which the said tendinous parts are
applied *, and « the blood, or the viscous saponaceous
or saline fluid, applied to the point of contact.
“ I have fully described this new method, where no
metal is used, in my third and fourth letter to Piofessor
Vassal!, written in the autumn and winter of the year
1795. ’l have there shewn, that these new facts, far
from altering my ideas and principles, serve rather to
establish the°m j’and that they render more general the
principle that the conductors, by heterogeneous contact,
that is, of two different from each other, become ex¬
citers of electricity, and confirm the beautiful law ari¬
sing from it, that to produce an electric stream, the
circle must necessarily be formed of three different con¬
ductors. You now see in what the whole secret, the
whole magic consists 5 and that it depends not merely
on metals, as might have been believed, but on all the
different conductors. As long as we adhere to these
principles, it will be easy to explain all the before-men¬
tioned experiments without being reduced to the neces-
sity of having recourse to any imaginary principle, or
any peculiar and active electricity of the organs. By
their assistance you will be enabled to invent new ex¬
periments, and to foretel the result of them, as I have
several times done, and still do daily. If you, however,
abandon these principles, you will find nothing but un¬
certainty and contradiction, and the whole will be an
inexplicable problem.
“ Some new facts, he observes in a farther communica¬
tion, lately discovered, seem to shew that the immediate
cause which excites the electric fluid, and puts it in mo¬
tion, whether it he an attractive or a repulsive power,
is to be ascribed much rather to the mutual contact m
two different metals, than to their contact with moist
conductors. But, though it cannot be denied, that in
the latter case there exists an action, it is proved that
it exerts itself in a far more considerable degree when
the two metals mutually touch each other. Ihere
arises by the mutual contact, for example, of silver and
tin, an action or power by which the former communi¬
cates the electric fluid, and the latter receives it; or
the silver suffers it to escape, and the tin attracts it.
This produces, when the circle is rendered complete
by moist conductors, a stream, or continual circulation
of the fluid. When the circle is complete, there is an
accumulation in the tin at the expence of the silver j
which indeed is very small, and far under the point
necessary to enable it to announce itself by the most
delicate electrometer. I have however been able, by
the assistance of my condenser, constructed on a new
plan, and still better by Nicholson’s doubler, to
render it very perceptible : I shall here communicate
the. result obtained by my experiments, which I made
some time ago with great satisfaction.
“ Experiment I. The three plates of the doubler are
of brass. I took two strong wires, one of silver am
I.
of the other of tin, and brought the former into contact
ism witli the moveable plates, and the other with one of
ial8, the fixed plates ; while they both rested on the table,
or, what is better, on moist pasteboard, or any other
moist conductor, so as to be in communication by the
intervention of one or more conductors of the second
class. I suffered the apparatus to remain some hours in
this state, then removed the two wires, and put the ma¬
chine in motion. After 20, 30, or 40 revolutions (or
more when the atmosphere was not dry, or the insula¬
tion imperfect), I brought one of my straw electrome¬
ters into contact with the moveable plate, and observed
indications of positive electricity (-|- E), which arose to
4, 6, 10 degrees, and more. If I suffered it to touch
the fixed plates, I had the corresponding indications of
the opposite kind of electricity (—E).
“ The silver, therefore, poured the electric fluid into
the brass plate, when it had been some time in contact
with it j and the tin attracted it from the other plate,
which was also of brass, while in contact with it. This
was confirmed by the following experiment, which is a
real experimentum crucis.
“ II. I reversed the experiment, so that the silver was
in contact with one of the fixed plates, and the tin with
the moveable one. The electricity which I obtained
from the latter, after the apparatus had remained a suf¬
ficient time in that position was negative (—E); while
that of the fixed plate was positive (-}-E).
“ HI. I applied only the tin wire to the moveable
plate, and insulated the two fixed ones, or brought
them into communication with the table or any other
moist conductors with which the tin wire was in contact.
This simple contact of the tin with the brass of which
the moveable plate consists, is sufficient to excite in it
a very small degree of negative electricity j only a
longer time is required.
“ Those acquainted with the action of electric at¬
mospheres, and the construction of the doubler, will
need no farther explanation, to enable them to com¬
prehend the mode of action of this very ingenious in¬
strument j how the electricity, once obtained from the
moveable plate, must occasion an opposite kind in the
fixed plate, and vice versa; how the opposite kinds of
electricity are increased by each revolution of the ma¬
chine, &c. In the present experiment, therefore, when
the moveable plate is —E, the fixed plate must be
+E.
“ IV. This is the reverse of the former. The piece
of tin was applied to one of the fixed plates, and the
metallic one was insulated from all metallic contact.
The result was now reversed ; that is, the fixed plates
were electrified negatively, and the moveable one bad
positive electricity.
“ All these experiments succeed much better, and
in a shorter time, if, during the mutual contact of the
different metals, the moveable plate be opposite to ei¬
ther of the other two that are fixed ; but still better
when a piece of thick paper, such as a card, not moist,
and of a thickness equal to the intermediate space, is
placed between the two plates that stand opposite to
each other. It is of advantage to leave the card some
time in its place, and not to remove it till the moment
when the metals in contact are removed and the ma¬
chine put in motion. To render the insulation com-
2.
galvanism. 349
plete, and make the contact of the metals immedi- Efi'ccts of
ate, without the least moisture, which would be high- Galvanism
ly prejudicial, it will be proper to place the appara-011 Aninjals-
tus in the sun. Half an hour, and often less, will
then be sufficient to obtain the required electrici¬
ty, &c. 5 whereas, in other cases, several hours are
necessary before the desired resnlt can be obtained.
Ibis experiment is represented in fig. 23. 24. 25. and
26. LLL (fig. 22. and 23.) are the three brass plates
of the doubler 5 A the piece of silver which is in
contact with one of these plates j E the piece of tin
applied to the other plate, which is opposite to the for¬
mer j a a, the moist conductor, or chain of moist con¬
ductors which form a communication with the pieces
of metal. When the silver, as in fig. 23. is in contact Fig. 2$.
with the anterior moveable plate, it gives up to it a
little 01 the electric fluid, and the latter accumulates
as much of it as possible ; consequently the electricity
of the plate becomes positive, as the sign + of the
plate shews : whereas the tin attracts the electric fluid
from the corresponding fixed plate, which by these
means has negative electricity, as the sign (—) of the
plate indicates ; and it even communicates this elec¬
tricity to the other fixed plate, which therefore has the
sign (—) also.
“ In fig. 24. every thing is reversed : the moveable Fig. 24.
plate is negatively electrified (—E), while the two fixed
plates become positive (-j_E).
“ Lastly, in the 25th and 26th figures, it is seen that Fig. 25. &
the tin abstracts the electric fluid from the brass plate ^
with which it is in contact. This plate is therefore ne¬
gatively electrified, or has — E j and by the action of
its atmosphere occasions positive electricity (-j-E) in
the other plate standing opposite, which is in communi¬
cation, either with the third plate, as fig. 23. or, what
is still better, with other conductors, as fig. 26. These
opposite electricities increase afterwards with each re¬
volution of the machine; the action of which, accord¬
ing to the theory of electric atmospheres, produces this
effect to the degree mentioned, and justifies the appella¬
tion of doubler of electricity, which has been given to
this instrument.
“ I now come to the experiments, which shew that
we are to seek for the cause which calls forth the action
of the electric fluid ; which excites it, of whatever kind
it be ; determines its transition, &c. much rather in the
mutual contact of the metals, than in the contact of the
moist conductors with these metals. Though, according
to every circumstance, we must admit some action of
this kind in the latter contact, it cannot be denied that
the former is certainly the most effectual. At present
I shall only mention the two following experiments,
which I contrived in such a manner that they may
serve to explain a question of this kind.
M V. I left the two fixed plates of brass without
making any alteration ; took off the third moveable
plate, and supplied its place by one of tin ; and arran¬
ged the machine in such a manner, that the latter stood
opposite to one of the other two plates. I then ap¬
plied to this tin plate a bit of brass, and to the opposite
fixed plate of brass a piece of tin. After a convenient
time, (for example an hour, when the weather was per¬
fectly dry), I took away the two pieces of metal, or
only that of brass, and made the moveable plate of tin,
which
35°
galvanism.
Par
Effects of
Galvanism
ou Animals.
rig. *7-3
Fig. 23.
* Phil.
Mag. vi.
S9. i63.
506.
Experi¬
ments of
i owler.
which was in contact with the piece of brass, to revolve
about 30 times. It then gave me very perceptible
marks of positive electricity. _
“ VI. I reversed the former experiment, and made
the piece of brass touch the brass plate, and the piece
of tin the plate of the same metal. I, however, obtain¬
ed nothing, or almost nothing; even when Urn appara¬
tus was left a much longer time m that situation, and
when the machine had made twice or three times as
many revolutions. . . r
“ These two experiments are represented by tig. 27.
and 28.; where L is the piece of brass, E that ot tin,
and a a the moist conductors which connect the two
different pieces of metal. t f
“ In the arrangement of fig. 28. the same contact 0
different metals, viz. brass on the one side, and tin on
the other, with the same kind of moist conductor, takes
place, as well as in the preceding experiment ol hg. 27.
The addition of the electric fluid m the one, and ic
abstraction of it in the other, ought therefore equal y
to take place, though in an inverted order, when the
action on the fluid calls forth the moving power, by this
contact of the two metals, L, E, with the moist conduc¬
tor between them; and yet this is not the case, as no
sio-ns of electricity are obtained even after a long time,
and when the machine has been caused to make twice
or three times as many revolutions. . The condition es¬
sentially necessary to obtain electricity is, that the dit-
ferent metals must be in contact with each other, which
is the case in fig. 27. but not in fig. 28.
« When the machine has been repeatedly turned,
something may be obtained. This arises either from
small remains of old electricity, which could not be
destroyed or dissipated in the time during which the ar¬
rangement of fig. 26. was continued; or even from tresh
electricity, which the moveable plate mav have obtain¬
ed from the atmosphere or vapours during the pretty
considerable time of the machine being in a state 01 re¬
volution ; or some accidental difference, either between
the two tin or the two brass pieces, may be the cause ot
some action on the electric fluid, or of some derange¬
ment in regard to the equilibrium. In the last place,
the contact of the moist conductor with the tin on the
one side, or with the brass on the other, may have a
different action, which, in my opinion, must be very
small, but yet is not entirely without effect.
“ As it is now proved that, according to the arrange¬
ment of the sixth experiment, nothing, or almost no-
tbintr, is obtained by 40, 60, and even 8o revolutions
of the doubler, while a great deal is obtained by that
of the fifth with 20 or 30, we must therefore conclude
that the contact of two metals of a different kind with
moist conductors, without the mutual contact of these
metals themselves (which is wanting in the sixth experi¬
ment, where brass is in contact with brass, and tin with
tin), produces nothing, or almost nothing; and that,
on the contrary, the mutual contact of the two metals
of a different kind, which takes place in the fifth ex¬
periment, produces the whole, or almost the whole
effect*.” , , . . . t
DrFowler instituted anelaborateseriesot experiments
on this subject, in which he confirmed and extended
many of the results which had been already obtained in
the experiments and investigations of other naturalists.
He found that metallic substances were the best agents
or conductors, and he concluded that the contact of ,
i• • • 1  ._1_ osoonflnl rnnditsnn in itio r'-i.
or tUIHlUV/lUlo,   .
two dissimilar metals is an essential condition in the Galvaii
production of the phenomena of galvanism. It did not°n Am:;
indeed escape his observation, that in some cases a
single metal produced muscular contraction, but this he
ascribed to mechanical stimulus, which excited a painful
sensation in the animal, not quite dead, or to the im¬
purity of the metal, containing some portion of alloy,
or solder. Future observations, however, proved that
these motions could be produced without any metal
whatever. He found that the most powerful effects
were produced by employing zinc, in combination with
gold or silver. By means of these metals he produced
contractions twenty-four hours after they had ceased.
In the experiment by which this was established, the
nerve was coated with tin, and a diflerent metal was
employed to complete the circle between the coating
and the muscle. The same philosopher also found that
the effects were increased in proportion to the bulk of
the metals employed, and the extent of surface brought
into contact; that a communication might be formed
between the metals in contact, and the nerves of the
animal which were exposed, by means of water ; and
that the temperature of the season and the nature of the
animal’s death seemed to have considerable influence on
the duration of the phenomena. In many cases he was
able to produce contractions in a frog, after three days
had elapsed from the time that the head had been se¬
parated from the body. He seems to have directed his
attention particularly to the conducting power of the
substances employed in galvanic apparatus, and in
tracing the analogy between this property and elec¬
tricity) Although metals were found to be good con¬
ductors, this was not the case with the metallic
oxides, or with the salts which have these oxides for
their basis. < . ,
An earth-worm placed on a circular piece of zinc,
exhibited contractions similar to those produced in living
frogs, when a piece of silver was brought in contact to
complete the circle. Worms of the same kind, suspend¬
ed across a silver rod, and the head and tail being at the
same time brought into contact with a piece of zinc, sus-
tained a shock which seemed to pass through the whole
body. A similar experiment, followed by the same re¬
sult, was made on leeches. It an earth-worm or leech
be placed on a piece of silver, resting on a plate of zinc,
the animal experiences a painful sensation, when any
part of its body comes in contact with the zinc. It
seems to have the same disagreeable sensation when it is
placed on the zinc, and any part of the body is brought
into contact with the silver.
The inquiries of the same philosopher were also di¬
rected to ascertain whether the nerves in general are all
equally subject to the galvanic influence, or whether
its effects are limited to those which are subject to the
power of the will. With this view the heart of a cow
was separated from the body, soon after the animal was
killed, and prepared in the way which has been already
described, in the preparation of fre js ; and while the
contractions of the auricles still continued, the intercos¬
tal nerve being coated, and the apparatus arranged, the
metals were brought into contact, but seemed to baie
no effect whatever on the contractions while they con¬
tinued, and after they had ceased, had not the power of
renewing them. He failed in many similar attempts on
hot-
,nl I. G A L V
J of liot-blooded animals, but succeeded In producing mus-
.jv sm cular contractions in part of a frog, after an hour had
a ii e]apSed from the time that the natural motions had
'“'’ceased. He made a similar experiment on the heart of
a cat which had been drowned in warm water, and he
found that in this case the motion of the heart could
be excited by means of galvanism ; but when the ani¬
mal was drowned in cold water, no elfect could be
produced.
It was another object of his investigations, to ascertain
^ ns tl!R effects of galvanism on the organs of the senses. The
^(1, en- disagreeable taste which remains on the tongue, when
two dissimilar metals, the one placed on the upper sur¬
face, and the other touching the under surface, are
brought into contact, has been already taken notice of,
and the method of applying the metals particularly de¬
scribed. The strongest impression, it was observed, was
produced, when gold and zinc were employed. He
introduced a metallic substance of a different kind into
each ear, and having formed a communication between
them, he experienced a shock in the head when these
two metals were brought into contact. A bit of tin-
foil was placed on the point of the tongue ; the rounded
end of a silver pencil case was applied to the internal
angle of the eye j and when the other extremity of the
pencil case and the tin-foil on the tongue were brought
into contact, he perceived a flash of pale light, as well
as the metallic taste in the tongue which is produced in
a preceding experiment. The flash seemed most vivid
when gold and zinc were employed. A similar effect
is produced by introducing one of the metals between
the upper lip and the gum, and the other between
the under lip and the gum, and retaining them in this
position to bring the edges in contact : or, by in¬
serting one of the metals into the nose, and placing
the other on the tongue, to form the communication
between them.
Similar experiments were made by the late Pro¬
fessor Robison of Edinburgh. He particularly ob¬
served, that the effects of the galvanic fluid were
more sensibly felt when one of the conducting metals
was placed on a wound, or on the nerve of a carious
tooth. From the peculiar impression on the tongue
on the application of gold or silver trinkets, he could
ascertain whether any solder was employed about
them.
In another experiment the same philosopher seemed
to think that he had proved that the effect was pro¬
duced even before the metallic conductors were brought
into direct contact. A piece of zinc was introduced
between the gums and cheek on one side of the head,
and a piece of silver was placed in the same way on the
other side of the head. A rod of zinc was then applied
to the zinc piece, and a rod of silver to the silver piece
on the different sides of the head ; ibe extremities of
these rods which projected from the mouth were then
cautiously brought into contact j and, as soon as this
was completed, a strong sensation was produced in the
gums. But before the direct contact was made be¬
tween the extremities of the rods, he perceived a flash
of light which was repeated when the rods were again
separated to a small distance from each other. It is
scarcely necessary to add, that when the arrangement
of the rods was reversed, the effects ceased ; that is,
A N I S M. 351
when the zinc rod was substituted for the silver rod, Effects of
and the silver one for that of zinc. Galvanism
To the account of the experiments on animals now on Animals,
given, which were chiefly made on cold-blooded ani- '
mals, we shall now add those of Aldini, the nephew of Aldinfs
Galvani, which were made on the body of a man exe-expcri-
cuted in London for murder. This man, who was exe-mentsoa
cuted on the 17th January 1802, was 26 years of age, ^ b(Kif
anil seemed to have been of a strong vigorous constitu-faclor>
tion. 1 he body was exposed for au hour to a tempe¬
rature two degrees below the freezing point Fahrenheit,
at the end of which it was conveyed to a house not far
distant, where the apparatus for ihe experiments had
been arranged. The following is the account of these
experiments in the author’s own words.
“ Experiment 1.—One arc being applied to the
mouth, and another to the ear, wetted with a solution
of muriate of soda (common salt), galvanism was com¬
municated by means of three tioughs combined together,
each of which contained 40 plates of zinc, and as many
of copper. On the first application of the arcs the jaw
began to quiver, the adjoining muscles were horribly
contorted, and the left eye actually opened.
“ Exper. 2.—On applying the arc to both ears, a
motion of the head was manifested, and a convulsive
action of all the muscles of the face 5 the lips and
eyelids were also evidently aflected, but the action
seemed much increased by making one extremity of
the arc to communicate with the nostrils, the other
continuing in one ear.
“ Exper. 3.—The conductors being applied to the
ear and to the rectum, excited in the muscles con¬
tractions much stronger than in the preceding experi¬
ments. The action even of those muscles furthest
distant from the points of contact with the arc was so
much increased as almost to give an appearance of re¬
animation.
“ Exper. 4.—In this state, wishing to try the power
of ordinary stimulants, I applied volatile alkali to the
nostrils and to the mouth, but without the least sensible
action ; on applying galvanism great action was con¬
stantly produced. I then administered the galvanic sti¬
mulus and volatile alkali together^ the convulsions ap¬
peared to be much increased by this combination, and
extended from the muscles of the head, face, and neck,
as far as the deltoid. The efl'ect in this case surpassed
our most sanguine expectations, and vitality might, per¬
haps, have been restored, if many circumstances had
not rendered it impossible.
“ Exper. 5.—I next extended the arc from one ear
to the biceps flexor cubiti, the fibres of which had been
laid bare by dissection. This produced violent convul¬
sions of all the muscles of the arm, and especially in the
biceps and the coraco brachiaiis, even without the in¬
tervention of salt-water.
“ Exper. 6.—An incision having been made in the
wrist, among the small filaments of the nerves and cel¬
lular membrane, on bringing the arc into contact with
this part, a very strong action of the muscles of the
fore-arm and hand was immediately perceived. In .
this, as in the last experiment, the animal moisture was
sufficient to conduct the galvanic stimulus without the
intervention of salt-water.
“ Exper. 7.—The short muscles of the thumb were
dissected, .
Efft-pls of
Cinlv niism
on Animals.
Gr A L
dissected, and submitted to the action of the galvanic
apparatus, which induced a forcible effort to ciench the
hand.
“ Exper. 8.—The effects of galvanism m this expe¬
riment were compared with those of other stimulants.
For this purpose, the point of the scalpel was applied
to the fibres, and even introduced into the substance or
the biceps flexor cubiti, without producing the slightest
motion, the same result was obtained from the use ot
caustic volatile alkali and concentrated sulphuric acu..
The latter even corroded the muscle, without inducing
it to action.
n Exper. 9.—Having opened the thorax and the pe¬
ricardium, exposing the heart in situ, I endeavoured
to excite action in the ventricles, but without success.
The arc was first applied upon the surface, then in the
substance of the fibres, to the carnece colamnees, to the
septum ventriculorum, and lastly, in the course 01 the
nerves by the coronary arteries, even with salt, water
interposed, but without the slightest visible action be¬
ing induced.
“ Exper. 10.—In this experiment the arc was con¬
veyed to the right auricle, and produced a considerable
contraction, without the intervention of salt water, but
especially in that part called the appendix auricular is ;
in the left auricle scarcely any action was exhibited.
“ Exper. 11.—Conductors being applied from the
spinal marrow to the fibres of the biceps flexor cubiti,
the gluteus maximus, and the gastrocnemius, sepaiate-
ly, no considerable action in the muscles of the arm and
leg was produced.
“ Exper. 12.—The sciatic nerve being exposed be¬
tween the great trochanter of the femur and the tube¬
rosity of the ischium, and the arc being established
from' the spinal marrow to the nerve divested of its
theca, we observed, to our astonishment, that no con¬
traction whatever ensued in the muscles, although salt
water was used at both extremities of the arc. But the
conductor being made to communicate with the fibres
of the muscles and the cellular membrane, as strong an
action as before was manifested.
“ Exper. 13.—By making the arc to communicate
with the sciatic nerve and the gastrocnemius muscle, a
very feeble action was produced in the latter.
a Exper. 14.—Conductors being applied from the
sciatic to the peronoeal nerve, scarcely any motion was
excited in the muscles.
a Exper. 15.—The sciatic nerve being divided about
the middle of the thigh, on applying the conductors
from the biceps flexor cruris to the gastrocnemius, there
ensued a powerful contraction of both. I must here
observe that the muscles continued excitable for seven
hours and a half after the execution. The troughs were
frequently renewed, yet towards the close they were
very much exhausted. No doubt, with a stronger ap¬
paratus we might have observed muscular action much
longer for, after the experiments had been continued
for three or four honrs, the power of a single trough
was not sufficient to excite the action of the muscles :
the assistance of a more powerful apparatus was requir¬
ed. This shows that such a long series of experiments
could not have been performed by the simple applica¬
tion of metallic coatings. I am of opinion that, in
aeneral, these coatings, invented in the first instance
by Gahani, are passive. They serve merely to con-
VANISH. 5 Fait
duct the fluid pre-existent in the animal system 5 where- EfT-ct,
as, with the galvanic batteries of olta, the muscles are £talT&Bj|
excited to action by the influence of the apparatus itself. °n
“ From the above experiments there is reason to con¬
clude, _ ^ ;
“ x. That galvanism, considered by itself, exerts aCor>clu 1
considerable power over the nervous and muscular sys-fromtM
terns, and operates universally on the whole of the ani¬
mal economy.
“ 2. That the power of galvanism, as a stimulant, is
stronger than any mechanical action whatever.
“ 3. That the effects of galvanism on the human
frame differ from those produced by electricity commu-
nicated with common electrical machines.
“ 4. That galvanism, whether administered by means
of troughs or piles, differs in its effects from those
produced by the simple metallic coatings employed by
Galvani.
“ 5. That when the surfaces of the nerves and muscles
are armed with metallic coatings, the influence of the
galvanic batteries is conveyed to a greater number of
points, and acts with considerably more force in pro-
ducing contractions of the muscular fibre.
“ 6. That the action of galvanism on the heart is
different from that on other muscles. For, when the
heart is no longer susceptible of the galvanic influence,
the other muscles remain still excitable for a certain
time. It is also remarkable that the action produced
by galvanism on the auricles is different from that pro¬
duced on the ventricles of the heart, as is demonstrated
in experiment the tenth.
“ 7. That galvanism affords very powerful means of
resuscitation in cases of suspended animation under com¬
mon circumstances. The remedies already adopted in
asphyxia, drowning, &c. when combined with the in¬
fluence of galvanism, will produce much greater effect^ ^
than either of them separately
FiXcepting the experiments of Aldini which we have
just detailed, the greater number of those of which an
account has been given, it has been already observed,
were made on cold-blooded animals, and besides, the
apparatus usually employed, was a single galvanic com¬
bination. After the construction of the pile was known,
and still more so after batteries in the form of troughs
were invented and employed, very different effects were
exhibited on the animal body, both in the dead and
living state.
With batteries composed of 200, 300) or 400 Pairs
of plates arranged in troughs, very powerful shocks
will be felt when the circle is completed between the
extremities of the battery by means of the two hands
of any person, so that the fluid shall pass through the
body. This experiment may be performed by touch¬
ing with one hand wetted, a wire connected with one
extremity of the battery, and with the other hand also
moistened a wire proceeding from the other end of the
battery. Every time that the contact is made a shock
is felt. The effect will be more powerful if round
balls of brass having brass rods attached to them after
being well wetted, be placed in the palms of the hands
also well wetted, and a communication be established
between the ends of the battery. The same effect is
produced when the circle is completed by means of a
number of persons joining hands together ; but it must
be observed, that each person must take care to have
:t I.
GALVANISM.
U of
Q\ aiiffl
on
.7
G, iRiC
,h( coni
pai
Ei. oa
WC’ii.
Bi'ted
m
the. id.
C»’J as,
^c' oa
*4u-
fililsj
the hands well moistened, otherwise the intensity of the
shock will be greatly diminished, or its effect entirely
’obstructed. No experiments have been made, so far as
we recollect, to ascertain with any degree of precision,
how far the intensity of the shock is diminished by in¬
creasing the number of persons composing the circle of
communication, or whether, indeed, when the experi¬
ment is made with the requisite degree of caution and
attention, it suffers any diminution.
Ith as been observed by some, (and so far as we can
judge from our own feelings in numerous experiments
made with a pile composed of6o pairs of plates, or with
a trough of 50 pairs, and sometimes with two and four
troughs of 50 pairs each combined, the observation
which we have made coincides with that of others), that
the shock from the galvanic battery possessed some pe¬
culiarity, by which the sensation it excited was much
more disagreeable than a shock of artificial electricity
which seemed to be of no greater intensity. But it
must be allowed, that in the comparison of experiments
of such delicacy, the result of which depends on the
feelings, great ambiguity must prevail j and therefore,
when the comparison is unavoidably so inaccurate, it
can afford no precise conclusion.
The sensation is extremely unpleasant when the
shock of galvanism, even when it is very slight, passes
through the fingers, if they have been scratched or
wounded.
A slight shock directed through the head between
the temples, produces the sensation of a flash of light
before the eyes, and an irresistible contraction of the
muscles of the upper eyelids, so that the person who is
the subject of the experiment involuntarily winks every
time that the circle is completed. This experiment,
which should be repeated with caution, is performed in
the following manner: Place a bit of tin-foil which will
adhere by wetting with water to the part to which it
is applied, on each temple. Then having formed the
communication between one end of the trough and one
temple by means of a metallic conductor, flat like a
small button, in that part which touches the tin-foil j
this is retained in contact with the tin-foil by an assist¬
ant j and by means of another assistant, another simi¬
lar conductor is applied to the tin-foil on the other
temple. Things being thus arranged, the wire connec¬
ted with the latter, is by the operator brought in con¬
tact with the other extremity of the battery, or with
that part of it to which the extent or intensity of the
shock is to be limited. Every time that this contact is
repeated, the sensation of the flash of light, and the
other effects, are produced. It has been hinted above,
that this experiment should be performed with caution.
Not more than from 12 to 20 pairs of plates should be
employed, at least on those on whom the effects of a
small number have not been previously tried ; and per¬
haps with that number, at least in the experiments of
this kind which we have seen made, there are not many
persons who would choose to have them repeated on
themselves. But these effects, it may be added, will be
more or less powerful in proportion to the period that
the battery has continued in action with the same
fluid.
A battery composed of 200 pairs of plates will pro¬
duce strong contractions in the limbs of a fowl or rab¬
bit, which has been recently killed. These effects may
Vol. IX. Part I. +
35.
be conveniently exhibited by introducing one of the con- ciienuea!
ducting wires, by means of a hook, into the mouth, or Effects,
fixing it about the back part of the head of the animal, ——v—^
and fixing a similar hook from another wire connected
with the other end of the battery near the rump, so
that the current of galvanic fluid shall pass through the
body. When the communication between the extre¬
mities of the battery is formed, the convulsive motions
of the limbs of the animal take place, and are repeated
as often as the circle is completed. Similar effects are
produced on a dog or sheep 5 but to induce strong con¬
vulsions in the larger animals, a more powerful ap¬
paratus must be employed. It will be necessary to put
in action a battery consisting of at least 300 or 400
pairs of plates arranged in troughs.
With a battery of such extent and power, the con¬
vulsive motions produced on the limbs of horses that
were subjected to its action, were so strong that they
could scarcely he resisted by the strength of two per¬
sons.
The head of an ox, soon after it was separated from
the body, and while it was yet warm, was acted on by
six batteries, amounting to about 300 pairs of plates.
Strong convulsive motions were produced j the eyes
opened, and the pupils were greatly dilated ; the ears
were also put in motion; and the tongue, drawn out
and fixed to the table with an iron skewer which enter¬
ed the wood above half an inch, was retracted with such
force as to detach itself from the skewer which was
thrown to some height into the air.
It has been said that the motions thus induced on the
limbs of animals by means of galvanism, resemble the
convulsive motions of epilepsy. Perhaps the motions
of animals during the struggles of death may be con¬
sidered as nearly similar. Whether this be so or not,
we have observed that the convulsive contractions of
animals subjected to galvanism, greatly resemble the
peculiar motions of each animal in the struggles of
death. This observation, however, only extends to what
has happened to fowls, rabbits, and sheep; but so far
as it goes, it has been allowed by those to whom we
have remarked the circumstance to be pretty cor¬
rect.
With these observations we conclude this long detail
of the effects of galvanism on animals. This seemed
to be necessary in order to give the reader a distinet
view of what may be considered as the dawn of this
department of science ; for as we have already hinted,
the experiments and investigations of naturalists were at
first limited to its effects on animals; and from their la¬
bours an immense body of facts were accumulated before
its chemical effects were much known or distinctly as¬
certained. We now therefore proceed to the considera¬
tion of the chemical effects of galvanism. These shall
be the subject of the next chapter.
Chap. III. Of the Chemical Effects of Galvanism.
In the account we propose to lay before our readers,
of those effects of the galvanic fluid which are to be
considered as more strictly chemical, we shall first state
more generally some of the experiments by means of
which these effects are illustrated, and describe the me¬
thod of performing them, and then enter into a more
particular detail of the experiments of different phiioso-
Y y ~ pliers
354
Cheniica!
ilft'ects.
41
Combustion
ef char¬
coal.
pliers which tended to improve and enlarge the know¬
ledge of galvanism.
We shall limit the account oi the experiments ^rst
alluded to above to the combustion ot charcoal, the de¬
flagration and combustion of metallic substances, the
decomposition of water and some other fluids, and the
precipitation of metals trom their solution in acids.
E.vper. I.—With a battery composed of 50 pairs ot
plates of three or four inches square, with proper ma-
nao-ement, a brilliant light may be produced jrom the
combustion of charcoal. The charcoal for this experi¬
ment should be well prepared from some of the harder
woods, such as beech or boxwood. It has been said that
it could only he properly prepared by exposing it to a
degree of heat equal to that of a glasshouse furnace $
hut we know from experience that so high a tempera¬
ture is by no means absolutely necessary. We have
prepared charcoal which was found to answer the pur¬
pose of the present experiment, with such a heat as can
he easily commanded in a small chemical furnace.. Ihe
wood which is to he converted into charcoal is divided
into slips of about one-fourth of .an inch square ; it is
then put into a crucible, which is filled up. with sand,
and may he covered with another crucible inverted, so
as still more effectually to prevent the access of air.
The crucible is then placed in the middle of the furnace,
which is to be filled up with charcoal, and a strong
heat maintained for eight or ten hours. After this, the
charcoal will he found sufficiently prepared, and this is
of some consequence to he attended to, because on tne
Complete conversion of the wood into this state much of
the experiment depends.
Slips of charcoal reduced to a fine point are attached
to wires, which communicate with the extremities of
the battery. The charcoal may be fixed to the con¬
ducting wires by means of a bit of thread, or fine iron
or brass wire, or they may be fixed in pincers, or an in¬
strument similar to that which is used for holding, cray¬
ons or black-lead penils ; but in whatever way this part
of the apparatus is contrived, when the two pieces of
charcoal connected by means of metallic conductors with
the extremities of the battery are brought into contact,
combustion immediately takes place. 'Ih.e rapidity or
brilliancy of this combustion is proportioned to the
strength and activity of the battery. The light produ¬
ced by such a battery as that we have described above,
will he at times pretty vivid j but with two such batte¬
ries whose action is combined, it is still more brilliant.
"When four batteries, consisting each of 50 pairs ot
plates of eight inches square, are employed for this ex¬
periment, nothing perhaps can exceed the brilliancy of
43 .
Ot metals.
the light which is given out during the combustion of
the charcoal. With the smaller battery, the process is
occasionally interrupted ; but with the larger apparatus
the combustion goes on for a short time, giving out a
continued and uniform brilliant light. When this is
the case, the rays seem to proceed from the point where
the. combustion is going on, and exhibit all the variety
of the prismatic colours. When the pieces of charcoal
are immersed in water, and brought into contact under
its surface, the combustion also goes on with consider¬
able rapidity.
Exper. 2.—The deflagration and combustion of many
metallic substances may be also effected with a battery
composed of 50 pairs of three inch plates, and this may
%
GALVANISM. Farti
be done with a very simple apparatus. A bent wire, c]lemi{|,
such as we have already described, is inserted into the Effects:
perforated projecting piece of wood, at the extremity off y-v
the battery. The wire is to be bent at a right angle
to that part of it which is fixed perpendiculaily into
the extremity of the trough, and on the horizontal pait
of it is placed the metallic substance to he deflagrated.
A plate of copper, which must be perfectly clean ami
free from oxide, is to be connected with the other end
of the battery by means of a conducting wire. When
the apparatus is thus arranged, if the copper plate be
brought into contact with gold or silver leaf, for in¬
stance, the combustion of these substances will take
place,’and this combustion, it is scarcely necessary to
add, will be in proportion to the power of the battery
and its energy. In the same way tin-foil, white and
yellow Dutch metal, as it is called, may be subjected
to experiment, and with a battery of model ate power,
a brilliant combustion may be produced.
When a battery of greater power is employed, a very
brilliant and rapid combustion ol steel wire can be. ef¬
fected. This experiment is made by stretching a piece
of wire, such as that which is used for the smaller strings
of musical instruments, between the two metallic con¬
ductors connected with the opposite extremities of the
battery 5 and thus completing the circle, the combustion
takes place. When the experiment succeeds, several
inches of the wire are almost instantaneously reduced to
the state of oxide. In this way the energy of the bat¬
tery may be in some measure ascertained, as it. must be
in proportion to the length of the wire which is burnt.
When a very powerful battery is in action, 10 or 12
inches of such wire may be completely burnt, that is,
not merely made red hot, but having undergone the
process of combustion, and having passed from the me¬
tallic state to that of oxide. _ 44
Exper. 3.—We have already described the appara-j)eCojiip
tus for the decomposition of water. To exhibit this ex-tionof?
periment, it is only necessary to fill some of the tubes
which have been mentioned for this purpose with water,
and to complete the circle of communication between
the extremities of the battery, the water in the tube to
he decomposed forming part of this circle.. If the con¬
ducting wires terminating in the tube, consist of meta.s
which do not readily undergo oxidation, such as gold,
or platina, the gases which are the constituent parts of
water are separated from the wires, the oxygen gas from
the one, and the hydrogen gas from the other,, and are
seen rising in bubbles to the top of the tube, displacing
a quantity of water equal to the space occupied by
the gases evolved. This process goes on till the surface
of the water falls below the conducting wire passing
through the top of the tube 5 and the circle being then
interrupted, the process stops. When this is the case,
if the two conducting wires within the tube can by
any contrivance be brought into contact, a spark is pio-
duced, by which the gases are set fire to, and are again
converted into the state of water. This combustion is
attended with an explosion. Or if the tube be careful¬
ly taken from the apparatus under water, while the fin¬
ger is placed upon the open end, and then inverted,
the gas collected will rise through the water ; it may
then be set fire to by means of a burning body, a simi¬
lar combustion will take place, attended with an ex-
plosion. Bot
fcl.
( mical
»Cis.
45
<W8r Ii-
qs • <le'
C j5£d.
-6
p jipita-
tii .if me-
Cti .
th ,
of
t-
G A L V
But If the wires terminating In the tube be of brass
or iron, or any metal which is easily oxidated, only one
of the gases is collected in the tube j the other (the
oxygen) combines with the metal, forming an oxide,
which collects on the point of the wire. <
By a very simple contrivance the gases may be col¬
lected separately. With this view two tubes in which
the conducting wires terminate, are employed. These
tubes being filled with water, must be inverted in the
same bason of water, the latter of which forms the com¬
munication between the extremities of the battery.
Other fluids, as oil, alcohol, ethei’, and ammonia in
solution, may be also decomposed by a similar process.
For the decomposition of oil, alcohol, and ether, the
pieces of charcoal may be immersed in vessels contain¬
ing these liquids; and, when they are brought into con¬
tact, the decomposition is effected, with the formation
and evolution of carbonic acid gas, which is seen rising
in bubbles to the surface.
Exper. 4.—By means of galvanism, and with a bat¬
tery of moderate power, metals may be precipitated
from their solutions in acids. The apparatus to be em¬
ployed for this purpose is similar to that for the decom¬
position of water, and the tube is filled with a solution
of the metallic salt. The communication being then esta¬
blished, the metal is precipitated, and appears in an ar¬
borescent form on the point of the wire. In this way
the acetate of lead, or sugar of lead, the nitrate of sil¬
ver, and many other metallic salts, may be revived.
Many other curious and amusing experiments might
have been related, but what we have now given will
enable the reader to have a distinct notion of the che¬
mical effects of galvanism. Many other of the chemi¬
cal effects of the galvanic fluid are so closely connected
with the peculiar views and theories of those who have
discovered and observed them, that we shall not en¬
ter into any detail of them till we come to consider
that part of the subject. In the mean time we shall oc¬
cupy the remaining part of the present chapter with an
account of some of the experiments on the chemical ef¬
fects of galvanism which were observed by philosophers
in the earlier part of its progress.
Mr Cruickshank, the inventor of the galvanic trough,
very early directed his attention to this inquiry, and pro¬
secuted it with great ardour and success. In one of his
early.communications on this subject we have a compre¬
hensive view of some of the chemical phenomena of gal¬
vanism. We shall, therefore, give it in his own words.
“ I shall not, says he, give any particular account of
the apparatus employed, being a pile, and not differing
materially from that in use. I shall only just observe,
that it consisted of plates of zinc and silver, of about
x.6 inches square, and that the number of each employ¬
ed in the following experiments varied from 40 to 100,
according to the power required,
“ I found that a solution of the muriate of ammonia
answered better for moistening the interposed papers
than common water.
“ When the machine was in full action, sparks which
were perfectly visible in the day time, could be taken
at pleasure, by making a communication in the usual
way between the extremities of the pile, and a small re¬
port or snap could be heard ; the shock given at that
time was very strong, and a gold-leaf electrometer, pla¬
ced in the circle oi communication, was very sensibly
A N I S M.
affected : these circumstances, some of which, I believe,
have been already ascertained by Messrs Nicholson and
Carlisle, shew the strong resemblance of this influence to
electricity. These gentlemen have likewise discovered
that galvanism decomposes water with much greater
facility than electricity, but with phenomena some¬
what difl'erent.
“ Exper. 1.—A quantity of common water was intro¬
duced into a glass tube, being confined at each end by
corks, but perfectly at one by a cement of rosin and
bees wax : pieces of silver wire were passed through the
corks, and brought within an inch of each other in the
fluid, tl icir other extremities being at the same time con¬
nected with those of the machine or pile, one with the
lower zinc plate, and the other with the upper silver
plate. In luture, to avoid circumlocution, I shall call
tiie wire attached to the silver plate, the silver wire, and
the other the zinc wire. The tube wras then placed
upright in a cup containing water, with the uacemented
end downwards. As soon as the communication was
made between the extremities of the pile by the wires,
a quantity oi small air bubbles began to ascend from
the end of the wire connected with the silver, as ob¬
served by Messrs Nicholson and Carlisle ; but a white
cloud at the same time made its appearance at the one
proceeding from the zinc, or the zinc wire. This cloud
gradually increased, and assumed a darker colour, and
at last it became purple, or even black. A very few
air bubbles were likewise collected upon and ascended
from this wire, but when the machine was in full force,
a considerable stream could be observed.
“ The gas was collected, and found to be a mixture
of hydrogen and oxygen, in the proportion of three
parts of the former to one of the latter. No great de¬
pendence, however, was placed upon this in point of
accuracy. The zinc wire wras found to be much cor¬
roded, and looked as if a considerable portion of it bad
been dissolved. As the cloud which was formed around
this wire became purple on exposure to the light, I
suspected it might be luna cornea, or muriate of silver
proceeding from the silver, which had been somehow
dissolved, and afterwards precipitated in this state, bv
the muriatic salts in the common water. This led to
the following experiments :
“ Exper. 2.—The glass tube was now filled with dis¬
tilled water, to which a little tincture of litmus w'as ad¬
ded ; when the communication was made by the wires
as in the former experiment, a quantity of gas arose
from both wires, but in the greatest quantity from that
connected with the silver. In a few minutes a fine red
line, extending some way upwards, was perceived at
the extremity of the zinc wire ; this increased, and in
a short time the whole fluid below the point of this wire
became red ; the fluid, however, above the silver wire,
looked of a deeper blue than before, the slight tinge of
purple being destroyed.
“ Exper. 3.—I next filled the tube with distilled wa¬
ter, tinged with the tincture of Brazil wood ; it was no
sooner placed in the circle of communication, than the
fluid surrounding the silver wire, particularly towards
its extremity, became purple, and this tinge increased
so fast, that the whole fluid surrounding this wire, and
occupying the upper part of the tube, soon assumed as
deep a colour, as could be produced by ammonia;
“ The portion of the fluid in contact with the zinc
Y y 2 wire
355
35*5
Chemical wire became very pale, and almost colourless, nor could
Effects, the purple tinge extend below its upper extremity.
—  ' From these experiments it would appear, that an acid,
probably the nitrous, is produced at the wire proceed-
ing from the zinc, and an alkali, probably ammonm,
at that in contact with the silver. These facts sulji-
ciently explain the action upon the silver wire, and the
nature of the whitish cloud proceeding from it, and af¬
terwards becoming purple. When lime water was em¬
ployed instead of common or distilled water, the wire
was likewise acted upon, but in a less degree, and the
cloud had at first an olive colour, exactly resembling
the precipitate of silver by lime-water. . T
“ The quantity of silver dissolved or corroded, it 1
may use the expression, in these experiments, was very
considerable, and where common or distilled water bad
been employed, a small portion of it remained in solu¬
tion, which was discovered by the addition of the mu¬
riatic acid. Indeed a much larger quantity would pro¬
bably have been suspended, had it not been for the al¬
kali generated at the same time, and which mamtesLly
produced a precipitate at, or near, the upper extremi¬
ty of the zinc wire, where, after a certain time, a dark,
zone or stratum was always formed. , , ,
“ Evper. 4.—It is a well known fact, that hydro¬
gen gas when heated, or in its nascent state reduces
the calces of the metals •, I expected, therefore, that
by filling the glass tube with a metallic solution, 1
might he enabled to separate the hydrogen from the
oxygen <ras, and thus procure the latter in its simple or
pure state. With this view the tube was filled with a
solution of the acetite of lead, to which an excess of
acid was added, to counteract the effects of the alkali.
When the communication was made in the usual way,
no gas could be perceived, but after a minute or two,
some fine metallic needles were perceived at the extre¬
mity of the wire connected with the silver. Ihese
soon increased, and assumed the form of a feather, or
rather that of the crystals of the muriate or ammonia.
The lead thus precipitated was perfectly in its metallic
state, and very brilliant j a little gas escaped from the
wire connected with the zinc, and it was considerably
corroded as usual.
“ A solution of the sulphate of copper was next em¬
ployed, and with the same result, the copper being pre¬
cipitated in its metallic form by the wire connected
with the silver. In this instance the metal did not cry¬
stallize, but formed a kind of button at the end of the
wire, which adhered so completely to the silver, that it
was found impossible to separate it.
« The most beautiful precipitate, however, was
that of silver from its solution in the nitrous acid. In
this case, the metal shot into fine needle-like crystals,
articulated^ or jointed to each other, as in the Arbor
X)ian££«
“ What became of the oxygen gas usually produced
in these experiments ? . , ...
« Expcr. 5.—A quantity of pure water mixed with
distilled vinegar was introduced into the tube, and
placed in the circle of communication j some gas was
disengaged from the silver wire, but no cloud appeared
at the extremity of the zinc. After some time, how¬
ever a quantity of metallic silver was precipitated by
4e silver wire, and this precipitate at last became very
copious j a perfectly similar effect was produced, when
GALVANISM. Part.
the tube was filled with very diluted sulphuric acidj in £t,n,y
these cases the precipitated silver had the appearance of Effn
shining scales, like that thrown down by copper in the v—y»w
usual way. It may he proper to observe, that in all
these precipitations and reductions, nothing but wires of
pure silver were employed, the results in this last ex¬
periment were exactly what was expected j the vinegar
prevented the alkali from precipitating the silver, dis¬
solved by the generated acid; in consequence of which,
when a sufficient quantity of the metal was taken up, it
was again thrown down by the silver wire in its metal- j
lie form.
« Exper. 6.—A solution of the muriate of ammo¬
nia being introduced into the tube, and exposed to
this influence, a little gas was disengaged from the sil¬
ver wire, while the zinc one was incrusted with a sub¬
stance which soon became black, and was found to be
luna cornea. The liquor which remained in the tube,
after the operation had been finished, was highly alka¬
line, and smelled strongly of ammonia *, common salt
was decomposed in a similar manner, f his expenment
accounts for the decomposition of the muriate of soda
and ammonia, which always takes place when the pa¬
pers in the pile are moistened with a solution of these
salts.
“ A solution of the nitrate of magnesia appeared to
he likewise decomposed by this process j for alter some
time, a white powder resembling magnesia, was preci¬
pitated on the surface of the silver wire, very little gas
was disengaged. # ,
“ Exper. 7.—In order to ascertain how far this in¬
fluence might be carried, provided the circle of com¬
munication was complete, two tubes were employed,
and connected by a silver wire passing through corks;
the tubes were filled with water and secured by corks;
two other wires being then passed through these corks,
the arc was connected with the silver, and the other
with the zinc, at the extremity of the pile. A quan¬
tity of gas as usual was disengaged at the extremity of
the silver wire, and the portion of the connecting wire
in the same tube was partly dissolved, and as mention¬
ed in experiment 1st; but the other portion of the same
wire in the other tube gave out gas, while the commu¬
nicating zinc wire was corroded. And I make no
doubt that a similar effect would be produced, if any
number of tubes were connected in a similar manner,
by which means a large quantity of gas might be pro¬
cured in a short time.
“ Besides silver wires, I likewise employed those of
copper or iron, and it did not appear that these were
more corroded or acted upon than the silver; indeed, in
some of the above experiments, not less than half, or
three-quarters of an inch of the wire was entirely con¬
sumed. The copper wire connected with the zinc
gives out a greenish blue substance resembling the ni¬
trate of copper with excess of the metal, or when part
of the acid has been expelled by heat, &c. In exa¬
mining the gas which was procured at different times,
I always found it mixed with a little oxygen gas, but
sometimes this did not exceed one-eighth of the whole
in bulk; however, I paid but little attention to this
part of the process, for as my wires were always cor¬
roded, no conclusion with regard to the composition
water could be drawn from it *.”
Jew 4.
We might have here detailed a great variety of ex-T01.
perimentsr
t II.
GALVANISM.
;:ory.
■r—^
periments, which have been made to ascertain the
chemical effects of galvanism, and to elucidate the na¬
ture and properties of the fluid which is supposed to be
concerned in these changes. In particular we might
give an account of the later experiments and researches
of philosophers, in investigating the formation of mu¬
riatic acid, and an alkali which is supposed to be soda,
by means of this power. This forms one of the most
curious subjects of inquiry which has yet occurred with
regard to galvanism ; but as some part of the investiga¬
tions of those who have occupied their attention with
this inquiry, is connected with theoretical views, we
shall reserve the consideration of the whole to the se¬
cond part of this treatise, the object of which is, t® give
a historical detail of the progress of galvanism, with
the opinions of philosophers concerning the nature of
the galvanic fluid. To this therefore we now proceed..
357
History.
PART II. OF THE HISTORY AND PROGRESS OF GALVANISM.
IN the first part of this treatise we have given a
pretty full view of the method of constructing appara¬
tus for the purpose of exhibiting the phenomena of gal¬
vanism, and we have entered at considerable length in¬
to a detail of the experiments which have been made,
to ascertain the effects of the galvanic fluid on animals,
as well as those experiments by which its chemical ef¬
fects are illustrated, with some of the theoretical views
and opinions of those who have been engaged in re¬
searches concerning the properties of this fluid. It is
now proposed, in the second part, first, to consider the
progressive history of galvanism, with the theories by
which philosophers have attempted to account for its
effects; secondly, we shall endeavour to trace the ana¬
logy between artificial electricity and galvanism ; and,
lastly, give an account of the experiments and inquiries
which have been made concerning the formation of
muriatic acid and soda by means of this power. These
will form the subjects of the three following chapters.
Chap. I. History of the Discovery and Progress, of
Galvanism,
(S
hint The first hint which is usually quoted as connected
ha- with the phenomena of galvanism, is extracted from a
book entitled the General Theory of Pleasures, by Sult-
zer, which was published in the year 1767. In this
work the author particularly describes the experiment
with fcwo dissimilar pieces of metal which we have re¬
lated at the beginning of this treatise, and by which,
we have endeavoured to illustrate what is understood by
galvanism, in its effects on the living body. The ex¬
periment alluded to is that in which a piece of zinc and
a piece of silver being placed, the one in contact with
the upper, and the other with the under surface of the
tongue, and their projecting edges being brought into
contact, a taste is produced, which, the author observes,
resembles vitriol of iron. This sensation is ascribed to
a vibration of the particles of the metals affecting the
nerves of the tongue.
Other hints and experiments have been quoted,
which seem to be connected with the phenomena of
galvanism j hut as they were not prosecuted, and as no
conclusion, with the view of establishing any particular
point, was deduced from them, it would be unneces-
sary to give an account of them, excepting those of
' assalli, member of the royal academy of Turing who
published, in I789» a theory on this subject, supported
by a series of experiments which he had. instituted.
Here he throws out a conjecture, that a provision has
been made by nature in the system of a living animal,
by which the electricity accumulated in any particular
part of the body is preserved and retained for some ne¬
cessary purpose of its existence. It had indeed been
supposed by some, that the animation of the blood de¬
pended on the electric fluid j hut according to others,
th is fluid and the nervous fluid were to be considered
as one and the same.
This subject was particularly investigated and illus- Gabuni’s
trated, when in the year 1791 a remarkable discovery discovery.,
which was made by Hr Galvani, professor of anatomy
in the university of Bologna in Italy, was announced to
the world. This discovery, like most others, was ac¬
cidental. Some frogs deprived of the skin were placed
upon a table, near which the professor happened to be
engaged in experiments with an electrifying machine.
The crural nerve of one of the frogs was touched by a
person present, with the point of a scalpel during the
time that the machine was working. The whole ani¬
mal was thrown into convulsions. The same experi¬
ments were afterwards repeated with the same success.
Every time that the scalpel was applied to the nerve,
while the machine was in motion, violent convulsions
were produced. But when the machine ceased to
move, on the application of the scalpel to the nerve no
effect followed. To this accidental discovery this
branch of science owed its origin, and from the name
of the discoverer was called Galvanism,
Since the period of this discovery, a great many ex¬
periments have been made, and many.curious pheno¬
mena have been observed, which have excited much in¬
terest and attention among philosophers. We shall now
present our readers with a historical sketch of the pro¬
gress of these discoveries.
The experiment which has been mentioned was re¬
peated by Galvani in every possible way he could think
of. He varied it both by means of artificial and at¬
mospherical electricity, and the result of all these ex¬
periments he found to he uniform and consistent.
When Galvani first began his researches, he supposed
that the phenomena depended on common electricity,
passing through the animals on which the experiments
were made. He had observed that the same effects
were produced, but in a smaller degree, in living frogs
and in other animals, as in those which had been newly
deprived of life. In the course of. some experiments
which he made on atmospherical electricity, he suspend¬
ed some frogs, by means of metallic hooks fixed in the
spine, from iron palisades ; and he observed that the
muscles of these animals were frequently and involun¬
tarily contracted, as if they had received a shock of
electricity. At first he ascribed these , convulsions to
the changes In the state of the electricity in the atmo¬
sphere ; but after a repetition of the experiments he
found that he was mistaken. He discovered, however,
at last, after many ingenious experiments, that he could
at pleasure produce the convulsions, by touching tv.o
different parts of the animal, each with a piece oi me¬
tal, and then bringing these pieces of metal into contact.
The experiment may be made in the following manner.
Let the crural nerve of a frog he laid bare, about an
inch in extent j let a piece of zinc be placed in contact
with the nerve, and let a piece of silver .be placed on
the muscles with which the nerve communicates, i hen
bring the zinc and silver into contact, and the wnole
limb will be instantly thrown into convulsions.
After Galvani had published his experiments, the
convulsions thus excited were ascribed to the action o.
. , some unknown fluid, to which the wimz Galvanism was
Hi* theory, given, or Animal Electricity. According to Galvam,
a fluid is secreted in the brain, the same with the ner¬
vous fluid ; but being analogous to common.electnci-
ty might with more propriety be termed animal elec-
tricity. The conductors of this fluid are the nerves.
It is carried off by them as it is secreted, and deposited
on the interior surface of the muscular fibres., vyhich be-
in<r non-conductors of the fluid, do not permit it to pass
through them. The state of the muscular fibres exact¬
ly resembled that of a charged Leyden jar. Iheir in¬
ner surface is electrified positively, and the outer sur-
. face is electrified negatively. The communication be¬
tween the exterior and interior surfaces of the muscular
fibres is formed by the nerves. They convey the re¬
dundant electricity from the internal to the external
surface, and, like the effect of the electrical stimulus,
every discharge is attended with a muscular contrac-
U On the other hand Volta, another philosopher who
, carried his researches far into this subject, and of whose
experiments and views we have given a long detail,
adopted a different opinion. He thought that the con¬
vulsions occasioned by the galvanic apparatus were en¬
tirely independent of the action of the nervous fluid, and
were to be ascribed to common electricity excited by
the metallic conductors which are employed. These
different opinions were supported with much ingenuity
in a controversy which commenced between Galvani
and Volta. The writers on galvanism divided them-
bfelves into two parties. While one party maintained
with Volta, that the phenomena were owing to the
action of common electricity on the muscular fibres,
another party thought that they were entirely depenn-
ent upon something peculiar to animal matter. By
many this seemed to have been considered as the ner¬
vous fluid, which was supposed to he the same with, or
analogous to, common electricity.
it had been long asserted, that porter, and some otlier
liquors, drank out of a pewter pot, had a different taste
from what it has when drank out of glass or earthen
ware. Pure mercury, it has been observed, retains its
metallic splendour for a long time ; but when amalga¬
mated with any other metal, it is soon tarnished or oxi¬
dated. The Etruscan inscriptions on pure lead are in
good preservation to this day •, whereas some medals of
fBad and tin, of no great antiquity, are much corroded,
am! works of metal, whose parts are soldered together
by the interposition oi other metals, soon tarnish about
S1
Volta’s
the places where the different metals are joined. When h *
the copper sheeting of ships is fastened on by means of
iron nails, the nails, but particularly the copper, are
readily corroded about the place of contact. A piece
of zinc placed in water for a considerable time scarcely
undergoes any change •, but if a piece of silver happen
to touch the zinc whilst it is in the water, it is soon
corroded or oxidated.
In the course of a very few years after the publica¬
tion of Galvani’s discovery, a great number of writers
appeared, and presented to the world a great body of
facts which they had ascertained by experiments and
observations. The following are among the most im- s
portant: I. When a piece of metal is placed on theRetytu.
muscle of an animal just dead, and still moist, and an-lat>»f
other piece of a different metal is placed on the nervefa(t
which leads to the muscle, or on another part of the
muscle, and if the two pieces of metal be brought into
contact, a contraction or convulsion of the muscle takes
place. 2. A single piece of metal, or two pieces of
the same metal, have no effect in exciting contraction
of the muscle. It is necessary to have two perfect con¬
ductors of electricity in contact, before any convulsion
can be produced. 3. The muscle must be moist. The
effect is not prevented by a ligature on a nerve; but
the susceptibility of a muscle to be thrown into convul¬
sions is diminished, and at last destroyed, by the applica¬
tion of opium, which destroys irritability. The same
change takes place if the muscle be allowed to remain
for some time after death. 4. The different muscles of
the body are differently affected by the galvanic in¬
fluence.' They are not equally susceptible of the same
degree of convulsive efiect. 5. If a plate of zinc be
placed on the upper surface of the tongue, and a plate
of silver or copper be applied to its under surface; and
if the two pieces of metal thus placed be brought into
contact, a strong metallic taste is immediately per¬
ceived. An acid taste is perceived, ivben the tongue
is dipt into an alkaline solution contained in a tin ox
zinc cup held in the moist hand. 6. If a piece of me¬
tal as a silver spoon, be placed on the ball of the eye,
and another piece of a different metal, as a piece of
zinc, be placed on the tongue, and if the two pieces
of metal be brought into contact, a flash of fire is in¬
stantly perceived j and it is perceived, both when the
metal's are brought into contact, and when they are se¬
parated. 7. Another fact, which was ascertained bv
Aldini, who performed a great many experiments in
galvanism during his visit to this country, is, that con¬
vulsions may be excited merely by forming a proper
chain of muscles and nerves. This is proved by the
following experiment. He took a prepared frog, and
held it suspended in one band by the foot. The sciatic
nerves were brought into contact with the tongue of an
ox, the head of which had been recently separated from
the body. He then introduced the other hand moist¬
ened with a solution of common salt in water into the
ear of the animal, thus completing the circle. Every
time that the communication was formed, the muscles
of the frog were thrown into convulsions.
Most of the facts which we have now related, were as¬
certained by the different philosophers, whose researches
were directed to the subject of galvanism, between the
years 1791 and 1794. Hitherto the connection be¬
tween o-alvanism and animal bodies was considered
0 ■ * most
r f
G A L Y A N I S M
"V'
most writers, so close anti Intimate, that they supposed
the one could not exist independent of the other. Some
facts, however, which were established by Fabroni and
others, seemed to favour the opinion of those who con¬
sidered galvanism as the action of a peculiar fluid on
the animal fibre. This fluid is developed by the mutual
action of the metals employed as exciting causes, and it
exists in other bodies as well as in those which are en¬
dowed with life. We have already mentioned that two
pieces of different metals put into water produce changes
on the water which neither of them separately could
effect. This was observed by Fabroni, from which he
concluded that a chemical change was effected by the
metals on each other. To this change he supposed part
at least of the phenomena of galvanism was owing,
pi, imenaThus he explained the necessity of two different metals
of va- and of moisture in the production of these phenomena,
nil|«cii-Those metals, he also observed, which occasioned the
Clie'most rapid changes on each other in water, were most
® aC powerful in exciting galvanic convulsions.
Metals and charcoal, it was ascertained by Volta,
being good conductors of electricity, attract and repel
that fluid with different forces. When two different
metals in their natural state of electricity are brought
into contact, electric matter passes from the one to the
other; the one becomes electrified positively, and the
other negatively. From this he concluded, that the
electricity which occasioned the galvanic phenomena
did not reside in the animal fibres, but in the metals
employed as exciters, and that the convulsions were
produced by the electric matter passing through these
fibres.
The seeming inconsistency which appeared in the
opinions of Volta and Fabroni was removed by suc¬
ceeding discoveries, which demonstrated that both elec¬
tricity and chemistry were concerned in the galvanic
phenomena. Galvanism was now no longer considered
as something connected with living matter, which was
totally inexplicable, hut as something developed by the
mutual action of inorganized substances on each other,
the effect or energy of which might he estimated and
measured by its action on the muscular fibres. The
discovery of the galvanic pile by Volta put it in the
power of philosophers to increase the power or energy
of the galvanic influence at pleasure. This pile, and
the method of constructing it, have been already de¬
scribed.
A description has also been given of a different ap¬
paratus, the invention of Mr Cruickshank of Woolwich,
which has been employed in place of Volta’s pile.
This is called the galvanic trough, and it consists of a
number of square plates of different metals as in the
other, which are soldered together in pairs, and fixed
by means of cement in a box of baked wood, at a small
distance from each other.
m, (n8 A striking analogy was at once observed between
'tli Lf this apparatus and charged electrics. A great deal of
*cl\v. discussion took place on the subject-, much investigation
followed: and philosophers held different opinions con¬
cerning the phenomena of galvanism, whether it was to
he considered as the same with common electricity, or
as something specifically different.
It was at last ascertained by Nicholson and Carlisle,
Gat the zinc end ol the pile was in the state of positive
electricity, and the silver or copper end in the negative
state. I he zme end of the pile, then, according to the
commonly received theory of electricity, gives out the
electric fluid, which enters at the silver or copper end.
And ii the circle be completed by means of metallic
wires or charcoal, when the pile is sufficiently powerful,
sparks similar to what take place by the discharge of
common electricity may be perceived. Electric batte¬
ries have been charged by means of the pile ; metallic
wires, tin-foil, gold leaf, are burnt ; and mixtures of
hydrogen and oxygen gas are exploded in the same way
as happens when electric discharges are made to pass
through them. From the whole of the phenomena,
there seems now to he little doubt of the identity of the
two fluids.
Chemistry, however, has a very considerable share in
the phenomena of galvanism. The action of the pile is
most powerful in oxygen gas: it ceases entirely in the
vacuum of an air-pump, or in azotic gas. The electri¬
cal machine also, it has been ascertained, cannot he
excited in any gas unless it contain' oxygen j and it
seems probable, that the effect of the amalgam, which
is employed in exciting the electrical machine, hears a
proportion to the facility or rapidity of its oxidation.
]fut we shall discuss this point more fully in the second
chapter.
When the action of the pile has continued for some
time, it gradually becomes weaker, till at last its energy
is entirely lost. This power can only be renewed by
cleaning the plates, the surfaces of which have been very
much changed. It was observed that the time in which
the action of the pile ceased, was in proportion to the
energy which it originally possessed. When it was
strongest, the duration of its action was shortest. It
was observed also, that one of each pair of plates was
covered with a coat of oxide ; ,and when this process of
oxidation was finished, and the surface of the plate was
entirely covered, the action ceased. Of the two metals
employed in the construction of the pile, that which is
most easily oxidated, always undergoes this process.
When zinc and silver, or zinc and copper, are used,
the zinc is always oxidated ; and unless this oxidation
take place, there is no action of the pile. Its action
or energy is proportional to the oxidation of the metal;
and thus it appears that this oxidation is essentially ne¬
cessary to the action of the pile. For, unless the liquid
which is employed to moisten the pieces of card or cloth
between the pairs of plates, or that which fills the cells
in the trough, be capable of oxidating the zinc, no
action follows. There is no action at all with silver
and zinc, and perfectly pure water. In vacuo the action
of the pile soon ceases, even with common water j for
the oxygen which is held in solution by the water soon
combines with the zinc, and then the process stops.
The action is increased by oxygen gas, because the
oxidation of the zinc is facilitated. Its action is also
increased, and goes on even in vacuo, when nitric acid,
which supplies oxygen for the process of oxidation, is
substituted for the water. Thus, by estimating the pro¬
portion between the oxidation of the metals and the
action of the pile, it may be determined what metals
are proper for forming piles, and with what liquids they
may be employed. In the choice of the different metals,
it must he observed, that one of them must always be
more easily oxidated than the other. Two perfect
conductors which are unequally oxidable, with an im¬
perfect
359
History.
360
Ifistorjr.
55
Hccai»itu
«ftects.
G A L V
perfect conductor which is capable of oxidating the
most oxidable of the perfect conductors, constitute the
elements of the galvanic battery.
But some of the most important phenomena of galva-
nism are exhibited in its chemical effects. ^ os^ °(.
these were first observed by the chemical philosophers ot
this country. We have already detailed many of the
experiments by which these effects are illustrated j and
we shall here only, for the sake of giving a connected
view of this subject, merely recapitulate some ot
iieeapuu- 1 When water forms part of the circle between the
latiou of the extremities of the battery, and the conducting wires are
chemical brought within a small distance of each other, being
immersed in a glass of water, the water is decomposed,
and it will be recollected that the phenomena are dif¬
ferent according to the nature of the wires employed.
When the wires are of gold or platina, they undergo
no change ; oxygen gas is evolved in small bubbles
from the positive wire, and hydrogen gas trom the ne¬
gative wire ; and if the gases be collected separately by
the apparatus formerly described, they are found to be
in the proportions of the component parts ot water. It
one of the wires be immersed into one glass, and ano¬
ther into a separate glass, by completing the circle with
a finger plunged into each glass, the process goes on,
and the hydrogen gas is extricated in the one vessel,
while the oxygen is given out from the wire in the
other. This fact was first discovered by Mr l)avy.
. When spring water is used, or water having azotic gas
in solution, an acid is formed at the extremity of the
positive wire, and an alkali at the extremity ot t le ne¬
gative wire. The acid was found to be nitric, and the
alkali ammonia. If the wires be plunged in different
glasses, and the connection be formed by means of an
animal body, the positive wire produces in the water
tinged with an infusion of litmus, a red colour, ''hi'6
the negative wire also reddens an infusion ot brasil
wood. . ,
If other wires besides those of gold or platina be used,
it is found that the positive wire undergoes oxidation,
but little or no gas is separated from it; while the ne¬
gative wire, as in the former case, gives out hydrogen
gas. When the wires are immersed into metallic solu¬
tions, as acetate of lead, nitrate of silver, &c. the sil¬
ver or lead is revived, and deposited on the negative
wire $ and if solutions which contain sulphuric, nitric,
or oxymuriatic acids, are used for the immersion Oi the
conducting wires, the acids are decomposed, oxygen
gas is evolved from the positive wire, and sulphur or
hydrogen gas makes its appearance at the negative wire.
The decomposition of ammonia has already been men¬
tioned. This was discovered by Mr Henry.. The hy¬
drogen is given out by the negative wire, while the azo¬
tic gas is evolved by the positive wire. When plum¬
bago or charcoal are employed as conductors in place
of'metals, it is found that carbonic acid is evolved from
the positive end, and hydrogen gas from the nega-
tive. .
It may he necessary here to describe a galvanic bat¬
tery, constructed bv Mr Davy, on principles somewhat
different from that'of Volta. In the Voltaic pile there
are two perfect conductors, and one imperfect conduc¬
tor; but this consists of two imperfect, and one perfect
conductor: the two imperfect conductors are nitrous
3
Tb
A N I S M. . Parti.
acid and liquid sulphuret of potash. A trough is di.
vided into cells with slips of horn and plates of zinc,
arranged alternately; nitrous acid is poured into the first
cell, and sulphuret of potash into the second ; the two
liquids being separated by the slip ol horn, a commu¬
nication is formed between them by means ot a moist
piece of cloth laid over the horn, and in the same way
the rest of the cells are filled. In this case the liquids
are the imperfect conductors, and the zinc is the per¬
fect one; and the action of the battery continues till
the oxidation of one of the surfaces of the zinc takes
place, the other surfaces remaining unchanged.
Having finished the short view which we proposed to
give of the history and progress of galvanism, we should
next proceed to detail some ot the later experiments
and discoveries which have been made on this subject.
What we here chiefly allude to, is the discovery of the
formation of muriatic acid and soda by means of the
galvanic fluid. But this is proposed to be the subject
of a separate chapter. We shall therefore proceed in
the next chapter to consider the hypothesis by meansof
which the phenomena of galvanism have been explain¬
ed, and to point out the analogy between electricity
and galvanism.
Chap. II. Of the Theory of Galvanismy and the Am-
logy between the Galvanic Fluid and Electricity.
We have already observed that the philosophers
who were occupied in researches on galvanism, early di¬
vided themselves into two parties. According to one
party, with Volta at their head, the phenomena of gal¬
vanism were ascribed to the action of common electri¬
city on the muscular fibres; while another party main¬
tained the opinion that they depended entirely on some-
thing peculiar to animal matter. Hus was the opinion
of Galvani himself, the original discoverer, and it was
supported by his nephew Aldini, with certain modifica¬
tions. The greater number of philosophers have now
adopted the opinion of Volta, as being more consistent
with the phenomena. WTe shall therefore now give a
more particular account of the hypothesis which has
been more generally followed in explaining these pheno¬
mena on the principles of electricity. .. , j
According to the received principles of electricity,^.]
there is a subtile fluid which exists in all bodies; but
the existence of this fluid can only be recognised when
the proportion which a body contains is greater 01 les»
than the quantity which is natural to it. When the quan¬
tity is greater than usual, the body is said to be electri¬
fied positively or plus ; and when the quantity is less
than usual, the body is said to be electrified negatively
or minus. The electric fluid penetrates certain bodies,
and passes through them with facility, and these bodies
are called conductors of electricity, but there are other
bodies which it cannot pass through without difficulty,
these bodies are called non-conductors or electrics, u.
conductors there are two kinds ; one of winch is oe
nominated perfect, because the electric fluid passes
through them with ease; the other is called imperjea
conductors, because the fluid passes through them vviu
difficulty. The perfect conductors are solid bodies
which are susceptible of oxidation ; and when they e-
ter into combination with oxygen, they lose their pro¬
perties as perfect conductors. The metal and charcoa
are
T '?■
|Kt II. G A L V
are the only perfect conductors which are known. The
imperfect conductors are those bodies which contain
oxygen, and when they are deprived of it, they lose the
properties of imperfect conductors. They are all liquid
bodies, and usually contain water as one of their com¬
ponent parts. See Electricity.
of There is an affinity between the perfect conductors
the cU'ic and the electric fluid, in consequence of which this
" fluid remains in combination with the perfect conductor,
joi,,.tors, ^11 ^ jg attracted by some body, for which it has a
stronger affinity, or is excelled by some body combining
with the conductor, for which the conductor has a
stronger affinity than it has for the electric fluid. Per¬
fect conductors possess different forces or degrees of
affinity for the electric fluid. Thus, if two perfect con¬
ductors be brought into contact, the proportion of elec¬
tric matter in each of them changes. That conductor
which has the strongest affinity for the fluid, is electrified
positively, or plus ; and the conductor which has the
weaker affinity is electrified negatively or minus. If
a plate of zinc and one of copper, each of which pos¬
sesses its natural proportion of electric fluid, be brought
into contact, the zinc is electrified plus, and the copper
minus j or, if iron and silver be brought into contact,
the iron is electrified plus, and the silver minus; and if
no other circumstances operate to change the state of
the electricity, these two states will be permanent.
But, when a perfect conductor in the positive state
of electricity, enters into combination with oxygen, it
parts with the excess of electric fluid which it contain¬
ed, and the discharge is made towards the side of the
conductor which is combined with oxygen. The affi¬
nity of imperfect conductors for the electric fluid is
weaker than that of the perfect conductors, so that,
if a perfect and imperfect conductor be brought into
contact, the perfect conductor becomes plus, and the
imperfect minus ; and this state is not changed, if the
imperfect conductor cannot communicate oxygen to the
perfect one.
Between the electric fluid and hydrogen there is also
an affinity, so that the electric fluid combines with hy¬
drogen, provided this latter be present when the fluid
is separated from a perfect conductor. The electric fluid
is differently conducted through the bodies which are
called perfect and imperfect conductors. The fluid
passes through the perfect conductors, in its simple and
uncombined state j but unless the fluid be combined
with hydrogen, it cannot pass through the imperfect
conductors, and this compound of electricity and hy¬
drogen is capable of passing invisibly through liquid
conductors.
Let us now suppose a plate of copper and another of
zinc to be brought into contact, the zinc is immedi¬
ately electrified plus, and the copper minus ; but let us
suppose also, that the surface of the zinc farthest from
the copper, is brought into contact with a liquid which
can communicate oxygen to that surface, so that it be¬
comes oxidated, such, for instance, is water impregna¬
ted with common air, or with an acid. As soon, then,
as the oxygen of the imperfect conductor combines with
the zinc, the excess of its electricity is separated, and
passes towards the imperfect conductor j but the zinc is
oxidated by the decomposition of the water, the oxygen
of which combines with the metal, while the hydrogen
is set free. The electricity of the perfect conductor en-
A N I S M.
361
Vol. IX. Part I.
ters into combination with the hydrogen, and in this Theory,
state it can pass through the imperfect conductor. Ifv—
then the imperfect conductor be in contact on the other
side with a perfect conductor, such as a plate of cop¬
per, which cannot, in this case, be oxidated, the elec¬
tric fluid leaves the imperfect conductor, and enters the
perfect one; but it cannot combine with a perfect con¬
ductor while it is in union with hydrogen; the hydro¬
gen, therefore, is left behind, and, accordingly, when
the electric fluid passes from the perfect to the imper¬
fect conductor, a portion of hydrogen gas is given out at
the surface of the perfect conductor; or, if that surface
has undergone any degree of oxidation, the hydrogen
combines with the oxygen, and thus leaves the conduc¬
tor in the metallic state. But, farther, if a plate of
zinc be in contact with a plate of copper, the fluid hav-
ing a greater affinity for the zinc, will enter it; and if
the zinc be again followed by another imperfect con¬
ductor, its surface is oxidated, the electricity is disen¬
gaged ; it combines with hydrogen, and passes through
the imperfect conductor as in the former case. What¬
ever the number of these sets of bodies may be, if they
are arranged in the same order, the same phenomena
will be exhibited.
. now suppose, that a battery is constructed,
either in the form ot a pile or trough, of any given
number of pairs or plates ; and suppose, if this battery
is. in the form of a pile, that the uppermost plate is
zinc, the lowest is therefore of copper; the zinc is
electrified plus, and the copper minus. If, then, a
communication is established between the upper and
lower plates of the pile, by means of conductors, ac¬
cording to the laws of electricity, the excess at the top
of the pile immediately passes to the bottom. A current
of electricity, therefore, will pass through the pile, and
will continue till the surfaces of the zinc next the im¬
perfect conductors are completely oxidated, when the
action ceases, because the double decompositions on
which this action depends, can no longer take place.
The number of repeated charges which pass through Different
the pile, must be in proportion to the number of plates, effects froM
so that the intensity of the pile increases with the num-the uumbet
ber of plates of which it is composed. Hence it is, that°f plate*'
the effects of galvanism on animals is found to be in pro¬
portion to the number of plates employed in the batte¬
ry ; but this depends upon its intensity, or the number
of discharges followed by intervals, which pass through
the body in a given time.
But, on the other hand, the effect of the galvanicand €Xle,lt
fluid on metallic substances depends on the absolute0^snr^ftce’
quantity which passes through the metal in a given
time. But the absolute quantity of fluid discharged
from a single pair of plates, must be proportional to the
surface of these plates; and hence it is, that the quantity
of electricity discharged from a pile in a given time,
depends upon the surface of the plates. When a bat¬
tery is discharged, the small charge contained in each
pair of plates, passes through the discharger; but there
must be an interval between each of those separate
charges, for they cannot be supposed to pass instantane¬
ously, although the interval being too small to be per¬
ceptible, the discharge of the battery seems to be in¬
stantaneous. As then the number of small discharges
which are apparently instantaneous, when a battery is
discharged, is in proportion to the number of plates,
Z z the
;62
Theory.
61
Chemical
eftects.
G A L V
the intensity of each little discharge is proportional to
the places which the pair of plates occupies in the bat¬
tery ; and hence it is, that the shock is increased by the
number of plates more rapidly than the effect ot the
battery on metals is increased 5 but, on the contrary,
the surface of the plates being increased, the effect on
metals is also increased, because the quantity discharged
at once from the upper pair is increased j and it seems
to be in this way that the effect on metallic substances
1S In thc'same way the chemical changes which are ef¬
fected by means of galvanism may be explained. .Let
it be supposed, that a gold wire, connected with the up¬
per plate of the battery, terminates in a glass ot water,
and another gold wire, from the lower plate of the
battery, terminates in the same water. The circle is
then completed by the gold wire, which is a perfect
conductor. The current of electricity passes through
the wire which is connected with the uppermost plate
the base of the battery, and it would pass nmnter-
runtedly, if there were no interval between the wires.
This interval is supplied with water, and, when the
electric fluid reaches the extremity of the wire, it must
pass through the water, hut it can only pass through an
imperfect conductor when it is in combination with hy¬
drogen. It therefore combines with the hydrogen ot
the water, which is accordingly decomposed at the
point of the wire. The oxygen is disengaged, and the
hydrogen in combination with the electricity passes
through the water till it reach the point of the other
wire *, and the affinity between this wire and the elec¬
tric fluid being greater than the affinity of the latter tor
water the electric fluid enters the wire, and passes on
to the’other end of the battery j but the hydrogen is
previously separated from the extremity of this second
wire, in the form of gas, because the fluid cannot enter
the wire in combination with hydrogen.
If the wires are immersed in ammonia, the hydrogen
is derived from that substance of which it forms one
of the component parts ; the azotic gas, the base ot
which is its other constituent, is evolved at the extre¬
mity of the first wire, and hydrogen gas at the extre¬
mity of the second. But, if the wires are plunged in
the water which contains common air, and consequently
a certain portion of azote, as oxygen gas combines with
azote in its nascent state, or at the moment of its evo¬
lution, the compound resulting from this combination
is nitric acid. Hydrogen gas also, in its nascent state,
will combine with azote, and ammonia is the result of
this combination. Hence it is, that in some experi¬
ments nitric acid is found at the point of the positive
wire, and ammonia at the point of tne negative wne,
when common water is employed.
When liquids holding in solution a metallic salt, the
base of which is an oxide of the metal, are employed ;
as Hydrogen gas possesses the property of reducing or
revivino- metals, if in its nascent state it comes in con¬
tact with their'oxides, the metallic salts are in this case
decomposed, and the metal is revived. It is found de¬
posited on the negative wire. When copper or iron
wives are employed to complete the circle, instead of
w:res of gold or platina, as oxygen has the property oi
combining with these metals, at the moment of its dis¬
engagement, it is deposited on the positive wire, and
L this case none is separated from it 5 but if the circle
A N I S M. Par ],
be completed by means of charcoal or plumbago, and t),.^
the interval between these conducting substances be wa- '—-fL
ter, carbonic acid gas is separated from the positive con¬
ductor, because the oxygen in its nascent state is sus¬
ceptible of combination with carbone ; and the hydro¬
gen in the same state combining with carbone, carburet-
ed hydrogen is given out by the negative conductor.
Such is the hypothetical explanation which has been
given of the action of galvanism, and the phenomena
which it exhibits. A fuller view of the analogy be¬
tween galvanism and electricity has been given by Dr
W7ollaston.
“Notwithstanding, he observes, the power of Mr
Volta’s electric pile is now known to be proportional to
the disposition of one ot the 'metals to be oxidated by
the fluid interposed, a doubt has been entertained by
many persons, whether this power arises from the che¬
mical action of the fluid on the metal, or, on the con-
trary, whether the oxidation itself may not be occasion,
ed by electricity, set in motion by the contact of metals
that have different conducting powers. . _ e
“That the oxidation of the metal is the primary Eke itj
cause of the electric phenomena observed, is, I think,etoW
1 • r l £*.   1 ^™ /->v»I»-»-»onfc TwVnnK QUriBly
dalle
1 think, ew
to be inferred from the following experiments, which
UAf IV V-    O ^ # ' .
exhibit the galvanic process reduced to its most simple
state. _ c ..
“ Exper. 1.—-If a piece of zinc and a piece of silver
have each one extremity immersed in the same vessel,
containing sulphuric or muriatic acid diluted with a
large quantity of water, the zinc is dissolved, and yields
hydrogen gas, by decomposition of the water j the sil¬
ver, not being acted upon, has no power of decomposing
water j but, whenever the zinc and silver are made to
touch, or any metallic communication is made between
them, hydrogen gas is also formed at the surface of the
silver.
“ x\ny other metal besides zinc, which by assistance
of the acid employed is capable of decomposing water,
will succeed equally, if the other wire consists of a me¬
tal on which the acid has no effect.
“ Exper. 2.—If zinc, iron, or copper, is employed
with gold in diluted nitric acid, nitrous gas is formed j
in the same manner, and under the same circumstances,
as the hydrogen gas in the former experiment.
“ Exper. 3.—Experiments analogous to the former,
and equally simple, may also be made with many me¬
tallic solutions. If, for instance, the solution contains
copper, it will be precipitated by a piece of iron, and
appear on its surface. Upon silver merely immersed
in the same solution, no such effect is produced; but as
soon as the two metals are brought into contact, the sil¬
ver receives a coating of copper.
“ In the explanation of these experiments, it is neces¬
sary to advert to a point established by means of the
electric pile. _ . . »
“ We know that when water is placed in a circuit of
conductors of electricity, between the two extremities
of a pile, if the power is sufficient to oxidate one of tbs
wires of communication, the wire connected with the
opposite extremity affords the hydrogen gas.
“ Since the extrication of hydrogen, in this instance,
is seen to depend on electricity, it is probable, that in
other instances, electricity may be also requisite for it*
conversion into gas. It would appear, therefore, that
in the solution of a metal, electricity is evolved during
tin
GALVANISM.
363
Th f-
ffect |f
Buti
nh.
the action of the acid upon it; and that the formation
-< of hydrogen gas, even in that case, depends on a transi¬
tion of electricity between the fluid and the metal.
“ We see, moreover, in the first experiment, that
the zinc, without contact of any other metal, has the
power of decomposing water j and we can have no reason
to suppose that the contact of the silver produces any
new power, but that it serves merely as a conductor
of electricity, and thereby occasions the formation of
hydrogen gas.
“ In the third experiment also, the iron by itself has
the power of precipitating copper, by means, I presume,
of electricity evolved during its solution; and here like¬
wise the silver, by conducting that electricity, acquires
the power of precipitating the copper in its metallic state.
“ The explanation here given receives additional con¬
firmation from comparative experiments, which I have
made with common electricity ; for it will be seen that
the same transfer of chemical powrer, and the same ap¬
parent reversion of the usual order of chemical affini¬
ties in the precipitation of copper by silver, may be ef¬
fected by a common electrical machine.
“ The machine with which the following experi¬
ments were conducted, consists of a cylinder seven inches
in diameter, with a conductor on each side, 16 inches
long, and three and a half inches diameter, each fur-
pished with a sliding electrometer, to regulate the
Strength of the spark received from them.
“ Exper 4.—Having a wire of fine silver of an
inch in diameter, I coated the middle of it for two or
three inches, with sealing wax, and by cutting through
in the middle of the wax, exposed a section of the wire.
The two coated extremities of the wire, thus divided,
were immersed in a solution of sulphate of copper, placed
in an electric circle between the two conductors ; and
sparks, taken at of an inch distance, were passed by
means of them through the solution. After 100 turns
of the machine, the wire which communicated with
(what is called) the negative conductor, bad a precipi¬
tate formed on its surface, which, upon being bur¬
nished, was evidently copper; but the opposite wire
had no such coating.
“ Upon reversing the direction of the current of
electricity, the order of the phenomena was of course
reversed; the copper being shortly re-dissolved by as¬
sistance of the oxidating power of positive electricity,
and a similar precipitate formed on the opposite wire.
“ Exper. 5.—A similar experiment made with gold
wires , of an inch diameter, in a solution of corrosive
sublimate, had the same success.
“ The chemical agency, therefore, of common elec¬
tricity, is thus proved to be the same with the power
excited by chemical means; but, since a difference has
been observed in the comparative facility with which
the pile of Volta decomposes water, and produces other
effects of oxidation and de-oxidation of bodies exposed
to its action, I have been at som£ pains to remove this
difficulty, and can at least produce a very close imita¬
tion of the galvanic phenomena, by common electri¬
city.
“ It has been thought necessary to employ powerful
machines, and large Leyden jars, for the decompo¬
sition of water ; but when I considered that the decom¬
position must depend on duly proportioning the strength
of the charge of electricity to the quantity of water,
and that the quantity exposed to its action at the sur- Theory.
face of communication depends on the extent of that  
surface, I hoped that, by reducing the surface of com¬
munication, the decomposition of water might be effect¬
ed by smaller machines, and with less powerful excita¬
tion, than have hitherto been used for that purpose ;
and, in this hope, I have not been disappointed.
“ Exper. 6.—Having procured a small wire of fine
gold, and given it as fine a point as I could, I in¬
serted it into a capillary glass tube ; and after heat¬
ing the tube, so as to make it adhere to the point and
cover it in every part, J gradually ground it down,
till, with a pocket lens, I could discern that the point
of the gold was exposed. 64
“ The success of this method exceeding my ex-mdeconi-
pectations, I coated several wires in the same manner, l,0”n§ wa'
and iound, that when sparks from the conductors be- 'r-
fore-mentioned were made to pass through water, by
means of a point so guarded, a spark passing to the
distance ol one-eighth of an inch would decompose
water, when the point exposed did not exceed of
an inch in diameter. With another point, which I
estimated at tsWj a succession of sparks ^ of an inch
in length, afforded a current of small bubbles of air.
“ I have since found, that the same apparatus will
decompose water, with a wire ^ of an inch diameter,
coated in the manner before described, if the spark
from the prime conductor passes to the distance of
of an inch of air.
“ Exper. 7.—In order to try how far the strength of
the electric spark might be reduced by proportional
diminution of the extremity of the wire, I passed a so¬
lution of gold in aqua regia through a capillary tube,
and, by heating the tube, expelled the acid. There
remained a thin film of gold, lining the inner surface of
the tube, which, by melting the tube, was converted
into a very fine thread of gold, through the substance
of the glass.
When the extremity of this thread was made the
medium of communication through water, I found that
the mere current of electricity would occasion a stream
of very small bubbles to rise from the extremity of the
gold, although the wire, by which it communicated
with the positive or negative conductor, was placed in
absolute contact with them. Hence it appears, that
decomposition of water may take place by common
electricity, as well as by the electric pile, although no
discernible sparks are produced.
“ The appearance of two currents of air may also
be imitated, by occasioning the electricity to pass by fine
points of communication on both sides of the water :
but, in fact, the resemblance is not complete ; for, in
every way in which I have tried it, I observed that
each wire gave both oxygen and hydrogen gas, in¬
stead of their being formed separately, as by the elec¬
tric pile.
“ I am inclined to attribute the difference in this
respect to the greater intensity with which it is neces¬
sary to employ common electricity ; for, that positive
and negative electricity, so excited, have each the same
chemical power as they are observed to have -in the
electric pile, may be ascertained by other means.
“ In the precipitation of copper by silver, an instance
of de-oxidation (or phlogistication) by negative elec¬
tricity has been mentioned ; the oxidating power of po-
Z 2 z sitive
364
GALVANISM.
Pari:
Theory.
and in
cfaansiing
the blue
colour of
vegetables.
sitive electricity may be also proved, by its effects on
vegetable blue colours.
“ Exper. 8.—Having coloured a card with a strong
infusion of litmus, I passed a current of electric sparks
along it, by means of two fine gold points, touching it
at the distance of an inch from each other. The etlect,
as in other cases, depending on the smallness oi the
quantity of water, was most discernible when the card
was nearly dry. In this state a very few turns ot the
machine were" sufficient to occasion a redness at the po¬
sitive wire, very manifest to the naked eye. The nega¬
tive wire, being afterwards placed on the same spot,
soon restored it to its original blue colour.
“ By Mr Volta’s apparatus the same effects are pro¬
duced in much less time. .
“ Besides the similarity which has thus been traced
between the effects of electricity excited by the com¬
mon machine, and those observed from the electric pile,
I think it appears also probable, that they originate from
the same source. .
tt With regard to the latter, its power is known to
depend on oxidation j so also does the excitement in
the former appear very much to depend on the same
process *, for, .... 1
“ Exper. 9.—I have found that, by using an amalgam
of silver or of platina, which are not liable to be oxi¬
dated, 1 could obtain no electricity. An amalgam ot
tin, on the contrary, affords a good degree of excite¬
ment. Zinc acts still better j but the best amalgam is
made with both tin and zinc, a mixture which is more
easily oxidated than either metal separately.
“ Exper. 10.—But, as a farther trial whether oxida¬
tion assists in the production of electricity, I mounted
11 i*i-   !u lie* svt-ial-t 1 f\**t orw! pfinnp-top- in &
* Phil.
Tran*.
1*01.I
427*
a small cylinder, with its cushion and conductor, in a
vessel so contrived, that I could at pleasure charge the
contained air.
“ After trying the degree of excitement in common
air, I substituted carbonic acid gas, and found that the
excitement was immediately destroyed, but that it re¬
turned upon re-admission of atmospheric air.
“ In conformity to this hypothesis, we find that the
metal oxidated is, in each case, in a similar state of
electricity *, for the cushion of the machine, by oxida¬
tion of the amalgam adhering to it, becomes negative;
and in the same manner, zinc, oxidated by the accu¬
mulated power of an electric pile, or simply by action
of an acid, is also negative.
“ This similarity in the means by which both elec¬
tricity and galvanism appear to be excited, in addition
to the resemblance that has been traced between theii
effects, shews that they are both essentially the same, and
confirms an opinion that has already been advanced by
others, that all the differences discoverable in the effects
of the latter, may be owing to its being less intense, but
produced in much larger quantity*.”
This analogy was still farther established by the ex¬
periments of Van Marum, in which he succeeded in
charging an electrical battery, consisting of 1374 square
feet, by means of the galvanic pile. On examining
the power of the shocks which were given by the bat¬
tery charged with the pile, it was found that the
ihock from 100 pairs of plates was about equal to a
ihock from the battery, when it was charged by means
of 200. A pile of 200 pairs of plates seemed to have
six times the power of an electrical machine having a TbeiI
plate of 31 inches diameter. v—j
The following experiments made by Mr Cuthbertson, ,«) ^
with galvanic batteries, are supposed by him to afford ™ j
a distinguishing property between the galvanic and elec-propt), ^
trie fluids. 1. Charcoal was deflagrated and ignited tweaiji.
for above an inch in length. 2. Iron wire ^ of an ^nisf, d
inch diameter was melted into a ball of r\ inch diame-ckctr ■
ter. 3. Platina wireT4o inch diameter, was melted in¬
to a ball to inch diameter. 4. Brass wire ~o inch di¬
ameter, three-fourths of an inch in length was ignited.
5. Brass wire TV inch diameter was red hot at the end.
6. Iron wire tto" inch diameter was red hot for 16 in¬
ches in length. 7. Iron wire 12 inches deflagrated, and
melted into a ball. 8. Iron wire six inches in length
was deflagrated. 9. Iron wire eight inches in length
was ignited.
The first seven experiments above were made with
two troughs, each containing 30 pairs of plates, six in¬
ches square, but in the last two experiments, one of
these troughs only was used, ffhe conclusion drawn
from the four last experiments is, that double quanti¬
ties of galvanic fluid only bum double lengths of wire,
and not the square, as electrical discharges do*.
To discover what quantity of coated glass would beA%
required to take a charge sufficient to ignite the same^ •
lengths of wire, the two last experiments were compared
with common electrical discharges. Two jars, each
containing about 170 square inches of coating, were set
to the conductor of a 24 inch single-plate electrical ma¬
chine, with the author’s universal electrometer, loaded
with 31 grains. Eight inches of the same kind of wire
were laid in the circuit, and with 57 revolutions of
the plate the electrometer discharged the jars, and the
wire was ignited as perfectly as in experiment 9th.
Afterwards six inches of the wire being laid in the cir¬
cuit, a discharge was produced with the same number of
revolutions of the machine, and the wire was deflagrated,
and fused into balls, in the same manner as in the 8th
experiment. Hence he concluded, that 340 squm-e in¬
ches of coated glass, properly constructed, are sufficient
to bear a charge equal to a galvanic battery of 1O0O
square inches of surface. On comparing the above ex¬
periments with some others made some time before, the
author finds it necessary to modify the conclusion which
he had deduced from them. With a pile of 16 pairs
of plates, of 10 inches diameter, eight of which were
laid upon each other in the usual manner, and cloths
moistened with diluted muriatic acid interposed, he
burnt half an inch of wire of t4t *nc^ diameter j an
when the other eight pairs were added, he burnt tour
inches of the same wire. This was repeated with the
eight in pairs with the same result, with respect to the
burning of metals, but it gave strong and loud spark*
from metal to metal, which might be heard at tlie
stance of 300 yards. This result, he observes, ha no
been attained from troughs, to be heard at any distance.
In the last experiment the cloths were moistened wi
a strong solution of muriate of ammonia. Comparing
this effect of the pile and the trough, Mr Cuthbertso
thinks there is some defect in the arrangement or con*
struction of the latter. ..
In many experiments which Volta made on pi
composed: of a single metal, and a single wet stra unv.
JLJjJJr-
p|i II'
yji.ition
ofl iiatie
A
GALVANISM.
* idol.
Jt 1. «•
If
which of themselves are inactive, it was found that they
became more or less active, after affording a passage for
a longer or shorter time to an electric current, which
was set in motion by an active pile. According to
Ritter, the active pile or common electrometer transmits
a real charge to the pile, which is itself inactive, and
this he calls the charged pile. Volta, however, is of
opinion, that no charge is transmitted but by means of
the ordinary chemical action j for the electrical current
being continued, changes the single wet stratum inter¬
posed between two pieces of gold, for example, into
two different fluids ; one acid, by which the electric
current issues out of the metal, and the other alkaline,
by which it enters, thus constituting a pile of the se¬
cond order, composed of one metal, and two fluids of
dillerent natures. The action of this pile, however,
$oon ceases, because the fluids soon mix together *.
Chap. III. Of the 'Formation of Muriatic Acid and
Soda, by means of Galvanism.
SOME of the most curious phenomena which have yet
been exhibited in galvanism, relate to the formation of
muriatic acid by means of this power. In the account
which has been given of Mr Cruickshank’s experi¬
ments, it will be recollected that he made the discovery
of the formation of an acid and alkali, during the action
of the galvanic battery. This acid, he concluded, was
the nitric, and the alkali, ammonia. The theory of the
production of these substances in the galvanic pile has
been already mentioned, and it corresponds with the
explanation of the principles which have been adopted
for explaining the phenomena of galvanism ; later re¬
searches, however, have been conducted with more ac¬
curate observation, or have opened a wider Held of dis¬
covery. The truth of this remark will be fully confirm¬
ed, if it be at last finally ascertained, that common salt,
the component parts of which are muriatic acid and so¬
da, is produced by the action of galvanism.
The first hint of this discovery was given by Mr
Peel of Gambridge, in a letter dated April 1805, ad-
uii dressed to the editor of the Philosophical Magazine f, of
, which the following account is given in his own words.
1 “I took (says he), about a pint of distilled water, and
& :el’s fdecomposed one half of it by means of galvanism ; the
Z°. otlier * evaporated, and I found to remain at the
„1U. bottom of the glass a small quantity of salt, which upon
f examination I found to be muriate of soda, or common
salt.—What induced me to try the experiment was this j
1 knew that when water was decomposed by means of
galvanism, the water near one of the wires had alkaline,
while that near the other had acid properties. This
being the case, I inferred, that if an alkali and an acid
were really produced, I should, by decomposing a large
quantity of water, obtain a small quantity of some kind
of neutral salt: as was actually the case on trying the
experiment. The salt could not have been contained
in the water before I made the experiment, because I
used every precaution to have it free from impurities.
I even took the trouble to repeat the experiment,
though a tedious one, and I again obtained the same
result.” lie adds, that a similar experiment being re¬
peated by a friend of his, afforded a similar result.
It having been suggested to Mr Peel, that it might
he worth while to vary the experiment, by employing
365
Mi
water formed of its elements, he gives the following ac- Formation
count of the result of this process, in another letter, of Mmiatie
dated June 1805. Acid, 8te.
“ Having proceeded, he observes, to the formation  
of water from its elements, with which to repeat my
former experiment, I found when the oxygen and hy¬
drogen gases were quite pure, and exactly in due pro¬
portion, that no residuum of air was left, and that the
water formed was not in the slightest degree acidulous.
When the process was not conducted with great accu¬
racy, or any precaution to have it accurate was omit¬
ted, I then found the water acidulous, and the acid that
caused this acidity to be the nitric acid.
“ The acidulous water thus obtained I neutralized
with lime, from which I distilled the water, and this
water I decomposed by the galvanic process, as in the
experiment detailed in my former letter.
“ I did not imagine the using water so obtained could
make the least diflerence on the result of the experi¬
ment j but as a wish was expressed to have the trial
made, I again undertook that interesting but very te¬
dious labour.
“ When I came to examine the residuum, to my
great astonishment 1 found that not muriate of soda, but
muriate of potash, was produced. I must owm I feel
myself entirely at a loss how to account for this, nor
shall I attempt it; all I can say is, that this, as well as * Phil.
my former experiment, was conducted with the great-
est care and accuracy that I could bestow*.”
About the same time a discovery of a similar nature Pacebia-
was made by Professor Pacchiani of Pisa. This dis-ni’s, of reu-
covery, which relates to the composition of muriatic
acid, was first announced in this country in the number
of the Edinburgh Medical and Surgical Journal, pub¬
lished the 1st July 1805. Th® following is an account
of his experiments, and the conclusions which he dedu¬
ces from them in his own words. “ The simplicity of
the apparatus, (he says), and of the means adopted to
attain my views, the care with which I endeavoured to
avoid every source of error, have, I hope, sufficiently
secured me against those illusions which frequently de¬
ceive young men ardent in the pursuit of science, and
even those practised in the art of extorting from nature
her secrets. Want of time prevents me from relating
the series of experiments by which I arrived at the dis¬
covery I have mentioned $ but you may see it by per¬
using the manuscript of my memoir, which will be im¬
mediately published, to submit my researches and their
results to the judgment of the learned. For the pre¬
sent, I shall select from the experiments and facts there¬
in described those which are decisive, and which esta¬
blish, in an evident manner, the following truths :—
“ I. Muriatic acid is an oxyde of hydrogen, and con¬
sequently composed of hydrogen and oxygen.
“ II. In the oxygenated muriatic acid, and there¬
fore, a fortiori, in muriatic acid, there is a much less
proportion of oxygen than in water.
“ III. Hydrogen is susceptible of very many and
different degrees of oxidation, contrary to what is uni¬
versally believed by pneumatic chemists, who assert
that hydrogen is susceptible only of one invariable de¬
gree of oxidation, that in which it forms water.
“ Having at first examined the phenomenon of. the
decomposition of water by the galvanic pile, and
having, by accurate experiments, ascertained the true
theory,
G A L V
ronnalioi* theory, I readily discovered a very simple and exact
rftonitic apparatus, in trhich I could d.st.nct y perceive the
. o f1 ..II .. a- frrsm the con-
366
ot iviuriaucappaiaius, «>* .vi..v-..    c .1 ^ „nn
Acid, See. changes which happen to water, which, icm 1 .
  ' tinned action of the galvanic pile, is continually losing
its oxygen at the surface of a wire of very pure gold
immersed in it. . „
“ I therefore proceeded to examine these gradual
changes of water thus losing its oxygen J and I atlas
observed a very singular fact, which unequivocally in-
dicated the forLtiJn of an acid. In other antecedent
experiments I had examined the nature of the air ob¬
tained before arriving at tins remarkab e P JS »"d 1
always found, by means of the eudiometer of Giobert,
that it was very pure oxygen, as the residuum scarcely
amounted to one-sixtieth. .
“ Having thus examined the nature of the air form¬
ed in various experiments, from the first moment of de¬
composition, until there were evident indications of the
formation of an acid, I began to endeavour to deter¬
mine, in a more positive manner, the existence and na¬
ture of this acid. . ,
“ When the water, or, to speak more accurately, t ie
residual fluid, occupied about hair the capacity of the
receiver, which at first contained the water, this resi¬
dual fluid presented the following characters :
k Its colour was an orange yellow, more or less deep,
according as the bulk of the residual liquor was greater
or less, and it resembled in appearance a true solution
“ From the inferior orifice of the vessel, which was
closed with a piece of taffety, and then with double
bladder, there escaped a smell which was easily recog¬
nized to be that of oxygenated muriatic acid.
“ The gold wire had in part lost its metallic lustre,
and its surface appeared as if corroded by a solvent.
A N I S M. , , . Part
low it oxygenated muriatic acid, anu, below this, there t'orms
is another which constitutes muriatic acid.” of Mm
Mr Henry of Manchester, in an account of his in- (AcidJ
vestigations on this subject, observes that there is a
considerable point of difference between tne I.iiglisli
and the Italian chemist. The result of Mr Teel’s ex- mark».
periment was found to be muriate ol soda j but in
Professor Pacchiani’s, in which an interrupted gold
wire was employed, it appeared to be muriate of gold.
This ingenious chemist, with the same view, made the
following experiment. He took a glass tube 4! inches
long, 35 inches diameter, in which were secured with
corks, two slips of platina, having their extremities at
a proper distance to effect the decomposition of the
water. The quantity of water, at the beginning of
the experiment, amounted to two drams. After being
exposed to the galvanic action for six days, it was so
far diminished, that ^ inch of the tube was unfilled.
The water which was employed was carefully puri¬
fied, by being first distilled, and then, after adding
nitrate of silver, by a second distillation. After the
experiment was finished, with the audition of nitrate
of silver, it became opalescent in a few seconds, and
being exposed to the light, exhibited those changes
which indicate the presence of muriatic acid. It did
not appear that muriate of platina had been produced,
for muriate of ammonia being added to one portion,
and carbonate of soda to another, produced no precipi¬
tation.
In making this experiment, Mr Henry suggests a
very useful precaution. The water employed, he ob¬
serves, should never, on any accuunt, come into contact
with the fingers, because there is a constant excretion
of muriate of soda from the skin, and in this way the
,] Its surface appeared as it corroaeu u, a ■ purest’water is very soon - contaminated. He reeom
t The S of taffety wl.ieh bad beer, in contact with mends also, that glass stoppers should be employed
.be clloured fluid in" consequence of its action, was in place of corks, for transm.tt.ng the conduct..^
easily torn, as is usual with similar bodies when halt wires ^^ by Mr lv| on tIle same
^‘^Artmnlf’the edges of the vessel, on the bladder, subject, he relates the following experiments, which
.here was formed ^ To" ^1,ether the difference in theW
‘ -T^Ht s Lid tinged the skin of’the hand, result of the before-mentioned experiments was ow,ng-»»;>
after some hours, with a beautiful rose colour. in an, degree to my having employed lime to neotrahre
Havinn obtained,In various successive experiments, the water employed in my second experiment, before it
“ 2d, To ascertain whether the salts found in
the residual water, or any component part of them, j
came from the galvanic battery by means of the
wires. _ .
« To determine the first point, I varied my experi¬
ment by employing for decomposition water distilled
under different circumstances. ;
“ Exper. i.—The water employed in this experi¬
ment was distilled from water containing lime. A
portion of it was decomposed in the manner that has
before been stated. The remaining water yielded
muriate of potash.
“ Exper. 2.—Water distilled from water containing
magnesia was decomposed in the same manner; I he
result was muriate of soda.
“ Exper. 3.—In this experiment double distilled
snow water was employed. The result was muriate ol
soda. ' 3
“ Expet.
Xl ODIcilllCU} III V tti. #
the same liquid, possessing constantly the same proper¬
ties I chose that obtained in the last experiment to sub¬
ject it to chemical examination. The very able chemist
of this university, Signior Giuseppe Branchi, had the
goodness to enter zealously into my views •, and in Ins
laboratory we easily proved,
“ i. The existence of a volatile acid, by the white va¬
pours which were formed by ammonia placed near it.
1 “2. That this acid was certainly oxygenated muna-
tid acid, since it formed in nitrate of silver a curdy pre¬
cipitate, the luna cornea of the ancients, or the muriate
of silver of the moderns. From these facts we may draw
the following positive and undeniable results:
“ i. Muriatic acid is an oxyde of hydrogen, and is
therefore composed of hydrogen and oxygen.
« 2. Oxvgenated muriatic acid, and of course muri¬
atic acid, contains less oxygen than water does. ,
“ 3 Hvdrogen has not one degree of oxygenation,
but many One of these constitutes water, another be-
fit n-
,
«: itliars.
la'ion “ Expcr. 4.—Water distilled from barytes was now
lunatic used. The result was still muriate of soda.
,&c. The water which I used in the experiment detailed
nr~~‘ jn ,ny hrst letter was distilled from pump water (the
pump is on the premises where I live), which I have
not myself analyzed, but a friend has been so good as
to take upon him that trouble. He has not been able to
detect it in the minutest portion of magnesia. In one
of the above experiments, having nsed water distilled
from magnesia, I obtained muriate of soda j but, having
obtained the same result from distilled snow water, and
from water distilled from barytes, I conclude that the
production of the soda has nothing to do with the pre¬
sence of magnesia.
“ But, in the production of potash, the presence of
lime seems to he essential, and, as you hinted, a portion
of lime must have been carried over with the distilled
water, a fact which few would suspect, and which pro¬
bably may often he the cause of differences in the re¬
sults of chemical investigations, conducted, to all ap¬
pearance, in a similar manner.
“ To determine the second point which I had in
view, namely, whether the salts found in ihe residual
water, or any component part of them, came from the
galvanic battery by means of the conducting wires, I
made similar experiments to those before stated, em¬
ploying for the decomposition of the distilled water a
powerful electrical machine instead of a galvanic bat-
*| Julintery, but without obtaining results different from what
have been already stated*.”
It is stated in the same number of the Philosophical
Magazine, that the following result was obtained in an
experiment on the same subject. By continuing to pass
the galvanic fluid from a trough composed of 40 pairs
of square inch plates, through distilled water, contain¬
ed in a glass tube, the tube being furnished at one end
with a wire of gold, and at the other with a wire of
platina, it was found that a coating of oxide of gold
was deposited on the gold wire, from which it is con¬
cluded, that oxymuriatic acid was found in the processf.
A more particular account was afterwards given by the
author of this experiment, and of the precautions he ob¬
served in repeating it. He took a clean glass tube,
which was bent as in the former experiment j but, in¬
stead of the gold wire, he employed one of platina, so
that both wires were of the same metal. One of the
wires was only introduced a short way into the tube
containing the distilled water 5 the other wire intro¬
duced at the other extremity, passed nearly through its
whole length, till it reached beyond the point at which
the short wire terminated. After the apparatus had
stood for three days, with the zinc end of the trough
connected with the short platina wire, the latter as¬
sumed the colour of gold, and the long one became
black from the lower end to the height of the short
wire, and continued so for the space of three weeks.
The water being diminished one-third, the short wire
was connected with the copper end of the trough, and
m one day’s time the long wire became bright, and the
short one black. After two days had elapsed, that part
of the long wire which reached to the height of the
short one, assumed a yellowish golden tinge. Both the
wires remained so for three days, when they were placed
in their hrst situation. The black powder then left the
short wire, and the long one became black. A slip of
G A L V ANIS M. 367
blue test paper being immersed in the remaining water, Formation
its colour was changed, which indicates the production of Muriatic
of an acid. Acid, Set*.
Pacchiani, the discoverer, in another letter on this
subject addressed to Fahroni, seems to think that those
who have failed in obtaining the same results in the
decomposition of water, have either been influenced in
conducting their experiments by preconceived opinions,
or have deviated from the process which he followed.
But for an account of his views and reasonings, see yin.
de Chim. tom. Ivi. or Phil. Mag. xxiv. 176. We shall
only observe, that he still considers himself warranted
to draw the same conclusion with regard to the forma¬
tion ol the acid, by the action of galvanism.
Mr Sylvester ot Sheffield made the following experi¬
ment on this subject. The water which he employed
was not changed by adding nitrate of silver. This
water was introduced into a tube which was secured
at one end with a bit of bladder. At the other end
was a cork, through which a wire of platina was
passed, nearly to the bottom of the tube. The tube
was then set in a wine glass, containing also pure
water, and into this was also introduced another wire
of platina, the extremity of which came under the end
of the tube, and as near as possible to the bladder.
rI he wire within the tube was connected with the zinc
end of the trough, and the wire in the glass, which
was in contact with the bladder, proceeded from the
copper end. After the process had continued for an
hour, the liquid in the tube was put to the test of ni¬
trate of silver, and when a sufficient precipitate was
obtained, to ascertain the presence of muriatic acid,
the liquid in the glass contained an alkali, which t\xe*NiehoL
author suspected was ammonia*. Jowmaf,
Brugnatelli observes, that, after having galvanised X1V‘^7*
several times, both negatively and positively, a certain
quantity of pure water with golden wires, inserted in
separate tubes, till he found, by the usual tests, that
acid was produced on the one part, and alkali on the
other, when the two liquids were mixed to perfect
saturation, and evaporated in the air, he always ob¬
tained muriate of soda crystallized in cubes. He has
therefore no doubt, that water negatively and posi¬
tively galvanised, by means of gold wires, produces or
disengages muriatic acid in the one case, and soda in
the other -f-. I
Such are the authorities for this curious-phenomenon XKT*
which we have hitherto had an opportunity of consult¬
ing $ hut although in general it would appear that the
experiments made with a view of ascertaining the
truth of the discovery announced by Pacchiani, have
most generally succeeded, some other experiments, made
with the same view, have failed. For this purpose a
series of experiments was instituted by the Galvanic
Society of Paris, whose attention was directed to endea¬
vour, as well by means of electricity as of galvanism, to
confirm this important discovery ; but although they
employed a very simple apparatus, and one which
seemed least susceptible of any foreign influence, they
do not think it possible to produce any thing by the
action of the galvanic pile, except the decomposition
of a greater or less proportion of the water submitted
to its action. The water remaining in the tube being
carefully examined, produced no effect on the tinctures
of turnsole or brazil wood, or the solution of nitrate of
silver^
368
G A L V A
Formation silver. Hence it is concluded that neither muriatic
of Muriatic acid nor soda was formed in this experiment.
Some other experiments made with the same view
t c • i i i  Tlo 'Riirli. r.prtain DTC-
Acid, 6cc.
have also failed : but according to De Buch, certain pre-
cautions seem to be necessary in conducting tins experi¬
ment, which, if overlooked, it cannot be expected, he
thinks, to be followed with success. For the particulars
of these, see Phil. Mag. xxiv. 244. For an account ol
the analogy between the peculiarity of structure of the
torpedo, by which it is enabled to give electric shocks,
and the galvanic battery, see Torpedo j and for a lull
detail of the chemical effects of Galvanism, see £lNC.
See also the article Galvanism in the Supplement.
The following facts, which seem to extend the ana¬
logy of galvanism with electricity on the one hand, and
with magnetism on the other, were omitted in the pre¬
ceding treatise. , „ . ,, ,.
Ritter, one of the most indefatigable philosophers,
in prosecuting experiments and inquiries on tins subject,
has succeeded in charging a piece of money with the
galvanic fluid, and with this some of the phenomena ot
galvanism can be exhibited. To effect this, he places
a louis d’or between two pieces of pasteboard, thorough¬
ly wetted, and keeps it for six or eight minutes in the
chain of circulation connected with the pile. In tins
way the louis becomes charged, without being imme¬
diately in contact with the conducting wires. It this
louis be afterwards applied to the crural nerves ot a
frog, recently prepared, the usual contractions will be
produced. It is found that the charge is retained, in
proportion to the time that the piece has remained in
N I S M. Part:.
the circuit of the pile. Some have retained it for live p0IIIUJ
minutes. Ritter has also discovered, that the piece of of Map c
gold thus galvanised, exerts at once the action of two Acid,!,
metals*, the half next the negative pole, while in the'~v j
circle, became positive, and the half towards the positive
pole became negative. He also tried the effect of golden
needles charged with galvanism, and balanced on a pi-
vot, and he perceived, to his surprise, that these needles
had* a certain dip and variation that the angle of va¬
riation was uniformly the same, differing, however, from
that of the magnetic needle, and that the positive pole
always dips*. #
If the facts which the above experiments seem to^urwi
prove, should be fully ascertained, there is an obviousxu-99
analogy, not only between electricity and galvanism,
but also between the latter and magnetism.
A galvanic pile has been constructed by Dr Baronio
of Milan, entirely of vegetable matters. For this pur-
pose he cuts discs of horse radish and beet root, of two
inches in diameter. He then prepared equal discs of
walnut tree wood; the latter discs were raised at their
edges, to contain a little solution of acidulous tartrate of
potash in vinegar, in which they had been previously
boiled to free the wood from rosin. Sixty pairs of discs
were employed in the following order} viz. horse radish,
beet-root, discs of wood, in each of which the solution
was put. The spinal marrow of a prepared frog was con¬
nected with the pile, by means of a leaf of cochleana:
the muscles of the frog were connected with the top of
the pile by means of a double band of gray paper wet¬
ted with vinegar, and as often as this circuit was com¬
pleted, contractions were excited in the animal.
Galway.
GAL
GALWAY, or Galloway, a county of Ireland,
which is 76 miles in length, and 40 in breadth, bounded
1 rior#* Tinnerarv. Kina’s County,
GAL
by the counties of Clare, Tipperary, King’s County,
Roscommon,' and the sea. The river Shannon washes
the frontiers of the east and south-east, and forms a lake
several miles in length. This county contained 142,000
inhabitants in 1792. It sends two members to the im¬
perial parliament. See Galway, Supplement.
Galway, a town of Ireland, in the county of the
same name, and province of Connaught, of which it is
the capital. It is seated on the bay of Galway on the
western ocean, 96 miles west of Dublin, and in VV. Long.
8. 58. N. Lat. 53. 15. It is surrounded with strong
walls; the houses are well built, and the number of in¬
habitants is about 15,000. It has a good trade into fo¬
reign parts, on account of its harbour, which is defended
by a fort. It is governed by a mayor, sheriffs, and re¬
corder. It has but one parish church, which is a large
and beautiful Gothic structure, an exchange, barracks
for 10 companies of foot, a charter school, and an hospital.
This was one of the strongest towns in the kingdom ; it
held out some time against General Ginkle, who invest¬
ed and took it after the battle of Augbrim. Its forti¬
fications were then repaired. The walls are flanked by
bastions, but are mostly gone to decay. _ The salmon
and herring fisheries are carried on here with great spi¬
rit, and employ *]QO boats 5 the quantity of kelp manu¬
factured and exported is considerable ; and the growth g»i \
of the linen manufacture, though of late introduction, is'—" *
become very important. In 1296, Sir William de Burgh
founded a monastery here for Franciscan friars, on bt
Stephen’s island, situated without the north gate ot the
town. In 1381, there being two popes at Rome, and
the people of Ireland being doubtful to which they should
pay obedience, Pope Urban, to fix them entirely to his
interest, empowered the guardian of this monastery to
excommunicate every person in the province ot Lon-
naught who should adhere to his rival Clement \ 11. who
he assured them was antipope.—Near the west gate ot
the town, without the walls, was the monastery ot bt
Mary of the Hill: on the nuns forsaking it, the secular
clergy entered into and kept possession of it for a con
siderable time 5 but on the petition of the inhabitants 0
the town to Pope Innocent VIII. it was granted to the
Dominican friars, bv a bull dated the 4th Decern er
1488. There are no remains of this foundation except
the cemetery j the whole building having been demo¬
lished by the townsmen in the year 1652, in order 0
prevent Cromwell from turning it into a fortification *-
gainst themselves: there was also an Augustiman “iary*
on a hill near this town, founded by Stephen Lynch, an
Margaret his wife, in the year 1508, at the earner
solicitation of Richard Nangle, a friar of the same or¬
der, who afterwards became bishop of Tuam-
GAM [369] GAM
‘iima GAMA, Vasco or Vasq,ues de, a celebrated navi-
' ji gator, was born at Sines, a sea-port town in the province
a:ne. of Alentejo, in Portugal. When King Emanuel re-
solved to extend the discoveries formerly made of the
southern parts of Africa, and the seas lying between
these and the East Indies, the well-known prudence and
courage of De Gama pointed him out as a proper per¬
son to conduct such an enterprise. He sailed from Lis¬
bon in the month of July 1497, with no more formi¬
dable a squadron than three small armed vessels and
a store ship, with which he did not reach the Cape
of Good Hope till the end of four months, owing to
violent and contrary winds. He doubled this promon¬
tory, and afterwards coasted along the south-east side of
Africa, till he reached Melinda, having touched at dif¬
ferent ports on his way. At this place he procured a
Mahometan pilot, by whom he was conducted in safety
to the coast of Malabar, and he reached Calicut in the
month of May. The prince at first received him in a
hospitable manner, but a plot being at length laid for
his destruction by the Mahometan merchants, he made
the best of his way to Europe as soon as he discovered
it. He arrived at Lisbon in September 1499, with the
loss of the majority of his crew, arising from fatigue
and disease. Having spent some time in devotion at a
hermitage, he made a splendid entrance into the city,
and besides pecuniary rewards, was honoured by the
king with the title of count of Videgueira. By this
voyage the practicability of a new passage to the Indies
was fully established. De Gama undertook a second
voyage, with the title of admiral of the Indian, Persian,
and Arabian seas, having 20 sail of ships under his
command. This voyage began in February 1502, and
after compelling several princes in his route to pay
tribute to him, he arrived at Cochin, where a deputa¬
tion from the Christians of St Thomas, to whom he
promised protection, waited upon him. The Zamorin
being extremely suspicious of these new visitors, fitted
out a fleet; but De Gama anticipated the design, and
began the attack, making a prize of two large ves¬
sels of prodigious value. He left a squadron at Cana-
nor after this victory, and sailed for Lisbon, at which
place he arrived in the month of September 1503. On
the accession of John III. to the throne, De Gama, then
very far advanced in years, was prevailed upon to un¬
dertake a third voyage, with the exalted rank of vice¬
roy of the Indies. He conquered the people of Cali¬
cut in a naval engagement, and died at Cochin in the
year 1525.
GAMBIA, a large river of Negroland in Africa,
running from east to west to the Atlantic ocean j it was
once erroneously supposed to be a branch of the Niger.
GAMBOGE is a concreted vegetable juice, partly
ot a gummy and partly of a resinous nature, chiefly
brought in large cakes or rolls from Cambaja in the
East Indies. See Chemistry and Materia Medi-
CA Index.
GAME, in general, signifies any diversion or sport,
-bat is performed with regularity, and conducted by
certain rules. See Gaming.
Games are usually distinguished into those of exer¬
cise and address, and those of hazard. To the first
belong chess, tennis, billiards, Stc. and to the latter
those performed with cards, or dice, as back-gam-
VOL. IX. Part I. b t
mon, ombre, piquet, whist, &c. See BACK-Gam-
mon, &c.
Games, in antiquity, were public diversions, exhi¬
bited on solemn occasions. Such among the Greeks
were the Olympic, Pythian, Isthmian, Nemean, &c.
games $ and, among the Romans, the Apollinarian,
Circensian, Capitoline, &c. games. See Olympic
Pythian, Funeral, &c.
Game, in Law, signifies birds, or prey, taken or
killed by fowling or hunting.
The property of such animals ferce natura as are
known under the denomination of game, with the right
of pursuing, taking, and destroying them, is vested in
the king alone, and from him derived to such of his
subjects as have received the grants of a chase, a park,
or a free warren.
By the law of nature, indeed, every man, from the
prince to the peasant, has an equal right of pursuing,
and taking to his own use, all such creatures as are
ferw naturce, and therefore the property of nobody,
but liable to be seized by the first occupant. But it
follows, from the very end and constitution of society,
that this natural right, as well as many others be-
longing to man as an individual, may be restrained by
positive laws enacted for reasons of state, or for the
supposed benefit of the community. This restriction
may be either with respect to the place in which this
right may, or may not, be exercised ; with respect to
the animals that are the subjects of this right} or with
respect to the persons allowed or forbidden to exercise
it. And, in consequence of this authority, we find
that the municipal laws of many nations have exerted
such power of restraint} have in general forbidden
tbe entering on another man’s grounds, for any cause,
without the owner’s leave ; have extended their pro¬
tection to such particular animals as are usually the
objects of pursuit} and have invested the prerogative of
hunting and taking such animals in the sovereign of
the state only, and such as he shall authorize. Many
reasons have concurred for making these constitutions }
as, 1. For the encouragement of agriculture and im¬
provement of lands, by giving every man an exclu¬
sive dominion over his own soil. 2. For the preser¬
vation of the several species of these animals, which
would soon be extirpated by a general liberty. 3. For
prevention of idleness and dissipation in husbandmen,
artificers, and others of lower rank } which would be
the unavoidable consequence of universal license. 4. For
prevention of popular insurrections and resistance to
the government, by disarming the bulk of the people :
which last is a reason oftener meant than avowed, by
the makers of forest or game laws. Nor certainly, in
these prohibitions is there any natural injustice, as some
have weakly enough supposed : since, as Puffendorf
observes, the law does not hereby take from any man
his present property, or what was already his own }
but barely abridges him of one means of acquiring a
future property, that of occupancy } which indeed the
law of nature would allow him, but of which the laws
of society have in most instances very justly and rea¬
sonably deprived him.
Yet, however defensible these provisions in general
may be, on the footing of reason, or justice, or civil
policy, we must, notwithstanding, acknowledge, that,
3 A- i « '.
Game.
GAM [37
in their present shape, they owe their immediate ori¬
ginal to slavery. It is not till after the irruption oi
the northern nations into the Roman empire, that we
read of any other prohibitions, than that natural one
of not sporting on any private grounds without the
owner’s leave.
With regard to the rise and original of our present
civil prohibitions, it will be found, that all forest and
,rame laws were introduced into Europe at the same
Time, and by the same policy, as gave birth to the
feodal system : when those swarms ot barbarians issued
from their northern hive, and laid the foundation ot
most of the present kingdoms of Europe, on the ruins
of the western empire. For when a conquering gene¬
ral came to settle the economy of a vanquished coun¬
try, and to part it out among his soldiers or feudato¬
ries, who were to render him military service for such
donations 5 it behoved him, in order to secure his new
acquisitions, to keep the rustici or natives of the coun¬
try and all who were not his military tenants, in as
low a condition as possible, and especially to pro.iibit
them the use of arms. Nothing could do this more
effectually than a prohibition of hunting and sporting :
and therefore it was the policy of the conqueror to re¬
serve this right to himself, and such on whom he
should bestow it •, which were only his capital feudato¬
ries, or greater barons. And, accordingly, we hnd,
in the feudal constitutions, one and the same law pro¬
hibiting the rustici in general from carrying arms, and
also proscribing the use of nets, snares, or other en¬
gines for destroying the game. This exclusive privi¬
lege well suited the martial genius of the conquering
troops, who delighted in a sport which in its pursuit
and slaughter bore some resemblance to war. Vita
omnis (says Ctesar, speaking of the ancient Germans)
in venationibus atque in studiis rei militans consisht.
And Tacitus in like manner observes, that quoties bella
non ineunt, multum venatibus, plus per otium transi¬
ent. And indeed, like some of their modern succes¬
sors they had no other amusement to entertain their
vacant hours ; for they despised all arts as effeminate,
and had no other learning than what was couched in
such rude ditties as were sung at the solemn carousals
■which succeeded these ancient huntings. And it is re¬
markable, that in those nations where the feodal policy
remains the most uncorrupted, the lorest or game laws
continue in their highest rigour. Formerly in France
all o-ame was properly the king’s 5 and in some parts oi
Germany it is death for a peasant to be found hunting
in the woods of the nobility.
With us, in- Britain, also hunting has ever been
esteemed a most princely diversion and exercise. The
whole island was replenished with all sorts of game in
the time of the Britons j who lived in a wild and pas¬
toral manner, without enclosing or improving their
grounds j and derived much of their subsistence from
the chase, which they all enjoyed in common. But
when husbandry took place under the Saxon govern¬
ment, and lands began to be cultivated, improved, and
enclosed, the beasts naturally fled into the woody and
desert tracts, which were called \\\e forests ; and, ha¬
ving never been disposed of in the first distribu¬
tion of lands, were therefore held to belong to the
urown. These were filled with great plenty ot
> ] GAM
game, which our royal sportsmen reserved for their CaJJ
own diversion, on pain of a pecuniary forfeiture for ^ .
such as interfered with their sovereign. But eve¬
ry freeholder had the full liberty of sporting upon
his territories, provided he abstained from the king s
forests. * i| 1
However, upon the INTormstn conquest, s new doc-
trine took place 5 and the right of pursuing and ta¬
king all beasts of chase or venary, and such other ani¬
mals as were accounted game, was then held to belong
to the king, or to such only as were authorized under
him. And this, as well upon the principles of the
feodal law, that the king is the ultimate proprietor of
all the lands in the kingdom, they being all held of
him as the chief lord, or lord paramount of the fee •,
and that therefore he has the right of the universal soil,
to enter thereon, and to chase and take such creatures
at his pleasure as also upon another maxim of the
common law, that these animals are bona vacantia, and,
having no other owner, belong to the king by his
prerogative. As therefore the former reason was held
to vest in the king a right to pursue and take them
anywhere, the latter was supposed to give the king,
and such as he should authorise, a sole and exclusive
right.
This right, thus newly vested in the crown, was ex¬
erted with the utmost rigour, at and after the time of
the Norman establishment; not only in the ancient fo¬
rests, but in the new ones which the Conqueror made,
by laying together vast tracts of country, depopulated
for that purpose, and reserved solely for the king’s
royal diversion ; in which were exercised the most hor¬
rid tyrannies and oppressions, under colour of forest
law, for the sake of preserving the beasts of chase:
to kill any of which, within the limits of the forest,
was as penal as the death of a man. And, according
to the same principle, King John laid a total in¬
terdict upon the 'winged as well as the four-footed cxe&-
tion •, capturam avium per totam Angliam interdml ,
The cruel and insupportable hardships which these fo-3°)‘
rest laws created to the subject, occasioned our an¬
cestors to he as zealous for their reformation, as tor
the relaxation of the feodal rigours and the other ex¬
actions introduced by the Norman family : and ac¬
cordingly we find the immunities of ckarta deforesta w
warmly contended for, and extorted from the king with
as much difficulty, as those of nwgna charta itseii.
By this charter, confirmed in parliament?, many to-fjHf
rests were disafforested, or stripped of their oppressive
privileges, and regulations vyere made in the regimen
of such as remained 5 particularly killing the king s
deer was made no longer a capital offence, but only pu¬
nished by a fine, impi i onment, or abjuration ol the
realm. And by a variety of subsequent statutes, toge¬
ther with the long acquiescence of the. crown without
exerting the forest laws, this prerogative is now be¬
come no longer a grievance to the subject. ,
But as the king reserved to himselt the forest tor hi»
own exclusive diversion, so he granted out from time
to time other tracts of lands to his subjects under the
names of chases or parks ; or gave them license to make
such in their own grounds j which indeed are smal ei
forests in the hands of a subject, but not governed V
the forest laws j and by the common law no person is
2
G- A M [ 371 ] G A M
at liberty to take or kill any beasts of chase, but such
„ as have an ancient chase or park j unless they be also
beasts of prey.
As to all inferior species of %ame, called beasts and
fowls of warren ; the liberty of taking or killing them
is another franchise or royalty, derived likewise from
the crown, and called/ree warren ; a word which sig¬
nifies preservation or custody : as the exclusive liberty
of taking and killing fish in a public stream or river
is called a free fishery ; of which, however, no new
franchise can at present be granted by the express pro¬
vision of magna charta, c. 16. The principal inten¬
tion of granting a man these franchises or liberties was
in order to protect the game, by giving him a sole and
exclusive power of killing it himself, provided he pre¬
vented other persons. And no man but be who has a
chase or free warren, by grant from the crown, or pre¬
scription, which supposes one, can justify hunting or
sporting upon another man’s soil ; nor indeed, in tho¬
rough strictness of common law, either hunting or sport¬
ing at all.
However novel this doctrine may seem, it is a regu¬
lar consequence from what has been before delivered,
that the sole right of taking and destroying game be¬
longs exclusively to the king. This appears, as well
from the historical deduction here made, as because he
may grant to his subjects an exclusive right of taking
them j which he could not do, unless such a right was
first inherent in himself. And hence it will follow,
that no person whatever, but he who has such deriva¬
tive right from the crown, is by common law entitled to
tj?ke or kill any beast of chase, or other game what¬
soever. It is true, that by the acquiescence of the
crown, the frequent grants of free warren in ancient
times, and the introduction of new penalties of late by
certain statutes for preserving the game, this exclusive
prerogative of the king is little known or considered ;
every man that is exempted from these modern penal¬
ties looking upon himself as at liberty to do what he
pleases with the game $ whereas the contrary is strictly
true, that no man, however well qualified he may vul¬
garly be esteemed, has a right to encroach on the royal
prerogative by the killing of game, unless he can shew
a particular grant of free warren $ or a prescription
which presumes a grant j or some authority under an
act of parliament. As for the latter $ there are but
two instances wherein an express permission to kill
game was ever given by statute: the one by I Jac. I.
c. 37. altered by Jac. I. c. 12. and virtually repeal¬
ed by 22 and 23 Car. II. c. 25. which gave authori¬
ty, so long as they remained in force, to the owners of
free warren, to lords of manors, and to all freehold¬
ers having 40I. per annum in lands of inheritance, or
Bob for life or lives, or 400I. personal estate (and
their servants), to take partridges and pheasants, upon
their own, or their master’s free warren, inheritance, or
freehold : the other by 5 Ann. c. 14. which em¬
powers lords and ladies of manors to appoint game-
keepers, to kill game for the use of such lord or lady j
which with some alteration still subsists, and plainly
supposes such power not to have been in them before.
The truth of the matter is, that these game laws do
indeed qualify nobody, except in the instance of a game-
keeper, to kill game : but only to save the trouble
and formal process of an action by the person injured,
who perhaps too might remit ihe offence, these statutes Garm*.
inflict additional penalties, to be recovered either in a  v-~-^
regular or summary way, by any of the king’s subjects,
from certain persons of inferior rank who may be found
offending in tliis particular. But it does not follow
that persons excused from these additional penalties
are therefore authorized to kill game. The circum¬
stance of having look per annum, and the rest, are not
properly qualifications, but exemptions. And these per¬
sons so exempted from the penalties of the game sta¬
tutes, are not only liable to actions of trespass by the
owners of the land j but also if they kill game within
the limits of any royal franchise, they are liable to the
actions of sucli who may have the right of chase or
free warren therein.
Upon the whole it appears, that the king, by bis
prerogative, and such persons as have, under his au¬
thority, the ROYAL FRANCHISE of ChACE, PARK, or
Free Wahreware the only persons who may acquire f See tlio*e
any property, however fugitive and transitory, in these articles,
animalsfera naturce, while living ; which is said to be
vested in them propter privilegium. And it must also
be observed, that such persons as may thus lawfully
hunt, fish, or fowl, ratione pt'ivilegii, have only a qua¬
lified property in these animals; it not being absolute
or permanent, but lasting only so long as the creatures
remain within the limits of such respective franchise or
liberty, and ceasing the instant they voluntarily pass
out of it. It is held indeed, that if a man starts any
game within his own grounds, and follows it into an¬
other’s and kills it there, the property remains in him¬
self. And this is grounded on reason and natural jus¬
tice; for the property consists in the possession; which
possession commences by the finding it in his own li¬
berty, and is continued by the immediate pursuit. And
so, if a stranger starts game in one man’s chase or free
warren, and hunts it into another liberty, the property
continues in the owner of the chase or warren; this
property arising from privilege, and not being changed
by the act of a mere stranger. Or if a man starts game,
on another’s private grounds, and kills it there, the
property belongs to him in whose ground it was killed,
because it was also started there; this property arising
ratione soli. Whereas if, after being started there, it is
killed in the grounds of a third person, the property
belongs not to the owner of the first ground, because
the property is local; nor yet to the owner of the se¬
cond, because it was not started in his soil; but it vests
in the person who started and killed it; though guilty
of a trespass against both the owners. See the article
Game Laws.
If will probably be considered by sportsmen who have
not an opportunity of seeing the book, as a curious
piece of information, to have the following, which we
extract from Daniel’s Rural Sports, concerning the
quantity of game killed in different countries.
“ The lists of the game, says he, that has been killed
upon particular manors in England by parties, and
even by single gentlemen, exhibit such a wanton re¬
gistry of slaughter, as no sportsman can read without
regret; but to prove that British are rather more mer¬
ciful than French shooters, the account of the former
game establishment at Chantilli is first presented to the
reader, in the words of the very ingenious person who
recorded it.
. 3 A 5
“ The
GAM [37
“ The game establishment at Chantilli was the most
extraordinary establishment of the kind in Europe..
« Tlie following list of the quantity of different kinds
of game killed at Chantilli, in a period of 32 years,
beginning with the year 1748, and ending with the
year 1779, was copied from the household registers
there, and what seems unaccountable, never was print¬
ed before, not even in France 1 The copy was taken in
1788, and the statement, as an object in natural history,
is no small curiosity, and as such it is philosophically
interesting.
]
GAM
Hares
Rabbits
Partridges
Red, ditto
Pheasants
Quails
Ralles
"Woodcocks
Snipes
Ducks
Wood pigeon
Curlews
Bustards
Larks
Thrushes
Stags
Hinds
Fawns
Does
Young does
Roe-bucks
Young ditto
Wild boars
Marcassins
77>7J°
587,47°
116,574
12,426
86,193
19,696
449
2164
2856
1353
31?
32
2
ic6
1682
1682
5I9
1921
135
4669
810
1942
818
Connected with this establishment, there was a park
of 21 miles, and a forest of 48 miles in extent, and
while the family were at the place, they had 500
horses, as many servants, and from 60 to 80 couple ot
d0^SThe Germans too, says Mr Daniel, have a happy
knack at a massacre. In 1788 a party of 10 persons at
the chateau of Prince Adam Daversperg, in Bohemia,
were out five hours on the 9th and 10th ot September,
allowed that the first day 6168 shots were fired, and
876 hares, 259 pheasants, 362 partridges, beside quaus,
rabbits, &c. were bagged, or rather waggoned. On
the second day 5904 shots were discharged, a«d 181
hares, 634 pheasants, and 736 partridges were killed,
besides some that were picked up in the evening. 1 he
number of shots in the two days were 11,972, the game
carried home were
Hares 1 °99
Pheasants 95^
Partridges 1201
besides small game. It is added that the birds were all
shot on the wing. , - _ ,
“ In Germany, during the month ot October 1797,
Prince Lichtenstein, and eleven othe^gentlemen, killed
in one day, when they were out fourteen hours, 39,000
pieces of game •, it was of all sorts, but chiefly hares and
partridges. The king of Naples and Sir W. Hamilton
killed 800 head of game in the neighbourhood ot Ca-
sarte, of which 640 were partridges, in a very short Gai|!
space of time. < ||
“ Upon Mr Colquhoun’s manor in our own country, Cami
at Writham in Norfolk, the late duke of Bedford,'-"V
and six other gentlemen, in 1796, killed 80 cock
pheasants, 40 hares, besides partridges, in one day.
At Houghton, in the same county, the duke of
Bedford. °and seven others, killed in the same space,
165 hares, 42 pheasants, 5 rabbits, a couple ot wood¬
cocks, and a brace of partridges 5 and this was done, al¬
though the woods had been beat five times before dur¬
ing the season * Vol.i
Game Cock, , a fighting cock, or one kept for sport;
a barbarous practice, which is a disgrace to any civi¬
lized nation. See CocK-Fighting.
GAMELIA, in Grecian antiquity, a nuptial feast,
or rather sacrifice, held in the ancient Greek families
on the day before a marriage ; thus called from a cu¬
stom they had of shaving themselves on this occasion,
and presenting their hair to some deity to whom they
had particular obligations.
GAMELION, in the ancient chronology, vyas the
eighth month of the Athenian year, containing 29
days, and answering to the latter part ot our January
and beginning of February. It was thus called, as be-
ing, in the opinion of the Athenians, the most proper
season of the year for marriage.
GAMING, the art of playing or practising any
game, particularly those of hazard ; as cards, dice,
t ell) 10 s c •
' Gaming has at all times been looked upon as a
thing of pernicious consequence to the commonwealth;
and Is therefore severely prohibited by law. It is con¬
sidered as a practice generally intended to supply, or
retrieve, the expences occasioned by luxury : it be¬
ing a kind of tacit confession, that the company enga¬
ged therein do, in general, exceed the bounds of their
respective fortunes ; and therefore they cast lots to de¬
termine upon whom the ruin shall at present fall, that
the rest may be saved a little longer. But taken in
any light, it is an offence of the most alarming nature,
tending by necessary consequence, to promote public
idleness, theft, and debauchery, among those of a
lower class ; and, among persons of a superior rank, it
hath frequently been attended with the sudden ruin and
desolation of ancient and opulent families, and abandon¬
ed prostitution of every principle of honour and virtue,
and too often hath ended in self-murder. To restrain
this pernicious vice among the inferior sort of people,
the statute 33 Hen. VIII. c. 9. was made; which
prohibits to all but gentlemen, the games of tennis,
tables, cards, dice, bowls, and other unlawful diversions
there specified, unless in the time of Christmas, under
pecuniary pains and imprisonment. And the same law,
and also the statute 23 Geo. II. c. 24. inflict pecuni¬
ary penalties, as well upon the master of any public
house wherein servants are permitted to game, as upon
the servants themselves, who are found to be gaming
there. But this is not the principal ground of modern
complaint: it is the gaming in high life that demands
the attention of the magistrate; a passion to whic 1
every valuable consideration is made a sacrifice, an
which we seem to have inherited from our ancestors,
the ancient Germans ; whom Tacitus describes to have
been bewitched with the spirit of play to a most exor-
bitafl?*
G A M [ 373 ]
bitant decree. “ They addict themselves (says he) plate.
• to dice (which is wonderful) when sober, and as a
serious employment, with such a mad desire of win¬
ning or losing, that, when stript of every thing else,
they will stake at last their liberty, and their very
- elves. The loser goes into a voluntary slavery ; and,
though younger and stronger than his antagonist, suf¬
fers himself to be bound and sold. And this perse¬
verance in so bad a cause they call the point of ho¬
nour: eaestin re prava pervicacia, ipsifidem roc-ant.”
One would almost be tempted to think Tacitus was de¬
scribing a modern Englishman. When men are thus
intoxicated with so frantic a spirit, laws will be of
little avail: because the same false sense of honour that
prompts a man to sacrifice himself, will deter him Irorti
appealing to the magistrate. Yet it is proper that laws
should be, and be known publicly, that gentlemen may
consider what penalties they wilfully incur, and what
a confidence they repose in sharpers; who, if success¬
ful in play, are certain to be paid with honour, or if
unsuccessful, have it in their power to be still greater
gainers by informing. For, by stat. 16 Car. II. c. 7.
if any person by playing or betting shall lose more than
look at one time, he shall not be compelled to pay
the same 3 and the winner shall forfeit treble the value,
one moiety to the king, the other to the informer.
The statute 9 Ann. c. 14. enacts, that all bonds and
other securities, given for money won at play, or
money lent at the time to play withal, shall be utterly
void : that all mortgages^ and encumbrances of lands,
matte upon the same consideration, shall be and endure
to the heir of the mortgager : that, if any person at
one time loses 10!. at play, he may sue the winner,
and recover it back by action of debt at law ; and, in
case the loser does not, any other person may sue the
winner foi treble the sum so lost 3 and the plaintiff" in
either case may examine the defendant himself upon
oath . and that in any of these suits no privilege of
parliament shall be allowed. The statute farther enacts,
that it any person cheats at play, and at one time wins
more than 10I. or any valuable thing, he may be in¬
dicted thereupon, and shall forfeit five times the value,
shall be deemed infamous, and suffer such corporal
punishment as in case of wilful perjury. By several
statutes of the reign of King George II. all private
lotteries by tickets, cards, or dice, (and particularly
the games of faro, basset, ace of hearts, hazard, pas-
sage, roily polly, and all other games with dice, ex¬
cept backgammon), are prohibited under a penalty of
20ol. for him that shall erect such lotteries, and 50I.
a-time for the players. Public lotteries, unless by au¬
thority of parliament, and all manner of ingenious de¬
vices under the denomination of sales or otherwise,
which in the end are equivalent to lotteries, were be¬
fore prohibited by a great variety of statutes tinder
heavy pecuniary penalties. But particular descriptions
will ever be lame and deficient, unless all games of
mere chance are at once prohibited; the invention of
sharpers being swifter than the punishment of the law.
which only hunts them from one device to another’ « T l*110 Ui ine“; 1cnancf1r oin.ce A wants 4, and
The stat. 13 Geo. II. c. 19. to prevent the multipli- ? 6’ . game, Wl11 be en<led at nine throws > there*
city of horse races, another fund of tramiim directs ra‘f a+b t0 the ”,ntl1 power’ and lt wil1 be
that no plates or matches under 50I. value shall be run’, f+9 + +84 ^+126 0^+126 aW
«pon penalty of 200I. to be paid by the owner of t0 *4 “W+36 (*<* b7+6 a fr+P: call 3, and b 2,
each horse running, and look by such as advertise the and yoa WiU have tbe ratl° of cIiances in numbers, viz.
j -overuse tne j 759077 to 194048. A
GAM
- % statute 18 Geo. I. c. 34. the statute 9 Ann.
is farther entorced, and some deficiencies supplied:
the forfeitures of that act may now be recovered in a
court ot equity ; and, moreover, if any man be con¬
victed, upon information or indictment, of winning or
losing at any sitting 10I. or 20k within 24 hours, he
shall forfeit five times the sum. Thus careful has the
legislature been to prevent this destructive vice: which
may show that our laws against gaming are not so de¬
ficient as ourselves and our magistrates inputting those
laws in execution.
C/iance,ov Hazard, in Gaming. Elazard, or chance,
is a matter of mathematical consideration, because it
admits of more and less. Gamesters either set out up¬
on an equality of chance, or are supposed to do so.
Ibis equality may be altered in the course of the game,
by the greater good fortune or address of one of the
gamesters, whereby he comes to have a better chance, so
that his share in the stakes is proportionably better than
at first. This more and less runs through all the ratios
between equality and infinite difference, or from an in¬
finitely little difference till it come to an infinitely great
one, whereby the game is determined. The whole game,
therefore, with regard to the issue of it, is a chance of
the proportion the two shares bear to each other.
The probability of an event is greater or less, ac¬
cording to the number of chances by which it may hap¬
pen, compared with the number of all the chances by
which it may either happen or fall.
M. de Moivre, in a treatise de Mensura Sortis, has
computed the variety of chances in several cases that
occur in gaming, the laws of which may be understood
by what follows.
Suppose p the number of cases in which an event
may happen, and q the number of cases wherein it may
not happen, both sides have the degree of probability,
which is to each other asjt? to q.
If t wo gamesters, A and B, engage on this footing,
that, if the cases p happen, A shall win 5 but if q hap¬
pen, B shall win, and the stake be o; the chance of
A will be and that of B 3 consequently, if
they sell the expectancies, they should have that for
them respectively.
If A and B play with a single dice, on this condition,
that, if A throw two or more aces at eight throws,
he shall win ; otherwise B shall win j What is the ra¬
tio of their chances ? Since there is but one case where¬
in an ace may turn up, and five wherein it may not,
let 0=1, and ^=5. And again, since there are eight
throws of the die, let «rr 8 3 and you will have
a + b\n——n a bn—1, to bn + n a bn—1 : that is,
the chance of A will be to that of B as 663991 to
10156525, or nearly as 2 to 3.
A and B are engaged at single quoits 3 and, after
playing some time, A wants 4 of being up, and B 6 5
but B is so much the better gamester, that his chance
against A upon a single throw would be as 3 to 2 3 WThat
is the ratio of their chances ? Since A wants 4, and
GAM
[ 374 3
GAM
once or oftener in tiirc-e times : therefore the odils a- Gai)
gainst throwing it in three times are 125 to or. Again,
suppose we would know the probability ol throwing an
ace once in four times, and no more •, since the proba-
A and B play at single quoits, and A is the best
gamester, so that he can give B 2 in 3 : Vi hat is toe
ratio of their chances at a single throw ? Suppose the
conf.1 give B WStJTrf throwing il the first time i. i, and of missing
2 out of 3, A might undertake to win three throws it the other three times, is /X-.X s- it follows, that
running; and consequently the chances in this case will
be as 55* to Hence + 3^ + l ’ or
223=:23-4-3®*—3« + T- And therefore % \/ 2—55-f1 *,
and, consequently,   The chances, there¬
fore, are 3,2—1, X, respectively.
Again, suppose I have two wagers depending, m the
first of which I have 3 to 2 the best of the lay, and m
the second 7 to 4; What is the probability I win both
wagers ? ......
1. The probability of winning the tirst is T, that is,
the number of chances I have to win, divided by the
number of all the chances : the probability of winning
the second is TV : therefore, multiplying these two trac¬
tions together, the product will be which is the
probability of winning both wagers. Now, this traction
being subtracted from 1, the remainder is fy, which is
the probability I do not win both wagers : therefore the
odds against me are 34 to 21. . .
2. If I would know what the probability is ot win¬
ning the first, and losing the second, I argue thus; the
probability of winning the first is f, the probability ^ot
losing the second is X4T: therefore multiplying T by tt,
the product ^ will be the probability of my winning
the first and losing the second ; which being subtract¬
ed from I, there will remain which is the probabi¬
lity I do not win the first, and at the same time lose the
second. ....
3. If I would know what the probability is of win¬
ning the second, and at the same time losing the first,
J Say thus : The probability of winning the second is
yV ; the probability of losing the first is y : therefore,
multiplying these two fractions together, the product
.*4 is the probability I win the second, and also lose the
4. If I would know what the probability is of losing
both wagers, I say, the probability of losing the first is
f, and the probability of losing the second TX: there¬
fore the probability of losing them both is yT: which,
being subtracted from 1, there remains yy : therefore,
the odds of losing both wagers is 47 to 8.
This way of reasoning is applicable to the happening
or failing of any events that may fall under considera¬
tion. Thus if I would know what the probability is of
missing an ace four times together with a die, this I con¬
sider as the failing of four different events. Now the
l probability of missing the first is y, the second is also y,
the third -g-, and the fourth g j therefore the piobabili-
tv ef missing it four times together is yXgX^Xg^—
625 . wljich being subtracted from 1, there will re-
nSn AVV fQr: tlie Probability of throwing it once or
oftener in four times : therefore the odds of throwing an
ace in four times, is 671 to 625.
But if the flinging of an ace was undertaken in three
times, the probability of missing it three times would
be * V i X 4=144 ; which being subtracted from I,
there will remain AV for the probability of throwing it
the probability of throwing it the first tune, and trus¬
sing it the other three successive times, is gXgXgXg
but because it is possible to bit every throw
as well as the first, it follows, that the probability of
throwing it once in four throws, and missing it the other
three is —^ 1 —— ; which being subtracted from
1 ‘ 1296 1296
I, there will remain T\9gg f°r tlie probability of throw¬
ing it once, and no more, in four times. Therefore, if
one undertake to throw an ace once, and no more, in
four times, he has 500 to 796 the worst of the lay, or
5 to 8 very near.
Suppose two events are such, that one of them has
twice as many chances to come up as the other; what
is the prohability that the event which has the.greater
number of chances to come up, does not happen twice
before the other happens once, which is the case of
flinging 7 with two dice before 4 once • Since the
number of chances is as 2 to 1, the probability of the
first happening before the second is y, but the probabi¬
lity of its happening twice before it is but yX-r or
therefore it is 5 to 4, seven does not come up twice be¬
fore four once.
But, if it were demanded, what must be the propor¬
tion of the facilities of the coming up of two events, to
make that which has the most chances come up twice,
before the other comes up once? The answer is, 12 to
3 very nearly 1 whence it follows, that the probability
of throwing the first before the second is xy, and the
probability of throwing it twice is 4yXr4» or ItH
therefore the probability of not doing it is ^44 5 there¬
fore the odds against it are as 145 to 144, which comes
very near an equality. !
Suppose there is a heap of thirteen cards of one
colour, and another heap of thirteen cards of another
colour ; What is the probability, that, taking one card
at a venture out of each head, 1 shall take out the two
aCes ?
The probability of taking the ace out of the first
heap is Ty ; the probability of taking the ace out of
the second heap is Txy *, therefore the probability of ta¬
king out both aces is which bei!)§ su.b"
tracted from 1, there will remain Tr§: therefore the
odds against me are 168 to 1.
In cases where the events depend on one another,
the manner of arguing is somewhat altered. Thus,
suppose that out of one single heap of thirteen cards
of one colour I should undertake to take out first the
ace ; and, secondly, the two : though the probability
of taking out the'ace be Ai and the probability ot
taking out the two be likewise Ty : yet, the ace being
supposed as taken out already, there will remain on)
twelve cards in the heap, which will make the pro a
bility of taking out the two to be TV j therefore t e
probability of taking out the ace, and then the two,
will be t'tXy'5'* ,
In this last question the two events have a depenoen
on each other; which consists in this, that one 0 t ®
7 event*
es.
GAN [3
events being supposed as having happened, the proba¬
bility of the other’s happening is thereby altered. But
the case is not so in the two heaps of cards.
If the events in question be n in number, and be
such as have the same number a of chances by which
they may happen, and likewise the same number b of
chances by which they may fail, raise a-\-b to the
power n. And if A and B play together, on condition
that if either one or more of the events in question
happen, A shall win, and B lose, the probability of
A’s winning will be , and that of B’s win-
c + £jn
bn
ning will be ^; for when a-\-b is actually raised to
the power », the only term in which a does not occur
is the last bn: therefore all the terms but the last are
favourable to A.
Thus if m=3, raising a-\-b to the cube
all the terms but b3 will be favourable to
A ; and therefore the probability of A’s winning will
*, and the probabi-
be ai + 3alb+3ah% oj, u+b\3
a + b\
a-\-b\3
b3
lity of B’s winning will be ——, . But if A and B
a-J-oj3
play on condition, that if either two or more of the
events in question happen, A shall win ; the probabi¬
lity of A’s winning will be '
n-\-b\n
for
the only two terms in which a a does not occur are the
two last, viz. n abn~x and bn.
GAMMONING, among seamen, denotes several
turns of a repe taken round the bowsprit, and reeved
through holes in knees of the head, for the greater se¬
curity of the bowsprit.
GAMMUT, Gamut, Gam-uI, in Music, a scale
whereon we may learn to sound the musical notes, ut,
tc, mi, fa, sol, la, in their several orders and disposi¬
tions. See Music.
The invention of this scale is owing to Guido Are-
tin, a monk of Arezzo, in T uscany, about the year
1009; though it is not so properly an invention, as an
improvement on the diagram or scale of the ancients.
1 See Aretin.
Several alterations have been made in the gammut.
M. Le Maire, particularly, has added a seventh note ;
viz. si; and the English usually throw out both ut and
st, and make the other five serve for all.
, GANDER, in Ornithology, the male of the goose
kind. See Anas, Ornithology Index.
GANG-way, is the several passages or ways from
one part of the ship to the other ; and whatsoever is
mid in any of those passages is said to lie in the gang-
GANGANELLI. See Clement XIV.
GANGES, a large and celebrated river of India.
It has its source in the mountains which border on Lit¬
tle Thibet, in 78 degrees of longitude, and 32 of lati¬
tude. It crosses several kingdoms, running from north¬
west to south-east; and falls into the bay of Bengal by
!*Lveral souths. The waters are lowest in April and
May and highest before the end of September. It
overflows yearly like the Nile; and renders the king-
75 ] GAO
dom of Bengal as fruitful as that of the Delta in Egypt.
The. people in these parts hold the water of this river
in high veneration ; and it is visited annually by a pro¬
digious number of pilgrims from all parts of India. The
greatest happiness that many of the Indians wish for,
is to die in this river. The English have several set¬
tlements on this river, which will be taken notice of in
their proper places.
GANGLION, in Anatomy, denotes a knot fre¬
quently found in the course of the nerves, and which
is not morbid j for wherever any nerve sends out a
branch, or receives one from another, or where two
nerves join together, there is generally a ganglion or
plexus, as may be seen at the beginning of all the
nerves of the medulla spinalis, and in many other pla¬
ces of the body.
Ganglion, In Surgery, a hard tubercle, generally
moveable, in the external or Internal part of the carpus,
upon the tendons or ligaments in that part j usually
without pain to the patient.
GANGRENE, a very great and dangerous degree
ol inflammation, wherein the parts affected begin to
corrupt, and put on a state of putrefaction. See Me¬
dicine, and Surgery.
GANNET, or Soland Goose, in Ornithology. See
Pelicanus, Ornithology Index.
GANTLET, or Gauntlet, a large kind of glove
made of iron, and the fingers covered with small plates.
It was formerly worn by the cavaliers, when armed at
all points. The word is derived of the French gunte-
let; and that from gand, or gant, “ glove.”
The casque and gauntlets were always borne in the
ancient marches in ceremony. Gauntlets were not in¬
troduced till about the 13th century.
The gauntlet was frequently throvvn like the glove,
by way of challenge.
GANTLOPE. See Gauntlope.
GANVMEDE, in mythology, a beautiful youth
of Phrygia, son ot Tros and brother to Ilus ; accord¬
ing to Lucian, he was the son of Dardanus. Jupiter was
charmed with him ; and carrying him away, made him
his cupbearer in the room of Hebe. Some say that
be caused him to be carried away by an eagle, and
others affirm he was himself the ravtsher under the form
of that bird. He deified this youth ; and to comfort
bis father made a present to him of some of those very
swift horses upon which the gods rode.
GAOL {Gaola, Fr. Geole, i. e. Caveola, “ a cage
for birds”), is used metaphorically for a prison. It is
a strong place or house for keeping of debtors, &c.
and wherein a man is restrained of his liberty to an¬
swer an offence done against the law : and every coun¬
ty hath two gaols, one for debtors, which may be any
house where the sheriff pleases j .the other for the
peace and matters of the crown, which is the county
gaol.
If a gaol be out of repair, or insufficient, &c. ju¬
stices of peace, in their quarter sessions, may contract
with workmen for the rebuilding or repairing it $ and
by their warrant order the sum agreed on for that pur¬
pose to be levied on the several hundreds, and other
divisions in the county, by a just rate, 11 and 12
"Will. III. c. 19. See Prison.
Gaol Delivery. The administration of justice be¬
ing originally in the crown, in former times our kings
in
GAR [ 376
Gaol in person rode through the realm once in seven years,
]
GAR
j, to judge of and determine crimes and offences j after-
Craratuond. vvards justices in evre were appointed j and since, ju-
stices of assize and goal delivery, &c. A commission
of gaol delivery, is a patent in nature of a letter from
the king to certain persons, appointing them his justices,
or two or three of them, and authorizing them to de¬
liver his gaol, at such a place, of the prisoners in it:
for which purpose it commands them to meet at such
a place, at the time they themselves shall appoint J and
informs them, that, for the same purpose, the king
hath commanded his sherill of the same county to bung
all the prisoners of the gaol, and their attachments,
before them at the day appointed.
The justices of gaol delivery are empowered by the
common law to proceed upon indictments of felony,
trespass, &c. and to order to execution or reprieve :
they may likewise discharge such prisoners, as on their
trials are acquitted, and those against whom, on pro¬
clamation being made, no evidence has appeared :
they have authority to try offenders for treason, and
to punish many particular offences, by statute, 2 Hawk.
24. 2. Hale's Hist. Placit. Cor. 35.
GAOLER, the keeper of a gaol or prison, bhe-
Tifts are to make such gaolers for whom they will be
answerable : but if there be any default in the gaoler,
an action lies against him for an escape, &c. yet the
sheriff is most usually charged 5 2d Inst. 592. W here
a gaoler kills a prisoner by hard usage, it is felony; 3d
Inst. 52. No fee shall be taken by gaolers, but what
is allowed by law, and settled by the judges, who may
determine petitions against their extortions, &c. 2
Geo. II. c. 22. . , i l
GAONS, a certain order of Jewish doctors, who
appeared in the East, after the closing of the Talmud.
The word Gaons signifies “ excellent, sublime as in
the divinity schools we formerly had Irrefragable, Sub¬
lime, Resolute, Angelic, and Subtile doctors. The
Gaons succeeded the Seburseans or Opiners about the
beginning of the sixth century. Chanan Meischtia
was the head and first of the excellents. He restored
the academy of Pandebita, which had been shut up for
30 years. o v?
GAR fish, Horn Fish, or Sea ISeedle. See Esox,
Ichthyology Index.
GAR AM A, in Ancient Geography, the capital of
the Garamantes in Libya Interior; near the springs of
the Cinyphus, now in ruins. Garamantes the people.
It lav to the south of Gsetulia, extending from the
springs of the Cinyphus, and the adjacency ol the river
Gir, to the mountains which form at the Vallis Gara-
mantiea (Pliny) : or from the springs of the Bagrades
to the lake Nuba (Ptolemy).
GARAMOND, Claude, a very ingenious letter-
founder, was born at Paris ; where he began, in the
year 1310, to found his printing types free from all
the remains of the Gothic, or (as it is generally called)
the black letter, and brought them to such perfection,
that he had the glory of surpassing all who went before
him, and of being scarcely ever excelled by his suc¬
cessors in that useful art. His types were prodigiously
multiplied : both by the great number of matrices he
struck, and the types formed in resemblance of his
in all parts of Europe. Thus in Italy, .Germany,
England, and Holland, the booksellers, by way of
3
recommending their books, distinguished the type byGaraft.
his name ; and in particular the small Roman was by p
way of excellence known among the printers of theseGarcil .
nations by the name of Garamond's small Roman. By ‘
the special command of King Francis I. he founded
three sizes of Greek types for the use of Robert Ste¬
phens, who with them printed all his beautiful editions
of the New Testament, and other Greek authors. He
died at Paris in 1561.
GARASSE, Francis, a remarkable Jesuitical wri¬
ter, the first author of that irreconcilable enmity that
still subsists between the Jesuits and Jansenists, in the
church of Rome, was born at Angoulesme in 1585,
and entered the Jesuits college in 1600. As he had
a quick imagination, a strong voice, and a peculiar
turn-to wit, he became a popular preacher in the chief
cities of France; but not content with this honour,
he distinguished himself still more by his writings,
which were bold, licentious, and produced much con¬
troversy. The most considerable in its consequences
was entitled La somme theologiqve des veritez capitales
de la religion Creiienne; which was first attacked by
the abbot of St Cyran, who observing in it a prodigious
number of falsifications of the Scriptures and of the
fathers, besides many heretical and impious opinions,
conceived the honour of the church required him to
undertake a refutation. Accordingly he published a
full answer to it; while Garasse’s book was also under
examination of the doctors of the Sorbonne, by whom
it was afterwards condemned. Garasse replied to St
Cyran ; but the two parties of Jesuits and Jansenists, of
whom these were respectively the champions, grew to
an implacable animosity against each other, that is not
even now likely to subside. The Jesuits were forced to
remove their brother to a distance from Paris; where,
probably weary of his inactive obscurity, when the
plague raged at Poictiers in 1631, he begged leave of
his superior to attend the sick, in which charitable of¬
fice he caught the disorder, and died.
GARBE, in Heraldry, a sheaf of any kind of grain,
borne in several coats of arms, and said to represent
summer, as a bunch of grapes does autumn.
GARBLE, a word used to signify the action of
separating the dross and dust from spice, drugs, &c.
Garbling is the cleansing and purifying the good from
the bad ; and may come from the Italian garbo; i. e.
finery or neatness: and hence, probably, we say, when
we see a man in a neat habit, that he is in handsome
garb. . • l
GARCILASSO de la Vega, an eminent Spanish
poet, was born at Toledo, in 1503. He was the
younger son of a man of rank, who had been employed
in negociating business of importance. Garcilasso was
distinguished for his wit and bravery, and in a particu¬
lar manner for his poetical talents. He was chiefly in¬
strumental in giving popularity to an innovation of bn
friend Boscan, who introduced measures borrowed from
the Italians. His works consist chiefly of pastorals,
which have a tedious prolixity. Fie is chiefly noted
for tenderness, which is remarkably conspicuous in
some of his sonnets. He is freer of bombast than the
generality of his countrymen, owing to his familiar ac¬
quaintance with the ancients; and it is said that his
learning and taste were superior to his genius. He fol¬
lowed the profession of arms, and attended Charles _.
in
lasso
<5*
GAR
in a number of his expeditions.    
attack of a fortress in Provence, when only 33 years of
age. Garcilasso is also the name of an author, a native
of Cusco in Peru, who composed a history of Florida
in Spanish, and another of Peru and its Incas.
GARCINIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
dodecandria class; and in the natural method"ranking
under the 18th order, Bicornes. See Botany Index.
GARCON, or Garsoon, a French term, literally
signifying a boy, but also applied to divers inferior offi¬
cers, amongst us called groom, garpiones.
CARD, a department in the south of France. The
north part which lies among the Cevennes is rugged
and barren ; but the south part is fertile and populous.
It contains mines of copper, lead, iron, and pit coal.
The whole number of inhabitants in 1815 was 322,000,
of whom about one half were Protestants. Nismes is
the chief town.
CARD ANT, or Guardant, in Heraldry, denotes
any beast full faced, and looking right forward.
GARDEN, Francis, better known to the public
by the title of Lord Gardenstonc, was born at Edin¬
burgh June 24th, in the year 1721. His father was
Alexander Garden of Troup, an opulent landholder
in Aberdeenshire ; his mother was Jane, daughter of
Sir Francis Grant of Cullen, S. C. I.
After passing through the usual course of liberal edu¬
cation at the school and the university, he betook him¬
self to the study of law for his profession ; and in the
year 1744 be was admitted a member of the Faculty of
Advocates, and called to the Scottish bar.
In his practice as an advocate he soon began to be
distinguished, by a strong native rectitude of under¬
standing ; by that vivacity of apprehension and imagi¬
nation which is commonly denominated genius; by
manly candour in argument, often more persuasive than
subtlety and sophistical artifice ; by powers which, with
diligence, might easily attain to the highest eminence
of the profession. But the same strength, openness,
and ardour of mind, which distinguished him so advan¬
tageously among the pleaders at the bar, tended to
give him a fondness for the gay enjoyments of convi¬
vial intercourse, which was unfavourable to his progress
in juridical erudition. Shining in the social and convi¬
vial circle, he became less solicitously ambitious than
be might otherwise have been, of the character of an
eloquent advocate, or of a profound and learned law¬
yer. The vivacity of his genius was averse from au¬
stere and plodding study, while it was captivated by
the fascinations of polite learning, and of the fine arts.
Nor did he always escape those excesses in the pursuit
of pleasure into which the temptations of opening life
aie apt» occasionally, to seduce the most liberal and in¬
genuous youth. But his cheerful conviviality, his wit,
humour, taste, good-nature, and benevolence of heart,
rendered him the delight of all his acquaintance. He
became his majesty’s solicitor July 3d, 1764.
At length the worth of his character, and his abi¬
lities ass a lawyer, recommended him to the office of a
judge in the courts of session and justiciary, the
supreme judicatures, civil and criminal, for Scot-
and. His place in the court of session he continued
to occupy till lus death j but had, some years before,
resigned the office of a commissioner of justiciary, and
in recompense got a pension of 200). per annum.
VoL. IX. Part I.
. , [ 377 J gar
He lost his life at the Clear discernment, strong good sense, conscientious ho-
nesty, and amiable benevolence, remarkably distinguish- l—
ed all his opinions and conduct as a judge.
In the year 1762 he purchased the estate of John¬
ston, in the county of Kincardine. Within a few
years after he began to attempt a plan of the most
liberal improvement of the value of this estate, by an
extension ol the village of Laurencekirk, adjoining. He
offered leases of small farms, and of ground for building
upon, which were to last for the term of one hundred
years ; and of which the conditions were extremely in¬
viting to the labourers and tradesmen of the surround¬
ing country. These offers were eagerly listened to.
More desirous to make the attempt beneficial to the
country than to derive profit from it to himself, he
was induced, within a few years, to reduce his ground-
rents to one-half of the original rate.—Weavers, join¬
ers, shoemakers, and other artisans in a considerable
number, resorted to settle in the rising village. His
lordship’s earnestness for the success of his project,
and to promote the prosperity of the good people
whom he had received under his protection, led him to
engage in several undertakings; by the failure of which
he incurred considerable losses. Projects of a print-
field, and of manufactures of linen and of stockings,
attempted with sanguine hopes in the new village, and
chiefly at his lordship’s risk and expence, misgave in
such a maimer as might well have finally disgusted a man
of less steady and ardent philanthropy with every such
engagement. But the village still continued to ad vance.
It grew up under his lordship’s eye, and was the fa¬
vourite object of his care. In the year 1779, he pro¬
cured it to be erected into a burgh of barony ; having
a magistracy, an annual fair, and a weekly market. He
provided in it a good inn for the reception of travel¬
lers ; and with an uncommon attention to the enter¬
tainment of the guests who might resort to it, furnished
this inn with a library of books for their amusement.
He invited an artist for drawing, from the continent,
to settle at Laurencekirk. He had the pleasure of
seeing a considerable linen-manufacture at length fixed
in it. A bleachfield was also established as a natural
counterpart to the linen manufacture. Before his lord¬
ship’s death, he saw the plan of improving the condition
of the labourers, by the formation of a new village
at Laurencekirk, crowned with success beyond his
most sanguine hopes. He has acknowledged, with an
amiable frankness, in a memoir concerning this village,
“ That he had tried, in some measure, a variety of the
pleasures which mankind pursue; but never relished
any so much as the pleasure arising from the progress
of his village.”
In the year 1785* upon the death of his elder bro¬
ther, Alexander Garden of Troup, M. P. for Aberdeen-
ship, Lord Gardenstone succeeded to the possession of
the family estates, which were very considerable. Un¬
til this time his lordship’s income had never been
more than adequate to the liberal expence into which
his rank, and the generosity of his nature, unavoidably
led him. But the addition of a fortune of about
three thousand pounds a-year to his former revenue,
gave him the power of performing many acts of bene¬
ficence with which he could not before gratify his
good heart. It was happy, likewise, that his succes¬
sion to this ample income, at a period when the vigotir
3 B of
GAR f
of liis constitution was vapitlly yieM'ng to the mfii nn-
ties of old acre, enabled him to seek relief, by a partial
Cessation from’business, by travel, and by other means
nbicb could not have been easily compatible with
nff'vious stutc ot his fortune. t ^
P In the month of Sept. .786, he sot 00. from Lon¬
don for Dover, and passed over ,n.o 1 "nee. A terJ,
incr Paris he proceeded to Provence, and spent tie
winter months in the genial climate of ^ie^S: • Vf.
smirnr of 1787 be returned northwards, voting Ue
nevaf Switzerland, the Netherlands, and the Dutch
provinces, and passing through Germany into I aly.
With a fond curiosity, attentive alike to the wonde
of nature, to the noble monuments of the aits, an
to the awful remains of ancient grandeur, with which
Italy abounds, he visited all its great cities, and sur¬
vey^ almost every remarkable and famous scene that
U HU'first object, in these travels, was to obtain the
restoration of his declining health by the influence ot a
milder climate, by gentle, continued, and varied exei-
«i«; »r *»* w* n-;::!
^IfriL which is the best medichte to health »nd is most
successfully produced by frequent change ot place, and
of the objects of attention. But the curiosities o na¬
ture and art, in those countries through which he tra¬
velled could not fail to attract, in a powerful manner,
the curiosity of a mind cultivated and ingenious as his.
He whose breast glowed with the most ardent philan¬
thropy, could not view the varied works and manners
of /diversity of nations ofhis fellow men, without be-
in<r deeply interested by all those circumstances which
might appear to mark their fortunes as happy or
wretched. He eagerly collected specimens of the spars,
the shells, the strata of rocks, and the veins of metals,
in the several countries through which he passed. He
amassed also cameos, medals, and paintings. He en¬
quired into science, literature, and local institutions.
He wrote down his observations, from time to time,
not indeed with the minute care of a pedant, or the
ostentatious labour of a man travelling with a design to
publish an account of his travels ; but simply to aid
memory and imagination in the future remembrance of
objects useful or agreeable. , .
\fter an absence of about three years, he returned
to his native country. The last years were spent in
the discharge of the duties of his office as a judge , in
social intercourse with his friends, among whom was
the venerable Lord Monboddo, and others of the most
respectable characters that our country has to boast
of; in the performance of a thousand generous offices
of benevolence and humanity 5 in cherishing those fine
arts of which be was an eminent admirer and judge j
and above all, in promoting the comfort, and encou-
yaeing the industry of his dependants, and in lending
his aid to every rational attempt at the improvement ot
public economy and public virtue.
‘ St Bernard’s Well, in the neighbourhood ot Ldin-
oureb had been, long since, distinguished for the medi¬
cinal virtues of its waters. But various circumstan¬
ces had also concurred of late to throw it into neglect.
Vet its waters being strongly mineralized by a sulphu¬
red hydrogenous gas, were, by this means unques¬
tionably qualified to operate, with highly beneficial ef¬
fects, in the cure of various diseases. 1 he qualities ot
378 ] GAR
this mineral water falling under Lord Gavdenstone’s f;sr(
notice, he was induced to purchase the property ot they.
well, to direct it to be cleared from surrounding ob¬
stacles, which contaminated the virtues of the water, or
made it inaccessible ; to erect a beautiful and commo¬
dious edifice over it} and to appoint proper persons to
distribute the water, for a very trivial compensation to
the pub ic. The well lies at a distance from Edin¬
burgh, which is very convenient for a summer morn-
ing’s walk. Within the few years which have passed
since Lord Gardenstone’s benevolent care brought it
into notice, it has attracted many of the inhabitants of
that city to visit it in the mornings of spring and summer.
And, undoubtedly, the agreeable exercise to which they
have thus been allured, and the salutary eflects of the
water, have contributed, in no mean degree, to dispel
disease, and to confirm or re-establish health. Such
monuments are worthy to preserve the memory of a
patriotic and a good man !
As an amusement for the last two or three years of
his life, when his increasing infirmities precluded him
from more active exercise, and from mingling so fre¬
quently in the society of his friends as was agreeable
to his social and convivial temper, he bethought him¬
self of revising some of {.\\ejeux d'esprit, and light fugi¬
tive pieces, in which he had indulged the gaiety of his
fancy, in his earlier days ■, and a small volume ot poems
was published, in which the best pieces are, upon good
authority, ascribed to Lord Gardenstone. He revised
also the memorandums which he had made upon his
travels, and permitted them to be sent to press. The
two former volumes were published one after another
while his lordship was yet alive ^ the thud after his
death. They met with a very favourable reception in
the world, and were honoured with the high approba¬
tion of the most respectable writers ot periodical criti¬
cism. They convey much agreeable information, and
bespeak an elegant, enlightened, and amiable mind.
The last volume is filled chiefly with memorandums of
his lordship’s travels in Italy ; and contains many in¬
teresting criticisms upon some of the noblest produc¬
tions of the fine arts of painting and sculpture.
His lordship’s health had long been declining; and
he died a bachelor on the 22d ot July I793>
by his relations and friends, by his tenants and humble
dependents, and by all true patriots and good men to
whom his merits and virtues were known.
Garden, a piece of ground properly laid out, culti¬
vated and ornamented with a variety of plants, flowers,
fruits, &c. See Gardening.
Gardens are usually distinguished into flower garden,
fruit garden, and kitchen garden i the first of which,
being designed for pleasure and ornament, is to be pla¬
ced in the most conspicuous part, that is, next to the
back front of the house ; and the two latter, being de¬
signed for use, should be placed less in sight. But
though the fruit and kitchen gardens are here mention¬
ed as two distinct gardens, yet they are now usually »u
one j and that with good reason, since they both require
a good soil and exposure, and equally require to be pla¬
ced out of the view of the house.
In the choice of a place proper for a garden, the
most essential points to be considered are, the situation,
the soil, the exposure, water, and prospect.
1st, As to the situation, it ought to be such a one
* as
GAR
en. as is wholesome, and in a place neither too high nor
——' too low; for if a garden be too high, it will be ex¬
posed to the winds, which are very prejudicial to trees;
and if it be too low, the dampness, the vermine, and
the venomous creatures that breed in ponds and mar¬
shy places, add much to their insalubrity. The most
happy situation is on the side of a hill, especially if the
slope be easy, and in a manner imperceptible ; if a
good deal of level ground be near the house j and if it
abounds with springs of water : for, being sheltered
from the fury of the winds and the violent heat of the
sun, a temperate air will be there enjoyed ; and the
water that descends from the top of the hill, either from
springs or rain, will not only supply fountains, canals,
and cascades for ornament, but, when it has performed
its office, will water the adjacent valleys, and, if it be
not suffered to stagnate, will render them fertile and
wholesome.
2dly, A good earth or soil is next to be considered ;
for it is scarce possible to make a fine garden in a bad
soil. There are indeed ways to meliorate ground, but
they are very expensive; and sometimes, when the ex¬
pence has been bestowed of laying good earth three
feet deep over the whole surface, a whole garden has
been ruined, when the roots of the trees have come
to reach the natural bottom. To judge of the quality
of the soil, observe whether there be any heath, thistles,
or such like weeds, growing spontaneously in it; for
they are certain signs that the ground is poor. Or if
there be large trees growing thereabouts, observe whe¬
ther they grow crooked, ill-shaped, and grubby j and
whether they are of a faded green, and full of moss, or
infested with vermine : if this be the case, the place is
to be rejected. But, on the contrary, if it be covered
with good grass fit for pasture, you may then be encou¬
raged to try the depth of the soil. To know this, dig
holes in several places, six feet wide and four deep ; and
if you find three feet of good earth it will do very well,
hut less than two will not he sufficient. The quality of
good ground, is neither to be stony nor too hard to
work •, neither too dry, too moist, nor too sandy and
light ■, nor too strong and clayey, which is the worst of
all for gardens.
3dly, The next requisite is water ; the want of which
is one of the greatest inconveniences that can attend a
garden, and will bring a certain mortality upon what¬
ever is planted in it, especially in the greater droughts
that often happen in a hot and dry situation in summer j
besides its usefulness in fine gardens for making foun¬
tains, canals, cascades, &c. which are the greatest or¬
naments of a garden.
4thly, The last thing to be considered is the prospect
of a fine country j and though this is not so absolutely
necessary as water, yet it is one of the most agreeable
beauties of a fine garden : besides, if a garden be plant¬
ed in a low place that has no kind of prospect, it will
not only he disagreeable but unwholesome.
In the laying out and planting of gardens, the beau¬
ties of nature should always be studied j for the nearer
a garden approaches to nature, the longer it will please.
According to Mr Miller, the area of a handsome gar¬
den may take up 30 or 40 acres, but not more $ and
the following rules should be observed in the disposition
of iu There ought always to be a descent of at least
G A R
three steps from the house to the gardens; this will ren- <.;rtr!t..,
der the house more dry and wholesome, and the prospect' ' ‘ ■
on entering the garden more extensive.—The first tbin<r
that ought to present itself to view should be an open
lawn of grass, which ought to be considerably broader
than the front of the buildings j and if the depth be
one half more than the width, it will have a better ef¬
fect: it on the sides ot the lawn there are trees planted
irregularly, by way of open groves, the regulaiity of
the lawn will be broken, and the whole rendered more
like nature. For the convenience of walking in damp
weather, this lawn should be surrounded with a gravel
walk, on the outside of which should be borders three
or lour feet wide for flowers: and from the back of
these the prospect will be agreeably terminated by a
slope of evergreen shrubs ; which, however, should ne¬
ver be suffered to exclude agreeable prospects, or the
view ol handsome buildings. These walks may lead
through the different plantations, gently winding about
in an easy natural manner; which will be more agree¬
able than either those long straight walks, too frequent¬
ly seen in gardens, or those serpentine windings that
are twisted about into so many short turns as to render
it difficult to walk in them; and as no garden can be
pleasing where there is a want of shade and shelter,
these walks should lead as soon as possible into planta¬
tions, where persons may walk in private, and be shel¬
tered from the wind.
Narrow rivulets, if they have a constant stream, and
are judiciously led about a garden, have a better effect
than many of the large stagnating ponds or canals so
frequently made in large gardens. When wildernesses
are intended, they should not be cut into stars and
other ridiculous figures, nor formed into mazes of laby¬
rinths, which in a great design appear trifling.
In short, the several parts of a garden should be di¬
versified; but in places where the eye takes in the
whole at once, the two sides should be always the same.
In the business of designs, the aim should be always at
what is natural, great, and noble. The general dispo¬
sition of a garden and of its parts ought to be accom¬
modated to the different situations of the ground, to hu¬
mour its inequalities, to proportion the number and sorts
of trees and shrubs to each part, and to shut out from
the view of the garden no objects that may become or¬
namental. But for a more extended view of this sub¬
ject, see the article Gardening.
A practical attention to a garden, is by some esteem¬
ed a degrading employment. It is true, indeed, that
pastoral and agricultural manners, if we may form a
judgment from the dignified descriptions of Virgil, are
greatly degenerated. The employments of shepherds
and husbandmen are now become mean and sordid. The
work of the garden is usually left to a peasant. Nor is
it unreasonable to assign the labour, which wearies with¬
out amusement, to those who are sufficiently amused by
the prospect of their wages. But the operations of
grafting, of inoculating, of pruning, of transplanting,
are curious experiments in natural philosophy ; and that
they are pleasing as well as curious, those can testify
who remember what they felt on seeing their attempts
in the amusement of practical gardening attended with
success. Among the employments suitable to old age,
Cicero has enumerated the superintendence of a garden.
3 B 3 It
t 379 ]
GAR
[ 380 ]
GAR
It requires no great exertion of mind or body ; and its
satisfactions are of that kind which please without vio¬
lent agitation. Its beneficial influence on health is an
additional reason for an attention to it at an age when
infirmities abound.
In almost every description of the seats ot the
blessed, ideas of a garden seem to have predominated.
The word Paradise itself is synonymous with garden.
The fields of Elysium, that sweet region of poesy, are
adorned with all that imagination can conceive to Te
delightful. Some of the most pleasing passages of Md-
ton, are those in which he represents the happy pair
engaged in cultivating their blissful abode. Poets have
always been delighted with the beauties of a garden.
J,ucan is represented by Juvenal as reposing in his
garden. Virgil’s Georgies prove him to have been
captivated with rural scenes j though, to the surprise of
his readers, he has not assigned a book to the subject of
a garden. Our Shenstone made it his study j but, with
all his taste and fondness for it, he was not happy in
it. The captivating scenes which he created at the
Leasowes, afforded him, it is said, little pleasure in
the absence of spectators. The truth is, be made the
embellishment of his grounds, which should have been
the amusement of his life, the business of it j and
involved himself in such troubles, by the expences
it occasioned, as necessarily excluded tranquil enjoy¬
ment.
It is the lot of few, in comparison, to possess territo¬
ries like his, extensive, and sufficiently well adapted to
constitute an ornamented farm. Still fewer are ca¬
pable of supporting the expence of preserving it in
good condition. But let not the rich suppose they
have appropriated the pleasures of a garden. The
possessor of an acre, or a smaller portion, may receive
a real pleasure, from observing the progress of vegeta¬
tion, even in a plantation of culinary plants. A very
limited tract, properly attended to, will furnish ample
employment for an individual. Nor let it be thought
a mean care j tor the same band that raised the cedar,
formed the hyssop on the wall. Even the orchard,
cultivated solely for advantage, exhibits beauties une¬
qualled in the shrubbery •, nor can the greenhouse pro¬
duce an appearance to exceed the blossom of the apple
and the almond. ... . ,
Hanging Gardens, in antiquity, gardens raised on
arches by Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon, in or¬
der to gratify bis wife Amyctis, daughter of Astyages
king of Media. Quintus Curtius makes them equal in
height to the walls of the city, viz. 50 feet. They
contained a square of 400 feet on every side, and were
carried up into the air in several terraces laid above
one another, and the ascent from terrace to terrace was
bv stairs 10 feet wide. The arches sustaining the
whole pile were raised above one another, and it was
strengthened by a wall, surrounding it on every side,
of 22 feet in thickness. The floors of each of the ter¬
races were laid in the following manner : on the top
of the arches were first laid large flat stones 16 feet
Ion" and 4 broad, and over them was a layer of reeds
mixed with a great quantity of bitumen, over winch Q3fai
were two rows of bricks closely cemented together by ' r
plaster, and over all were laid thick sheets oi lead j
and lastly, upon the lead was laid the mould of the
garden. The mould or earth was of such a depth as
to admit the largest trees to take root and grow } and
it was covered with various kinds of trees, plants, and
flowers. In the upper terrace there was an aqueduct
or engine, whereby water was drawn up out of the river
for watering the whole garden.
Floating Gardens. We are informed by the abbe
Clavigero in his History of Mexico, that when the
Mexicans were brought under subjection to the Col-
huan and Tepanecan nations, and confined to the
miserable little islands in the lake of Mexico, they
ceased for some years to cultivate the land, because
they had none, until necessity and industry together
taught them to form moveable fields and gardens, which
floated on the waters of the lake. The method which
they pursued to make these, and which they still prac¬
tise, is extremely simple. They plait and twist willows
and roots of marsh plants or other materials together,
which are light, but capable of supporting the earth
of the garden firmly united. Upon this foundation they
lay the light bushes which float on the lake j and over
all, the mud and dirt which they draw up from the bot¬
tom of the same lake. Their regular figure is quadran¬
gular j their length and breadth various : but generally
they are about eight perches long, and not more than
three in breadth, and have less than a foot of elevation
above the surface of the water. These were the first fields
which the Mexicans owned after the foundation of
Mexico j there they first cultivated the maize, great pep¬
per, and other plants necessary for their support. In
progress of time, as those fields grew numerous from
the industry of the people, there were among them
gardens of flowers and odoriferous plants, which were
employed in the worship of their gods, and served for
the recreation of the nobles. At present they culti¬
vate flowers and every sort of garden herbs upon them.
Every day of the year, at sunrise, innumerable vessels
loaded with various kinds of flowers and herbs, which
are cultivated in those gardens, are seen arriving by
the canals, at the great market place of that capital.
All plants thrive there surprisinglythe mud of the
lake is an extremely fertile soil, and requires no water
from the clouds. In the largest gardens there is com¬
monly a little tree, and even a little hut to shelter the
cultivator and defend him from rain or the sun. When
the owner of a garden, or the Chinampa as he is usual¬
ly called, wishes to change his situation, to remove
from a disagreeable neighbour, or to come nearer to
his own family, he gets into his little vessel, and by his
own strength alone, if the garden is small, or with the
assistance of others if it is large, he tows it after
him, and conducts it wherever he pleases with toe
little tree and hut upon it. That part oi the lake
where those floating gardens are, is a place of infinite
recreation, where the senses receive the highest possible
gratification.
GARDENING 5
[ 38i ]
GARDENING!
rT1HE art of planning and cultivating gardens. In
its utmost extent, whatever contributes to render
the scenes of nature delightful, is among the subjects
of gardening •, and animate as well as inanimate objects
are circumstances of beauty or character. The whole
range of nature is open to the gardener, from the par¬
terre to the forest j and whatever is agreeable to the
senses or the imagination, he may appropriate to the
spot he is to improve : it is a part of his business to col¬
lect into one place the delights which are generally dis¬
persed through diflerent species of country.
iah'if
Fa 'Vi®.
History of Gardening.
j jof Gardening, Mr Walpole f observes, was probably
If Gar- one 0f the first arts that succeeded to that of building
houses, and naturally attended property and individual
tk, Kt*I. Possession* Culinary, and afterwards medicinal herbs,
t(\ Ante- were the objects of every head of a family : it became
convenient to have them within reach, without seeking
them at random in woods, in meadows, and on moun¬
tains, as often as they were wanted. When the earth
ceased to furnish spontaneously all those primitive luxu*
ries, and culture became requisite, separate enclosures
for rearing herbs grew expedient. Fruits were in the
same predicament; and those most in use, or that de¬
mand attention, must have entered into and extended
the domestic enclosure. The good man Noah, we are
told, planted a vineyard, drank of the wine, and was
drunken ; and every body knows the consequences.
Thus we acquired kitchen gardens, orchards, and vine¬
yards. No doubt the prototype of all these sorts was
the garden of Eden ; but as that Paradise was a good
deal larger than any we read of afterwards, being en¬
closed by the rivers Pison, Gihon, Hiddekel, and Eu¬
phrates ; as every tree that was pleasant to the sight
ami good for food grew in it j and as two other trees
Here likewise found there, of which not a slip or sucker
remains *, it does not belong to the present discussion.
After the fall no man living was suffered to enter into
the garden j and the poverty and necessities of our first
ancestors hardly allowed them time to make improve-
inents in their estates in imitation of it, supposing any
plan had been preserved. A cottage and a slip of
ground for a cabbage and a gooseberry bush, such as
we see by the side of a common, were in all probability
the earliest seats and gardens: a well and bucket suc¬
ceeded to the Pison and Euphrates. As settlements
increased, the orchard and the vineyard followed ; and
the earliest princes of tribes possessed just the necessa*
nes of a modern farmer.
Matters, we may well believe, remained Iona- in this
situation ; and we have reason to think that for many
centuries the term garden implied no more than a
kitchen garden or orchard.
I he garden of Alcinous, in the Odyssey, is the most
renowned in the heroic times. Is there an admirer of
Homer who can read his description without rapture?
or who does not form to his imagination a scene of de¬
lights more picturesque than the landscapes of Tinian
or Juan Fernandez? “Yet (continues our author)
what was that boasted Paradise with which
the gods ordain’d
To grace Alcinous and his happy land ?
Why, divested of harmonious Greek and bewitching
poetry, it was a small orchard and vineyard, with some
beds of herbs and two fountains that watered them,
enclosed within a quickset hedge. The whole compass
of this pompous garden enclosed—four acres :
Four acres was th’ allotted space of ground,
Fenc’d with a green enclosure all around.
The trees were apples, figs, pomegranates, pears, olives,
and vines.
Tall thriving trees confess’d the fruitful mold j
The red’ning apple ripens into gold.
Here the blue fig with luscious juice o’erflows,
With deeper red the full pomegranate.glows j
The branch here bends beneath the weighty pear,
And verdant olives flourish round the year.
* * * * * *
Beds of all various herbs, for ever green,
In beauteous order terminate the scene.
Alcinous’s garden was planted by the poet, enriched
by him with the fairy gift of eternal summer, and no
doubt an effort of imagination surpassing any thing he
had ever seen. As he has bestowed on the same happy
prince a palace with brazen walls and columns of sil¬
ver, he certainly intended that the garden should be
proportionably magnificent. We are sure, therefore,
that, as late as Homer’s age, an enclosure of four acres,
comprehending orchard, vineyard, and kitchen garden,
was a stretch of luxury the world at that time had ne¬
ver beheld.”
Previous to this, however, we have in the sacred
writings hints of a garden still more luxuriously fur¬
nished. We allude to the Song of Solomon, part of
the scene of which is undoubtedly laid in a garden *. * Chap. ii.
Flowers and fruits are particularly spoken of as the or- *•
naments and the produce of it; and besides these, aro¬
matic vegetables formed a considerable part of the gra¬
tification it afforded. The camphor and the cinna¬
mon tree, with all trees of frankincense, and all the
chief spices, flourished there f. Solomon tells us in an- f Cant, iv.v
other placed, That he made him great work^;—gar-12•
dens and orchards, and planted in them trees of every * Ece,• '**
kind. Indeed we must suppose his gardens to have been4'
both amply and curiously furnished, seeing the kinds,
nature, and properties of the vegetable tribes, seem to
have been a favourite study with the royal philosopher,
and to have been deemed a subject worthy of his pen :
ior we are told, that he wrote of plants, from the great
cedar of Lebanon down to the hyssop of the wall^.fj.. .
Fountains and streams of water appear also to have had ! ^
a share in the composition, and probably for ornament
as well as use.
The hanging gardens of Babylon, mentioned in -a
preceding
3^2
GARDENING.
preceding article, were a still greater prodigy. But as were probably but jsmai!.
| Contra
A]>iont\ibj
§ rp.
t Q. Curi.
lib. r.
§ Estker vii
7-
* Occotu
RLib. jcxrvi
e. 4.
lib. ii.
£3  » O * -
they are supposed to have been formed on terraces and
the walls of the palace, whither soil was conveyed on
purpose, Mr Walpole concludes, “ they were what
sumptuous gardens have been in all ages till the pre¬
sent, unnatural, enriched by art, possibly with foun¬
tains, statues, balustrades, and summer houses, and
were any thing but verdant and rural.
Others, however, have allowed them greater praise.
They seem, in many respects, to have been laid out
with good taste. Their elevation not only produced
a variety and extent of view, but was also useful in mo¬
derating the heat. Such a situation would likewise
suit a greater variety of trees and plants than a plain
surface, and would contain a larger as well as a more
diversified extent.
The suiting of the situation to the nature of the
tree seems, from the account given by Josephus, to
have been one view t in the erecting the building in
-such a manner. And the success seems to have been
answerable, as the trees are said to have flourished ex¬
tremely well "f", and to have grown as tall as in their
native situations. On the whole, then, however differ¬
ent these may appear from modern gardens, they seem
to have been formed with judgment and taste, and well
adapted to the situation and circumstances.
It seems probable, from several circumstances, that
the eastern gardens were adjoining to the house or pa¬
lace to which they belonged. Thus, King Ahasuerus
goes immediately from the banquet of wine to walk
in the garden of the palace §. The garden of Cyrus,
at Sardis, mentioned by Xenophon *, was probably con¬
tiguous to the palace : as was that of Attalus, men¬
tioned by Justin jj. The hanging gardens at Babylon,
were not so much adjacent to the palace, as a part ot
the palace itself, since several of the royal apartments
were beneath them
It is not clear what the taste for gardening was among
the Greeks. The Academus, we know, was a wooded
shady place ; and the trees appear to have been of the
olive species. It was situated beyond the limits of the
walls, and adjacent to the tombs of the heroes ; and
though we are nowhere informed of the particular man¬
ner in which this grove was disposed or laid out, it
may be gathered from Pausanias, in his Attica, that it
was an elegant ornamented place. At the entrance
wa> an altar dedicated to Love, which was said to be
the first erected to that deity. Within the Academus,
were the altars of Prometheus, of the Muses, ot Mer-
curv. of Minerva, and Hercules ; and at a small di-
tomb of Plato. So that in all proba-
Histq,',
       The scene of Plato’s Dia¬
logue concerning Beauty is elegantly described as be¬
ing on the banks of the river Ilissus, and under the
shade of the plantain ; but no artificial arrangement of
objects is mentioned, nor any thing which will lead us to
imagine the prospect to be any other than merely natural.
Among the Romans, a taste of gardening, any
otherwise than as a matter of utility, seems not to have
prevailed till a very late period ; at least the writers on
husbandry, Cato, Varro, Columella, and Palladius,
make not the least mention of a garden as an object of
pleasure, but solely with respect to its productions of
herbs and fruits. The Lucullan gardens are the
first we find mentioned of remarkable magnificence;
though probably from the extravagance to which these
were arrived, they were not the first. Plutarch speaks
of them as incredibly expensive, and equal to the mag¬
nificence of kings. They contained artificial elevations
of ground to a surprising height, of buildings project¬
ed into the sea, and vast pieces of water made upon
land. In short, his extravagance and expence were so
great, that he acquired thence the appellation of the
Roman Xerxes. It is not improbable, from the above
account, and from the consideration of Lucullus hav-
ing spent much time in Asia, in a situation wherein lie
had an opportunity of observing the most splendid
constructions of this kind, that these gardens might be
laid out in the Asiatic style. The vast masses of build¬
ing said to have been erected, might have borne some
resemblance, in the arrangement and style, to the Baby¬
lonian gardens; and the epithet of the Roman Xerxes
might be applicable to the taste, as well as to the size
and expence of his works.
The Tusculan villa of Cicero, though often men¬
tioned, is not anywhere described in his works, so as to
(rive an adequate idea of the style in which his gardens
or grounds were disposed.
There is but little to be traced in Virgil relative to
this subject. Pines f, it seems probable, were n
vourite ornament in gardens; and flowers §, roses'1
65,81
Geo
especially, were much esteemed, perfumes indeed hav-jiiS
ing been always highly valued in warm climates. ’Vir¬
gil places Anchises in Elysium, in a grove of bays:
and is careful to remark, that they were of the sweet-
scented kind. The Psestan roses were chiefly valued
for their excellent odour ; and the same quality ap¬
pears to be the cause why they were placed by libul-
lus as ornaments to the Elysian fields. There appears
also to have prevailed among the Romans a piece ot
luxury relative to gardens, which is equally prevalent
at present among us, namely the forcing of flowers at
seasons of the year not suited to their natural blowing,
and roses were then, as at present, the principal flowers
stance was the
bility, it was highly adapted by art, as well as nature,
to philosophic reflection and contemplation. ......   —-  > r , . .
We are told by Plutarch, that before the time of upon which these experiments were tried, as appears {vj(
Cimon. the Academus was a rude and uncultivated from Martial J and others. . Epiik
spot : but that it was planted by that general, and had
water conveyed to it; whether this water was brought
merely for use to refresh the trees, or for ornament, does
not appear. It was divided into gymnasia, or places
of exercise, and philosophic walks shaded with trees.
These are said to have flourished very well, until de¬
stroyed by Sylla (when he besieged Athens), as well
as those in the Lyceum.
Near the academy were the gardens of the philoso¬
phers, of Plato and of Epicurus; which, however,
When Roman authors (Mr Walpole remarks),^ 1°
whose climate instilled a wish for cool retreats, speak lib.) '
of their enjoyments in that kind, they sigh for g1’0*10^8’jr^»-
caves, and the refreshing hollows of mountains, near it* jius\v
riguous and shady founts ; or boast of their porticoes, ,
walks of planes, canals, baths, and breezes from the
Their gardens are never mentioned as affording
shade and shelter from the rage of the dog star. Pliny
has left us descriptions of two of his villas. As be
used his Laurentine villa for his winter retreat, it is not
surprising
tory* GAUD
surprising that the garden makes no considerable part
of the account. All he says of it is, that the gestatio
or place of exercise, which surrounded the garden (the
latter con«equently not being very large), was bounded
hy a hedge of box, and, where that was perished, with
rosemary ; that there was a walk, of vines 5 and that
most of the trees were fig and mulberry, the soil not
being proper for any other sorts. On his Tuscan villa
he is more diffuse ; the garden makes a considerable
part of the description :—and what was the principal
beauty of that pleasure ground ? Exactly what was the
admiration of this country about threescore years ago j
box trees cut into monsters, animals, letters, and the
names of the master and the artifice. In an age when
architecture displayed all its grandeur, all its purity,
and all its taste ; when arose Vespasian’s amphitheatre,
the temple of Peace, Trajan’s forum, Domitian’s baths,
and Adrian’s villa, the ruins and vestiges of which still
excite our astonishment and curiosity j a Roman con¬
sul, a polished emperor’s friend, and a man of elegant
literature and taste, delighted in what the mob now
scarce admire in a college garden. All the ingredients
of Pliny’s corresponded exactly with those laid out bv
London and Wise on Dutch principles. He talks of
slopes, terraces, a wildnerness, shrubs methodically
trimmed, a marble bason, pipes spouting water, a cas¬
cade falling into the bason, bay trees alternately plant¬
ed with planes, and a straight walk from whence is¬
sued others parted off1 by hedges of box and apple trees,
with obelisks placed between every two. There wants
nothing but the embroidery of a parterre, to make a
garden in the time of Trajan serve for a description of
one in that of King William. In one passage above,
Pliny seems to have conceived that natural irregularity
might be a beauty; in opere urbanissimo, says he, su-
bita velut illati ruris imitatio. Something like a rural
view was contrived amidst so much polished composi¬
tion. But the idea soon vanished, lineal walks imme¬
diately enveloped the slight scene, and names and in¬
scriptions in box again succeeded to compensate for the
daring introduction of nature.
In the paintings found at Herculaneum are a few
traces of gardens, as may he seen in the second volume
of the prints. They are small square enclosures, formed
by trellis-work and espaliers, and regularly ornamented
with vases, fountains, and careatides, elegantly symme¬
trical, and proper for the narrow spaces allotted to the
garden of a house in a capital city.
From what has been said, it appears how naturally
and insensibly the idea of a kitchen garden slid into
that which has for so many ages been peculiarly term¬
ed z. garden, and by our ancestors in this country di¬
stinguished by the name of a pleasure garden. A square
piece of ground was originally parted off in early ages
for the use of the family :—to exclude cattle, and as¬
certain the property, it was separated from the fields by
a hedge. As pride and desire of privacy increased,
the enclosure was dignified by walls 3 and in climes
where fruits were not lavished by the ripening glow of
nature and soil, fruit trees were assisted and sheltered
from surrounding winds by the like expedient: for the
inundation of luxuries, which have swelled into general
necessities, have almost all taken their source from the
&*mp!e fountain of reason.
When the custom of making square gardens enclos-
£ N I N G.
ed with walls was thus established to the exclu^rtf 0f
nature and prospect, pomp and solitude combined to
call tor something that might enrich and enliven the
iQSi-pid and unanimated partition. Fountains, first in-
vented for use, which grandeur loves to disguise and
throw out of the question, received embellishments from
costly marbles, and at last, to contradict utility, tossed
their waste of waters into the air in spouting columns.
Art, in the hands of rude man, had at first been made
a succedaneum to nature; in the hands of ostentatious
wealth, it became the means of opposing nature 3 and
the more it traversed the march of the latter, the
more nobility thought its power was demonstrated,
Canals measured by the line were introduced in lieu of
meandering streams,. and terraces were hoisted aloft in
opposition to the facile slopes that imperceptibly unite
the valley to the bill. Balustrades defended these pre¬
cipitate and dangerous elevations, and flights of steps
rejoined them to the subjacent flat from which the ter-
lace had been dug. Vases and sculpture were added
to these unnecessary balconies, and statues furnished
the lifeless spot with mimic representations of the ex¬
cluded sons of men. Thus difficulty and expence were
the constituent parts of those sumptuous and selfish so¬
litudes 3 and every improvement that was made, was
but a step farther from nature. The tricks of water¬
works to wet the unwary, not to refresh the panting
spectator 5 and parterres embroidered in patterns like a
petticoat, were but the childish endeavours of fashion
and novelty to reconcile greatness to what it had sur¬
feited on. To crown these impotent displays of false
taste, the sheers were applied to the lovely wildness of
form with which nature has distinguished each various
species of tree and shrub. The venerable oak, the ro¬
mantic beech, the useful elm, even the aspiring cir¬
cuit of the lime, the regular round of the chesnut,
and the almost moulded orange tree, were corrected
by such fantastic admirers of symmetry. The com¬
pass and square were of more use in plantations than
the nurseryman. The measured walk, the quincunx,
and the etoile, imposed their unsatisfying sameness on
every royal and noble garden. Trees were headed,
and their sides pared away ; many French groves seem
green chests set upon poles. Seats of marble, arbours,-
and summer houses, terminate every vista 5 and sym¬
metry, even where the space was too large to permit
its being remarked at one view, was so essential that.,
as Pope observed,
 —— each alley has a brother,
And half the garden just reflects the other.
Knots of flowers were more defensibly subjected to tha
same regularity. Leisure, as Milton expressed it,
 in trim gardens took his pleasure.
In the garden of Marshal de Biron at Paris, consisting
of 14 acres, every walk is buttoned on each side by
lines of flower pots, which succeed in their seasons.
It does not precisely appear what our ancestors meant
by a bower : it was probably an arbour 3 sometimes it
meant the whole frittered enclosure, and in one instance
it certainly included a labyrinth. Rosamond’s bower
was indisputably of that kind 3 though whether com¬
posed of walls or hedges, we cannot determine. A
square and a round labyrinth were so capital ingredients
Ofi'i
3^5
GARDENING.
of a garden formerly, that in Du Cerceau’s architec¬
ture, who lived in the time of Charles IX. and Hen¬
ry III. there is scarce a ground plot without one of
each.
In Kip’s Views of the Seats of our Nobility and
Gentry, we see the same tiresome and returning uni¬
formity. Every house is approached by two or three
gardens, consisting perhaps of a gravel walk and two
grass plats or borders of flowers. Each rises above the
other by two or three steps, and as many walls and ter¬
races, and so many iron gates, that we recollect those
ancient romances in which every entrance was guarded
by nymphs or dragons. Yet though these and such
preposterous inconveniences prevailed from age to age,
good sense in this country had perceived the want of
something at once more grand and more natural. 1 hese
reflections, and the bounds set to the waste made by
royal spoilers, gave origin to Parks. They were con¬
tracted forests, and extended gardens. Hentzner says,
that, according to Rous of Warwick, the first park vyas
that at Woodstock. If so, it might be the.foundation
of a legend that Henry II. secured his mistress in a
labyrinth i it was no doubt more difficult to find her
in a park than in a palace, where the intricacy of the
woods and various lodges buried in covert might con¬
ceal her actual habitation.
It is more extraordinary that, having so long ago
stumbled on the principle of modern gardening, we
should have persisted in retaining its reverse, symme¬
trical and unnatural gardens. That parks were rare
in other countries, Hentzner, who travelled over great
part of Europe, leads us to suppose, by observing that
they were common in England. In Erance they retain
the name, but nothing is more different both in com¬
pass and disposition. Their parks are usually square
or oblong enclosures, regularly planted with walks of
chesnuts or limes, and generally every large town has
one for its public recreation.
“ One man, one great man, we had (continues Mr
Walpole), on whom nor education nor custom could
impose their prejudices j who, ‘ on evil days though
fallen, and with darkness and solitude compassed round,’
judged that the mistaken and fantastic ornaments he had
seen in gardens, were unworthy of the Almighty hand
that planted the delights of Paradise. He seems with
the prophetic eye of'taste to have conceived, to have
foreseen modern gardening j as Lord Bacon announced
the discoveries since made by experimental philosophy.
The description of Eden is a warmer and more just pic¬
ture of the present style than Claud Lorraine could have
painted from Hagley or Stourhead. The first lines we
idiall quote exhibit Stourhead on a more magnificent
scale:
Thro’ Eden went a river large,
Nor chang’d his course, but thro’ the shaggy hill,
Pass’d underneath ingulphed : for God had thrown
That mountain as his garden mound, high rais’d
Upon the rapid current - 
Hagley seems pictured in what follows :
Which thro’ veins
Of porous earth with kindly thirst updrawo,
Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill
Watered the garden -
Hk rji
What colouring, what freedom of pencil, what land-
scape in these lines !
i - from that sapphire fount the crisped brook?,
Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold,
With mazy error under pendant shades.
Ran nectar, visiting each plant, and fed
Flow’rs worthy of Paradise, which not nice art
In beds and curious knots, but nature boon,
Pour’d forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain,
Both where the morning sun first warmly smote
The open field, and where the un pierc’d shade
Imbrown’d the noontide bow’rs—Thus was this place
A happy rural seat of various view.
Read this transporting description, paint to your mind
the scenes that follow, contrast them with the savage
but respectable terror with which the poet guards the
bounds of his paradise, fenced
■ ■. - with the champaign head
Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides
With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild,
Access denied •, and over head up grew
Insuperable height of loftiest shade,
Cedar and pine, and fir, and branching palm,
A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend,
Shade above shade, a woody theatre,
Of stateliest view———
and then recollect, that the author of this sublime vision
had never seen a glimpse of any thing like what he has
imagined ; that his favourite ancients had dropped not
a hint of such divine scenery j and that the conceits in
Italian gardens, and Theobalds and Nonsuch, were the
brightest originals that his memory could furnish. His
intellectual eye saw a nobler plan, so little did he suffer
by the loss of sight. It sufficed him to have seen the
materials with which he could work. The vigour of a
boundless imagination told him how a plan might be
disposed, that would embellish nature, and restore art
to its proper office, the just improvement or imitation
of it.
“ Now let us return to an admired writer, posterior
to Milton, and see how cold, how insipid, how tasteless,
is his account of what he pronounced a perfect garden.
We speak not of his style, which it was not necessary
for him to animate with the colouring and glow of
poetry. It is his want of ideas, of imagination, o:
taste, that deserve censure, when he dictated on a sub¬
ject which is capable of all the graces that a knowledge
of beautiful nature can bestow. Sir William Temple
was an excellent man j Milton, a genius of the first
order.
“ We cannot wonder that Sir William declares in fa¬
vour of parterres, fountains, and statues, as necessary to
break the sameness of large grass plots, which he thinks
have an ill effect upon the eye, when he acknowledges
that he discovers fancy in the gardens of Alcinous.
Milton studied the ancients with equal enthusiasm, bin
no bigotry and had judgment to distinguish between
the want of invention and the beauties of poetry. Com¬
pare his paradise with Homer’s garden, both ascribed
to a celestial design. For Sir William, it is just to ob¬
serve, that his ideas centered in a fruit garden. Re
had the honour of giving to his country many delicate
fruits,
38
[story. GAUD
fruits, and he thought of little else than disposing them
to the best advantage.
“ The best figure of a garden (says he) is either a
square or an oblong, and either upon a flat or a de¬
scent : they have all their beauties, but the best I
esteem an oblong upon a descent. The beauty, the
air, the view, make amends for the expence, which is
very great in finishing and supporting the terrace walks,
in levelling the parterres, and in the stone stairs that
are necessary from one to the other. The perfectest
figure of a garden I ever saw, either at home or abroad,
was that of Moor Park in Hertfordshire, when I knew
it about 30 years ago. It was made by the countess
of Bedford, esteemed among the greatest wits of her
time, and celebrated by Dr Donne ; and with very
great care, excellent contrivance, and much cost; but
greater sums may be thrown away without eftect or ho¬
nour, if there want sense in proportion to money, or
‘ if nature be not followed which I take to be the
great rule in this, and perhaps in every thing else, as
far as the conduct not only of our lives but our govern¬
ments.’ [We shall see how natural that admired gar¬
den was]. ‘ Because I take the garden I have named
to have been in all kinds the most beautiful and per¬
fect, at least in the figure and disposition, that I ever
have seen, I will describe it for a model to those that
meet with such a situation, and are above the regards
of common expence. It lies on the side of a hill, upon
which the house stands, but not very steep. The
length of the house, where the best rooms and of most
use or pleasure are, lies upon the breadth of the gar¬
den ; the great parlour opens into the middle of a ter¬
race gravel walk that lies even with it, and which'may
be, as I remember, about 300 paces long, and broad
in proportion ; the border set with standard laurels and
at large distances, which have the beauty of orange
trees out of flower and fruit. From this walk are three
descents by many stone steps, in the middle and at each
end, into a very large parterre. This is divided into
quarters by gravel walks, and adorned with two foun¬
tains and eight statues in the several quarters. At the
end of the terrace walk are two summer houses, and the
sides of the parterre are ranged with two large cloisters
open to the garden, upon arches of stone, and ending
with two other summer houses even with the cloisters,
which are paved with stone, and designed for walks of
shade, there being none other in the whole parterre.
Over these two cloisters are two terraces covered with
lead and fenced with balusters ; and the passage into
these airy walks is out of the two summer houses at the
end of the first terrace walk. The cloister facing the
south is covered with vines, and would ha%'e been proper
for an orange house, and the other for myrtles or other
more common greens, and had, I doubt not, been cast
for that purpose, if this piece of gardening had been
j then in as much vogue as it is now. From the middle
of this parterre is a descent by many steps flying on
each side of a grotto, that lies between them, covered
with lead and flat, into the lower garden, which is ail
fruit trees ranged about the several quarters of a wil¬
derness, which is very shady ; the walks here are all
green, the grotto embellished with figures of shell rock-
work, fountains, and water works. If the hill had not
ended with the lower garden, and the wall were not
bounded by a common way that goes through the
Vol, IX. Part I. ' & 6 .
E N I N G.
park, they might have added a third quarter of all
greens ; but this want is supplied by a garden on the
other side the house, which is all of that sort, very wild
shady, and adorned with rough rock-work and foun¬
tains.^ This was Moor Park when I was acquainted
with it, and the svyeetest place, I think, that I have
seen in my life, either before or since, at home or
abroad.’
“ It is unnecessary to add any remarks on this de¬
scription. Any man might design and build as sweet
a garden, who had been born in and never stirred out
of Holborn. It was not, however, peculiar to Sir WiJ-
liam Temple to think in that manner. How many
1 renchmen are there who have seen our gardens, and
still prefer natural flights of steps and shady cloisters
covered with lead ! Le Nautre, the architect of the
groves and grottoes at Versailles, came hither on a mis- *
sion to improve our taste. He planted St James’s and
Greenwich Parks—no great monuments of his inven¬
tion.
“ To do farther justice to Sir William Temple, we
must not omit what he adds. ‘ What I have said of
the best forms of gardens is meant only of such as are
in some sort regular ; for there may be other forms
wholly irregular, that may, for ought I know, have
more beauty than any of the others : but they must owe
it to some extraordinary dispositions of nature in the
seat, or some great race of fancy or judgment in the
contrivance, which may reduce many disagreeing parts
into some figure, which shall yet, upon the whole, be
very agreeable. Something of this I have seen in some
places, but heard more of it from others who have li¬
ved much among the Chineses, a people whose way of
thinking seems to lie as wide of ours in Europe as their
country does. Their greatest reach of imagination is
employed in contriving figures, where the beauty shall
be great and strike the eye, but without any order or
disposition oi parts, that shall be commonly or easily ob¬
served. And though we have hardly any notion of this
sort of beauty, yet they have a particular word to ex¬
press it: and when they find it hit their eye at first
sight, they say the Sharawadgi is fine or is admirable,
or any such expression of esteem : but I should hardly
advise any of these attempts in the figure of gardens
among us ; they are adventures of too hard achieve¬
ment for any common hands ; and though there may
be more honour if they succeed well, yet there is more
dishonour if they fail, and it is twenty to one they will;
whereas in regular figures it is hard to make any great
and remarkable faults.’
“ Fortunately Kent and a few others were not quite
so timid, or we might still be going up and down stairs
in the open air. It is true, we have heard much lately,
as Sir William Temple did, of irregularity and imita¬
tions of nature in the gardens or grounds of the Chi¬
nese. The former is certainly true : they are as whim¬
sically irregular, as European gardens are formally
uniform and unvaried :—but with regard to nature, it
seems as much avoided, as in the squares and oblongs
and straight lines of our ancestors. An artificial perpen¬
dicular rock starting out of a flat plain, and connected
with nothing, often pierced through in various places
with oval hollows, has no more pretension to be deem¬
ed natural than a lineal terrace or a parterre. The
late Mr Joseph Spence, who had both taste and zeal
3 C for
3^6
GAUD
for the present style, was so persuaded of the Chinese
emperor’s pleasure ground being laid out on piinciples
resembling ours, that he translated and published, un¬
der the name of Sir Harry Beaumont, a particular
account of that enclosure, from the collect.on of the
letters of the Jesuits. But except a determined irre¬
gularity, one can find nothing in it that gives any
idea of attention being paid to nature. It is of vast
circumference, and contains 200 palaces, besides as
many contiguous for the eunuchs, all gilt, painted, and
varnished. There are raised hills from 20 to 6o fcet
high, streams and lakes, and one of the latter five
miies round. These waters are passed by bridges
hut even their bridges must not be straight they ser-
,,entire as much as the rivulets, and are sometimes so
long as to he furnished with resting places, and begin
and end with triumphal arches. The colonnades un¬
dulate in the same manner. In short, this pretty gau¬
dy scene is the work of caprice and whim, and, when
we reflect on their buildings, presents no image but
that of unsubstantial tawdriness. Nor is this al .
Within this fantastic paradise is a square town, each
side a mile long. Here the eunuchs of the court, to
entertain his imperial majesty with the bustle and bu¬
siness of the capital in which he resides, hut which it
is not of his dignity ever to see, act merchants and all
sorts of trades, and even designedly exercise tor his
royal amusement every art of knavery that is practised
under his auspicious government. Methinks this is
the childish solace and repose of grandeur, not a retire¬
ment from affairs to the delights of rural life. Here
too his majesty plays at agriculture: there is a quarter
set apart for that purpose j the eunuchs sow, reap and
carrv in their harvest, in the imperial presence^ and
his majesty returns to Pekin, persuaded that he has
been in the country. . .
“ Having thus cleared our way by ascertaining what
have been the ideas on gardening in all ages as far
as we have materials to judge by, it remains to shovv
to what degree Mr Kent invented the new style, and
what hints he had received to suggest and conduct his
undertaking. ,
“ We have seen what Moor Park was, when pro¬
nounced a standard. But as no succeeding generation
in an opulent and luxurious country contents itself with
the perfection established by its ancestors, more perfect
perfection was still sought; and improvements had
gone on, till London and Wise had stocked all our
gardens with giants, animals, monsters, coats of arms,
and mottoes, in yew, box, and holly. Absurdity could
go no farther, and the tide turned. Bridgman, the next
fashionable designer of gardens, was far more chaste;
and whether from good sense, or that the nation had
been struck and reformed by the admirable paper in
the Guardian, N° 173. he banished verdant sculpture,
and did not even revert to the square precision of the
foregoing age. He enlarged his plans, disdained to
make every division tally to its opposite ; and though
he still adhered much to straight walks with high clip¬
ped hedges, they were only his great lines; the rest he
diversified by wilderness, and with loose groves of oak,
though still within surrounding hedges. As Ins refor¬
mation gained footing, he ventured ,n the royal gar¬
den at Richmond, to introduce cultivated fields, and
even morsels of a forest appearance, by the sides of
2
E N I N G. Histo
those endless and tiresome walks that stretched out of
one into another without intermission. But this was
not till other innovators had broke loose too Irom ri¬
gid symmetry.
“ But the capital stroke, the leading step to all that
has followed, was the destiuction of walls for bounda-
ries, and the invention of fosses——an attempt then deem¬
ed so astonishing, that the common people called them
Ha ! Ha’s ! to express their surprise at finding a sud¬
den and unperceived check to their walk.
“ Asunkfence may be called the leading step, for these
reasons. No sooner was this simple enchantment made,
than levelling, mowing, and rolling, followed. Ihe
contiguous ground of the park without the. sunk fence
was to be harmonized with the lawn within ; and the
garden in its turn was to be set free from its prime re¬
gularity, that it might assort with the wilder country
without. The sunk fence ascertained the specific gar¬
den ; but that it might not draw too obvious a line of
distinction between the neat and the rude, the.conti¬
guous out-lying parts came to be included in a kind of
general design ; and when nature was taken into the
plan, under improvements, every step that was made
pointed out new beauties, and inspired new ideas. At
that moment appeared Kent, painter enough to taste
the charms of landscape, bold, and opinionative enough
to dare and to dictate, and horn vvith a genius to strike
out a great system from the twilight of imperfect es¬
says. He leaped the fence, and saw that all nature
was a garden. He felt the delicious contrast of hill
and valley changing imperceptibly into each other,
tasted the beauty of the gentle swell or concave scoop,
and remarked how loose grooves crowned an easy emi¬
nence with happy ornament; and while they called
in the distant view between their graceful stems, re¬
moved and extended the perspective by delusive com¬
parison. . ,
“ Thus the pencil of his imagination bestowed all the
arts of landscape on the scenes he handled. The great
principles on which he worked were perspective, and
fight and shade. Groups of trees broke too uniform
or too extensive a lawn ; evergreens and woods were
opposed to the glare of the champaign ; and where
the view was less fortunate, or so much exposed as to
be beheld at once, he blotted out some parts by thick
shades, to divide it into variety, or to make the richest
scene more enchanting by reserving it to a farther ad¬
vance of the spectator’s step. Thus, selecting favourite
objects, and veiling deformities by screens of planta¬
tion ; sometimes allowing the rudest waste to add its
foil to the richest theatre; he realized the compositions
of the greatest masters in painting. Where objects were
wanting to animate his horizon, his taste as an archi¬
tect could bestow immediate termination. His build¬
ings, his seats, his temples, were more the works of ms
pencil than of his compasses. W7e owe the restoration
of Greece and the diffusion of architecture to his skid
in landscape. ,.
“ But of all the beauties he added to the face of this
beautiful country, none surpassed his management of
water. Adieu to canals, circular basons and cascades
tumbling down marble steps, that last absurd magm -
cence of Italian and French villas. The forced eleva¬
tion of cataracts was no more. The gentle stream was
taught to serpentize seemingly at its pleasure
and
where
rt I. CARD
where discontinued by different levels, its course ap¬
peared to be concealed by thickets properly intersper¬
sed, and glittered again at a distance, where it might
be supposed naturally to arrive. Its borders were
smoothed, but preserved their waving irregularity. A
few trees scattered here and there on its edges sprink¬
led the tame bank that accompanied its meanders ;
and when it disappeared among the hills, shades des¬
cending from the heights leaned towards its progress,
and framed the distant point of light under which it
was lost, as it turned aside to either hand of the blue
horizon,
“ Thus, dealing in none but the colours of nature,
and catching its most favourable features, men saw a
new creation opening before their eyes. The living
landscape was chastened or polished, not transformed.
Freedom was given to the forms of trees ; they ex¬
tended their branches unrestricted ; and where any
eminent oak, or master beech, bad escaped maiming
ami survived the forest, bush and bramble was removed,
and all its honours were restored to distinguish and
shade the plain. Where the united plumage of an
ancient wood extended wide its undulating canopy, and
stood venerable in its darkness, Kent thinned the fore¬
most ranks, and left but so many detached and scattered
trees, as softened the approach of gloom, and blended
a chequered light with the thus lengthened shadows of
the remaining columns.
“ Succeeding artists have added new master strokes
to these touches ; perhaps improved or brought to per¬
fection some that have been named. The introduc¬
tion of foreign trees and plants, which we owe prin¬
cipally to Archibald duke of Argyle, contributed es¬
sentially to the richness of colouring so peculiar to our
modem landscape. The mixture of various greens,
the contrast of forms between our forest trees and the
northern and West Indian firs and pines, are improve¬
ments more recent than Kent, or but little known to
him. The weeping willow, and every florid shrub,
each tree of delicate or bold leaf, are new tints in the
composition of our gardens.
“ But just as the encomiums are that have been be¬
stowed on Kent’s discoveries, he was neither without
assistance or faults. Mr Pope undoubtedly contributed
to form his taste. The design of the prince of Wales’s
garden at Carlton house was evidently borrowed from
the poet’s at Twickenham. There was a little of af¬
fected modesty in the latter, when he said, of all his
works he was mast proud of his garden. And yet
ENIN G.
it was a singular effort of art and taste to impress
so much variety and scenery on a spot of five acres.
The passing through the gloom from the grotto to
tne opening day, the retiring and again assembling
shades, the dusky groves, the larger lawn, and the so¬
lemnity of the termination at the cypresses that lead
up to his mother’s tomb, are managed with exquisite
judgment ; and though Lord Peterborough assisted
him
To form his quincunx and to rank his vines,
those were not the most pleasing ingredients of his little
perspective.
“ Having routed professed art (for the modern gar¬
dener exerts his talents to conceal his art), Kent, like
other reformers, knew not how to stop at the just
limits. He had followed Nature, and imitated her so
happily, that he began to think all her works were
equally proper for imitation. In Kensington garden
he planted dead trees to give a greater air of truth to
the scene—but be was soon laughed out ol this excess.
His ruling principle was, that nature abbots a straight
line. His mimics (for every genius lias his apes), seem¬
ed to think that she could love nothing but what was
crooked. Yet so many men of taste of all ranks de¬
voted themselves to the new improvements, that it is
surprising bow much beauty has been struck out, with
bow few absurdities. Still in some lights the reforma¬
tion seems to have been pushed too far. Though an
avenue crossing a park or separating a lawn, and inter¬
cepting views from the seat to which it leads, are capi¬
tal faults ; yet a great avenue cut through woods, per¬
haps before entering a park, has a noble air, and,
Tike footmen running before coaches
lo tell the inn what lord approaches,
announces the habitation of some man of distinction.
In other places the total banishment of all particular
neatness immediately about a house, which is frequent¬
ly left gazing by itself in the middle of a park, is a
defect. Sheltered and even close walks, in so very un¬
certain a climate as ours, are comforts ill exchanged
for the few picturesque days that we enjoy ; and when¬
ever a family can purloin a warm and even something
of an old-fashioned garden from the landscape designed
for them by the undertaker in fashion, without inter¬
fering with the picture, they will find satisfactions in
those days that do not invite strangers to come and see
their improvements,”
PART I. PRINCIPLES OF GARDENING.
GARDENING, in the perfection to which it has
been lately brought in Britain, is entitled to a place
of considerable rank among the liberal arts. It is
(says Ms Wheatley) as superior to landscape painting
as a reality to a representation : it is an exertion of
fancy j a subject for taste $ and being released now from
the restraints of regularity, and enlarged beyond the
purposes of domestic convenience, the most beautiful,
the most simple, the most noble scenes of nature, are all
within its province. For it is no longer confined to the
spots from which it takes its name 5 but as already ob¬
served, regulates also the disposition and embellishment
of a park, a farm, a forest, &c.: and the business of a
gardener is to select and apply whatever is great, ele¬
gant, or characteristic in any of them ; to discover, and
to show all the advantages of the place upon which he
is employed *, to supply its defects, to correct its faults,
and to improve its beauties.
3 C 2 Sect,
3^7
388
Ground,
Wood.
GARDENING.
Sect. I. Materials of Gardening.
Paij
These may be divided into two general classes ;
Natural and Factitious.
§ i. Of the Natural Materials.
These, according to Mr Wheatley’s enumeration,
Hre—Ground, Wood, ^Vater, and Rocks.
I. GROUND. By this is meant that portion of
naked surface which is included within the place to
be improved j whether that surface be swamp, lawn,
roughet, or broken ground •, and whether it be a
height, a valley, a plain, or a composition oi swells,
dips, and levels. , r
The following passage has been quoted irom Mr
* P*fe 52, Gilpin’s observations on the Wye*, as aflordmg a
sublime idea of what ground ought to be. No¬
thing (savs he) gives so just an idea of the beautitul
swellings of ground as those of water, where it has
sufficient room to undulate and expand. In ground
which is composed of very refractory materials, you
are presented often with harsh lines, angular insertions,
and disagreeable abruptnesses. In water, whether in
gentle or in agitated motion, all is easy, all is softened
into itself*, and the hills and valleys play into each
other in a variety of the most beautilul forms, in
agitated water, abruptnesses indeed there are, but yet
they are such abruptnesses as in some part or other
unite properly with the surface around them *, and are
On the whole peculiarly harmonious. Now, it the
ocean in any of these swellings and agitations could be
arrested and fixed, it would produce that pleasing va¬
riety which we admire in ground. Hence it is common
to fetch our images from water, and apply, them to
land : we talk of an undulating line, a playing lawn,
and a billowy surface j and give a much stronger and
more adequate idea by such imagery, than plain lan¬
guage could possibly present.
The exertions of art, however, are here inadequate *,
and the artist ought not to attempt to create a mountain,
a valley, or a plain : he should but rarely meddle even
with the smaller inequalities of grounds. Roughets and
broken ground may generally be reduced to lawn, or
hid with wood j and a swamp may be drained or cover¬
ed with water -, whilst lawn may be variegated at plea¬
sure by wood, and sometimes by water.
II. WOOD, as a general term, comprehends all
trees and shrubs in whatever disposition j but it is spe¬
cifically applied in a more limited sense, and in that
sense we shall now use it.
Every plantation must be either a ivood, a grove, or
clump. " A wood is composed both of trees and under¬
wood, covering a considerable space. A grove consists
of trees without underwood. A clump difl'ers from
either only in extent: it may be either close or open ;
when close, it is sometimes called a thicket; when open,
a group of trees; but both are equally clumps, what¬
ever may be the shape or situation.
* SBr i. One of the noblest objects in nature (Mr \\heat-
ley observes) is tl,e surface of a large thckwaod, com-
wood. maudeil from an eminence, or seen from below banging
on the side of a hill. The latter is generally the more Wc
interesting object. Its aspiring situation gives it an air v——/w
of greatness ; its termination is commonly the horizon j
and, indeed, if it is deprived of that splendid boundary,
if the brow appears above it (unless some very peculiar
effect characterises that brow), it loses much of its
magnificence : it is inferior to a wood which cover*
a less hill from the top to the bottom j for a whole
space filled is seldom little. But a wood commanded
from an eminence is generally no more than a part
of the scene below and its boundary is often ina¬
dequate to its greatness. To continue it, therefore,
till it winds out of sight, or loses itself in the horizon,
is generally desirable : but then the varieties of its sur¬
face grow confused as it retires; while those of a hang¬
ing wood are all distinct, the furthest parts are held up
to the eye, and none are at a distance though the whole
be extensive.
The varieties of a surface are essential to the beauty
of it: a continued smooth shaven level of foliage is
neither agreeable nor natural ; the different growths
of trees commonly break it in reality, and their sha¬
dows still more in appearance. These shades are so
many tints, which, undulating about the surface, are.
its greatest embellishment j and such tints may he pro¬
duced with more effect, and more certainty, by a ju¬
dicious mixture of greens ; at the same time an addi¬
tional variety may be introduced, by grouping and
contrasting trees very different in shape from each
other-, and whether variety in the greens or in the
forms be the design, the execution is often easy, and
seldom to a certain degree impossible. In raising a
young wood, it may be perfect. In old woods, there
are many spots which may be either thinned or thick¬
ened : and there the characteristic distinctions should
determine what to plant, or which to leave5 at the least
will often point out those which, as blemishes, ought
to be taken away; and the removal of two or three
trees will sometimes accomplish the design. The
number of beautiful forms and agreeable masses, which
may decorate the surface, is so great, that where the
place will not admit of one, another is always ready;
and as no delicacy of finishing is required, no minute
exactness is worth regarding ; great effects will not be
disconcerted by small obstructions and little disappoint¬
ments.
The contrasts, however, of masses and of groups must
not be too strong, where greatness is the character of
the wood ; for unity is essential to greatness: and if di¬
rect opposites he placed close together, the wood is no
longer one object; it is only a confused collection of
several separate plantations. But if the progress be gra¬
dual from the one to the other, shapes and tints widely
different may assemble on the same surface ; and each
should occupy a considerable space : a single tree, or a
small cluster of trees, in the midst of an extensive wood,
is in size but a speck, and in colour but a spot; the
groups and the masses must be large to produce any
sensible variety.
When, in a romantic situation, very broken ground
is overspread with wood, it may be proper on the sur¬
face of the wood to mark the inequalities of the ground.
Rudeness, not greatness, is the prevailing idea; and a
choice directly the reverse of that which is productive
of unity will produce it. Strong contrasts, even oppo¬
sitions,
I.
sitions, may be eligible ; the aim is rather to disjoin
—j than to connect: a deep hollow may sink into dark
greens ; an abrupt bank may be shewn by a rising stage
of aspiring trees, a sharp ridge by a narrow line of co¬
nical shapes : firs are of great use upon such occasions ;
their tint, their form, their singularity, recommend
them.
A hanging ivood of thin forest trees, and seen from
below is seldom pleasing : these few trees are by the
perspective brought nearer together; it loses the beau¬
ty of a thin wood, and is defective as a thick one : the
most obvious improvement, therefore is to thicken it.
But, when seen from an eminence, a thin wood is often
a lively and elegant circumstance in a view ; it is full
of objects; and every separate tree shows its beauty.
To increase that vivacity which is the peculiar excel¬
lence of a thin wood, the trees should he characteristi¬
cally distinguished both in their tints and their shapes;
and such as for their airiness have been proscribed
in a thick wood, are frequently the most eligible here.
Differences also in their growths are a farther source
of variety ; each should be considered as a distinct ob¬
ject, unless where a small number are grouped together;
and then all that compose the little cluster must agree :
hut the groups themselves, for the same reason the
separate trees, should he strongly contrasted ; the con¬
tinued underwood is their only connexion, and that is
not affected by their variety.
OftlJMU Though the surface of a wood, when commanded,
GARDENING.
line
1 deserves all these attentions, yet the outline more fre¬
quently calls for our regard : it is also more in our
power; it may sometimes he great, and may always
be beautiful. The first requisite is irregularity. That
a mixture of trees and underwood should form a lono-
straight line, can never be natural; and a succession of
easy sweeps and gentle rounds, each a portion of a
greater or less circle, composing all together a line lite¬
rally serpentine, is, if possible, worse. It is hut a num¬
ber of regularities put together in a disorderly manner,
and equally distant from the beautiful both of art and
of nature. The true beauty of an outline consists more
in breaks than in sweeps; rather in angles than in
rounds ; in variety, not in succession.
Every variety in the outline of a wood must he a
prominence or a recess. Breadth in either is not so im¬
portant as length to the one and depth to the other.
If the former ends in an angle, the latter diminishes to
a point j they have more force than a shallow dent, or
a dwarf excrescence, how wide soever. They are great¬
er deviations from the continued line which they are in¬
tended to break ; and their effect is to enlarge the wood
itself, which seems to stretch from the most advanced
point, hack beyond the most distant to which it retires.
Ihe extent of a large wood on a flat, not commanded,
ean by no circumstance he so manifestly shewn as by a
deep recess ; especially if that recess wind so as to con¬
ceal the extremity, and leave the imagination to pursue
d. On the other hand, tire poverty of a shallow wood
'night sometimes be relieved by here and there a pro¬
minence, or clumps which by their apparent junction
‘mould seem to be prominences from it. A deeper
WOO(1 with a continued outline, except when command¬
ed, would not appear so considerable.
An inlet into a wood seems to have been cut, if the
opposite points of the entrance tally; and .that show of
art deprecates its merit: but a difference only in the
situation of those points, by bringing one more forward
ban the other, prevents the appearance, though their
toims be similar. Other points, which distinguish the
great parts, should in general he strongly marked : a
short turn has more spirit in it than a tedious circuity -
and a line broken by angles has a precision and firm-
ness, which in an undulated line are wanting; the
angles should indeed commonly be a little soiten-d -
the rotundity of the plant which forms them is some!
times sufficient for the purpose; but if they are mellow¬
ed down too much, they lose all meaning. Three or
lour large parts thus boldly distinguished, will break a
very long outline. When two woods are opposed on
the sides of a narrow glade, neither has so much occa¬
sion for variety in itself as if it were single ; if they are
very different from.each other, the contrast supplies the
deficiency to each, and the interval between them is
full of variety. The form of that interval is indeed of
as much consequence as their own : though the outlines
of both the woods he separately beautiful, yet if togc-
ther they do not cast the open space into an agree¬
able figure, the whole scene is not pleasing; and a
figure is never agreeable, when the sides too closelv
correspond : whether they are exactly the same, or ex-
actiy the reverse of eacli other, they equally appear
artificial. ^ rr
Every variety of outline hitherto mentioned may he
traced by the underwood alone; but frequently the same
effects may he produced with more ease, and with much
more beauty, by a few trees standing out from the thick¬
et, and belonging, or seeming to belong, to the wood,
so as to make a part of its figure. Even where they are
not wanted for that purpose, detached trees are such
agreeable objects, so distinct, so light, when compared
to the covert about them, that skirting along it in some
parts, and breaking it in others, they give an unaffect¬
ed grace, which can no otherwise be given to the out¬
line. They have a still further effect, when they stretch
across the whole breadth of an inlet, or before part of
a recess into the wood ; they are themselves shown to
advantage by the space behind them ; and that space,
seen between their stems, they in return throw into an
agreeable perspective.
2. The prevailing character of a wood is generally
grandeur: the principal attention therefore which it re¬
quires, is to prevent the excesses of that character, to di¬
versify the uniformity of its extent, to lighten the un-
wieldiness of its hulk, and to blend graces with great¬
ness. The character of a grove is beauty. Fine trees Of
are lovely objects: a grove is an assemblage of them ;
in which every individual retains much of its own pecu¬
liar elegance, and whatever it loses is transferred to the
superior beauty of the whole. To a grove, therefore,
which admits of endless variety in the disposition of the
trees, differences in their shapes and their greens are
seldom very important, and sometimes they are detri¬
mental. Strong contracts scatter trees which are thinly
planted, and which have not.the connection of under¬
wood ; they no longer form one plantation; they are a
number of single trees. A thick grove is not indeed
exposed to this mischief, and certain situations may re¬
commend different shapes and different greens for their
effects upon the surface; but in the outline they are sel¬
dom much regarded. The eye attracted into the.depth
of
389
Wood.
It heat,ley’*
Observat.
on Modem
Hardening'
3
a grove.
ibid.
f New
Esher in
Sun).
G A R D E N 1 N G.
of the grove, passes by little circumstances at the en¬
trance j even varieties in the form of the line do not
always engage the attention *, they are not so apparent
as in a continued thicket, and are scarcely seen if they
are not considerable.
But the surface and the outline are not the only cir¬
cumstances to be attended to. Though a grove be
beautiful as an object, it is besides delightful as a spot
to walk or to sit in and the choice and the disposition
of the trees for effects within, are therefore a principal
consideration. Mere irregularity alone will not please :
strict order is there more agreeable than absolute con¬
fusion j and some meaning better than none. A regu¬
lar plantation has a degree of beauty ; but it gives no
satisfaction, because we know that the same number ol
trees might be more beautifully arranged. A dispo¬
sition, however, in which the lines only are broken,
without varying the distances, is equally improper.
The trees should gather into groups, or stand in va¬
rious irregular lines, and describe various figures: the
intervals between them should be contrasted both in
shape and in dimensions: a large space should in some
places be quite open •, in others the trees should be so
dose together, as hardly to leave a passage between
them ■, and in others as far apart as the connexion will
allow. In the forms and the varieties of these groups,
these lines, and these openings, principally consists the
interior beauty of a grove.
The force of them is most strongly illustrated at
Claremont f, where the walk to the cottage, though
destitute of many natural advantages, and eminent for
none ; though it commands no prospect ; though the
water below it is a trifling pond ; though it has nothing,
in short, but inequality of ground to recommend it $ is
yet the finest part of the garden : for a grove is there
planted in a gently curved direction, all along the side
of a hill, and on the edge of a wood, which rises above
it. Large recesses break it into several clumps, which
hang down the declivity: some of them approaching,
hut none reaching quite to the bottom. These recesses
are so deep as to form great openings in the midst of the
grove they penetrate almost to the covert : but the
clumps being all equally suspended from the wood •, and
a line of open plantation, though sometimes narrow,
running constantly along the top j a continuation of
grove is preserved, and the connexion between the parts
is never broken. Even a group, which near one of the
extremities stands out quite detached, is still in style so
similar to the rest as not to lose all relation. Each of
these clumps is composed of several others still more in¬
timately united j each is full of groups, sometimes of no
more than two trees, sometimes of four or five, and now
and then in larger clusters; an irregular waving line,
issuing from some little crowd, loses itself in the next j
or a few scattered trees drop in a more distant succes¬
sion from the one to the other. The intervals, wind¬
ing here like a glade, and widening there into broader
openings, differ in extent, in figure, and direction *, hut
all the groups, the lines, and the intervals, are collect-
ed together into large general clumps, each of which is
at the same time both compact and free, identical and
various. The whole is a place wherein to tarry with
secure delight, or saunter with perpetual amusement.
The grove at Esher place was planted by the same
masterly hand j but the necessity of accommodating the
young plantation to some large trees which grew there iLJ
before, has confined its variety. 'Hie groups are few
and small : there was not room for larger or for more j
there were no opportunities to form continued narrow
glades between opposite lines 5 the vacant spaces are
therefore chiefly irregular openings, spreading every
wav, and great differences of distance between the trees
are the principal variety; but the grove winds along
the hank of a large river, on the side and at the foot
of a very sudden ascent, the upper part of which is co.
vered with wood. In one place, it presses close to the
covert; retires from it in another; and stretches in a
third across a bold recess, which runs up high into the
thicket. The trees sometimes overspread the fiat he- ,
low; sometimes leave an open space to the river; at
other times crown the brow of a large knoll, climb up
a steep, or hang on a gentle declivity. '1 hese varieties
in the situation more than compensate tor the want of i
variety in the disposition of the trees; and the many
happy circumstances which concur,
 -In Esher’s peaceful grove,
’Where Kent and nature vie for Pelham’s love,
render this little spot more agreeable than any at Clare¬
mont. But though it was right to preserve the trees al¬
ready standing, and not to sacrifice great present beau¬
ties to still greater in futurity ; yet this attention has
been a restraint; and the grove at Claremont, consider¬
ed merely as a plantation, is in delicacy of taste, and
fertility of invention, superior to that at Esher.
It is, however, possible to secure both a present and
a future effect, by fixing first on a disposition which will
be beautiful when the trees are large, and then inter¬
mingling another which is agreeable while they are
small. These occasional trees are hereafter to be taken
away ; and must he removed in time, before they be¬
come prejudicial to the others.
The consequence of variety in the disposition, is va¬
riety in the light and shade of the. grove ; which may
be improved by the choice of the trees. Some are
impenetrable to the fiercest sunbeam ; others let in
here and there a ray between the large masses of their
foliage ; and others, thin both of boughs and of leaves,
only "chequer the around. Every degree of light and
shade, from a glare to obscurity, may be managed,
partly by the number, and partly by the texture, of the
trees. Differences only in the manner of their growths
have also corresponding effects : there is a closeness
under those whose branches descend low, and spread
wide ; a space and liberty where the arch above is high}
and frequent transitions from the one to the other are
very pleasing. These still are not all the varieties of
which the interior of a grove is capable; trees, indeed,
whose branches nearly reach the ground, being each a
sort of thicket, are inconsistent with an open planta¬
tion : but though some of the characteristic distinctions
are thereby excluded, other varieties more minute suc¬
ceed in their place ; for the freedom of passage tliroug -
out brings every tree in its turn near to the eye, and
subjects even differences in foliage to observation.
These, slight as they may seem, are agreeable when they
occur; it is true, they are not regretted when want¬
ing ; hut a defect of ornament is not necessarily a ble-
3, It has been already observed, that clumps diffeio'l
I. GARDENING.
1. only in extent from woods, if they are close ; or from when it has not a form on which to rest • the ocean it-
—'groves, if they are open : they are small woods, and self hardly atones by all its grandeur for its infinity
small groves, governed by the same principles as the and a prospect of it is, therefore, always most a Tree’
larger, after allowances made for their dimensions. But able, when in some part, at no great distance a rearh
besides the properties they may have in common with of shore, a promontory, or an island, reduces the im-
woods or with groves, they have others peculiar to mensitv into shane. An artificial lake, again mav be
themselves which require examination. comparatively extravagant in its dimensions.’ It may
They are either independent ov relative : when inde- be so out of proportion to its appendages, as to seem
pendent, their beauty, as single objects, is solely to be a waste of water; for all size is in some’respects re-
attended to; when relative, the beauty of the indivi- lative : if this exceeds its due dimensions and if a
duals must be sacrificed to the efiect of the whole, flatness of shore beyond it adds still to the dreariness
which is the greater consideration. of the scene ; wood to raise the banks, and objects to
The occasions on which independent clumps may be distinguish them, are the remedies to be employed. If
applied, are many. They are often desirable as beauti- the length of a piece of water be too great for its
ful objects in themselves; they are sometimes necessary breadth, so as to destroy all idea of circuity, the extre-
to break an extent of lawn, or a continued line whether mities should be considered as too far off, and made im-
of ground or of plantation ; but on all occasions a jea- portant to give them proximity; while at the same
lousy of art constantly attends them, which irregularity time the breadth may be favoured, by keeping down
in their figure will not always alone remove. Though the banks on the sides. On the same principle, if the
elevations show them to advantage, yet a hillock evi- lake be too small, a low shore will, in appearance in-
dently thrown up on purpose to be crowned with a crease the extent.
clump, is artificial to a degree of disgust: some of the
trees should therefore be planted on the sides, to take
off that appearance. The same expedient may be ap¬
plied to clumps placed on the brow of a hill, to inter¬
rupt its sameness : they will have less ostentation of de¬
sign, if they are in part carried down either declivity.
The objection already made to planting many along
such a brow, is on the same principle : a single dump
is less suspected of art; if it be an open one, there can
be no finer situation for it, than just at the point of an
abrupt hill, or on a promontory into a lake or a river.
It is in either a beautiful termination, distinct by its po¬
sition, and enlivened by an expanse of sky or of water
about and beyond it. Such advantages may balance
little defects in its form : but they are lost if other
clumps are planted near it; art then intrudes, and the
whole is displeasing.
But though a multiplicity of clumps, when each is
an independent object, seldom seems natural ; yet a
number of them may, without any appearance of art,
be admitted into the same scene, if they bear a rela¬
tion to each other : if by their succession they diversify
a continued outline of wood, if between them they
form beautiful glades, if altogether, they cast an ex¬
tensive lawn into an agreeable shape, the effect prevents
any scrutiny into the means of producing it. But when
the reliance on that effect is so great, every other con¬
sideration must give way to the beauty of the whole.
The figure of the glade, of the lawn, or of the wood,
are principally to be attended to : the finest clumps, if
they do not fall easily into the great lines, are ble¬
mishes ; their connexions, their contrasts, are more im¬
portant than their forms.
e- III. WATER. All inland water is either rw«mW
or stagnated. When stagnated, it forms a lake or a
pool, which differ only in extent; and a pool and a
pond we the same. Running waters are either a rivu¬
let,*, river, or a rill; and these differ only in breadth :
a rivulet and a brook are synonymous terms ; a stream
and a current are genera! names for all.
i. Space or expansion is essential to a lake. It
cannot be too large as a subject of description or of
contemplation; but the eye receives little satisfaction
But it is not necessary that the whole scene he
bounded : if form be impressed on a considerable part,
the eye can, without disgust, permit a large reach to
stretch beyond its ken ; it can even be pleased to ob¬
serve a tremulous motion in the horizon, which shows
that the water has not there yet attained its termina¬
tion. Still short of this, the extent may be kept in
uncertainty ; a hill or a wood may conceal one of the
extremities^ and the country beyond it, in such a man¬
ner as to leave room for the supposed continuation of
so large a body of water. Opportunities to choose this
shape are frequent, and it is the most perfect of any :
the scene is closed, but the extent of the lake is un¬
determined ; a complete form is exhibited to the eye,
while a boundless range is left open to the imagina¬
tion.
But mere form will only give content, not delight:
that depends upon the outline, which is capable of ex¬
quisite beauty ; and the bays, the creeks, and the pro¬
montories, which are ordinary parts of that outline, to¬
gether with the accidents of islands, of inlets, and of
outlets to rivers, are in their shapes and their combina¬
tions an inexhaustible fund of variety.
Bays, creeks, and promontories, however, though
extremely beautiful, should not be very numerous: for
a shore broken into little points and hollows has no
certainty of outline ; it is only ragged, not diversi¬
fied ; and the distinctness and simplicity of the great
parts are hurt by the multiplicity of subdivisions.
But islands, though the channels between them be
narrow, do not so often derogate from greatness : they
intimate a space beyond them whose boundaries do
not appear; and remove to a distance the shore which
is seen in perspective between them. Such partial in¬
terruptions of the sight suggest ideas of extent to the
imagination.
2. Though the windings of a river are proverbially Of
descriptive of its course; yet without being perpetual¬
ly wreathed, it may be natural. Nor is the character
expressed only by the turnings. On the contrary, if
they are too frequent and sudden, the current is redu¬
ced into a number of separate pools, and the idea of
progress is obscured by the difficulty of tracing it.
Length is the strongest symptom of continuation
long
391
"Water.
6
a River.
GARDENING.
long readies are therefore characteristic of a river, and
they conduce much to its beauty 5 each is a consider¬
able piece of water, and variety of beautiful forms may
be given to their outlines.
A river requires a number of accompaniments. The
changes in its course furnish a variety of situations ;
while the fertility, convenience, and amenity, which
attend it, account for all appearances of inhabitants
and improvement. Profusion of ornament on a fic¬
titious river, is a just imitation of cultivated nature.
Every species of building, every style of plantation,
may abound on the banks j and whatever be their cha¬
racters, their proximity to the water is commonly the
happiest circumstance in their situation. A lustre is
from thence diffused on all around ; each derives an
importance from its relation to this capital feature }
those which are near enough to be reflected, immedi¬
ately belong to it j those at a greater distance still
share in the animation of the scene j and objects total¬
ly detached from each other, being all attracted towards
the same interesting connexion, are united into one
composition.
In the front of Blenheim was a deep broad valley,
which abruptly separated the castle from the lawn and
the plantations before it •, even a direct approach could
not be made without building a monstrous bridge over
the vast hollow j but this forced communication was
only a subject of raillery *, and the scene continued
broken into two parts, absolutely distinct frorn each
other. This valley has been lately flooded : it is not
filled ; the bottom only is covered with water; the
sides are still very high j but they are no longer the
steeps of a chasm, they are the bold shores of a noble
river. The same bridge is standing without altera¬
tion : but no extravagance remains 5 the water gives
it nropriety. Above it the river first appears, wind¬
ing from behind a small thick wood in the valley j
and soon taking a determined course, it is then broad
enough to admit an island filled with the finest tiecs j
others corresponding to them in growth and disposi¬
tion, stand in groups on the banks, intermixed with
younger plantations. Immediately below the bridge,
the river spreads inio a large expanse : the sides are
open lawn. On that furthest from the house formerly
stood the palace of Henry II. celebrated in many an
ancient ditty by the name of Fair Rosamond’s Bower.
A little clear spring, which rises there, is by the
country people still called Fair Rosamond’s Well. The
spot is now marked by a single willow. Near it is
a fine collateral stream, of a beautiful form, retaining
its breadth as far as it is seen, and retiring at last be¬
hind a hill from the view. The main river, having re¬
ceived this accession, makes a gentle bend : then con¬
tinues for a considerable length in one wide direct
reach j and, just as it disappears, throws itself down a
high cascade, which is the present termination. On
one of the banks of this reach is the garden : the steeps
are there diversified with thickets and with glades j but
the covert prevails, and the top is crowned with lofty
trees. On the other side is a noble hanging wood in
the park : it was depreciated when it sunk into a hol¬
low, and was poorly lost iu the bottom ; but it is now a
rich appendage to the river, falling down an easy slope
quite to the water’s edge, where, with overshadowing,
it is reflected on the surface. Another face of the
Pj; I,
same wood borders the collateral stream, with an out- j
line more indented and various : while a very large ir-
regular clump adorns the opposite declivity. This
clump is at a considerable distance from the principal
river : but the stream it belongs to brings it down to
connect with the rest j and the other objects, which j
were before dispersed, are now, by the interest of each
in a relation, which is common to all, collected into
one illustrious scene. The castle itself is a prodigious
pile of building j which, with all the faults of the ar¬
chitecture, will never seem less than a truly princely
habitation *, and the confined spot where it was placed,
on the edge of an abyss, is converted into a proud situ-
ation, commanding a beautiful prospect of water, and
open to an extensive lawn, adequate to the mansion,
and an emblem of its domain. In the midst of this
lawn stands a column, a stately trophy, recording the
exploits of the duke of Marlborough and the grati¬
tude of Britain. Between this pillar and the castle is
the bridge, which now, applied to a subject worthy of
it, is established in all the importance due to its great¬
ness. The middle arch is wider than the Rialto, but
not too wide for the occasion ; and yet that is the nar¬
rowest part of the river •, but the length of the reaches
is everywhere proportioned to their breadth. Each of
them is alone a noble piece of water $ and the last, the
finest of all, loses itself gradually in a wrood, which on
that side is also the boundary of the lawn, and rises in¬
to the horizon. All is great in the front of Blenheim :
but in that vast space no void appears j so important
are the parts, so magnificent the object. The plain
is extensive, the valley is broad, the wood is deep.
Though the intervals between the building are large,
they are filled with the grandeur which buildings of
such dimensions and so much pomp diffuse all around
them j and the river in its long varied course, approach- ;
ing to every object, and touching upon every part,
spreads its influence over the whole.
In the composition of this scene, the river, both as
a part itself, and as uniting the other parts, has a
principal share. But water is not lost though it be
in so confined or so concealed a spot as to enter into
no view 5 it may render that spot delightful. It is
capable of the most exquisite beauty in its form} and
though not in space, may yet in disposition have pre¬
tensions to greatness j for it may be divided into seve¬
ral branches, which will form a cluster of islands ail
connected together, make the whole place irriguous,
and, in the stead of extent, supply a quantity of water.
Such a sequestered scene usually owes its retirement
to the trees and the thickets with which it abounds;
but, in the disposition of them, one distinction should
be constantly attended to. A river flowing through
a wood wdiich overspreads one continued surface of
ground, and a river between two woods, are in very
different circumstances. In the latter case, the vvoods
are separate 5 they may be contrasted in their forms
and their characters, and the outline of each should be
forcibly marked. In the former no outline ought to
he discernible ; for the river passes between trees, not
between boundaries $ and though in the progress of
its course, the style of the plantations may be often
changed, yet on the opposite banks a similarity should
constantly prevail, that the identity of the wood may
never be doubtful.
!e of
bury,
A river between two woods may enter into a view 5
and then it must be governed by the principles which
regulate the conduct and the accompaniments of a ri¬
ver in an open exposure. But when it runs through a
wood, it is never to be seen in a prospect ; the place is
naturally full of obstructions j and a continued open¬
ing, large enough to receive a long reach, would seem
an artificial cut. The river must therefore necessarily
wind more than in crossing a lawn where the passage
is entirely free. But its influence will never extend so
far on the sides : the buildings must be near the banks:
and, if numerous, will seem crowded, being all in one
track, and in situations nearly alike. The scene, how¬
ever, does not want variety $ on the contrary, none is
capable of more. The objects are not indeed so differ¬
ent from each other as in an open view j but they are
very different, and in much greater abundance ; for
this is the interior of a wood, where every tree is an
object, every combination of trees a variety, and no
large intervals are requisite to distinguish the several
dispositions ; the grove, the thicket, or the groups, may
prevail, and their forms and their relations may be con¬
stantly changed, without restraint of fancy, or limita¬
tion of number.
Water is so universally and so deservedly admired
in a prospect, that the most obvious thought in the
management of it, is to lay it as open as possible j and
purposely to conceal it would generally seem a severe
sell-denial : yet so many beauties may attend its pas¬
sage through a wood, that larger portions of it might
be allowed to such retired scenes than are commonly
spared from the view, and the different parts in dif¬
ferent styles would be fine contrasts to each other. If the
water at Wotton * were all exposed, a walk of near two
miles along the banks would be of a tedious length,
from tbe want ot those changes of the scene which
now supply through the whole extent a succession of
perpetual variety. The extent is so large as to admit
of a division into four principal parts, all of them great
in style and in dimensions, and differing from each
other both in character and situation. The two first
are the least. The one is a reach of river, about the
third of a mile in length, and of a competent breadth,
flowing through a lovely mead, open in some places
to views of beautiful hills in the country, and adorned
in others with clumps of trees, so large, that their
branches stretch quite across, and form a high arch
over the water. I he next seems to have been once a
formal basin encompassed with plantations, and the
appendages on either side still retain some traces of
regularity : but the shape of the water is free from
them ; the size is about 14 acres; and out of it issue
two broad collateral streams, winding towards a large
river, which they are seen to approach, and supposed
to join. Areal junction is however impossible, from
the difference of the levels ; but the terminations are
so artfully concealed, that the deception is never su¬
spected, and when known is not easily explained. The
river is the third great division of the water; a lake
mto which it falls, is the fourth. These two do ac¬
tually join ; hut their characters are directly oppo¬
site ; the scenes they belong to are totally distinct;
and the transition from the one to the other is very
gradual; for an island near the conflux, dividing the
breadth, and concealing the end of the lake, mode-
Vol. IX. Part I. .j.
gardening.
rates for some way the space ; and permitting it to ex¬
pand but by degrees, raises an idea of greatness, from
uncertainty accompanied with increase. The reality
does not disappoint the expectation; and the island,
which is the point of view , is i’, 'f equal to the scene :
it is large, and high above the lake; the ground is ir¬
regularly broken; thickets hang on the sides; and to-
waids the top is placed an -ionic portico, which com¬
mands a noble extent of water, not less than a mile
in cii cumference, bounded on one side with wood, and
open on the other to two sloping lawns, the least of
an hundred acres, diversified with clumps, and bor¬
dered by plantations. Yet this lake, when full in view,
and vyith all the importance which space, form, and
situation can g-vm, is not more interesting than the
sequestered river, which has bejen mentioned as the
third great division of the water. It is just within the
verge of a wood, three quarters of a mile long, every¬
where broad, and its coarse is such as to admit of in¬
finite variety without a -y confusion. The hanks are
cleared of underwood ; but a few thickets still remain,
and on one side an impenetrable covert soon begins :
the interval is a beautiful grove of oaks, scattered over
a green swaid of extraordinary verdure. Between these
trees and these thickets the river seems to glide gently
along, constantly winding, without one short turn or
one extended reach in the whole length of the wav.
This even temper in the stream suits the scenes through
which it passes ; they are in general of a very sober
cast, not melancholy, hut grave ; never exposed to a
glare ; never darkened with gloom; nor, by strong
contiasts of light and shade, exhibiting the excess of
eitner. Undisturbed by an extent of prospect without,
or a multiplicity of objects within, they retain at all
times a mildness of character; which is still more for¬
cibly felt wdien the shadows grow faint as they lengthen,
when a little rustling of birds in the spray," the leap¬
ing of the fish, and the fragrancy of the woodbine,
denote the approach of evening ; while the setting sun
shoots its last gleams on a Tuscan portico, which is
close to the great basin, hut which from a seat near
this river is seen at a distance, through all the obscu¬
rity of the wood, glowing on the hanks, and reflected
on the surface of the water. In another still more
distinguished spot is built an elegant bridge, with a
colonnade upon it, which not only adorns the place
where it stands, but is also a picturesque object to an
octagon building near the lake, where it is shewn in
a singular situation, overarched, encompassed, and
backed with wood, without any appearance of the
water beneath. This building in return is also an
object from the bridge; and a Chinese room, in a
little island just by, is another : neither of them are
considerable, and the others which are Visible are at a
distance; but more or greater adventitious ornaments are
not required in a spot so rich as this in beauties pecu¬
liar to its character. A profusion of water pours in
from all sides round upon the view ; the opening of the
lake appears; a glimpse is caught of the large basin :
one of the collateral streams is full in sight, and the
bridge itself is in the midst of the finest part of the
river : all seem to communicate the one with the other.
Though thickets often intercept, and groups perplex
the view, yet they never break the connexion between
the several pieces of water; each may still be traetd
3 ® alonar
393
Water.
3)4
Wrtter. along large branches or little catches j whicli in some
 places are overshadowed and dim j in others glisten
tidd. through a glade, or glimmer between the holes of
trees in a distant perspective ; and in one, where they
are quite last to the view, some arches of the stone
bridge, hut partially seen among the wood, preserve
, their connexion.
Of a7ltil! 3* If a large river may sometimes, a smaller current
ami a Kivu-undoubtedly may often, he conducted through a wood:
fel. it seldom adorns, it frequently disfigures, a prospect,
where its course is marked, not by any appearance of
water, hut by a confined line of clotted grass, which
disagrees with the general verdure. A Bivulet may,
indeed, have consideration enough for a home scene,
though it he open; but a Rill is always most agreeable
when most retired from public view. Its characteristic
excellencies are vivacity and variety, which require
attention, leisure, and silence, that the eye may pore
upon the little beauties, and the ear listen to the low
murmurs of the stream without interruption. To such
indulgence a confined spot only is favourable; a close
copse is therefore often more acceptable than a high
wood, and a sequestered valley at all times preferable to
any open exposure : a single rill at a very little distance
is a mere water course ; it loses all its charms ; it has
no importance in itself, and bears no proportion to the
scene. A number of little streams have indeed an ef¬
fect in any situation, but not as objects ; they are
interesting only on account of the character they ex¬
press, the irriguons appearance which they give to the
whole.
The full tide of a large river has more force than
activity, and seems too unwieldy to allow of very
quick transitions. But in a rill, the agility of its mo¬
tions accounts for every caprice ; frequent windings
disguise its insignificance ; short turnings show its vi¬
vacity ; sadden changes in the breadth are a species of
its variety ; and however fantastically the channel may
he wreathed, contracted, and widened, it still appears
to be natural. We find an amusement in tracing the
little stream through all the intricacies of its course,
and in seeing it force a passage through a narrow strait,
expatiate on every opportunity, struggle with obstruc¬
tions, and puzzle out its way. A rivulet, which is
the mean betwixt a river and a rill, partakes of the cha¬
racter of both: it is not licensed to the extravagance
of the one, nor under the same restraints as the other :
it may have more frequent bends than the river, longer
reaches than a rill: the breadth of a stream deter¬
mines whether the principal beauty results from extent
or from variety.
The murmurs of a rill are amongst the most pleas¬
ing circumstances which attend it. If the bed of the
stream be rough, mere declivity will occasion a con¬
stant rippling noise : when the current drops down a
descent, though but of a few inches, or forcibly bub¬
bles up from a little hollow, it has a deep gurgling
tone, not uniformly continued, hut incessantly repeat¬
ed, and therefore more engaging than any. The
flattest of all, is that sound rather of the splashing than
the fall of water, which an even gentle slope, or a tame
obstruction, will produce : this is less pleasing than
the others; hut none should be entirely excluded : all
in their turns are agreeable ; and the choice of them
is much in our power. By observing their causes, we
Pai I(
may often find the means to strengthen, to weaken, or rC)
to change them ; and the addition or removal of a j
single stone, or a few pebbles, will sometimes be suffi¬
cient for the purpose. J |
A rill cannot pretend to any sound beyond that ofOfCsi
a little water fall: the roar of a cascade belongs only cades
to a larger stream ; but it may be produced by a rivu¬
let to a considerable degree, and attempts to do more
have generally been unsuccessful. A vain ambition to
imitate nature in her great extravagancies betrays the
weakness of art. Though a noble river, throwing it¬
self headlong down a precipice, he an object truly
magnificent, it must however be confessed, that in a
single sheet of water there is a formality which its vast¬
ness alone can cure. But the height, not the breadth,
is the wonder: when it falls not more than a few feet,
the regularity prevails ; and its extent only serves to
expose the vanity of affecting the style of a cataract in 1
an artificial cascade. It is less exceptionable if divided
into several parts : for then each separate part may be
wide enough for its depth ; and in the whole, variety,
not greatness, will be the predominant character. But
a structure of rough, large, detached stones, cannot
easily be contrived of strength sufficient to support a
great weight of water : it is sometimes from necessity
almost smooth and uniform, and then it loses much of
its effects. Several little falls in succession are preferable
to one great cascade which in figure or in motion ap¬
proaches to regularity.
When greatness is thus reduced to number, and
length becomes of more importance than breadth, a ri¬
vulet vies with a river : and it more frequently runs in
a continued declivity, which is very favourable to such a
succession of falls. Half the expence and labour which
are sometimes bestowed on a river, to give it at the best
a forced precipitancy in one spot only, would animate
a rivulet through the whole of its course. And, after
all, the most interesting circumstance in falling waters
is their animation. A great cascade fills us with sur¬
prise : hut all surprise must cease; and the motion, the
agitation, the rage, the froth, and the variety of the
water, are finally the objects which engage the atten¬
tion : for these a rivulet is sufficient; and they may
there be produced without that appearance of effort
which raises a suspicion of art.
To obviate such a suspicion, it may he sometimes
expedient to begin the descent out of sight; for the
beginning is the difficulty : if that be concealed, the
subsequent falls seem hut a consequence of the agitation
which characterises the water at its first appearance;
and the imagination is, at the same time, let loose to
give ideal extent to the cascades. When a stream issues
from a wood, such management will have a great ef¬
fect : the bend of its course in an open exposure may
afford frequent opportunities for it; and sometimes a
low broad bridge may furnish the occasion : a little
fall hid under the arch will create a disorder ; in con¬
sequence of which, a greater cascade below will appear
very natural.
IV. HOCKS. Rocks are themselves too vast and Of R (
too stubborn to submit to our controul ; by the ad¬
dition or removal of appendages which we can com¬
mand, parts may he shown or concealed, and the cha¬
racters with their impressions may be weakened or en¬
forced :
GARDENING.
rt I.
cks.
forced : to adopt the accompaniments accordingly, is
the utmost ambition of art when rocks are the sub
GARDENING.
ject.
Their most distinguished characters are, dignity,
terror, and fancy: the expressions of all are constantly
wild : and sometimes a rocky scene is only wild, with¬
out pretensions to any particular character.
Kills, rivulets, and cascades, abound among rocks:
they are natural to the scene} and such scenes common¬
ly require every accompaniment which can be procured
for them. Mere rocks, unless they are particularly a-
dapted to certain impressions, though they may surprise,
cannot be long engaging, if the rigour of their charac¬
ter be not softened by circumstances which may belong
either to these or to more cultivated spots : and when
the dreariness is extreme, little streams and waterfalls
are of themselvess insufficient for the purpose ; an in¬
termixture of vegetation is also necessary, and on some
occasions even marks of inhabitants are proper.
Large clefts, sloping or precipitous, with a dale at
bottom, furnish scenes of the wildest nature. In such
spots, verdure alone will give some relief to the dreari¬
ness of the scene } and shrubs or bushes, without trees,
are a sufficiency of wood : the thickets may also be ex¬
tended by the creeping plants, such as pyracantha,
vines, and ivy, to wind up the sides or cluster on the
tops of the rocks. And to this vegetation may be
added some symptoms of inhabitants, but they must be
slight and few } the use of them is only to cheer, not
to destroy, the solitude of the place} and such there¬
fore should be chosen as are sometimes found in situa¬
tions retired from public resort} a cottage may be
lonely, but it must not here seem ruinous and neglect¬
ed ; it should be tight and warm, with every mark of
comfort about it, to which its position in some sheltered
recess may greatly contribute. A cavity also in the
rocks, rendered easy of access, improved to a degree
of convenience, and maintained in a certain state of
preservation, will suggest similar ideas of protection
from the bitterest inclemencies of the sky, and even of
occasional refreshment and repose. But we may venture
still further} a mill is of necessity often built at some
distance from the town which it supplies ; and here it
would at the same time apply the water to a use, and
increase its agitation. The dale may besides be made
the haunt of those animals, such as goats, which are
sometimes wild, and sometimes domestic } and which
accidentally appearing, will divert the mind from the
sensations natural to the scene, but not agreeable if
continued long without interruption. These and such
other expedients will approximate the severest retreat
to the habitations of men, and convert the appearance
of a perpetual banishment into that of a temporary re¬
tirement from society.
But too strong a force on the nature of the place al-
way fails. A winding path, which appears to be worn,
not cut, has more eftect than a high road, all artificial
and level, which is too weak to overbear, and yet con¬
tradicts the general idea. The objects therefore to be
introduced must be those which hold a mean between
solitude and population } and the inclination of that
choice towards either extreme, should be directed by
the degree of wildness which prevails } for though that
runs sometimes to an excess which requires correction,
at other times it wants encouragement, and at all times
it ought to be preserved : it is the predominant charac¬
ter of rocks, which mixes with every other and to which
all the appendages must be accommodated ; and they
may be applied so as greatly to increase it : a licentious
irregularity of wood and of ground, and a fantastic
conduct of the streams,v neither of which would be to-
lerated in the midst of cultivation, become and improve
romantic rocky spots } even buildings, partly by their
style, but still more by their position, in strange, dif¬
ficult, or dangerous situations, distinguish and aggravate
the native extravagancies of the scene.
Greatness is a chief ingredient in the character o.
dignity, with less of wildness than in any other. The
effect here depends more upon amplitude of surface,
than variety of forms. 1 he parts, therefore, must be
large . if the rocks are only high, they are but stupen-
dous, not majestic : breadth is equally essential to their
greatness 5 and every slender, every grotesque shape,
is excluded. Art may interpose to show' these large
parts to the eye, and magnify them to the imagina¬
tion, by taking away thickets which stretch quite
across the rocks, so as to disguise their dimensions } or
by filling with wood the small intervals between them,
and thus, by concealing the want, preserving the ap¬
pearance of continuation. When rocks retire from the
eye down a gradual declivity, we can, by raising the
upper ground, deepen the fall, lengthen the perspec¬
tive, and give both height and extent to those at a
distance.: this effect may be still increased by covering
that upper ground with a thicket, which shall cease
or be lowered, as it descends. A thicket, on other
occasions, makes the rocks which rise out of it seem
larger than they are. If they stand upon a bank over¬
spread with shrubs, their beginning is at the least un¬
certain } and the presumption is, that they start from
the bottom. Another use of this brushy underwood is
to conceal the fragments and rubbish which have fallen
from the sides and the brow, and which are often un-
sightly. Rocks are seldom remarkable for the ele¬
gance of their forms } they are too vast, and too rude,
to pretend to delicacy : but their shapes are often
agreeable; and we can affect those shapes to a certain
degree, at least we can cover many blemishes in them,
by conducting the growth of shrubby and creeping
plants about them.
For all these purposes mere underwood suffices: but
for greater effects larger trees are requisite: they are
worthy of the scene } and not only improvements, but
accessions to its grandeur: we are used to rank them
among the noblest objects of nature ; and when we see
that they cannot aspire to the midway of the heights
around them, the rocks are raised by the comparison.
A single tree is, therefore, often preferable to a clump :
the size, though really less, is more remarkable : and
clumps are besides generally exceptionable in a very
wild spot, from the suspicions of art which attends
them } but a wrood is free from that suspicion, and its
own character of greatness recommends it to every
scene of magnificence.
On the same principle all possible consideration
should be given to the streams. No number of little
rills are equal to one broad river} and in the principal
current, some varieties may be sacrificed to importance :
but a degree of strength should always be preserved :
the water, though it needs not be furious, should not be
3 D 2 dull ^
396
Rocks.
U—y—■
Ibid.
dull • for dignity, when most serene, is not languid j
and space will hardly atone for want of animation.
This character does not exxlude marks ot inhabitants,
thonoli it never requires them to tame its wildness : and
without inviting, it occasionally admits an intermixture
of vegetation. It even allows of buildings intended on¬
ly to decorate the scene : but they must be adequate to
I boH size and in character. And cult,vat,on .s
introduced, that too should be conformable to the rest j
not a single narrow patch cribbed out of the waste ,
but the confines of a country shelving into the vale,
and suggesting the idea of extent: nothing trivial ought
to find admittance. But, on the other hand, no extra¬
vagance is required to support it 5 strange shapes in ex¬
traordinary positions, enormous weights unaccountably
sustained, trees rooted in the sides, and torrents raging
at the foot of the rocks, are at the best need ess exces¬
ses There is a temperance in dignity, which is rather
hurt by a wanton violence on the common order of na-
1U The terrors of a scene in nature are like those of a
dramatic representation : they give an alarm j but the
sensations are agreeable, so long as they are kept to
such as are allied only to terror, unmixed with any that
are horrible and disgusting. Art may therefore be
used to heighten them, to display the objects which are
distinguished by greatness, to improve the circumstances
which denote force, to mark those which intimate dan-
<rer and to blend withal here and there a cast of me-
Greatness is as essential to the character of terror
»9 to that of dignity : vast eftorts in little objects are
but ridiculous *, nor can force be supposed upon trifles
incapable of resistance. On the other hand, it must be
allowed that exertion and violence supply some want
of space’. A rock wonderfully supported, or threaten¬
ing to fall, acquires a greatness from its situation, which
it has not in dimensions •, so circumstanced, the size ap¬
pears to be monstrous : a torrent has a consequence
which a placid river of equal breadth cannot pretend
to • and a tree, which would be inconsiderable in the
natural soil, becomes important when it bursts forth
^Tuch circumstances should be always industriously
sought for. It may be worth while to cut down se¬
veral trees, in order to exhibit one apparently rooted m
the stone. By the removal perhaps of only a little
brushwood, the alarming disposition of a rock, strange¬
ly undermined, melted, or suspended, may be shown ;
and if there be any soil above its brow, some trees
pl&nted there, and impending over it, will make the
obiect still more extraordinary. As to the streams,
great alterations may generally be made in them : and
therefore it is of use to ascertain the species proper to
each scene, because it is in our power to enlarge or
contract their dimensions; to accelerate or retard their
rapidity *, to form, increase, or take away obstructions ;
and always to improve, often to change, their charac-
1 ^Inhabitants furnish frequent opportunities to strength¬
en the appearances of force, by giving intimations ot
danger. A house placed at the edge of a precipice
any'building on the pinnacle of a crag, makes that
situation seem formidable, which might otherwise have
been unnoticed: asleep, in itself not very remarkable.
GARDENING. Part,
becomes alarming, when a path is carried aslant up the
side : a rail on the brow of a perpendicular fall, shows "
that the height is frequented and dangerous : and a
common foot bridge thrown over a cleft between rocks
has a still stronger effect. In all these instances, the
imagination immediately transports the spectator to the
spot, and suggests the idea ol looking down such a
depth ; in the last, that depth is a chasm, and the situ¬
ation is directly over it.
In other instances, exertion and danger seem to at¬
tend the occupations of the inhabitants :
-Half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful trade !
is a circumstance chosen by the great poet of nature,
to aggravate the terror of the scene he describes.
The different species of rocks often meet in the
same place, and compose a noble scene, which is not
distinguished by any particular character ; it is only
when one eminently prevails, that it deserves such a
preference as to exclude every other. Sometimes a
spot, remarkable for nothing but its wildness, is highly
romantic : and when this wildness rises to fancy ; when
the most singular, the most opposite forms and combi¬
nations are thrown together ; then a mixture also of
several characters adds to the number of instances
which there concur to display the inexhaustible variety
of nature.
So much variety, so much fancy, are seldom found
within the same extent as in Dovedalef. It is about
two miles in length, a deep, narrow, hollow valley ;inD{;
both the sides are of rock ; and the Dove in its passage tbirt.
between them is perpetually changing its course, its
motion, and appearance. It is never less than ten,
nor so much as twenty, yards wide, and generally about
four feet deep; but transparent to the bottom, except
when it is covered with a foam of the purest white,
under waterfalls, which are perfectly lucid. These
are very numerous, but very different. In some places
they stretch straight across, or aslant the stream : in
others, they are only partial; and the water either
dashes against the stones, and leaps over them, or,
pouring along a steep, rebounds upon those below:
sometimes it rushes through the several openings be¬
tween them ; sometimes it drops gently down ; and at
other times it is driven back by the obstruction, and
turns into an eddy. In one particular spot, the valley,
almost closing, leaves hardly a passage for the river,
which, pent up, and struggling for a vent, rages, and
roars, and foams, till it has extricated itself from the
confinement. In other parts, the stream, though never
languid, is often gentle ; flows round a little desert
island, glides between bits of bulrushes, disperses
itself among tufts of grass or of moss, bubbles about
a water dock, or plays with the slender threads ot
aquatic plants which float upon the surface. Tbs
rocks all along the dale vary as often in their structure
as the stream in its motion. In one place, an extended
surface gradually diminishes from a broad base almost
to an edge : in another, a heavy top hanging forwards,
overshadows all beneath : sometimes many different
shapes are confusedly tumbled together; and some¬
times they are broken into slender sharp pinnacles,
which are upright, often two or three together,^and
often in more numerous clusters. On this side of the
I. CARD
dale, they are universally bare ; on the other, they are
,1j intermixed with wood ; and the vast height of both the
sides, with the narrowness of the interval between
them, produces a further variety : for whenever the
gun shines from behind the one, the form of it is di¬
stinctly and completely cast upon the other; the rugged
gurface on which it falls diversifies the tints ; and a
strong reflected light often glares on the edge of the
deepest shadow. The rocks never continue long in
the same figure or situation, and are very much sepa¬
rated from each other: sometimes they form the sides
of the valley, in precipices, in steeps, or in stages;
sometimes they seem to rise in the bottom, and lean
back against the hill; and sometimes they stand out
quite detached, heaving up in cumbrous piles, or start¬
ing into conical shapes, like vast spars, 100 feet
high ; some are firm and solid throughout; some are
cracked ; and some, split and undermined, are wonder¬
fully upheld by fragments apparently unequal to the
weight they sustain. One is placed before, one over
another, and one fills at some distance behind an in¬
terval between two. The changes in their disposition
are infiaite ; every step produces some new combina¬
tion ; they are continually crossing, advancing, and re¬
tiring; the breadth of the valley is never the same 40
yards together : at the narrow pass which has been
mentioned, the rocks almost meet at the top, and the
sky is seen as through a chink between them : just by
this gloomy abyss, is a wider opening, more light,
more verdure, more cheerfulness than anywhere else
in the dale. Nor are the forms and the situations of
the rocks their only variety: many of them are per¬
forated by large natural cavities, some of which open
to the sky, some terminate in dark recesses, and through
some are to be seen several more uncouth arches, and
rude pillars, all detached, and retiring beyond each
other, with the light shining in between them, till a
rock far behind them closes the perspective: the noise
of the cascades in the river echoes amongst them ; the
water may often he heard at the same time gurgling
near, and roaring at a distance ; hut no other sounds
disturb the silence of the spot: the only trace of men
is a blind path, but lightly and but seldom trodden, by
those whom curiosity leads to see the wonders they
have been told of Dovedale. It seems indeed a fitter
haunt for mere ideal beings : the whole has the air of
enchantment. The perpetual shifting of the scenes ;
the quick transitions, the total changes, then the forms
all around, grotesque as chance can cast, wild as nature
can produce, and various as imagination can invent ;
the lorce which seems to have been exerted to place
*ome of the rocks where they are now fixed immove¬
able, the magic by which others appear still to be sus¬
pended; the dark caverns, the illuminated recesses, the
fleeting shadows, and the gleams of light glancing on
the sides, or trembling on the stream ; and the loneli¬
ness and the stillness of the place, all crowding toge¬
ther on the mind, almost realize the ideas which natu¬
rally present themselves in this region of romance and
of fancy.
I he solitude of such a scene is agreeable, on ac¬
count of the endless entertainment which its variety
aftords, and in the contemplation of which both the
«7e and the mind are delighted to indulge : marks of
inhabitants and cultivation would disturb that solitude;
E N I N G. 397
and ornamental buildings are too artificial in a place Fence 5cc
so absolutely free from restraint. The only accom-  
paniments proper for it are wood and water ; and by
these sometimes improvements may be made. When
two rocks similar in shape and position are near toge¬
ther, by skirling one of them with wood, while the
other is left bare, a material distinction is established
between them if the streams be throughout of one
character, it is in our power, and should be our aim,
to introduce another. Variety is the peculiar pro¬
perty of the spot, and every accession to it is ayaluahle
acquisition. On the same principle, endeavours should
be used not only to multiply, but to aggravate differ¬
ences, and to increase distinctions into contrasts: but
the subject will impose a caution against attempting
too much. Art must almost despair ot improving
a scene, where nature seems to have exerted her inven¬
tion.
§ 2. Of Factitious Accompaniments.
These consist of I ences, W alks, Roads, Bridges, Practical
SeatSj and Buildings. Treatiu on
Planting
“ I. The FENCE, where the place is large, becomes
necessary; yet the eye dislikes constraint. Our ideas p. 5 9
of liberty carry us beyond our own species : the ima¬
gination feels a dislike in seeing even the brute creation
in a state of confinement. The birds wafting them¬
selves from wood to grove are objects of delight; and
the hare appears to enjoy a degree of happiness un¬
known to the barriered flock. Besides, a tall fence fre¬
quently hides from the sight objects the most pleasing;
not only the flocks and herds themselves, but the surface
they graze upon. These considerations have brought
the unseen fence into general use.
This species of barrier it must be allowed incurs a
degree of deception, which can scarcely be warranted
upon any other occasion. In this instance, however,
it is a species of fraud which we observe in nature’s
practice : how often have we seen two distinct herds
feeding to appearance in the same extended meadow ;
until coming abruptly upon a deep sunk rivulet, or an
unfordable river, we discover the deception.
Besides the sunk fence, another sort of unseen bar¬
rier may be made, though by no means equal to that,
especially if near the eye. This is constructed of paling,
painted of the invisible green. If the colour of the
back ground were permanent, and that of the paint
made exactly to correspond with it, the deception
would at a distance be complete; but back grounds
in general changing with the season, this kind of fence
is the less eligible.
Clumps and patches of woodiness scattered promis¬
cuously on either side of an unseen winding fence, assist
very much in doing away the idea of constraint. For
by this means
The wand’ring flocks that browse between the shades.
Seem oft to pass their bounds ; the dubious eye
Decides not if they crop the mead or lawn.
Mason.,
“ II. The WALK, in extensive grounds, is as ne¬
cessary as the fence. The beauties of the place are dis¬
closed that they may be seen; and it is the office of the
walk.
39^
Bridge, See.
TbiiP'
CARD
walk to lead the eye from view to view j in order that
whilst.the tone of health is preserved by the favourite
exercise of nature, the mind may be thrown into unison
by the harmony of the surrounding objects.
The direction of the walk must be guided by the
points of view to which it leads, and the nature of the
ground it passes over : it ought to be made subservient
to the natural impediments (the ground, wood, and
water) which fall in its way, without appearing .to
have any direction of its own. It can seldom run with
propriety any distance in a straight line j a thing which
rarely occurs in a natural walk. The paths of the Ne¬
groes and the Indians are always crooked ; and those of
the brute creation are very similar. Mr Mason s de¬
scription of this path of nature is happily conceived.
The peasant driving through each shadowy lane
His team, that bends beneath th’ incumbent weight
Of laughing Ceres, marks it with his wheel j
At night and morn, the milkmaid’s careless step
Has through yon pasture green, from stile to stile
Imprest a kindred curve : the scudding hare
Draws to her dew-sprent seat, o’er thymy heaths,
A path as gently waving 
Eng. Card. v. 00.
“ III. The ROAD may be a thing of necessity, as
an approach to the mansion or a matter of amusement
only, as a drive or a ride, from which the grounds and
the surrounding country may be seen to advantage.
It should be the study of the artist to make the same
road answer, as far as may be, the twofold purpose.
The road and the walk are subject to the same rule
of nature and use. The direction ought to be natural
and easy, and adapted to the purpose intended. A road
of necessity ought to be straighter than one of mere
conveniency : in this, recreation is the predominant
idea; in that, utility. But even in this the direct line
may be dispensed with. The natural roads upon heaths
and open downs, and the grassy glades and green roads
across forests and extensive wastes, are proper subjects
to be studied.
“ IV. The BRIDGE should never he seen where it
is not wanted : a useless bridge is a deception j decep¬
tions are frauds j and fraud is always hateful, unless
when practised to avert some greater evil. A bridge
without water is an absurdity j and half a one stuck up
as an eye-trap is a paltry trick, which, though it may
strike the stranger, cannot fail of disgusting when the
fraud is found out.
In low situations, and wherever water abounds,
bridges become useful, and are therefore pleasing ob¬
jects they are looked for $ and ought to appear not
as objects of ornament only, but likewise as matters of
utilitv. The walk or the road therefore ought to be
directed in such a manner as to cross the water at the
point in which the bridge will appear to the greatest
advantage.
In the construction of bridges also, regard must be
had to ornament and utility. A bridge is an artificial
production, and as such it ought to appear. It ranks
among the noblest of human inventions ; the ship and
the fortress alone excel it. Simplicity and firmness are
the leading principles in its construction. Mr Wheat-
ley’s observation is just when he says, “ The single
E N I N G. ?{S |
wooden arch, now much in fashion, seems to me gene- Bui
rally misapplied. Elevated without occasion so much '—^
above, it is totally detached from the river*, it islbid' |
often seen straddling in the air, without a glimpse
of water to account for it *, and the ostentation of it
as an ornamental object, diverts all that train of ideas
which its use as a communication might suggest.”
But we beg leave to difier from this ingenious writer
when he tells us, “ that it is spoiled if adorned ; it is
disfigured if only painted of any other than a dusky
colour.” In a rustic scene, where nature wears her
own coarse garb, “ the vulgar foot bridge of planks
only guarded on one hand by a common rail, and sup¬
ported by a few ordinary piles,” may be in character j
but amidst a display of ornamented nature, a contrivance
of that kind would appear mean and paltry j and would
be an affectation of simplicity rather than the lovely
attribute itself. In cultivated scenes, the bridge ought
to receive the ornaments which the laws of architec¬
tural taste allow 5 and the more polished the situa¬
tion, the higher should be the style and finishings.
“ V. SEATS have a twofold use ; they are useful as
places of rest and conversation, and as guides to the
points of view in which the beauties of the surround¬
ing scene are disclosed. Every point of view should
be marked with a seat 5 and, speaking generally, no
seat ought to appear but in some favourable point of
view. This rule may not be invariable, but it ought
seldom to be deviated from.
In the ruder scenes of neglected nature, the. simple
trunk, rough from the woodman’s hands, and the
butts or stools of rooted trees, without any other marks
of tools upon them than those of the saw which se¬
vered them from their stems, are seats in character j
and in romantic or recluse situations, the cave or the
grotto are admissible. But wherever human design has
been executed upon the natural objects of the place,
the seat and every other artificial accompaniment ought
to be in unison j and whether the bench or the alcove
be chosen, it ought to be formed and finished in such
a manner as to unite with the wood, the lawn, and the
walk, which lie around it.
The colour of seats should likewise be suited to si¬
tuations : where uncultivated nature prevails, the na¬
tural brown of the wood itself ought net to be altered;
but where the rural art presides, white or stone colour
has a much better effect.
“ VI. BUILDINGS probably were first introduced Mr «
into gardens merely for convenience, to afford refuge
from a sudden shower, and shelter against the wind $ or»saill(
at the most, to be seats for a party ; or for retirement.
They have since been converted into objects, and now
the original use is too often forgotten in the greater
purposes to which they are applied : they are consi¬
dered as objects only j the inside is totally neglecte ,
and a pompous edifice frequently wants a room bare¬
ly comfortable. Sometimes the pride of making a
lavish display to a visitor without any regard to the
owner’s enjoyments, and sometimes too scrupulous an
attention to the style of the structure, occasions a po¬
verty and dulness within, which deprive the buildings,
of part of their utility. But in a garden they ought
to be considered both as beautiful objects and as a-
greeable
I.
Bi | ngS'
onM-
Mgs i end
•d fi in¬
ject»
grecable retreats : if a character becomes them, it is
’ that of the scene they belong to 5 not that of their pri¬
mitive application. A Grecian temple or Gothic
church may adorn spots where it would be affectation
to preserve that solemnity within which is proper for
places of devotion : they are not to be exact models,
subjects only of curiosity or study : they are also seats :
and such seats will be little frequented by the proprie¬
tor ; his mind must generally be indisposed to so much
simplicity, and so much gloom, in the midst of gaiety,
richness, and variety.
But though the interior of buildings should not be
disregarded, it is by their exterior that they become
objects; and sometimes by the one, sometimes by the
other, and sometimes by both, they are entitled to be
considered as characters.
i. As objects, they are designed either to distinguish,
or to break, or to adorn, the scenes to which they are
applied.
The differences between one wood, one lawn, one
piece of water, and another, are not always very appa¬
rent : the several parts of a garden would, therefore,
often seem similar, if they were not distinguished by
buildings j but these are so observable, so obvious at a
glance, so easily retained in the memory, they mark
the spots where they are placed with so much strength,
they attract the relation of all around with so much
power, that parts thus distinguished can never be con¬
founded together. Yet it by no means follows, that
therefore every scene must have its edifice: the want
of one is sometimes a variety ; and other circumstances
are often sufficiently characteristic : it is only when these
too nearly agree, that we must have recourse to build¬
ings for differences: we can introduce, exhibit, or
contrast them as we please: the most striking object is
thereby made a mark of distinction ; and the force of
this first impression prevents our observing the points
of resemblance.
„ The uniformity of a view may be broken by simi-
>- lar means, and on the same principle : when a wide
heath, a dreary moor, or a continual plain, is in pro¬
spect, objects which catch the eye supplant the want of
variety: none are so effectual for this purpose as build¬
ings. Plantations or water can have no very sensible
effect, unless they are large and numerous, and al¬
most change the character of the scene: but a small
single building diverts the attention at once from the
sameness of the extent j which it breaks, but does not
divide; and diversifies, without altering its nature.
The design, however, must not be apparent. The me-
nt of a cottage applied to this purpose, consists in its
being free from the suspicion : and a few trees near it
will both enlarge the object, and account for its posi¬
tion. Ruins are a hackneyed device immediately de¬
tected, unless their style be singular, or their dimen¬
sions extraordinary. The semblance of an ancient
British monument might be adapted to the same end,
with little trouble, and great success. The materials
might be brick, or even timber plastered over, if
stone could not easily be procured : whatever they
were, the fallacy would not be discernible ; it is an
object to be seen at a distance, rude, and large, and
10 character agreeable to a wild open view. But no
building ought to be introduced, which may not in
reality belong to such a situation : no Grecian tem-
GARDENING.
399
pies, no Turkish mosques, no Egyptian obelisks or py-
ramids ; none imported from foreign countries, and ‘ j
unusual here. The apparent artifice would destroy an
effect, which is so nice as to be weakened, if objects
proper to produce it are displayed with too much osten¬
tation ; if they seem to be contrivances, not accidents;
and the advantage of their position appear to be more
laboured than natural.
But in a garden, where objects are intended only to
adorn, every species of architecture may be admitted,
from the Grecian down to the Chinese; and the choice is
so free, that the mischief most to be apprehended is an
abuse of this latitude in the multiplicity of buildings,
lew scenes can bear more than two or three: in some,
a single one has a greater effect than any number: and
a careless glimpse, here and there, of such as belong
immediately to dift'erent parts, frequently enlivens the
landscape with more spirit than those which are indus¬
triously shown. If the effect of a partial sight, or a
distant view, were more attended to, many scenes might
be filled, without being crowded ; a greater number of
buildings would be tolerated, when they seemed to be
casual, not forced ; and the animation, and the rich¬
ness of the objects, might be had without pretence or
display.
loo fond an ostentation of buildings, even of these
which are principal, is a common error ; and when all
is done, they are not always shown to the greatest ad¬
vantage. Though their symmetry and their beauties
ought in general to be distinctly and fully seen, yet an
oblique is sometimes better than a direct view: and
they are often less agreeable objects when entire, than
when a part is covered, or their extent is interrupted ;
when they are bosomed in wood, as well as backed by
it; or appear between the stems of trees which rise
before or above them ; thus thrown into perspective,
thus grouped and accompanied, they may be as impor¬
tant as if they were quite exposed, and are frequently
more picturesque and beautiful.
But a still greater advantage arises from this ma¬
nagement, in connecting them with the scene : they
are considerable, and different from all around them ;
inclined therefore to separate from the rest; and yet
they are sometimes still more detached by the pains
taken to exhibit them : that very importance which is
the cause of the distinction ought to be a reason for
guarding against the independence to which it is natu¬
rally prone, and by which an object, which ought to
be a part of the whole, is reduced to a mere individu¬
al. An elevated is generally a noble situation. When
it is a point or pinnacle, the structure may be a conti¬
nuation of the ascent; and on many occasions, some
parts of the building may descend lower than others,
and multiply the appearances of connexion : but an
edifice in the midst of an extended ridge, commonly
seems naked alone, and imposed upon the brow, not
joined to it. If wood, to accompany it, will not grow
there, it had better he brought a little way down the
declivity ; and then all behind, above, and about it,
are so many points of contact, by which it is incorpo¬
rated into landscape.
Accompaniments are important to a building; but
they lose much of their effect when they do not ap¬
pear to be casual. A little mount just large enough
for it; a small piece of water below, of no other use
than
400
GAUD
t than to reflect It; and a plantation close behind, evi-
Bm (jent]y p]acej there only to give it relief; are as arti-
fic al as the structure itself, and alienate it from the
scene of nature into which it is introduced, and to
which it ought to be reconciled. These appendages
therefore should be so disposed, and so connected with
the adjacent parts, as to answer other purposes, though
applicable to this : that they may be bonds of union,
not marks of difference; and that the situation may
appear to have been chosen at the most, not made, for
the building. . , .. , ,
In the choice of a situation, that which shows the
building best ought generally to be preferred : emi¬
nence, relief, and every other advantage which can
be, ought to be given to an object of so much consider¬
ation : they are for the most part desirable ; sometimes
necessary; and exceptionable only when, instead of ris¬
ing out of the scene, they are forced into .it, and a
contrivance to procure them at any rate is avowed
without any disguise. There are, however, occasions,
in which the most tempting advantages of situation
must be waved; the general composition may forbid a
building in one spot, or require it in another; at other
times, the interest of the particular group it belongs to
may exact a sacrifice of the opportunities to exhibit its
beauties and importance ; and at all times, the pre¬
tensions of every individual object must give way to the
greater effect of the whole.
Of those 2- The same structure wllich adorns as an object, may
expressive also be expressive as * character. Where the former is
of charae. not wanted, the latter may be desirable : or it may be
ter. weak for one purpose, and strong for the other; it
may be grave, or gay ; magnificent, or simple : and
according to its style, may or may not be agreeable to
the place it is applied to. But mere consistency is not
all the merit which buildings can claim : their charac¬
ters are sometimes strong enough to determine, improve,
or correct, that of the scene : and they are so conspicu¬
ous, and so distinguished, that whatever force they
have is immediately and sensibly felt. 1 hey are fit
therefore to make a'first impression; and when a scene
is but faintly characterized, they give at once a cast
which spreads over the whole, and which the weakei
parts concur to support, though perhaps they were not
able to produce it.
Nor do they stop at fixing an uncertainty, or re¬
moving a doubt ; they raise and enforce a character
already marked : a temple adds dignity to the noblest,
a cottage simplicity to the most rural, scenes; the
lightness of a spire, the airiness of an open rotunda,
the splendour of a continued colonnade, are less orna¬
mental than expressive ; others improve cheerfulness
into gaiety, gloom into solemnity, and richness into
profusion: a retired spot, which might have been passed
unobserved, is noticed for its tranquillity, as soon as it
is appropriated by some structure to retreat ; and the
most unfrequented place seems less solitary than one
which appears to have been the haunt of a single indi¬
vidual, or even of a sequestered family, and is marked
by a lonely dwelling, or the remains of a deserted ha¬
bitation. .
The means are the same, the application ot them
only is different, when buildings are used to correct
the character of the scene ; to enliven its dulness, miti¬
gate its gloom, or to check its extravagance ; and, on
3
E N I N G. Pa:;
a variety of occasions, to soften, to aggravate, oi to
counteract, particular circumstances attending it. But >-
care must be taken that they do not contradict too
strongly the prevailing idea: they may lessen the
dreariness of a waste, but they cannot give it amenity ;
they may abate horrors, but they will never convert
them into graces ; they may make a tame scene agree¬
able, and even interesting, not romantic ; or turn so¬
lemnity into cheerfulness, but not into gaiety. In
these, and in many other instances, they correct the
character, by giving it an inclination towards a better
which is not very diflerent; but they can hardly alter
it entirely : when they are totally inconsistent with it,
they are at the best nugatory.
The great effects which have been ascribed to build-
Jugs do not depend upon those trivial ornaments and
appendages which are often too much relied on ; such
as the furniture of a hermitage, painted glass in a
Gothic church, and sculpture about a Grecian tem¬
ple ; grotesque or bacchanalian figures to denote
gaiety, and death’s heads to signify melancholy. Such
devices are only descriptive, not expressive, of cha¬
racter ; and must not be substituted in the stead of
those superior properties, the want of which they ac¬
knowledge, but do not supply. They besides often re¬
quire time to trace their meaning, and to see their ap¬
plication ; but the peculiar excellence of buildings is,
that their efiects are instantaneous, and therefore the
impressions they make are forcible. In order to pro¬
duce such efiects, the general style of the structure,
and its position, are the principal considerations.. ei¬
ther of them will sometimes be strongly characteristic
alone ; united, their powers are very great; and both
are so important, that if they do not concur, at least
they must not contradict one another.
Every branch of architecture furnishes, on differentSpfdni
occasions, objects proper for a garden ; and there is no«wj!k
. • ,  i~~mnfnrmame to0 "
I I  (T m ' - lift
restraint on our selection, provided it be.contormable to.
the style of the scene, proportioned to its extent, an-
agreeable to its character.
13 The choice of situations is also very free. A hermi¬
tage, indeed, must not be close to a road; but whether it
be exposed to view on the side oi a mountain, or conceal¬
ed in the depth of a wood, is almost a matter of indif¬
ference ; that it is at a distance from public resort is suf¬
ficient. A castle must not be sunk in a bottom ; but that
it should stand on the utmost pinnacle of a hill, is not
necessary ; on a lower knoll, and backed by the rise, it
may appear to greater advantage as an object, be
much more important to the general composition. Ma¬
ny buildings, which from their splendour best become
an open exposure, will yet be sometimes not ill bestow¬
ed on a more sequestered spot, either to characterize or
adorn it ; and others, for which a solitary would in ge¬
neral be preferred to an eminent situation, may occa¬
sionally be objects in very conspicuous positions. A
Grecian temple, from its peculiar taste and dignity,
deserves every distinction ; it may, however, in G.e
depth of a wood, be so circumstanced, that the want
of those advantages to which it seems entitled will net
be regretted. A happier situation cannot be devised,
than that of the temple of Pan on the south lodge on
Enfield Chase. It is of the usual oblong form, encom¬
passed by a colonnade ; in dimensions, and in style, >t
is equal to a most extensive landscape: and yet by the
^ antique
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CARD
antique and rustic air of its Doric columns without
bases j by the chastity of its little ornaments, a crook,
a pipe, and a scrip, and those only over the doors ; and
by the simplicity of the whole both within and without)
it is adapted with so much propriety to the thickets
which conceal it from the view, that no one can wish
it to be brought forward, who is sensible to the charms
of the Arcadian scene which this building alone has
created. On the other hand, a very spacious field, or
sheep walk, will not be disgraced by a farm house, a
cottage, or a Dutch barn; nor will they, though small
and familiar, appear to be inconsiderable or insigni-
cant objects. Numberless other instances might be ad¬
duced to prove the impossibility of restraining particu¬
lar buildings to particular situations, upon any general
principles: the variety in their forms is hardly greater
than in their application. Only let not their uses be
disguised, as is often absurdly attempted with the hum¬
bler kinds. “ A barn % dressed up in the habit of a
country church, or a farm house figuring away in the
fierceness of a castle, are ridiculous deceptions. A
landscape daubed upon a board, and a wooden steeple
stuck up in a wood, are beneath contempt.”
Temples, those favourite and most costly objects in
gardens, too generally merit censure for their inutility,
their profusion, or the impropriety of their purpose.
“ Whether they be dedicated to Bacchus, Venus, Pria-
pus, or any other demon of debauchery, they are in
this age, enlightened with regard to theological and
scientific knowledge, equally absurd. Architecture,
in this part of its sphere, may more nobly, and with
greater beauty and efiect, be exercised upon a chapel,
a mausoleum, a monument, judiciously disposed among
the natural ornaments. The late Sir William Har-
bord has given us a model, of the first kind, at Gun-
ton, in Norfolk ; the parish church standing in his
park, and being an old unsightly building, he had
it taken down, and a beautiful temple, under the di¬
rection of the Adams erected upon its site for the same
sacred purpose :—The mausoleum at Castle-Howard,
in Yorkshire, the seat of the earl of Carlisle, is a noble
structure :—And as an instance of the last sort, mav be
mentioned the Temple of Concord and Victory at
Stowe, erected to the memory of the great Lord Cha¬
tham and his glorious war j a beautiful monumental
building, suited to the greatness of the occasion.”
To the great variety above mentioned must be added,
Mr Wheatley observes, the many changes which may
be made by the means of ruins. They are a class by
themselves,beautiful as objects,expressive as characters,
and peculiarly calculated to connect with appendages
into elegant groups. They may be accommodated
with ease to irregularity of ground, and their disorder
is improved by it. They may be intimately blended
with trees and thickets; and the interruption is an ad¬
vantage : for imperfection and obscurity are their pro¬
perties, and to carry the imagination to something
greater than is seen, is their effect. They may for any
of these purposes be separated into detached pieces :
contiguity is not necessary, nor even the appearance
of it, if the relation be preserved ; but straggling ruins
have a bad effect, when the several parts are equally
considerable. There should be one large mass to raise
an idea of greatness, to attract the others about it, and
to be a common centre of union to all: the smaller
Vol. IX. Part II. f
E N I N G.
401
pieces then mark the original dimensions of one exten- Buildings,
sive structure ; and no longer appear to be the remains y-”
of several little buildings.
All remains excite an inquiry into the former state of
the edifice, and fix the mind in a contemplation of the
use it was applied to ; besides the characters expressed
by their style and position, they suggest ideas which
would not arise from the buildings if entire. The pur¬
poses of many have ceased: an abbey, or a castle, if
complete, can now be no more than a dwelling ; the
memory of the times, and of the manners to which
they are adapted, is preserved only in history, and in
ruins ; and certain sensations of regret, of veneration,
or compassion, attend the recollection. Nor are these
confined to the remains of buildings which are in
disuse; those of an old mansion raise reflections on the
domestic comforts once enjoyed, and the ancient hos¬
pitality which reigned there. Whatever building we
see in decay, we naturally contrast its present with
its former state, and delight to ruminate on the com¬
parison. It is true that such effects properly belong
to real ruins : they are, however, produced in a cer¬
tain degree by those which are fictitious : the impres¬
sions are not so strong, but they are exactly similar;
and the representation, though it does not present facts
to the memory, yet suggests subjects to the imagina¬
tion. But, in order to affect the fancy, the supposed
original design should be clear, the use obvious, and the
form easy to be traced : no fragments should be
hazarded without precise meaning, and an evident
connexion ; none should be perplexed in their con¬
struction, or uncertain as to their application. Con¬
jectures about the form raise doubts about the exist¬
ence of the ancient structure : the mind must not be
allowed to hesitate; it must be hurried away from exa¬
mining into the reality by the exactness and the force
of the resemblance.
In the ruins of Tintern abbey || the original con-jj
struction of the church is perfectly marked ; and it is fheprtow
principally from this circumstance that they are cede-and Mon-
brated as a subject of curiosity and contemplation.mout^
The walls are almost entire ; the roof only is fallen in,
but most of the columns which divided the aisles are
still standing : of those which have dropped down, the
bases remain, every one exactly in its place ; and in the
middle of the nave four lofty arches, which once sup¬
ported the steeple, rise high in the air above all the
rest, each reduced now to a narrow rim of stone, but
completely preserving its form. The shapes even of
the windows are little altered ; but some of them are
quite obscured, others partially shaded, by tufts of
ivy ; and those which are most clear are edged with
its slender tendrils, and lighter foliage, wreathing
about the sides and the divisions : it winds round the
pillars; it clings to the walls ; and in one of the aisles
clusteis at the top in branches, so thick and so large as
to darken the space below. The other aisles, and the
great nave, are exposed to the sky: the floor is entire¬
ly overspread with turf; and to keep it clear from
weeds and bushes, is now its highest preservation.
Monkish tomb stones and the monuments of bene¬
factors long since forgotten, appear above the green
sward : the bases of the pillars which have fallen,
rise out of it; and maimed effigies, and sculpture
worn with age and weather, Gothic capitals, carved
3 E cornices,
CARD
cornices and various fragments, are scattered about,
or lie in heaps piled up together. Other shattered
pieces, though disjointed and mouldering, still occupy
their original places j and a staircase much impaired,
which led to a tower now no more, is suspended
at a great height, uncovered and inaccessible : nothing
is perfect j but memorials of every part still subsist 3
all certain, but all in decay j and suggesting at once
every idea which can occur in a seat of devotion,
solitude, and desolation. Upon such models fictitious
ruins should be formed ; and il any parts are en¬
tirely lost, they should be such as the imagination
can easily supply from those which are still remain¬
ing. Distinct traces of the building, which is supposed
to" have existed, are less liable to the suspicion ot
artifice, than an unmeaning heap of confusion. Pre¬
cision is always satisfactory, but in the reality it is
only agreeable; in the copy it is essential to the imi¬
tation. . . .
A material circumstance to the truth 01 the imitation
is, that the ruins appear to be very old. The idea is
besides interesting in itself: a monument of antiquity
is never seen with indifference; and a semblance of age
may be given to the representation by the hue of the
materials, the growth of ivy and other plants, and cracks
and fragments seemingly occasioned rather by decay
than bv destruction. An appendage evidently more
modern than the principal structure will sometimes cor¬
roborate the effect: the shed of a cottager amidst the
remains of a temple, is a contrast both to the former
and to the present state of the building 5 and a tree
flourishing among ruins, shows the length of time they
have lain neglected. No circumstance so forcibly marks
the desolation of a spot once inhabited, as the preva¬
lence of nature over it:
Campos ubi Troja fait,
is a sentence which conveys a stronger idea of a city
totally overthrown, than a description of its remains }
but in a representation to the eye, some remains must
appear ; and then the perversion of them to an ordinary
use, or an intermixture of a vigorous vegetation, inti¬
mates a settled despair of their restoration.
Sect. II. Principles of Selection and Arrangement in
the Subjects of Gardening.
E N I N G. 4 Pail,
on every occasion, to endeavour to avoid labour j or, Piciou,J
if indispensably necessary, to conceal it. No trace Eta ,
should be left to lead^back the mind to the expensive &
toil. A mound raised, a mountain levelled, or a use-^ ^ J !
less temple built, convey to the mind feelings equally
disgusting.
II. PICTURESQUE BEAUTY. Though theofSoL
aids of art are as essential to gardening, as education is Ibi
to manners $ yet art may do too much : she ought to
be considered as the handmaid, not as the mistress, of
nature j and whether she he employed in carving a
tree into the figure of an animal, or in shaping a view
into the form of a picture, she is equally culpable.
The nature of the place is sacred. Should this tend
to landscape, from some principal point of view, assist
nature and perfect it 5 provided this can he done with¬
out injuring the views from other points. But do not
disfigure the natural features of the place:—do not sa¬
crifice its native beauties, to the arbitrary laws of land¬
scape painting.
Great Nature scorns controul ; she will not bear
One beauty foreign to the spot or soil
She gives thee to adorn : ’Tis thine alone
To mend, not change, her features. Mason.
Nature scarcely knows the thing mankind call a land¬
scape. The landscape painter seldom, if ever, finds it
perfected to his hands j some addition or alteration
is almost always wanted. Every man who has made
his observations upon natural scenery, knows that the
misletoe of the oak occurs almost as often as a perfect
natural landscape ; and to attempt to make up artifi¬
cial landscape upon every occasion is unnatural and
absurd.
If, indeed, the eye were fixed in one point, the trees
could be raised to their full height at command, and the
sun be made to stand still, the rural artist might work
by the rules of light and shade, and compose his land¬
scape by the painter’s law. But, whilst the sun con¬
tinues to pour forth its light impartially, and the
trees to rise with slow progression, it would be
ridiculous to attempt it. Let him rather seek out,
imitate, and associate, such striking passages in nature
as are immediately applicable to the place to be im¬
proved, with regard to rules of landscape, merely hu¬
man :—and let him,
Planting
and Gar¬
dening,
p. 602.
I. Of ART. In the lower classes of rural improve¬
ments, art should be seen as little as may be and in the
more negligent scenes of nature, every thing ought to
appear as if it had been done by the general laws of
nature, or had grown out of a series of fortuitous cir¬
cumstances. But in the higher departments, art can¬
not be hid ; and the appearance of design ought not to
be excluded. A human production cannot be made
perfectly natural; and held out as such it becomes an
imposition. Our art lies in endeavouring to adapt the
productions of nature to human taste and perceptions j
and if much art be used, do not attempt to hide it. Art
seldom fails to please when executed in a masterly man¬
ner : nay, it is frequently the design and execution,
more than the production itself, that strikes us. It is
the artifice, not the design, which ought to be avoid¬
ed. It is the labour and not the art which ought to
be concealed. The rural artist ought, therefore, up-
2
in this and all
Be various, wild, and free, as Nature’s self. Mason.
Instead of sacrificing the natural beauties of the place
to one formal landscape, let every step disclose fresh
charms unsought for.
III. Of CHARACTER. Character is very recon¬
cilable with beauty ; and, even when independent of
it, has attracted so much regard, as to occasion seve¬
ral frivolous attempts to produce it: statues, inscrip-
tions, and even paintings, history and mythology, andofc f
a variety of devices, have been introduced lor this f
purpose. The heathen deities and heroes have there- j
fore [had their several places assigned to them in the of" t
woods and lawns of a garden j natural cascades have map
been disfigured with river gods, and columns erected on-eJ
ly to receive quotations j the compartiments of a sum¬
mer
Ol lita-
ti^ lia*
rs s.
#t I. CARD
lfter mer house have been filled with pictures of gambols and
revels, as significant of gaiety j the cypress, because
it was once used in funerals, has been thought pecu¬
liarly adapted to melancholy; and the decorations, the
furniture, and the environs of a building, have been
crowded with puerilities under pretence of propriety.
All these devices are rather emblematical than expres¬
sive : they may be ingenious contrivances, and recal ab¬
sent ideas to the recollection 5 but they make no imme¬
diate impression : for they must be examined, compar¬
ed, perhaps explained, before the whole design of them is
well understood. And though an allusion to a favourite
or well known subject of history, of poetry, or of tra¬
dition, may now and then animate or dignify a scene ;
yet as the subject does not naturally belong to a garden,
the allusion should not be principal : it should seem to
have been suggested by the scene j a transitory image,
which irresistibly occurred ; not sought for, not labour¬
ed ; and have the force of a metaphor, free from the
detail of an allegory.
Another species of character arises from direct imi¬
tation ; when a scene or an object, which has been ce¬
lebrated in description, or is familiar in idea, is repre¬
sented in a garden. Artificial ruins, lakes, and rivers,
fall under this denomination. The air of a seat extend¬
ed to a distance, and scenes calculated to raise ideas of
Arcadian elegance or of rural simplicity, with many
more which have been occasionally mentioned, or will
obviously occur, may be ranked in this class. They
are all representations. But the materials, the dimen¬
sions, and other circumstances, being the same in the
copy and the original, their effects are similar in both:
and if not equally strong, the defect is not in the re¬
semblance $ but the consciousness of an imitation
checks that train of thought which the appearance na¬
turally suggests. Yet an over anxious solicitude to dis¬
guise the fallacy is often the means of exposing it: too
many points of likeness sometimes hurt the deception ;
they seem studied and forced j and the affectation of
resemblance destroys the supposition of a reality. A
hermitage is the habitation of a recluse j it should be
distinguished by its solitude, and its simplicity : but
if it is filled with crucifixes, hour glasses, beads, and
every other trinket which can be thought of, the
attention is diverted from enjoying the retreat to ex¬
amining the particulars : all the collateral circumstan¬
ces which agree with a character seldom meet in one
subject j and when they are industriously brought to¬
gether, though each be natural, the collection is ar¬
tificial.
But the art of gardening aspires to more than imita-
ters. tion : it can create original characters, and give ex¬
pressions to the several scenes superior to any they can
receive from allusions. Certain properties, and certain
dispositions, of the objects of nature, are adapted to ex¬
cite particular ideas and sensations $ many of them have
been occasionally mentioned, and all are very well
known. They require no discernment, examination, or
discussion *, hut are obvious at a glance, and instantane¬
ously distinguished by our feelings. Beauty alone is not
so engaging as this species of character: the impressions
it makes are more transient and less interesting $ for it
aims only at delighting the eye, but the other affects
our sensibility. An assemblage of the most elegant
forms in the happiest situations is to a degree indiscrimi-
final
E N I N G,
nate, if they have not been selected and arranged with
a design to produce certain expressions j an air of mag¬
nificence, or ot simplicity, of cheerfulness, tranquillity,
or some other general character, ought to pervade the
whole j and objects pleasing in themselves, if they con¬
tradict that character, should therefore be excluded :
those which are only indifferent must sometimes make
room for such as more significant; many will often
be introduced for no other merit than their expression ;
and some, which are in general rather disagreeable,
may occasionally be recommended by it. Barrenness
itself may be an acceptable circumstance in a spot de¬
dicated to solitude and melancholy.
I he power of such characters is not confined to the
ideas which the objects immediately suggest; for these
are connected with others, which insensibly lead to
subjects far distant perhaps from the original thought,
and related to it only by a similitude in the sensations
they excite. In a prospect enriched and enlivened with
inhabitants and cultivation, the attention is caught at
first by the circumstances which are gayest in their sea¬
son, the bloom of an orchard, the festivity of a hay
field, and the carols of harvest home ; but the cheerful¬
ness which these inluse into the mind, expands afterwards
to other objects than those immediately presented to the
eye ; and we are thereby disposed to receive, and de¬
lighted to pursue, a variety of pleasing ideas, and every
benevolent feeling. At the sight of a ruin, reflections
on the change, the decay and the desolation before us,
naturally occur; and they introduce a long succession
of others all tinctured with that melancholy which these
have inspired ; or if the monument revive the memory
of former times, we do not stop at the simple fact which
it records, but recollect many more coeval circumstan¬
ces, which we see, not perhaps as they were, but as they
are come down to us, venerable with age, and magni¬
fied by fame. Even without the assistance of buildings
or other adventitious circumstances, nature alone fur¬
nishes materials for scenes which may be adapted to
almost every kind of expression : their operation is ge¬
neral, and their consequences are infinite : the mind
is elevated, depressed, or composed, as gaiety, gloom,
or tranquillity, prevails in the scene; and we soon Jose
sight of the means by which the character is formed ;
we forget the particular objects it presents ; and giving
way to their effects, without recurring to the cause, we
follow the track they have begun, to any extent which
the disposition they accord with will allow. It suffices
that the scenes of nature have a power to affect our ima¬
gination and our sensibility ; for such is the constitu¬
tion of the human mind, that if once it is agitated,
the emotion spreads far beyond the occasion : when
the passions are roused, their course is unrestrained ;
when the fancy is on the wing, its flight is unbound¬
ed ; and, quitting the inanimate objects which first
gave them their spring, we may be led by thought
above thought, widely differing in degree, but still cor¬
responding in character, till we rise from familiar sub¬
jects up to the sublimest conceptions, and are wrapt in
the contemplation of whatever is great or beautiful,
which we see in nature, feel in man, or attribute to di¬
vinity.
IV. GENERAL ARRANGEMENT. Notwith¬
standing the nature of the place, as already observed,
3 E 3 ought
40 3
404
Huntms- ought not to be sacrificed to the mansion ;—the house
Box. must ever be allowed to be a principal in the composi-
’ v tion. It ought to be considered as the centre of the
Jra^ca* system; and the rays of art, like those of the sun,
Planting0 should grow fainter as they recede from the centre.
and Gar- The house itself being entirely a work of art, its imme-
dening, diate environs should be highly finished ; but as the
distance increases, the appearance of design should
gradually diminish, until nature and fortuitousness
have fall possession of tlie scene*
In general, the approach should be to the back front,
which^ in suitable situations, ought to lie open to the
pasture grounds. On the sides more highly ornamented,
a well kept gravel walk may embrace the walls ; to this
the shaven lawn and shrubbery succeed: next, the
grounds closely pastured; and lastly, the surrounding
country, which ought not to be considered as out of the
artist’s reach : for his art consists not more in decora¬
ting particular spots, than in endeavouring to render the
whole face of nature delightful.
Another reason for this mode of arrangement is, ob¬
jects immediately under the eye are seen more distinct¬
ly than those at a distance, and ought to be such as are
pleasing in the detail. The beauties of a flower can
be discerned on a near view only ; whilst at a distance
a roughet of coppice wood, and the most elegant ar¬
rangement of flowering shrubs, have the same effect.
The most rational entertainment the human mind is
„ 606 capable of receiving, is that of observing the operations
of nature. The foliation of a leaf, the blowing of
Part:],
flowers, and the maturation of fruits, are among the Oman,,,
most delightful subjects that a contemplative mind caned Cou*.
be employed in. These processes of nature are slow ; wv-j
and except the object fall spontaneously under the eye
of the observer, the inconveniences of visiting it in a
remote part, so far interfere with the more important
employments of life, as to blunt, if not destroy, the
enjoyment. This is a strong argument in favour
of shrubs and flowers being planted under or near
our windows, especially those from whence they
may be viewed during the hours of leisure and tran¬
quillity.
Further, the vegetable creation being subject to the
animal, the shrub may be cropt, or the flower trodden
down in its day of beauty. If therefore we wish to
converse with nature in private, intruders must be kept
off,—the shrubbery be severed from the ground ;—yet
not in such a manner as to drive away the pasturing
stock from our sight. For this reason, the shaven lawn
ought not to be too extensive, and the fence which in¬
closes it should be such as will not interrupt the view :
but whether it be seen or unseen, suspected or unsuspect¬
ed, is a matter of no great import: its utility in pro¬
tecting the shrubs and flowers,—in keeping the horns
of the cattle from the window, and the feet ol the sheep
from the gravel and broken ground,—in preserving
that neatness on the outside, which ought to correspond
with the finishings and furniture within,—render it of
sufficient importance to become even a part of the orna¬
ment.
GARDENING.
PART II. EXECUTION OE THE GENERAL SUBJECTS.
IMPROVEMENTS in general may be classed un¬
der the following heads : The Hunting-Box, the Or/za-
mented Cottage, the Villa, and the Principal Residence.
But before any step can be taken towards the execu¬
tion of the design, be it large or small, a map or plan
of the place, exactly as it lies in its unimproved state,
should be made ; with a corresponding sketch to mark
the intended improvements upon. Not a hovel nor a
twig should be touched, until the artist has studied ma¬
turely the natural abilities of the place, and has deci¬
dedly fixed in his mind,] and finally settled on his plan,
the proposed alterations : and even then, let him “ dare
with caution.”
1. Of Improvements adapted to a Hunting-Box.
Here art has little to do. Hunting may be called
the amusement of nature; and the place appropriated
to it ought to be no farther altered from its natural state
than decency and conveniency require:—"With men
who live in the present age of refinement, “ a want of
decency is a want of sense.”
The style throughout should be masculine. If shrubs
Ibid. ke required, they should be of the hardier sorts: the
p. 6io, See. the holly, the laurnstinus. The trees should be
the oak and the beech, which give in autumn an agree¬
able variety of foliage, and anticipate as it were the
season of diversion. A suite of paddocks should be
seen from the house ; and if a view of distant covers
can be caught, the back-ground will be complete.
The stable, the kennel, and the leaping-bar, are the
factitious accompaniments ; in the construction of which
simplicity, substantialness, and conveniency, should pre¬
vail.
2. Of the Style of an Ornamented Cottage.
Neatness and simplicity ought to mark the style of
this rational retreat. Ostentation and show should be
cautiously avoided; even elegance should not be at¬
tempted ; though it may not be hid, if it offer itself
spontaneously.
Nothing, however, should appear vulgar, nor should
simplicity be pared down to baldness; every thing
whimsical or expensive ought to be studiously avoid¬
ed ;—chasteness and frugality should appear in every
part.
Near the house a studied neatness may take place;
but at a distance, negligence should rather be the cha¬
racteristic.
If a taste for botany lead to a collection of native
shrubs and flowers, a shrubbery will be requisite ; but
in this every thing should be native. A gaudy exotic
ought not to be admitted; nor should the lawn be kept
close shaven ; its flowers should be permitted to blow;
and the herbage, when mown, ought to be carried on,
and applied to some useful purpose.
In the artificial accompanyments, ornament must be
subordinate; utility must preside. The buildings, if any
appear, should be those in actual use in rural economics.
If the hovel be wanted, let it appear ; and as a side-
screen, the barn and rick-yard are admissible ; whilst
J the
i.a,
II. G A H D
the dove-house and poultry-yard may enter more freely
into the composition.
In fine, the ornamented cottage ought to exhibit cul¬
tivated nature in the first stage of refinement. It ranks
next above the farm-house. The plain garb of rusticity
may be set off to advantage ; but the studied dress of
the artist ought not to appear. That becoming neat¬
ness, and those domestic conveniences, which render
the rural life agreeable to a cultivated mind, are all
that should be aimed at.
3. 0/' the Embellishment of a Villa.
This demands a style very different from the preced¬
ing. It ought to be elegant, rich, or grand, accord¬
ing to the styje of the house itself, and the state of the
surrounding country \ the principal business of the artist
being to connect these two in such a manner, that the
one shall not appear naked or flaring, nor the other de¬
solate and inhospitable.
If the house be stately, and the adjacent country rich
and highly cultivated, a shrubbery may intervene, in
which art may show her utmost skill. Here the artist
may even be permitted to play at landscape : for a place
of this kind being supposed to be small, the purpose
principally ornamental, and the point of view probably
confined simply to the house, side-screens may be form¬
ed, and a fore-ground laid out suitable to the best dis¬
tance that can be caught.
If buildings or other artificial ornaments abound in
the offscope, so as to mark it strongly, they ought also
to appear more or less in the fore-ground : if the dis¬
tance abound with wood, the fore-ground should be
thickened, lest baldness should offend j if open and na¬
ked, elegance rather than richness ought to be studied,
lest heaviness should appear.
It is far from being any part of our plan to cavil
unnecessarily at artists, whether living or dead j we
cannot, however, refrain from expressing a concern for
the almost total neglect of the principles here in or¬
namenting the vicinages of villas. It is to be regret-
ed, that in the present practice these principles seem
to be generally lost sight of. Without any regard to
uniting the house with the adjacent country, and, in¬
deed, seemingly without any regard whatever to the
offscape, one invariable plan of embellishment prevails j
namely, that of stripping the fore-ground entirely
naked, or nearly so, and surrounding it with a wavy
border of shrubs and a gravel walk $ leaving the
area, whether large or small, one naked sheet of green
sward.
In small confined spots, this plan may be eligible.
But a simple border round a large unbroken lawn only
serves to show what more is wanted. Simplicity in
general is pleasingj but even simplicity may be carried
to an extreme, so as to convey no other idea than that
of poverty and baldness. Resides, how often do we
see in natural scenery, the holly and the fox-glove
flourishing at the foot of an oak, and the primrose and
the campion adding charms to the hawthorn scattered
over the pastured lawn ? And we conceive that single
trees footed with evergreens and native flowers, and
clumps as well as borders of shrubs, are admissible in
ornamental as well as in natural scenery.
The species of shrub will vary with the purpose. If
the principal intention be a winter retreat, evergreens
E N I N G.
and the early-blowing shrubs should predominate j but
in a place to be frequented in summer and autumn, the
deciduous tribes ought chiefly to be planted.
4. Of the Principal Residence.
Here the whole art centres. The artist has here full
scope for a display of taste and genius. He has an ex¬
tent of country under his eye, and will endeavour to
make the most of what nature and accident have spread
before him.
Round a principal residence, a gentleman may be sup¬
posed to have some considerable estate, and it is not a
shrubbery and a ground only which fall under the con-
sideration of the artist : he ought to endeavour to dis¬
close to the view, either from the house or some other
point, as much as he conveniently can of the adjacent
estate. T he love of possession is deeply planted in every
man’s breast : and places should bow to the gratification
of their owners. To curtail the view by an artificial
side-screen, or any other unnatural machinery, so as to
depi ive a man of the satisfaction of overlooking bis own
estate, is an absurdity which no artist ought to be per¬
mitted to be guilty of. It is very different, however,
where the property of another intrudes upon the eye :
Here the view may, with some colour of proprietv, be
bounded by a woody screen.
The grounds, however, by a proper management,
may be made independent of whatever is external j and
though prospects are nowhere more delightful than
from a point of view which is also a beautiful spot, yet
if in the environs of such a garden they should be
wanting, the elegant, picturesque, and various scenes
within itseif, almost supply the deficiency.
“ This (says Mr Wheatley) is the character of the
gardens at Stowe : for there the views in the country
are only circumstances subordinate to the scenes j and
the principal advantage of the situation is the variety
of the ground within the inclosure. The house stands
on the brow of a gentle ascent: part of the gardens lie
on the declivity, and spread over the bottom beyond it:
this eminence is separated by a broad winding valley
from another which is higher and steeper ^ and the des¬
cents of both are broken by large dips and hollows,
sloping down the sides of the hills. The whole space is
divided into a number of scenes, each distinguished with
taste and fancy ; and the changes are so frequent, so
sudden, and complete, the transitions so artfully con¬
ducted, that the same ideas are never continued or re¬
peated to satiety.
These gardens were begun when regularity was in
fashion j and the original boundary is still preserved, on
account of its magnificence : for round the whole cir¬
cuit, of between three and four miles, is carried a very
broad gravel walk, planted with rows of trees, and open
either to the park or the country j a deep sunk fence
attends it all the way, and comprehends a space of near
400 acres. But in the interior scenes of the garden,
few traces of regularity appear j where it yet remains
in the plantations, it is generally disguised : every symp¬
tom, almost, of formality, is obliterated from the ground;
and an octagon bason in the bottom is now converted
into an irregular piece of water, which receives on one
hand two beautiful streams, and falls on the other down
a cascade into a lake.
In the front of the house is a considerable lawn, open
to
405
Principal
Refideiice.
Mr IVketiU
ley'* de-
tcriplien of
Stowe pot '
dens.
4c6 , G A R D I
Principal to the water: beyond which are two elegant Doric pa-
Residencc. vilions, placed in the boundary of the garden, but not
v—marking it, though they correspond to each other ; tor
still further back, on the brow of some rising grounds
without the inclosure, stands a noble Corinthian arch,
by which the principal approach is conducted, and irom
which all the gardens are seen, reclining hack against
their hills-, they are rich with plantations full of ob¬
jects ; and lying on both sides of the house almost
equally, every part is within a moderate distance, not¬
withstanding the extent of the whole.
On the right of the lawn, but concealed from the
house, is a perfect garden scene, called the queen s
amphitheatre, where art is avowed, though formality
is avoided. The fore-ground is scooped into a gentle
hollow. The plantations on the sides, though but just
rescued from regularity, yet in style are contrasted to
each other : they are, on one hand, chiefly thickets,
standing out from a wood j on the other, they are open
groves, through which a glimpse of the water is visible.
At the end of the hollow on a little knoll, quite detach¬
ed from all appendages, is placed an open Ionic rotun¬
da : beyond it, a large lawn slopes across the view ; a
pyramid stands on the brow ; the queen’s pillar, in a
recess on the descent; and all the three buildings, be¬
ing evidently intended for ornament alone, are peculi¬
arly adapted to a garden-scene. Yet their number does
not render it gay : the dusky hue of the pyramid, the
retired situation of the queen’s pillar, and the solitary
appearance of the rotunda, give it an air of gravity j
it is encompassed with wood 5 and all the external
views are excluded j even the opening into the lawn is
but an opening into an inclosure.
At the king’s pillar, very near to this, is another
lovely spot; which is small, hut not confined ; for no
termination appears ; the ground one way, the water
another, retire, under the trees out of sight, but no¬
where meet with a boundary. The view is first over
some very broken ground, thinly and irregularly
planted ; then between two beautiful clumps, which
feather down to the bottom ; and afterwards across a
glade, and through a little grove beyond it, to that
part of the lake where the thickets close upon the
brink, spread a tranquillity over the surface, in which
their shadows are reflected. Nothing is admitted to
disturb that quiet : no building obtrudes; for objects
to fix the eye are needless in a scene which may be
comprehended at a glance ; and none would suit the
pastoral idea it inspires, of elegance too refined for
a cottage, and of simplicity too pure for any other
edifice.
The situation of the rotunda promises, a prospect
more enlarged $ and in fact most of the objects on this
side of the garden are there visible : but they want
both connexion and contrast 5 each belongs peculiarly
to some other spot: they are all blended together in
this, without meaning and are rather shown on a
map, than formed into a picture. The water only is
capital ; a broad expanse of it is so near as to he sem
under the little groups on the hank without interrup¬
tion. Beyond it is a wood, which in one place.leaves
the lake, to run up behind a beautiful building, of
three pavilions joined by arcades, all of the Ionic
order : it is called KenVs Building.. And never was
a design more happily conceived : it seems to be cha-
, N I N G. _ Pailj
racteristically proper for a garden j it is so elegant, so PriA
varied, and so purely ornamental: it directly fronts the Kesi. ^
rotunda, and a narrow rim of the country appears a-
bove the trees beyond it. But the effect even of this
noble object is fainter here than at other points: its
position is not the most advantageous 5 and it is but
one among many other buildings, none oi which are
principal.
The scene at the temple of Bacchus is in character
directly the reverse of that about the rotunda, though
the space and the objects are nearly the same in both :
but in this, all the parts concur to form one whole.
The ground from every side shelves gradually towards
the lake 5 the plantations on the further bank open to
show Kent’s building, rise from the water’s edge to¬
wards the knoll on which it stands, and.close again
behind it. That elegant structure, inclined a little 1
from a front view, becomes more beautiful by being
thrown into perspective j and though at a greater dis¬
tance, is more important than before, because it is alone
in the view: for the queen’s pillar and the rotunda are
removed far Aside } and every other circumstance re¬
fers to this interesting object: the water attracts, the
ground and the plantations direct, the eye thither:
and the country does not just glimmer in the offscape,
but is close and eminent above the wood, and connect¬
ed by clumps with the garden. The scene altogether
is a most animated landscape j and the splendor of the
building 5 the reflection in the lake ; the transparency
of the water, and picturesque beauty of its form, diver¬
sified by little groups on the brink, while on the broad¬
est expanse no more trees cast their shadows than are
sufficient to vary the tints of the surface j all these cir¬
cumstances, vying in lustre with each other, and unit¬
ing in the point to which every part of the scene is re¬
lated, diffuse a peculiar brilliancy over the whole com-
position.
The view from Kent’s building is very different
from those which have been hitherto described. They
are all directed down the declivity of the lawn. This
rises up the ascent: the eminence being crowned with
lofty wood, becomes thereby more considerable j and
the hillocks into which the general fall is broken,
sloping further out this way than any other, they also
acquire an importance which they had not before;
that, particularly, on which the rotunda is placed,
seems here to be a profound situation ; and the struc¬
ture appears to be properly adapted to so open an ex¬
posure. The temple of Bacchus, on the contrary,
which commands such an illustrious view, is itself a
retired object, close under the covert. Hie wood rising
on the brow, and descending down one side of the. hill,
is shown to be deep is high, and seems to be higher
than it is. The lawn too is extensive ; and part of the
boundary being concealed, it suggests the idea of.a still
greater extent. A small portion only of the lake indee
is visible 5 but it is not here an object: it is a part 0,
the spot; and neither termination being in sight, it has
no diminutive appearance : if more water had been
admitted, it might have hurt the character of the place,
which is sober and temperate; neither solemn nor gay;
great and simple, but elegant; above rusticity, yet free
from ostentation.
These are the principal scenes on one side of the gar¬
dens. On the other, close to the lawn before the house,
is
t II. GAUD
jipal is the winding valley above mentioned : the lower part
enee, of it is assigned to the Elysian fields. These are water-
ed by a lovely rivulet; are very lightsome, and very
airy, so thinly are the trees scattered about them ; are
open at one end to more water and a larger glade ; and
the rest of the boundary is frequently broken to let in
objects afar off, which appear still more distant from
the manner of showing them. The entrance is under a
Doric arch, which coincides with an opening among the
trees, and forms a kind of vista, through which a Pem¬
broke bridge just below, and a lodge built like a castle
in the park, are seen in a beautiful perspective. That
bridge is at one extremity of the gardens ; the queen’s
pillar is at another; yet both are visible from the same
station in the Elysian fields: and all these external ob¬
jects are unaffectedly introduced, divested of their own
appurtenances, and combined with others which belong
to the spot. The temple of Friendship is also in sight,
just without the place ; and within it are the temples of
ancient Virtue, and of the British worthies; the one in
an elevated situation, the other low down in the valley,
and near to the water: both are decorated with the ef¬
figies of those who have been most distinguised for mi¬
litary, civil, or literary merit ; and near to the former
stands a rostral column, sacred to the memory of Cap¬
tain Grenville, who fell in an action at sea: by pla¬
cing here the meed of valour, and by filling these fields
with the representations of those who have deserved
best of mankind, the character intended to be given to
the spot is justly and poetically expressed'; and the
number of the images which are presented or excited,
perfectly corresponds with it. Solitude was never rec¬
koned among the charms of Elysium; it has been al¬
ways pictured as the mansion of delight and of joy:
and in this imitation, every circumstance accords with
that established idea. The vivacity of the stream which
flows through the vale ; the glimpses of another ap¬
proaching to join it; the sprightly verdure of the
green sward, and every bust of the British worthies
reflected in the water; the variety of the trees ; the
lightness of the greens ; their disposition ; all of them
distinct objects, and dispersed over gentle inequalities
of the ground; together with the multiplicity of ob¬
jects both within and without, which embellish and
enliven the scene ; give it a gaiety, which the imagi¬
nation can hardly conceive, or the heart wish to be ex¬
ceeded.
Close by this spot, and a perfect contrast to it, is
the alder grove ; a deep recess in the midst of a shade,
which the blaze of noon cannot brighten. The water
seems to be a stagnated pool, eating into its banks ;
and of a peculiar colour, not dirty but clouded, and
dimly reflecting the dun hue of the horse-chesnuts and
alders which press upon the brink : the stems of the
latter, rising in clusters from the same root, hear one
another down, and slant over the water. Mishapen
elms and ragged firs are frequent in the wood which
encompasses the hollow ; the trunks of dead trees are
left standing amongst them : and the uncouth sumach,
and the yew, with elder, nut, and holly, compose the
underwood: some limes and laurels are intermixed ;
but they are not many ; the wood is in general of the
darkest greens ; and the foliage is thickened with ivy,
which not only twines up the trees, but creeps also
over the falls of the ground : these are steep and.
E N I N G. 40,
abrupt : the gravel-walk is covered with moss; and a Principal
grotto at the end, faced with broken flints and pebbles, Residence;
preserves, in the simplicity of its materials, and the '-—T-—'
duskiness of its colour, all the character of its situation:
two little rotundas near it were better away ; one build¬
ing is sufficient for such a scene of solitude as this, in
which more circumstances of gloom concur than were
perhaps ever collected together.
Immediately above the alder-grove is the principal
eminence in the gardens. It is divided by a great dip
into two pinnacles ; upon one of which is a large Go¬
thic building. The space before this structure is an
extensive lawn : the ground on one side falls imme¬
diately into the dip ; and the trees which border the
lawn, sinking with the ground, the house rises above
them, and fills the interval : the vast pile seems to be
still larger than it is ; for it is thrown into perspective,
and between and above the heads of the trees, the up¬
per story, the porticoes, the turrets, and ballustrades,
and all the slated roofs, appear in a noble confusion.
On the other side of the Gothic building, the ground
slopes down a long continued declivity into a bottom,
which seems to be perfectly irriguous. Divers streams
wander about it in several directions : the conflux of that
which runs from the Elysian fields with another below
it, is full in sight; and a plain wooden bridge thrown
over the latter, and evidently designed for a passage,
imposes an air of reality on the river. Beyond it is one
of the Doric porticoes which front the house ; but now
it is alone ; it stands on a little bank above the water,
and is seen under some trees at a distance before it ;
thus grouped, and thus accompanied, it is a happy in¬
cident, concurring with many other circumstances to
distinguish this landscape by a character of cheerfulness
and amenity.
From the Gothic building a broad walk leads to
the Grecian valley, which is a scene of more grandeur
than any in the gardens. It enters them from the
park, spreading at first to a considerable breadth ; then
winds ; grows narrower, hut deeper ; and loses itself
at last in a thicket, behind some lofty elms, which in¬
terrupt the sight of the termination. Lovely woods
and groves hang all the way on the declivities : and
the open space is broken by detached trees ; which,
near the park, are cautiously and sparingly introduced,
lest the breadth should be contracted by them ; but as
the valley sinks, they advance more boldly down the
sides, stretch across or along the bottom, and cluster
at times into groups and forms, which multiply the
varieties of the larger plantations. Those are some¬
times close coverts, and sometimes open groves : the
trees rise in one upon high stems, and feather down to
the bottom in another ; and between them are short
openings into the park or the gardens. In the midst
of the scene, just at the bend of the valley, and com¬
manding it on both sides, upon a large, easy, natural
rise, is placed the temple of Concord and Victory : at
one place its majestic front of six Ionic columns, sup¬
porting a pediment filled with has relief, and the points
of it crowned with statues, faces the view; at another,
the beautiful colonnade, on the side, of 10 lofty pillars,
retires in perspective. It is seen from every part; and
impressing its own character of dignity on all around,
in spreads an awe over the whole : but no gloom, no
melancholy, attends it: the sensations it excites are ra-
40 B CARD
Principal ther placid ; but full of respect, admiration, and so-
Reiidence. lemnity: no water appears to enliven, no distant pro-
' ■' """ ‘ spect to enrich the view j the parts of the. scene aie
large, the idea of it sublime, and the execution happy }
it is independent of all adventitious circumstances, and
relies on itself for its greatness.
The scenes which have been described are such as
are most remarkable for beauty or character but the
1   + g in
E
N I N G. _ Parti,
pass obliquely upon the house and its accompaniments j Pric s|
wardens contain many more > and even the objects in
these, by their several combinations, produce very oil-
Ferent effects, within the distance sometimes of a tew
paces, from the unevenness of the ground, the variety
of the plantations, and the number of the buildings.
The multiplicity of the last has indeed been often urged
as an objection to Stowe •, and certainly, when all are
seen by a stranger in two or three hours, twenty or
thirty capital structures, mixed with others of inferior
note, do seem too many. But the growth of the wood
every day weakens the objection, by concealing them
one from the other : each belongs to a distinct scene •,
and if they are considered separately, at different times,
and at leisure, it may be difficult to determine which
to take away. Yet still it must be acknowledged that
their frequency destroys all ideas of silence and retire¬
ment. Magnificence and splendor are the characteris¬
tics of Stowe: it is like one of those places celebrated
in antiquity, which were devoted to the purposes of
religion, and filled with sacred groves, hallowed foun¬
tains, and temples dedicated to several deities ; the
resort of distant nations, and the object.of veneration
to half the heathen world : this pomp is, at Stowe,
blended with beauty ; and the place is equally distin¬
guished by its amenity and its grandeur.
In the midst of so much embellishment as may be
introduced into this species of garden, a plain field, oi
a sheep-walk, is sometimes an agreeable relief, and
even wilder scenes may occasionally be admitted. These
indeed are not properly parts of a garden, but they
may be comprehended within the verge of it $ and the
proximity to the more ornamented scenes is at least a
convenience, that the transition from the one to the
other may be easy, and the change always in our op¬
tion. For though a spot in the highest state of im¬
provement be a necessary appendage to a seat; yet, in
a place which is perfect, other characters will not be
wanting : if they cannot be had on a large scale, they
are acceptable on a smaller; and so many circumstan¬
ces are common to all, that they might often be inter¬
mixed ; they may always border on each other.”
Practical But on this head it would be in vain to attempt to
Treatise on\^y down particular rules: different places are maiked
Planting sets 0f features as different from each other as are
those in men’s faces. Much must be left to the skill
and taste of the artist; and let those be what they may,
nothing but mature study of the natural abilities of the
particular place to be improved can render him equal
to the execution, so as to make the most of the mate¬
rials that are placed before him.
Some few general rules may nevertheless be laid
down. The approach ought to be conducted in such
a manner, that the striking features of the place shall
burst upon the view at once : no trick however should
be made use of: all should appear to fall in naturally.
In leading towards the house, its direction should not
be fully in front, not exactly at an angle, but should
and Gar¬
dening,
p. 615.
so that their position with respect to each other, asResidL
well as the perspective appearance of the house itself, f1—
may vary at every step : and having shown the front
and the principal wing, or other accompaniment, to
advantage, the approach should wind to the back front,
which, as has been already observed, ought to lie open
to the park or pastured grounds.
The improvements and the rooms from which they
are to be seen should be in unison. Thus, the view
from the drawing-room should be highly embellished,
to correspond with the beauty and elegance within:
every thing here should be feminine, elegant, beauti¬
ful, such as attunes the mind to politeness and lively
conversation. The breakfasting room should have
more masculine objects in view : wood, water, and an
extended country for the eye to roam over; such as al-
lures us imperceptibly to the ride or the chase. The
eating and banqueting rooms need no exterior allure¬
ments.
There is a harmony in taste as in music: variety,
and even wildness upon some occasions, may be ad¬
mitted ; but discord cannot be allowed. If, therefore,
a place be so circumstanced as to consist of properties
totally irreconcileable, the parts ought, if possible, to
be separated in such a manner, that, like the air and
the recitative, the adagio and the allegro, in music,
they may set off each other’s charms by the contrast—
These observations, in the elegant performance whence Dewi m
they are extracted, the author illustrates by the follow-^
ing description and proposed improvement of Perse-p 4l .{
field, the seat of Mr Morris, near Chepstow in Mon-
mouthshire ; a place upon which nature has been pe¬
culiarly lavish of her favours, and which has been spo¬
ken of by Mr Wheatley, Mr Gilpin, and other writers,
in the most flattering terms. .
« Persefield is situated upon the banks of the river
Wye, which divides Gloucestershire and Monmouth¬
shire’ and which was formerly the boundary between
England and Wales. The general tendency of the ri¬
ver is from north to south ; but about Persefield it de¬
scribes bv its winding course the letter S, somewhat
compressed, so as to reduce it in length and increase
its width. The grounds of Persefield are lifted high
above the bed of the river, shelving, and form the
brink of a lofty and steep precipice, towards the south¬
west. _
“ The lower limb of the letter is filled with Perse-
wood, which makes a part of Persefield; but it is at
present an impenetrable thicket of coppice-wood. Ihis
dips to the south-east down to the water’s edge ; and,
seen from the top of the opposite rock, has a good et-
fect. _ . .
“ The upper limb receives the farms of Llancot, rich
and highly cultivated, broken into inclosures, and
scattered with groups and single trees ; two well-look¬
ing farm-houses in the centre, and a neat w’hite chape
on one side : altogether a lovely little paradisaical spot.
The lowliness of its situation stamps it with an air ot
meekness and humility ; and the natural barriers wh.ic 1
surround it add that of peacefulness and security.
The picturesque farms do not form a low fiat bot¬
tom, subject to be overflowed by the river; but ta<ic
the form of a gorget, rising fullest in the middle, and
falling on every side gently to the brink of the Wye;
t II.
cipai
icace
except on the east side, where the top of the gorget
leans in an easy manner against a range of perpendicu¬
lar rock j as if to show its disk with advantage to the
walks of Persefield.
“ This rock stretches across what may be called the
Isthmus, leaving only a narrow pass down into the fields
of Llancot, and joins the principal range of rocks at the
lower bend of the river.
“ To the north, at the head of the latter, stands an
immense rock (or rather a pile of immense rocks heap¬
ed one above another) called Windcliff; the top of
which is elevated as much above the grounds of Perse-
field as those are above the fields of Llancot.
“ These several rocks, with the wooded precipices
on the side of Persefield, form a circular inclosure,
about a mile in diameter, including Perse-wood, Llan¬
cot, the Wye, and a small meadow lying at the foot of
Windcliff.
“ The grounds are divided into the upper and low¬
er lawn, by the approach to the house: a small irregular
building, standing near the brink of the precipice, but
facing down the lower lawn, a beautiful ground, falling
‘ precipitately every way into a valley which shelves
down in the middle,’ and is scattered with groups and
single trees in an excellent style.
“ The view from the house is soft, rich, and beau¬
tifully picturesque ; the lawn and tvoods of Persefield
and the opposite hanks of the river j the Wye, near
its mouth, winding through ‘ meadows green as eme¬
rald,’ in a manner peculiarly graceful j the Severn,
here very broad, backed by the wooded and highly
cultivated hills of Gloucestershire, Wiltshire, and So¬
mersetshire. Not one rock enters into the composition.
The whole view consists of an elegant arrangement of
lawn, wood, and water.
“ The upper lawn is a less beautiful ground, and the
view from it, though it command the ‘ cultivated hills
and rich valleys of Monmouthshire,’ bounded by the
Severn and backed by the Mendip-hills, is much infe¬
rior to that from the house.
“ To give variety to the views from Persefield, to
disclose the native grandeur, which surrounds it, and
to set off its more striking features to advantage, walks
have been cut through the woods and on the face of the
precipice which border the grounds to the south and
east. The viewer enters these walks at the lower corner
of the lower lawn.
“ The first point of view is marked by an alcove,
from which are seen the bridge and the town of Chep¬
stow, with its castle situated in a remarkable manner on
the very brink of a perpendicular rock, washed by the
Wye; and beyond these the Severn shows a small por¬
tion of its silvery surface.
“ Proceeding a little farther along the walk, a view
is caught which the painter might call a complete land¬
scape: The castle, with the serpentine part of the Wye
below Chepstow, intermixed in a peculiar manner with
the broad waters of the Severn, forms the fore-ground j
which is backed by distant hills : the rocks, crowned
with wood, lying between the alcove and the castle, to
the right, and Castlehill farm, elevated upon the oppo¬
site banks of the river, to the left, form the two side-
screens. This point is not marked, and must frequently
be lost to the stranger.
“ The grotto, situated at the head of Perse-wood.
Yol. IX. Part II. f
GABDENING.
409
commands a near view of the opposite rocks; mag. Pri».in.i
nificent beyond description! The littleness of hnman ResidS
art was never placed in a more humiliating point of > 
view; the castle of Chepstow, a nohle fortress, is, com-
pared with the natural bulwarks, a mere house of
cards.
“ Above the grotto, upon the isthmus of the Perse¬
field side, is a shrubbery ; strangely misplaced ! an
unpardonable intrusion upon the native grandeur of
this scene. IVTi* Grilmn^s •i****** tl!~  
Mr Gilpin’s observations upon this, a*
upon every other occasion, are very just. He says,
It is a pity the ingenious embellisher of these scenes
could not have been satisfied with the great beauties
of nature which he commanded. The shrubberies he
has introduced in this part of his improvements I fear
will rather be esteemed paltry.’ ‘ It is not the shrub
which .offends 5 it is the lormal introduction of it.
Wild underwood may be an appendage of the grandest
scene •, it is a beautiful appendage. A bed of violets
or of lilies may enamel the ground with propriety at
tlm foot of an oak $ but if you introduce them artificial¬
ly in a border, you introduce a trifling formality, and
disgrace the noble object you wish to adorn.’
“ T,ie walk leaves the wood, and opens upon
the lower lawn, until coming near the house it enters
the alarming precipice facing Llancot j winding along
the face of it in a manner which does great honour to
the artist. Sometimes the fragments of rock which
fall in its way are avoided, at other times partially re¬
moved, so as to conduct the path along a ledge carved
out of the rock ; and in one instance, a huge frag¬
ment, of a somewhat conical shape and many yards
high, is perforated j the path leading through its base.
Ibis is a thought which will hand down to future
times the greatness of Mr Morris’s taste; the design
and the execution are equally great j not a mark of a
tool to be. seen; all appears perfectly natural. The
arch-way is made winding, so that on the approach
it appears to be the mouth of a cave ^ and, on a nearer
view, the idea is strengthened by an allowable deception j
a black dark hole on the side next the cliff, which, seen
from the entrance before the perforation is discovered,
appears to be the darksome inlet into the body of the
cave.
From this point, that vast inclosure of rocks and
precipices which marks the peculiar magnificence of
Persefield is seen to advantage. The area, contain¬
ing in this point of view the fields of Llancot and the
lower margin of Perse-wood, is broken in a manner
peculiarly picturesque by the graceful winding of the
Wye; here washing a low grassy shore, and there sweep¬
ing at the feet of the rocks which rise in some places
perpendicular from the water; but in general they have
a wooded offset at the base ; above which they rise to
one, two, or perhaps three or four hundred feet high ;
exposing one full face, silvered by age, and bearded
with ivy, growing out of the wrinkle-like seams and
fissures. If une might be allowed to compare the paltry
performances of art with the magnificent works of
nature, we should say, that this inclosure resembles a
prodigious fortress which has long lain in ruins. It is
in reality one of nature’s strong-holds ; and as such has
probably been frequently made use of. Across the
isthmus on the Gloucestershire side there are the re¬
mains of a deep intrenchment, called to this day the
3 I' Bulwark ;
4io CARD
Prinrinal Bulwark; and tradition still teems with the extraordi-
Revidence, nary warlike feats that have been performed among tins
v—v—^ romantic scenery.
“ From the perforated rock, the walk leads down
to the cold-bath (a complete place), seated about the
mid-way of the precipice, in this part less steep *, and
from the cold-bath a rough path winds down to the
meadow, by the side of the Wye, from whence the
precipice on the Persefield side is seen with every ad¬
vantage ; the giant fragments, hung with shrubs and
ivy rise in a ghastly manner from amrmgst the un¬
derwood, and show themselves in all their native sa-
“ From the cold-bath upward, a coach-road (very
steep and difficult) leads to the top of the cliff, at the
upper corner of the upper lawn. I\ear the top of the
road is a point which commands one of the most plea¬
sing views of Persefield : The Wye sweeping through a
grassy vale which opens to the left :-Llancot backed
by its rocks, with the Severn immediately behind them j
and, seen in this point of view, seems to be divided from
the Wye by only a sharp ridge of rock, with a precipice
on either side -, and behind the Severn, the vale and
wooded hills of Gloucestershire.
“ From this place a road leads to the top ot YY md-
cliff—astonishing sight! The face of nature probably
affords not a more magnificent scene . Llancot m all
its grandeur, the ground of Persefield, the castle and
town of Chepstow, the graceful windings of the Wye
below, and its conflux with the Severn •, to the left the
forest of Dean *, to the right, the rich marshes and pic¬
turesque mountains of South Wales; a broad view of
the Severn, opening its sea-like mouth *, the conflux ot
the Avon, with merchant ships at anchor in Ring-road,
and vessels of different descriptions under sail; Aust-
Cliff and the whole vale of Berkeley, backed by the
wooded swells of Gloucestershire, the view terminating
in clouds of distant hills, rising one behind another, un¬
til the eye becomes unable to distinguish the earth s bil¬
lowy surface from the clouds themselves.
The leading principle of the improvement proposed
by our author is, to, “ separate the sublime from the
beautiful; so that in viewing the one, the eye might not
so much as suspect that the other was near. .
u hanging walk be conducted entirely along
the precipices, or through the thickets, so as to disclose
the natural scenery, without once discovering the lawn
or any other acquired softness. Bet the path be as rude
as if trodden only by wild beasts and savages, and the
resting places, it any, as rustic as possible.
“ Erase entirely the present shrubbery, and lay out
another as elegant as nature and art could render it be¬
fore the house, swelling it out into the lawn towards the
stables ; between w'hich and the kitchen-garden make
a narrow winding entrance.
“ Convert the upper lawn into a deer-paddock, suf¬
fering it to run as wild, rough, and forest-like, as total
negligence would render it.
“ The viewer would then be thus conducted : He
would enter the hanging-walk by a sequestrated path at
the lower corner of the lawn, pursuing it through the
wood to beneath the grotto, and round the head-land,
or winding through Perse-wood, to the perforated rock
and the cold-bath, without once conceiving an idea (it
possible) that art, or at least that much art, bad been
E N I N G.
made use of in disclosing the natural grandeur of the
  • TsrliirVi nncrht to amitar as it thev Re-
niaue use ui m   ^
surrounding objects, which ought to appear as it they Rcsk
presented themselves to his view, or at most as i[ no-L
thing was wanted but his own penetration and judge¬
ment to find them out. The walk should therefore be
conducted in such a manner, that the breaks might be
quite natural; yet the points of view obvious, or requir¬
ing nothing but a block or stone to maik them. A
stranger at least wants no seat heie , he is too eager in
the early part of his walk, to think of lounging upon a
bench.
“ From the cold bath he would ascend the steep,
near the top of which a commodious bench or benches
might be placed: the fatigue of ascending the hill
would require a resting place ; and there aie few points
which afford a more pleasing view than this; it is grand,
without being too broad and glaring.
“ From these branches he would enter the forest
part. Here the idea of Nature in her primitive state
would be strengthened : the roughnesses and deer to
the right, and the rocks in all their native wildness to
the left. Even Llancot might be shut out from the
view by the natural shrubbery of the cliff. The Lover s
Leap, however (a tremendous peep), might remain;
but no benches, nor other woik of art, should here be
seen. A natural path, deviating near the brink of the
precipice, would bring the viewer down to the lower
corner of the park ; where benches should be placed in
a happy point, so as to give a full view of the rocks
and native wildnesses, and at the same time hide
the farm houses, fields, and other acquired beauties of
Llancot.
“ Having satiated himself with this savage scene,
he would be led, by a still rustic path, through the la¬
byrinth—when the shrubbery, the lawn, with all its ap¬
pendages, the graceful Wye, and the broad silver oe-
vern, would break upon the eye with every advantage
of ornamental nature: the transition could not fail to
strike*
“ From this soft scene he would be shown to the top
of Windcliff, where in one vast view he would unite the
sublime and beautiful ol Persefield.
Only one particular remains now to be noticed. A
place which is the residence of a family all the year is
very defective, if some portion of it be not set apart for
the enjoyment of a fine day, for air, and exercise, in win¬
ter. To such a spot shelter is absolutely essential; and
evergreens being the thickest covert, are therefore the
best; their verdure also is then agreeable to the eye;
and they may be arranged so as to produce beautiful mix¬
ture of greens, with more certainty than deciduous trees,
and with almost equal variety : they may be collected in¬
to a wood ; and through that wood gravel-walks may be
led along openings of a considerable breadth, free trom
large trees which would intercept the rays of the sun,
and winding in such a manner as to avoid any draft o
wind, from whatever quarter it may blow. But when
a retreat at all times is thus secured, other spots may
be adapted only to occasional purposes; and be sheltere
towards the north or the east on one hand, while t e\
are open to the sun on the other. The few hours o
cheerfulness and warmth which its beams afford, are so
valuable as to justify the sacrifice even of the princip es
of beauty to the enjoyment of them; and therefore no
He
III.
CARD
I. al objections of sameness or formality can prevail against
* nee. the pleasantness of a straight walk, under a thick hedge
—'or a south wall. The eye may, however, be distorted
from the skreen by a border before it, where the aco¬
nite and the snowdrop, the crocus and hepatica, brought
forward by the warmth of the situation, will be wel¬
come harbingers of spring j and on the opposite side of
the walk little tufts of laurustines, and of variegated
evergreens, may be planted. The spot thus enlivened
by a variety of colours, and even a degree of bloom,
may be still further improved by a green-house. The
entertainment which exotics afford peculiarly belongs
to this part of the year j and if amongst them be inter¬
spersed some of our earliest flowers, they will there
E N I N G. 411
blow before their time, and anticipate the gaiety of Principal
the season which is advancing. The walk may also Residence-
lead to the stoves, where the climate and the plants are ' 
always the same. And the kitchen-garden should not
be far off j for that is never quite destitute of produce,
and always an active scene: the appearance of business
is alone engaging; and the occupations there are an ear¬
nest of the happier seasons to which they are prepara¬
tive. By these expedients even the winter may be ren-
dered cheerful in a place where shelter is provided
against all but the bitterest inclemencies of the sky,
and agreeable objects and interesting amusements are
contrived for every hour of tolerable weather.
PART III. PRACTICAL GARDENING.
WE now proceed to treat of horticulture or practi¬
cal gardening. And although it may not appear to be
the most perfect arrangement; yet as it is probably the
most convenient and useful in the directions to be given
for the practical management of the garden, we shall
consider the work to be done for each month of the
year in the kitchen garden, the fruit garden, the flower
garden and the nursery, under so many separate sec¬
tions.
JANUARY.
Sect. I. Kitchen Garden.
In the beginning, or any time in the course of this
month, when the weather is open, sow some short-top’d
radishes on a border exposed to the south, and protected
by a wall or other fence j and about the middle or lat¬
ter end of the month, you may sow some more of the
same sort, and also some salmon radishes to succeed the
short-top’d. The seed should be sown pretty thick at
this season, because vegetation being slow at this period
they will be longer exposed to the depredation of birds,
and if the weather prove severe, many of them will be
cut off after they have appeared above ground. Sow
the seed evenly over the surface, and rake it in with a
large wide-toothed rake, or if sown in beds, cover it
with earth to the depth of half an inch from the alleys.
A covering of straw about two inches thick would
greatly promote their growth, and protect them from
frost and birds. After the plants have come above
ground, the covering of straw should be drawn off with
a light rake in the early part of the day, and replaced
in the evening.
Garden mats are frequently used to cover radishes,
a number of small pins being previously stuck into the
ground to support them an inch or two from the sur¬
face, and prevent them from pressing down the young
plants. The covering ought to be continued for a
longer or shorter time, according to the severity pf the
weather; but when the plants have pushed out their
rough leaves it may safely be discontinued. Radishes
sown under common hot-bed frames, without the assist¬
ance of warm dung, will succeed very well, and come
on much earlier than those sown in the open air : due
attention, however, must be paid to give them air when¬
ever the weather is mild, by raising the glasses, or re¬
moving them altogether during warm days. If want¬
ed very early, recourse must be had to a slight hot-
hed. ig
At any time in this month, when the weather is mild Carrots,
and dry, let a spot of ground in a warm situation be
prepared for sowing a few early carrots, by digging the
ground a full spade deep, and breaking the earth well;
and when the seed is sown, let it be raked in. When
carrots are wanted very early, they may be reared in a
slight hot-bed.
About the beginning, or any time in the month,
when the weather is mild, you may sow some spinach j
hut if the weather will permit, some ought to be
sown, both in the beginning and towards the end of
the month. The smooth-seeded or round-leaved spinach
should chiefly be sown now. It is preferred, on ac¬
count of its leaves being thicker, larger, and more suc¬
culent than the prickly-seeded ; though some of the lat¬
ter ought also to be sown, because it is hardier, and
better able to sustain the severity of the weather. They
may be sown either broadcast and raked in, or in shal¬
low drills about an inch deep, and nine or ten inches
asunder. It is a frequent practice to sow spinach in
drills between the rows of early beans and cabbages.
You may sow some seed of cress, mustard, radish, gJnaj2jC
rape, &c. and likewise some lap lettuce in a warm situa-sa]a(j.
tion exposed to the sun. They form an agreeable salad
when cut young. The ground on which they are to
be sown ought to be sloped to the south, and covered
with a common hot-bed frame, which should be sunk
in the ground, so far as to allow the glasses to ap¬
proach to within six or eight inches of the sown sur¬
face.
But small salad will succeed best in a slight hot¬
bed of warm dung formed to the depth of 18 or
20 inches $ air must be admitted freely, whenever
the weather will permit, by raising or removing the
glasses.
About the middle, or towards the latter end of the j. V
month, sow parsley seed in any dry situation, in shallow
drills nine inches asunder, and cover it in with earth
to the depth of a quarter of an inch, or in single rows
along the borders of the kitchen garden. There are
two sorts, the plain-leaved and curled-leaved j the latter
is preferred as garnishing on account of its large bushy
3 F 2 leaves,
412
January, leaves, but both are equally good as pot herbs. This
Kitchen seed lies very long in the ground before it vegetates.
Carden. Sow some early peas in a warm situation, to succeed
those sown in November and December. The princi-
Peak2/ Pal early peas are the Charlton hotspur, golden hotspur,
Reading hotspur, Masters hotspur, &c. the two first of
which are reckoned the earliest. Sow them in rows
two feet and a half asunder, but when they are to be
supported by sticks they ought to be three feet asun¬
der. Some marrowfat peas should likewise be sown at
this season for a first crop of late peas : the dwarf mar¬
rowfat is the most proper, but any other late pea will
succeed very well, such as the Spanish moratto, tall
marrowfat, Prussian prolific, sugar pea, dwarf sugar,
egg pea, pearl pea, See. These should be sown in rows
three feet asunder j but when it is intended that they
should be supported by sticks, the rows should be three
feet and a half apart.
Beans. Any time in the course of the month, if the weather
be mild, a main crop of beans may be sown. The
Sandwich bean, toker, Windsor, broad Spanish, broad
long-pod, &c. are the kinds most commonly used. Af¬
ter the ground has been well dug, put in the beans to
the depth of about two inches, with a dibble, in rows
three feet apart, and at the distance of four or five
inches from each other in the rows : or they may be
sown in drills to the same depth and distance. If no
early beans were sown in November or December, they
ought to be sown the earliest opportunity this month:
the early Mazagan and Lisbon beans are the best.
They ought to be planted in a warm border $ if at the
foot of a south wall, they will come on earlier. These
may be planted closer than the larger beans, two feet,
or two feet and a half, between the rows, being suffi¬
cient. When peas or beans are wanted very early, they
may be sown in hot-beds or stoves, and when some¬
what advanced, they may either be planted out into
other hot-beds, into peach and vine-houses, or into any
warm situation in the open air.
Lettuce. In the beginning, and again towards the end of the
month, you may sow some lettuce. The kinds com¬
monly used are the green and white cos, brown Dutch,
Cilicia, and common cabbage lettuce. Prepare a
piece of ground in a warm situation $ sow the seeds
moderately thick, and rake them in as evenly as pos¬
sible. They may also be sown under hand glasses or
in common hot-bed frames, to be occasionally covered
with glasses or mats : but in either case, air must be
freely admitted, whenever the weather will permit.
When wished for very early, they may be sown in a
slight hot-bed, and planted out in the open air in March
or April.
Take care of lettuce plants which have stood the
winter.—If you have lettuce plants in frames or under
hoops, covered with mats, give them plenty of air when
the weather is moderate. Remove all decayed leaves,
and destroy snails which frequently infest them ; and
when the frost is severe, take care to protect them well
2- with mats.
Examine The cauliflower plants raised last autumn, which have
cauliflower Htood during the winter in frames, should he looked over
lJ!auls• in open weather. If any decayed leaves appear, pick
them oil'; stir up the earth between the plants, and re¬
move all weeds. In mild weather, give them plenty
Part! [j
of air during the day, by pushing down, or removing
the glasses altogether: but cover them during the liiull
night, unless when the weather is particularly mild :
when it is frosty, or rains much, they ought to be co- r ■'
vered during the day. But if the frost is very severe,
the frames should be protected at night with a cover¬
ing of mats, and even during the day, should the frost
be intense, without sunshine; and some straw, dried
leaves, or something of that nature, should likewise be
laid all round the outside of the frame, to prevent the
frost from penetrating its sides.
Cauliflowers under bell and hand glasses require the
same attention : during mild weather, the covers should
either be taken off altogether, or raised (or tilted) on
the south side, so as to admit the air freely during the
day, and shut again at night, unless the weather should
be very mild, in which case they may remain a little
tilted on one side ; but should intense frost prevail, they
should be kept shut, and covered with straw or some¬
thing of that nature. The free admission of the air will
prevent the plants from becoming weak, and make them
less apt to run up to flower before they have acquired
sufficient size. In mild winters, slugs very frequently
injure cauliflower plants ; they ought, therefore, to be
carefully looked for and destroyed. 2(5
About the end of the month, if the weather is mild, piaBl(
plant out a few early cabbages, on a spot of ground bag«.
well dug and manured with rotten dung, at the di¬
stance of a foot and a half from each other, or even
closer, as they are to be cut early, and before they ac¬
quire a great size. The early York, Battersea, and
sugar-loaf, are the kinds which should be planted at
this season.
Transplant some full grown cabbages and savoys, for Tram
seed, about the beginning of the month; though thecabhp
early part of winter is the most proper time for doing ^13
so. See November. j,j
In open dry weather, earth up such celery as has ad-Eanh-
vanced much above ground; let the earth be well bro-celtrj.
ken, and laid up almost to the tops of the plants, but
care must be taken not to bruise them. This will af¬
ford them protection against frost, which might prove
very injurious to them at this season.
Where celery is wanted daily, a quantity of straw or
something of that nature, should be laid over the rows
on the approach of frost, which will prevent the frost
from penetrating the ground, and on the removal of the
covering, the celery may be dug up : or when severe
weather threatens to set in, a quantity of celery may
be taken up, placed in some situation sheltered from the
weather, and covered as far as the blanched part ex¬
tends with sand. a*
In open dry weather prepare some full grown en- Blast
dive for blanching. When the plants are perfectly dryen,li'1
tie up their leaves close together, and they will be com¬
pletely blanched in about a fortnight. As endive is
very apt to rot in wet weather at this season, when
blanched in the open air, a quantity of it ought to be
transplanted into a ridge of dry earth, in some situation
where it may be sheltered from rain. 3j
In open dry weather, the earth should be drawn up Eatii
about such peas and beans as may have advanced an
inch or two above ground, which will both strengthen J
them and protect them against frost.
GARDENING.
GAHDENING.
III.
)ry If artichokes have not been earthed up before this,
ien that work should now be done the first opportunity,
en. See NOVEMBER.
' Mushroom beds ought to be well covered at this sea-
3kes son, and protected both from rain and frost. The co-
, ' vering of straw should at least be a foot thick, and if
e- the rain should at any time have penetrated nearly
f through it, it ought to be removed, and a covering of
,®ra dry straw put in its place; for if the bed should get
wet, the spawn would be injured, and the future crop
destroyed.
Sometimes it is desirable to have some of the ordinary
kitchen garden crops, at an earlier period, than that at
which they are produced in the open air. For this
purpose recourse is had to hot-beds 5 there are likewise
some things reared in the kitchen garden, such as cu¬
cumbers and melons, which cannot be obtained in this
country without their aid. The principal crops, besides
cucumbers and melons, for which hot-beds may be pre¬
pared in this mouth, are asparagus, small salad, mint,
tansey, peas and beans for transplanting, radishes,
early carrots, early potatoes, and kidney beans. Hot¬
beds are formed either of fresh horse dung, or of tanners
bark ; the hot-beds used this month, as seed beds for
early cucumbers and melons, are almost always formed
of horse dung. Procure a sufficient quantity of fresh
horse dung, according to the size and number of the
hot-beds you mean to form, lay it up in a heap to fer¬
ment for ten or twelve days, longer or shorter according
to the condition of the dung or the state of the weather,
during which time it ought to be turned over once or
twice with a fork, that it may be thoroughly mixed and
equally fermented. After the violent fermentation is
over, and the rank steam has escaped, it will be in
proper condition to form a hot-bed. Dung that is very
much mixed with straw, or is too dry, ought to be
rejected. About a cart-load may be sufficient for a
common hot-bed frame of one light, and so on in pro¬
portion for one of two or three lights. Hot beds should
be formed in a situation sheltered from the wind, and
exposed to the morning or mid-day sun. Some dig a
trench about a foot deep, and a few inches longer and
wider than the frame with which they mean to cover
the bed ; others form hot-beds on the surface of the
ground. At this season of the year the last mode is to
be preferred, because it affords an opportunity of lining
the bed with fresh hot dung quite down to the bottom,
to augment the heat when it declines ; in this way
water is likewise prevented from settling about tbe
bottom of the bed, which is often the case, when the
bed is formed in a trench, which would inevitably check
the fermentation, and consequently destroy the heat of
the bed. Mark out a space on the ground, a few inches
longer and wider than the frame which you intend to
put on the bed. Spread the dung when in proper con¬
dition, regularly with a fork, beating it down gently
from time to time with the fork *, when the dung is trod¬
den down, it is apt to heat too violently, and does not
succeed so well as when the dung is allowed to settle
gradually. The dung ought to be raised to three feet
and a half or thereabouts. In this way hot beds may
he formed, which will preserve their heat for a consider¬
able time: When slighter hot-beds are required, the dung
| 'nay be raised to one foot and a half, or two feet: those
‘''ght hot-beds answer very well for raising early crops.
Having prepared a hot-bed according to the di- jammy.
rections just given for a larger or smaller frame, in Kitchen
proportion to the quantity of seed you intend to sow, Garde*.
such a one as may be covered with a frame of one ’    
light will be sufficient to raise plants for an ordinary sow'5',„
crop. Let the frame and lights be put on, and kept comber*
close, till the heat begin to rise, then raise the glass, and melon
that the steam may pass off. Three or four days after see(,s-
the bed has been formed, it may be covered with earth
prepared for that purpose, to the depth of about three
inches j before the earth is put on, if the dung shall
have settled unequally, the surface of the bed ought to
be made perfectly level. Rich light dry earth is best
adapted to this purpose : that it may be dry enough,
it ought to have been protected from the rain by some
shade during the winter ; for, should it be wet, it is
apt to prevent the seeds from germinating, or to injure
the young plants. Fill two or three small flower pots
with some of the same earth, and place them in the hot¬
bed till the earth in them be warmed, and then sow the
seeds.
Sow the seeds, and cover them about half an inch
deep $ the bottom of the pots ought to be plunged a
little way into the earth with which the bed is covered,
some of which ought to be drawn up round the pots.
A few days after sowing the seeds in the pots, some
seeds may be sown in the earth of the bed. By sowing
in pots, it tbe bed should overheat (which is sometimes
the case) you have it in your power to withdraw and
remove the pots out of danger.
After sowing the seeds, put on the lights; when the
steam rises copiously, give the hot-bed air bv raising the
glasses a little. The hot-bed ought to be covered every
evening about sunset with mats, which should be taken
off again in the morning about nine o’clock, sooner or
later according to the state of the weather. A single
mat will be sufficient at first, as the warmth of the bed
will be strong. The ends of the mats ought not to
hang down over the sides of the frame, because the rank
steam proceeding from the bed would be confined, and
might injure the plants. The plants will appear, in
two or three days after the seeds have been sown, when
care must be taken to raise the glasses a little to admit
fresh air, and to allow the steam of the bed to escape ; -
if this be not properly attended to, and if the beds be
kept too close, the plants will either be destroyed alto¬
gether, or become weak and yellowish. About the
time the first sown seeds appear above ground, a few
more ought to be sown in the earth of the bed. As
those tender plants are liable to suffer from various
causes at this season, it would be proper to sow a little
seed at three different periods, at short intervals, that
if one sowing should miscarry, another may succeed.
Three or four days after the plants have come up, they -
ought to he planted out into small pots.
The day before the plants are to be transplanted,
pots filled with light rich dry earth should be put into
the bed, that the earth which they contain may be
brought to a proper temperature. Take the plants
carefully up, raising them with your finger and thumb,
with all the roots as entire as possible, and with as much
of the earth as will readily adhere about the fibres.
Plant three cucumbers and two melons in each pot,
and draw the earth well up about the stems. If the
earth in the pots be very dry, a little water should be
given ,
4H
Januftry.
Kitchen
Garden.
G A B D E
given after the transplanting has been finished. The
pots ought to be plunged close to one another in the
earth of the bed, and all the spaces between them ought
to be carefully filled with earth, to prevent the rank
steam of the dung from rising up, which would certainly
kill the plants. The bed ought to be carefully exa¬
mined every day, to see that the roots of the plants do
not receive too much heat. If any thing like that appear,
draw up the pots a little, taking care to replunge them
to the rim after the danger is over. When the plants
are fairly rooted, if the earth appears dry, give them a
little water in the warmest time of the day $ let the
watering be occasionally repeated very moderately, ac¬
cording as the earth in the pots becomes dry. All the
water given to the plants at this season ought to stand
for a few hours within the bed, that it may acquire the
same temperature with the earth in which the plants
grow, as very cold water would chill the plants too much.
In order to preserve a proper heat in the bed as long as
possible, the sides of it ought to be covered with straw
or dry leaves, which will defend the bed from cold
piercing winds, heavy rains, and snow. Should the bed
be unprotected when any of these prevail, the heat
would be diminished, and the plants receive a check.
If a lively heat be kept up, you may admit air to the
plants every day, by raising the glasses in proportion to
the heat of the bed and temperature of the external
air. If the air be very cold, it will be necessary to fix
a piece of mat or some such thing to the edge of the
sash, which may hang down over the opening, and pre¬
vent the cold air from rushing too freely into the bed.
About a fortnight after the bed has been formed, it
ought to be examined carefully, to discover whether the
heat of the bed still continues strong enough ; if not,
the dry leaves and straw ought to be removed from the
front and back of the bed if any had been placed there,
and a quantity of fresh horse dung should be supplied.
The lining thus applied should not exceed 15 or 18
inches in thickness, and should be raised a few inches
higher than the bed. When too thick a lining is applied,
it is apt to throw in too great a heat, and injure the
plants. A quantity of earth should be laid on the top
of the dung thus applied to the depth of two inches, to
keep down the rank steam. The lining will soon in¬
crease the heat of the bed, and maintain it for ten days
or a fortnight longer. At the expiration of that time,
when the heat begins to fail, the two sides of the
bed should receive a lining of the same thickness,
which will again augment the heat of the bed, and
preserve it in good condition for upwards of a fort¬
night longer. By lining first the one side and then
the other at the interval of about a week or ten days,
the heat of the bed may be made to last longer than
when both linings are applied at the same time. Either
method may be followed, according to the degree of
external cold which may prevail, or according to the
degree of warmth required to be maintained in the bed.
After performing the lining, if very cold, wet, or snowy
weather prevail, it may be proper to lay a quantity of
long dry litter all round the general lining, which will
protect the whole of the bed, and keep it in a proper
temperature. Bv the proper management of this seed¬
bed, and by the due application of linings, the growth
of young plants may be promoted till they aie fit to be
KING. Part ^
planted out into other hot-beds, where they are to remain jamt;
and produce fruit. Where there is plenty of hot dung Kit«|
and every other convenience, a second bed may be pre- t Gaft;
pared, into which the young plants may be transferred -
and nursed till they become perfectly fit for final trans¬
plantation. Due attention must be paid to have this
second nursery-bed in proper condition for the reception
of the pots containing the young plants. It is to be
formed, earthed over, and taken care of, according to
the directions given for the management of the seed-bed.
When the plants have got their two first rough leaves,
two or three inches broad, and have pushed out their
two first running buds, they are in a proper state for
planting out into larger hot-beds. For the farther ma-
nagement of cucumbers and melons, see February.
It is proper that none but such seeds, both of cucum¬
bers and melons, as have been kept for some time,
should be sown ; those which have been kept for two or
three years are to be preferred, because the plants which
proceed from them are thought to be, not only more
fruitful, but to produce their fruit sooner. Plants which
are produced from recent seeds commonly push vigo¬
rously, and their shoots grow to a great length before
they show a single fruit. The best sorts of cucumbers
for producing an early crop, are the early short prickly
and long green prickly $ the former of these is the
earlier, the other produces the best crop and the
largest fruit. There are several sorts of melons sown
for an early crop, viz. the romana, cantaloupe, polignac, ,
&c. The romana is a very good bearer, and produces
early, and is a very well-flavoured, though small fruit. ,
The cantaloupe is a very well-flavoured melon, acquires
a good size, and ripens early. The polignac is also a
very good melon. It is better, however, to sow two or
three kinds, if they are easily to be had, for the sake of
gaining greater variety.
Hot-beds may be formed any time this month for
forcing asparagus : they are to be formed in the same
wav as hot-beds for cucumbers and melons; the dung,
however, need not be raised to the same height, from
two and a half to three feet will be sufficient. After
a bed has been formed, it should be covered with
earth to the depth of six or seven inches, and the as-
paragus plants immediately put in £ but the frame and
glasses are not to be put on till after the violent heat of
the bed shall have subsided, and the rank steam escaped.
A sufficient quantity of asparagus plants, proper for
forcing, must be provided ; viz. such as have been
raised from seed and planted out in the open ground for
two or three years, as directed elsewhere ; six hundred
will be sufficient for a frame of three lights, and so on
in proportion, for a larger or smaller frame. The
strongest and most vigorous plants ought to be chosen,
and should be planted very close together, that the
quantity produced may repay the trouble and expence
of forcing. Having marked the size of the frame on
the surface of the bed, raise a ridge of earth a few inches
high, against which place the first row of plants, and
draw a little earth over the roots of each ; next to them
another row may be planted as close as possible, and so
on till the whole space is covered, some moist earth
should be applied all round the outside of the space,
occupied by the plants, and raised an inch or two above
their tops. Then the whole should be covered with a
quantity
t III.
j) wry. quantity of rich light earth, to the depth of about two
heu inches, and left in that situation till the buds begin to
^n- appear above ground. They should then receive an
additional covering of rich light earth to the depth of
three or four inches. A wreath of strong straw band
is previously fixed by some round the bed, which both
supports the last covering of earth and the frame. The
straw ropes should be about four inches thick, and fixed
down all round the edge of the bed, exactly in that
place where the frame is to be put. Should there be
no reason to suspect overheating or burning, the frame
may be immediately put on ; care should be taken to
raise up or shove down the glasses to allow the rank
steam to escape, particularly about the time the buds
begin to appear. If much rain or snow should fall after
the bed has been formed, and before the frame is put
on, it will be necessary to cover the bed with mats or
with straw. T.he heat ot the bed likewise during that
time should be carefully examined*, with that view, two
or three sticks, called watch sticks, should be stuck in
the dung, to be pulled out occasionally, and examined
by applying the hand to their extremities ; or the heat
may be better regulated by the agricultural thermome¬
ter, invented and constructed by Mrs Lovi of Edin¬
burgh.. If there be danger of burning, it is moderated
by boring several wide holes in the dung on each side
of the bed, and in the earth immediately under the roots
of the plants, to admit air, and let the rank steam pass
off: these holes should be shut after the heat of the bed
is become moderate. The outside of the bed should be
protected in wet, or cold windy weather, and when its
beat decays, it is revived by means of lining, as directed
in cucumber and melon beds. After the asparagus be¬
gins to appear above ground, due attention should be
paid to the regular admission of air, whenever the wea¬
ther is at all moderate j and care must be taken to co¬
ver the beds with mats during severe weather, and con¬
stantly during the night. In four or five weeks after
the formation of the bed, the asparagus will be fit for
cutting, and will continue to produce abundantly for
two or three weeks longer. During that time three or
four hundred may be collected every week from a three
light frame. They must not be cut, as is the case
when asparagus is collected in the open air, the fingers
must be introduced into the earth, and the buds are to
be broken off close to the roots.
When carrots are required early, make a hot-bed
about two feet thick of dung, and cover it to the depth
of six inches with light rich earth. Sow the seed thin,
and cover it to the depth of a quarter of an inch. Ad¬
mit air freely in mild weather through the day, and
cover them during the night. When about an inch or
two high, thin them to about three inches asunder, they
will be fit for drawing in April or May.
Sow rape, cresses, mustard, and radish, in a slight
hot-bed. . The dung should not exceed the thickness of
eighteen inches or two feet, and should be covered with
five or six inches of light dry earth. The seeds may be
sown very thick, either in drills or all over the surface
of the bed, and covered slightly. The bed should
be covered with a frame and glasses, and protected
during the night and severe weather, with mats.
icnever the weather will permit, air must be admit¬
ted, otherwise the plants will be apt to die as fast as
loey come up.
GARDENING. 4I5
TTA ITZ -e r.,„ire,l very
early, a slight hot-bed may be prepared and covered Fruit'
with earth to the depth of five or six inches, in which Garden,
the roots of mint, tansey, and terraeron, may be planted '
and covered with a frame and glasses.
About the beginning of this month, some peas and Early peas
beans may be sown in a hot-bed, either for transplant-an(i beans*
ing into a warm border in the open air, or into other
hot-beds where they are to remain, and produce a crop:
the early framing pea is best for this purpose.
A hot-bed may be formed, in which some early Eailv do
dwarf potatoes may be planted, either to be planted outtatoes.
afterwards, or to remain to produce a crop.
Sow some early kidney beans in a hot-bed, or in pots Early kid-
to be placed in a hot-house. Fill moderate sized p0tsney beans*
(24s) with rich light earth, and sow three or four beans
in each pot. When the plants have come up, give
them a moderate quantity of water} they will produce
a crop in March and April.
Sect. II. Fruit Garden,
' any apple or pear trees remain unpruned on walls Appjfand
pauers, that work may be performed any time this pear tree*
If
or es
month, even though the weather should be frosty; some10 *)e
people indeed think it improper to prune trees durino-Pruned>
frost, lest the trees should receive injury by having
their cut surfaces exposed to the action of the frost *
but their apprehensions are chimerical.
Apple and pear trees produce their flower buds on
short branches, (or spurs as they are termed), which
proceed from the sides of the branches of one or more
years standing, and which every year increase in num¬
ber, while the branches from which they proceed
continue vigorous : if these branches, which throw out
spurs, be shortened or cut at their extremities, they
commonly push out a number of smaller branches
which acquire considerable length, but form no flower
buds ; it is therefore proper in pruning these trees, to
take care never to shorten a leading branch where
there is room on the wall or espalier to allow it to be
extended, unless when a supply of new wood is want¬
ed to fill up a vacancy. In young trees which have
not yet formed a sufficient head, select the most vigo¬
rous and best placed shoots, and train them to the wall
or espalier, at the distance of from four to six inches
from one another; any branches that intervene be¬
tween them are to be removed close to their origin,
and all those branches which do not apply well to
the wall or espaliers may likewise be removed. When
the branches are too thin, and a supply of wood is
wanted, one or more of the last year’s shoots may be
cut down to within a few inches of its origin ; four
or five buds are commonly left. These branches, so
shortened, commonly push out three or four shoots the
ensuing season. The young branches that have been
laid in at full length, will in two or three years pro-
duce a good many spurs or short branches along their
sides, from which a crop of fruit may be expected.
In old trees, that have been already trained, all the vi¬
gorous bearing branches are to be retained, unless where
they may happen to be too crowded, then the branch
intended to be removed should be cut out close to its
insertion. When any of the old bearing branches seem
to be worn out, or decayed, they should be pruned out
near
416
January.
F rail
Garden.
,
PltifH and
nflierry.
4°
Peack,
nectarine
GARDE
near to their insertion j from the stump that is left
some shoots will be pushed out the following season,
the best of which may be retained, to supply the place
of the branch removed. All the leading branches
ought to be looked over, and the superfluous fore¬
right and misplaced shoots of last year’s growth winch
will not easily apply to the wall, ought to be cut off
close to their insertion into the main branch ; the most
vigorous and best placed shoots should be trained at
full length to the wall or espalier at the distance of
from four to six inches from one another. When there
happens to be any vacant space on the wall or espalier,
some of the last year’s shoots may be shortened, as di¬
rected in the pruning of young trees.
In looking over the leading branches, all the spurs
which produce flower buds ought to be carefully re¬
tained : and any stumps which may have been left, after
former prunings, ought to be cut away quite close to
the branch from which they proceed, for they con¬
stantly produce a redundancy of branches which create
confusion, shade the fruit from the sun, and rob it of
its proper nourishment.
This is a proper season to prune plum and cherry trees
either on walls or espaliers: the same directions which
have been given for pruning apples and pears will apply
to the pruning of plums and cherries, as they likewise
produce their fruit on spurs, pushed out from nearly the
extremity of the shoots, which are two or three years old
It is improper in pruning to shorten the branches, be¬
cause the very part would be removed from which the
fruit buds should proceed next or subsequent season.
These trees produce their fruit on the young branches
of last year. A plentiful supply of last year’s shoots
must therefore be retained to be nailed to the wall, at
the distance of from three inches to half a foot from one
another ; the most vigorous and best placed shoots are
to be selected for this purpose, and all fore-right, weak¬
ly or superfluous shoots are to be removed, likewise
some of the last year’s bearers. That the pruning knife
may be used more freely, it would be proper not only
to unnail the shoots which had been laid in last year,
but even some of the principal branches. In selecting
the branches, attention must be paid not only to their
position and proper distance, but likewise to the quanti¬
ty of flower buds they contain. These buds are dis¬
tinguishable from those which produce branches by their
roundness j and towards spring when the buds begin to
swell, by their size : those which produce branches be¬
ing generally small, flat, and pointed. It frequently
happens that one of each is produced at the same eye
fas it is termed), or sometimes two flower buds, with a
branch bud between them. All very strong thick
branches are to be rejected, as well as those that are
long, small, and feeble, because the very vigorous
branches are much more apt to run to wood, than to
produce fruit. Those branches which are selected as
the fittest to be retained, ought to be shortened (due
regard being paid to their vigour, and to the number
and situation of the flower buds they contain), which
will make them push out two or three branches the
ensuing summer, the best of which may be retained for
next year’s bearers. .
In weak trees that are not disposed to push vigorous¬
ly the smaller shoots may be shortened to the length
of six or eight inches > the more vigorous shoots may be
N I N G.
. Part it
left from ten to fifteen inches long, or thereby. In trees Ja»i(.
of moderate growth the branches ought to be left pro- M
portionally longer, the smaller ones from half a foot to ^
ten inches, the more vigorous from one foot to a foot
and a half. In very vigorous trees, the branches
ana a nan.  > —   
ought to be shortened but little, and some of them not
at&all, the smaller shoots may be shortened to the
length of a foot or fifteen inches ; the more vigorous
shoots should have only about a third or fourth part of
their length cut off-, and the most vigorous should not
be shortened at all, for the more they are shortened,
the more they are disposed to push vigorously and run
to wood, and on that account produce few fruit. As the
flower buds are sometimes situated near the extienuty,
at other times near the bottom of the branch, this cir¬
cumstance in a certain degree must regulate the shoiten-
ing the branch, as care must be taken to leave a suf-
ficient quantity of flower buds, where fruit is the ob¬
ject. Care must likewise be taken to have a bud which
is expected to produce a branch, at the eye which 19
next the cut extremity -, it is of no moment whether it
be alone or in company with one or two dower buds,
but it is absolutely necessary to have one to produce a
leading branch, without which the fruit will not thrive.
When three or four last year’s shoots are found on a
branch of the preceding year, the one at the upper and
lower extremities is frequently preserved j in that case
the intermediate ones ought to be cut away close to the
branch : but should any of the intermediate ones be
selected as the most proper to be retained, the branch
of the preceding vear should be cut oft close by ^ie UP’
permost of the shoots which has been fixed on, and all
these shoots which are to be removed should be cut
away close to the branch from which they proceed.
After each tree has been gone over, it ought to be care¬
fully nailed to the wall or fixed to the espalier. j
Vines if cut when in a growing state are apt to bleed
very copiously. This bleeding is detrimental to thenw
and is stopt with great difficulty. If vines are pruned
a short time before the rise of the sap, they are likewise
liable to bleed at the recently cut extremities j it would
therefore be improper any time this month to prune
vines which grow in the hot-house or in a vinery
which is to be early forced; but such as grow on open
walls or in vineyards may be safely cut any time t is
month. Though it would certainly be adviseable to
prune as soon after the fall of the leaf as may be, as m
that case the cut extremities would have sufficient time
to heal, and all danger of bleeding would be re-
m0Fig trees may be pruned any time this month, though
perhaps it would be as well to defer it till next or to -
lowing month. For the method, see February.
Gooseberries and currants may still be pruned. »ee
November. .. . I
Gooseberries and currants may be planted it the se- p,^
verity of the frost does not render the ground to° ’fl,
indeed they may be planted any time from the tall ot 1
the leaf in autumn till the pushing out of their buds in
spring. It is usual to plant them in rows along >
borders, or to divide the plots in the kitchen garden;
in which case they ought to be planted two or three
yards apart, and the distance between the rows mu5
depend on the size of the plots they are to separate (10,
15 or 18 yards). They ought to be trained up with a
Pit III.
Iary, single stalk to tlie Iieight of 10 or 15 inches, which will
^ 1 I rxT f !T n LrifrtHAn f »-> n _ 1 j. _ ! .1
GARDENING.
417
Ra
allow the kitchen crops that may be planted near them
den. to grow freely, and will render the operations of hoe-
ing, weeding, and raking under the bushes easy. They
are frequently planted out in compartments by them¬
selves, in which case the bushes ought to stand at the
distance of from five to eight feet in the rows, and the
rows ought to be eight or nine feet apart.
When plenty of room is allowed between the bushes,
they grow freely, and produce larger fruit ; free ad¬
mission is likewise afforded to the sun and air, without
which, the fruit would not acquire its proper flavour:
hoeing, and digging between the bushes, is more easily
performed, and crops of different kinds of kitchen gar¬
den productions may be reared in the intervals. Cur¬
rants are very frequently planted against walls and rails,
to which they are regularly trained. Gooseberries also
are sometimes planted against walls and rails j those
against walls yield early and well-flavoured fruit. The
variety of gooseberries is very great, and every season
adds new varieties to those already known. The prin¬
cipal kinds are the early rough green, small early red,
smooth green, large Dutch red, common hairy red,
smooth black, rough white, white crystal, large yellow,
rough yellow, large amber, large tawney, &c.
The different kinds of currants are the black, common
white, large Dutch white or grape currant, common red,
and champaigne.
sc. Raspberries may be pruned or planted during this
or any of the winter months 5 they produce their fruit
on small branches which proceed from the shoots of the
former year. Every year they push up a number of
shoots from the root, which bear fruit the subsequent
summer, and then die. In dressing raspberries, all the
old dead stalks must be cut away close by the ground,
and all the young ones except four or five of the strong¬
est, which should be shortened a little. All these shoots
become small towards their extremity and bend a little $
it is the common practice to cut off the bent part, but
some shorten them one-third, others one-fourth. After
the shoots have been shortened, they ought to be inter¬
twined or surrounded by a bandage of some kind to
keep them together, for the sake of mutual support, be¬
cause when they are allowed to stand single they are
apt to be weighed down in summer by the weight of
their own leaves and fruit, particularly when loaded
with rain, or to be beaten down by the wind ; in which
case they may frequently lie one over the other, create
confusion, and exclude the sun and air from those that
are undermost, or may lie so close to the ground as to
liave their fruit destroyed. Afterthe plants are pruned,
the ground between them ought to be dug, and all
straggling shoots which advance to a distance from the
main plants ought to be taken up.
Raspberries may be planted any time this month
when the weather is moderate : when new plantations
ot th<;m are wanted, they ought to be formed in open
situations, if high-flavoured fruit be wished for; but
rasps will thrive very well and produce good crops in
shadowy situations. The ground in which they are to
e planted ought to be well dug, and if a little rotten
dung be added, the plants will succeed the better.
Jhey ought to be planted at the distance of three feet
each other, in rows four or five feet apart. The
onsets which are dug sip from between the rows of
VOL. IX. Part IL f
old plantations of raspberries are commonly made use January.
01 lor this purpose. Any of the last years shoots that Fruit
are well rooted and tolerably vigorous will answer per- Garden-
fectly well. Those which have two or three buds, form- v 
ed on the roots, from which young shoots are to proceed
the following summer, are generally to he preferred to
those which have fewer though equally vigorous. They
ought to be taken up carefully with all their roots, and
alter the stem has been shortened a little (about one-
third) they may be planted at the distances already
mentioned. Plantations formed now will yield some
fruit the ensuing summer, and a plentiful crop the fol¬
lowing season. . I he kinds of raspberries commonly
used are the white, double bearing, (which bears two
crops, one in summer the other in autumn), the smooth
stalk, the Antwerp (very large). 44
If the weather be mild, all kind of fruit trees may PrePai'« foi
be planted any time this month ; but if it should he P!a.Hti"g
deemed more adviseable to defer planting till next*™11 tiees"
month, the ground may be prepared for their reception
any time during open weather. The borders on which
fruit trees are to be planted, which are to be trained
against walls or espaliers, should be trenched or dug
two spades deep. For planting and preparing ground
for fruit trees, see October. 4 -
The roots of the more tender sorts of fruit trees, viz. Protect the
peaches, nectarines, apricots, and indeed of all sorts ofroots’ 8cc'
stoned fruit, which may have been planted any time in
the course of the winter, will require to be protected
during frost by a covering of straw, or litter mixed
with dung, or something of that nature, applied to a
considerable distance round the stem, so as to cover the
ground completely, and prevent the frost from penetrat-
ing.
. Protect fig-trees during frosty weather with a cover¬
ing of mats, or something of that nature, because their
shoots being succulent, particularly towards their extre¬
mities, are apt to be destroyed by the frost. This is of
the more consequence as the fruit is produced from the
young shoots only, and chiefly from their extremities,
the parts most liable to suffer.
Where there are vineries, peach, cherry-houses, &c. Force fruit
the glasses ought to be put on about the beginning oftrees
the month when it is intended to force early, and fires
ought to be applied about the middle or towards the
end of it. See Forcing, February. ^
Towards the beginning, middle, or end of the month, straw,
hot-beds may be made for forcing strawberries, which’ berriss*
if properly managed, will produce ripe fruit in March
or April. The hot-beds are to be formed according
to the directions given under the article Melon, and
Cucumber. See Kitchen Garden, January. The dung
should be raised at least to the height of three feet, and
the. frame and glasses put on as soon as the bed is made,
which will both protect it from rain or snow, and draw
up the steam sooner. As soon as the violent heat is
over, the surface of the bed should be covered to the
depth of four or five inches with dry earth, or with a
quantity of decayed tanners bark taken from an old
tan-bed. The pots containing the plants should be
plunged up to the rims into the earth or tan with which
the bed is covered. They should be placed as close to¬
gether as possible, and care taken to fill up all the in¬
terstices with earth or tan. When all the pots are
plunged, put on the glasses and keep them close til!
3 G the
4i 8
GARDE
, , the steam rise in the bee!, when it will be necessary to
Flower raise them a little behind, to allow the steam to pass oil.
Garden. The alpine and scarlet strawberry are commonly made
use of for this purpose.
The plants should be two years old, and it potted
the preceding autumn, they will succeed the better j but
if a quantity of plants were not put into pots last au¬
tumn" for this purpose, that work may he done any
time this month during open weather. For the me¬
thod, see September. Or the plants may be taken up
now with balls of earth, and placed in the beds without
beinp put into pots. When the plants begin to push,
let them have plenty of air during favourable weather,
for should they be kept too close they wi 1 become
weakly, and either produce no flowers at all, or their
flowers will drop off without yielding frmt. ihey
should likewise be frequently watered and protected
during the night in severe weather with a covering ol
mats.° When the heat of the bed begins to decay, it
should be renewed by proper linings ol fresh dung, ap¬
plied as directed for melon-beds. As to the size ot hot¬
beds nothing need be said, as that must be regulated by
the number of plants intended to be forced, liot-beds
formed of tanners bark, particularly where there are pits
constructed on purpose, will answer better than those ot
horse-dung, because they afford a more equable heat.
Where there are pine-houses, or hot-boases ol any kind,
plenty of strawberries may be obtained early, without
much trouble, by placing pots filled with the plants m
them anywhere near the glass.
Sect. III. The Flower Garden or Pleasure Ground.
p (,4i! Double flowers, as sweetwilliams, wallflowers,stocks,
flowers in rose campion, and auriculas, carnations, &c. kept in pots,
pots. 0,jght to be protected in severe weather, either by com¬
mon garden frames, or by coverings of mats supported
on hoops. Due attention must be paid to give them air
whenever the weather is mild. Where there are no
conveniences of the above description, the pots may be
plunged up to their rims in well-sheltered borders close
to a south wall. The pots containing hardy plants
should likewise be plunged in the earth in some dry
situation up to the rims, to protect the roots from
BnW "^During severe frosty weather the beds in which the
roots in finer sorts of hyacinths, tulips, ranunculuses, anemones,
beds. &c. have been planted, should be protected by a cover¬
ing of mats or straw ; but if the plants have begun to
make their appearance above ground, the beds should
>e arched over with low hoops and covered with mats,
which ought to be fixed down to prevent their being
blown off by the wind ; and they should be removed
s;o occasionally during mild weather.
Plant bul- If any hyacinth, tulip, narcissus, crown imperial,
bous roots, crocus, or snowdrop roots remain unplanted, they ought
now to be put into the ground. For the method of
planting them, see October.
51 " About the latter end of the month, if the weather is
annual 7 mild, sow a few sweet peas in any warm sheltered situa¬
tion for flowering early, also some seeds of candytuft,
larkspur, adonis, dwarf sunflower, persicaria, venus
navel-wort, venus looking-glass, lobel’s-catchfly, and
Eor®e flow- . , .
in the pansy violet. .
hpt-honse. Pots of pinks, carnations, roses, Persian or common
N I N G. _ > Part ]
lilach, hyacinth, polyanthus, narcissus,Italian narcissus, jan;;
dwarf tulip, jonquil, lily ol the valley, &c, may be Nuci,.
placed in the hot-house, where they will flower early.1 if,
As soon as they come into blow they should be removed
into a green-house, or the apartments ol a dwelling-
house, where they will continue longer in flower than
they would do if left in the stove, where the great heat
would accelerate their decay. All those should nave
been put into pots the preceding autumn, or at least
some time previous to their being introduced into the
hot-house. The roses in particular require to be well
rooted in the pots before they are forced.
Shrubs may now be pruned, which should be per-Man
formed with a knife and not with garden sheers. Allnnem
irregular shoots which extend far beyond the rest of6™
the branches should be cut off. A few branches should
also be cut out wherever they are too much crowded to¬
gether, likewise all dead and decayed ones. After the
pruning has been finished, the ground in the shiubbery
ought to be dug over, and all suckers removed. Where
the shrubs are too much crowded together, some of them
ought to be taken out; and where any of them have
died, or if they stand too distant, some young ones may
now be planted to fill up the vacancies. ;|
Grass walks and lawns should be kept neat by fre-0fgn|
quent poling and rolling. Poling may be performed in
open dry weather, with a long taper ash pole about
twelve or fifteen feet long, which breaks and scatters
the worm casts. After this, in moderately dry weather,
roll with a wooden roller, to which all the loose worm-
casts will adhere. Walks or lawns may also be made
this month during open weather. Good turf may be
obtained from commons or downs where sheep leed,
or from fields which have been long under pasture.
Each turf should be marked out a yard long and a foot
in breadth, and cut to the thickness of an inch with a
turfing iron. As the cutting proceeds, they should be
rolled up compactly with the grass side in. If they are
not closely rolled up they will be apt to break in
carrying. They must he laid on the walk or lawn close
to one another after the surface has been rendered level
and compact by proper treading, that it may not settle
unequally. When they have been put on they must be
beat down with a wooden rammer, and afterwards roll¬
ed with a large iron or wooden roller.
Gravel walks should be cleared of weeds and all de-0^
cayed leaves, and kept clean ; and in dry weather they ws 11
should be occasionally rolled. New walks may likewise
be formed now. For the method, see March.
Edgings of boxwood, thrift, &c. may be planted anyEdf
time this month in open weather. See October.
Hedges of hawthorn, barberry, privet, hazel, holm,Plat 5-
yew, birch, elm, elder, &c. may be planted during tbis^
month. See November. Old hedges which have
become open below should be plashed. See DeceM-
. • nft'it
Forest trees for ornamental plantations, coppices, or^
woods, may be planted either now, or at any time from
the fall of the leaf till the rise of the sap in spring. oee
October.
Sect. IV, Nursery.
Prune and transplant shrubs, fruit and forest trees, #
Trim the stems of forest trees, and cut off all irrtre«
regular
:
h
1!
w. ■
(tIII. CARD
hit. regular rambling shoots of shrubs, and reduce them to
,,en- a regular neat form. This work may be executed any
• and time this month, even during frost, when little else can
muse, be done. ^]] j^Jnds of hardy deciduous shrubs, fruit,
and forest trees, may be transplanted during open wea¬
ther.
Dig ground in open weather, and wheel out dung in
frost.
Vacant compartments of ground may be dug any
time during open weather j and likewise after the ne¬
cessary pruning has been given to the trees and shrubs,
the ground between the rows may he dug, and all weeds
j;, carefully buried.
0 ted- The young plants of many of the tenderer kinds of
li ■ trees and shrubs, such as cedar of Lebanon, and some
other species of pine, cypress, Chinese arbor vitae, straw¬
berry-tree, &c. require to be protected during frost.
If they have been raised in boxes or pots, they may be
placed in garden frames and occasionally covered with
the glasses •, but care must be taken always to remove
the glasses in mild open weather. If the plants stand
in beds in the open ground, they may be covered with
mats supported on hoops, which must be removed du¬
ring favourable weather, or a covering of pease straw, or
[ something of that nature may answer the purpose.
Pi igate Layers of many kinds of trees and shrubs may be
tn See. made any time this month during open weather} many
^ ers‘ of them which are laid now will he well rooted and
fit for removing by October 5 for the method, see No¬
vember.
B; it. Put in cuttings of honeysuckles, gooseberries, cur-
“ rants, &c. indeed most kinds of trees and shrubs may
be propagated by cuttings. For this purpose select the
Straight shoots of last year’s growth ; take them off by
a clean cut with a sharp knife, and reduce them to the
length of ten, twelve, or fifteen inches, by cutting off
part of their smaller extremities. Plant them in rows a
foot apart, and at the distance of four or five inches from
one another in the rows, taking care to insert one-third
or one half of their length into the ground. Though
cuttings will grow when their smaller extremities are
put into the ground, they never succeed so well in this
inverted position, therefore in planting, attention should
he paid to place them in their natural position. Older
and longer branches of some trees and shrubs, viz. wil-
1 low, elder, &c. may be employed as cuttings.
b iew. Gooseberries, currants, roses, lilachs, and many other
shrubs and trees, may be propagated by suckers or off¬
sets from the roots ; these may be taken off any time
this month, and planted in rows. Previous to their be¬
ing planted it would be proper to trim off part of their
extremities.
The
Sect. V. Green-House and Hot-House.
to During frost, keep the glasses shut j but whenever
iJ^-the weather is mild, give the green-house air by opening
Hed-the glasses more or less according to the state of the
weather: even in the brightest mild days during this
month the glasses should not be opened until about ten
o’clock in the morning, and ought to he shut again
about three in the afternoon. In dull foggy days, even
though the weather be mild, they should be opened but
little, and that for a short time, and in very damp
weather, not at all. When very severe frost prevails.
E N I N G.
flies must be put on, and the flues gently warmed ; but
the temperature of the air should not be raised higher
than merely to keep off the effects of the external frost.
A little fiie should likewise be put on during very wet
weather to banish the damps. Water should be given
to such plants as require it, but sparingly. Succulent
plants, such as aloes, &c. require little or no water at
this season. All dead and decayed leaves should lie
carefully picked off, and the green-house kept clean.
1 articular attention must be paid to the pine apple Pine apife
plants which are to produce fruit the ensuing summer, plants re-
as many of them in the course of this month begin to<lUireaUea
shew flowers. If due attention he not now paid to keep1'011’
up a proper heat, both in the tanned bed and in the air
of the hot-house, the plants may receive such a check
as will considerably affect the size of the future fruit.
The bark bed must be carefully examined ; and if the
hark be much decayed and the heat found on the de¬
cline, a quantity of fresh tanners hark should be pre¬
pared to be added as a refreshment to the old. The
pots containing the pine apple plants should then be ta¬
ken out of the tan pits, and a quantity of the decayed
tan removed from the surface and sides of the pits, to
make room for the fresh tan which is to be added.
The old tan must likewise be turned up from the bot¬
tom, and well mixed with the new, after which the
pots must be again plunged into the tan. But if, on
examination, the heat of the tan pit be found good,
and the tan not much decayed, it will be sufficient to
turn the old tan, and to mix it well together without
making any addition of new. This operation will re¬
vive the heat of the bed, and preserve it in good condi¬
tion for some time to come. The heat of the air in the
house must likewise be attended to, and regulated by
the thermometer and by due attention to the fires.
Moderate watering must be given once a week or ten
days, according as the pine apple plants may seem to
require it 5 and care must be taken not to pour any of
the water into their hearts or among their leaves.
The other plants in the hot-house must be regularly
watered ; but those of a succulent nature, such as the
different species of aloe, euphorbia, mesembryanthe-
mum, &c. require very little water at a time, and that
but seldom.
Kidney beans, sown in pots or in narrow boxes ofK dj
about two or three feet long, may be reared in the hot- beanJ/
house. Those sown this month will produce fruit ift
April or March. When sown in pots, two or three
may be put into each, and covered about an inch deep :
When in boxes they may be planted to the depth of an
inch along the middle, at the distance of two or three
inches from one another. The pots or boxes may be
placed on the crib of the bark bed, on shelves, or any
convenient situation, within the house, where they may
not encumber the other plants. After the plants have
come up, they should be regularly and frequently wa¬
tered. The kinds commonly used for this purpose are
the early speckled dwarf, negro dwarf, and dun-colour¬
ed dwarf.
Cucumbers may be raised with tolerable success in r
the hot-house, which will produce fruit early in spring. ucum"eis‘
If the plants have been raised in small pots, plunged in
the tan of the bark bed, or in hot-beds made of horse
dung, they should be transplanted into larger pots or
boxes, in which they may remain and produce fruit;
3^2 or
420
February, or the seeds may be sown at once in the pots where they
Kitchen are to remain. In this case six or eight seeds may be
Garden, sown in each pot, or patches containing that number
v'"“ may be sown at proper intervals in long narrow boxes.
When the plants have come up, only two or three ot
the strongest should be left in each pot or patch. The
pots or boxes may be placed in any convenient situation
in the hot-house, but will succeed best on a shelf fixed
near the top of the house, within a short distance of the
glass. The plants must be frequently watered, and have
some small rods fixed near them, to which the runners
may be fastened.
FEBRUARY.
Sect. I. Kitchen Garden.
6 S
Admit air The cauliflower plants, which are under frames,
vo eauli- should have plenty of air. Indeed, whenever the wea-
flower tjier vviu permit, the glasses ought to be taken OS’ en-
plant>«. tirely.
About the end of the month, if the weather be mild,
some of the strongest plants may be transplanted into
the situations where they are to remain. They ought
to be planted in good well-manured ground, in a warm
situation, at the distance of two feet and a half each
way from one another. The same attention must be
paid to cauliflowers under bell or hand-glasses. W hen
more than two plants happen to be under one glass, the
weakest of them should be planted out about the end of
the month, if the weather be mild, and only one or
two should be left under each glass: but if the weather
is unsettled or severe, transplanting ought to be deferred
till next month.
Sow eauli- Some cauliflower seed may be sown any time this
Sowers. month to produce plants to succeed those that have been
preserved during winter under frames or hand-glasses, or
to supply the place of those which may have been cut
off by the severity of the weather.
For this purpose make a slight hot-bed of horse dung,
to the height of 20 inches or two feet j cover it with a
light rich earth to the depth of four or five inches, on
the surface of which sow the seeds, and cover them to
the depth of a quarter of an inch with earth of the same
description. After the seed has been sown, a frame and
glasses should be put on, if one can be spared for this
purpose j and when the plants begin to appear above
ground, they should have plenty of air, whenever the
weather will permit, otherwise they will be drawn up
and become weak. The glasses, therefore, (unless in
very severe weather) should be raised every day, and in
mild ones taken off entirely. When there are no glas¬
ses to spare, the bed may be covered during the night,
and in severe weather, with mats properly fixed over it.
The plants should be sprinkled w'ith water from time to
time, if moderate showers should not render this unne¬
cessary.
Tt vi/ i uit Cabbage plants, if tolerably strong, should be trans¬
cabbages. planted in the course of this month. See Planting out
cabbages, January.
Sow cab- About the middle, or towards the end of the month,
bages. sow some cabbage and savoy seed to raise plants for late
crops in summer and autumn. Both the early and late
kinds of cabbage may be sown now, but it is better to
sk>w them in August) but if none were sown in autumn,
Part;,!,!
or if the plants raised then have been cut off by the pel)|.
severity of the winter, a quantity of both early ami late Kite ]
should be sown the first opportunity this month. That Garot, j
the plants may sooner acquire sufficient strength for Yr
planting out, it would be proper to sow them in a slight
hot-bed.
Where small salad is required, let some seeds ofsmaj]'
mustard, cress, radish, rape, &c. be sown regularly every lad.
eight or ten days during the course of the month. See
January. ?, i
Earth up celery in open dry weather if the plants Celei
have advanced much above ground. Sow some upright
celery seed for an early crop about the middle or to¬
wards the end of the month, in a small bed of rich light
earth in a warm situation. There are three ways in
which this may be performed. 1st, The earth of the
bed should be well broken with the spade j the seed
sown on the rough surface and raked in. 2dly, The
surface of the bed may be made smooth j the seed sown
and covered to the depth of a quarter of an inch with
light rich earth. jdly, A quantity of earth, to the
depth of about half an inch, should be removed with
the back of a rake from the surface of the bed into the
alleys, which, after the seed has been sown, should be
gently replaced with the rake. Those who are very
anxious to have early celery, should sow some in a slight
hot-bed. The plants raised now will be fit for use in
June or July ) but it would be adviseable to sow few at
this season, as they will be very apt to pipe or run up
to seed before they acquire sufficient size : there are
two kinds of celery, the Italian, and turnip-rooted or
celeriac. ^
About the beginning of this month sow some short-
topped radishes to succeed those sown last month, and
some salmon and Italian radishes at any time during the
month. See January.
Some round-leaved spinach may be sown any time inSpinac.
the course of the month, to succeed that which was
sown last month. See January.
Some early peas may be sown this month. This is Peas,
likewise a proper season for sowing a full crop of late
peas, such as marrowfats, rouncivals, Carolina,and sugar
pea, &c. For the distances at which they are to be
sown, see January.
This is the proper time to plant beans. For the me-Beaw.
thod and distances, see January. .g
Such peas and beans as are sufficiently advanced in
growth should now be earthed up. peas a:
In mild open weather sow some seeds of green and beans,
white cos lettuce,likewise some Sicilian, imperial, brown^'^
Dutch, and common cabbage lettuce. See January. tranip
If young lettuce plants are wanted for transplantingietws
early, they should be sown in a slight hot-bed or in
some warm sheltered situation j and when they have
advanced to the height of about two inches, they may
be planted out in the open ground. Lettuces that have
stood the winter in frames, under hand-glasses, or in
warm borders, should be thinned and left standing at
the distance of one foot from each other, and those that
are drawn out should be planted in some proper situa¬
tion.
About the middle or end of this month sow some car-gow«
rots and parsnips. They succeed best in light deep soil, and pi
and in an open situation. The ground should be dug, sB1P*
at least one spade deep or two, if the depth of the soil
will
GARDENING.
lee
Plai ir-
tots, p-
fot » (•
III. G A E D
r}., will admit, and the clods ought to be well broken,
n They may be sown either broadcast, in narrow beds, or
i. in drills. See March.
Sow some seeds of red, white, and green beet, like-
wise of mangel wurzel or German beet. The fine red
root of the first is used as a pickle, &c. ; the leaves of
the white and green are made use of in soups, &c.; and
the large leaves of the mangel wurzel are boiled and
used as spinach. The footstalks of its leaves are like¬
wise used as asparagus. Each kind should be sown se¬
parately, either broadcast or in drills, an inch deep,
and about a toot apart j but the mangel wurzel requires
more room than the other kinds, because it is of larger
growth. After the plants have come up, they should
be thinned out, to the distance of six or eight inches
from each other. The seed may likewise be dibbled in
rows, about a foot apart, and at the distance of six or
eight inches from each other in the rows. Two or more
seeds may be put into each hole ; and when the plants
appear above ground, one of the strongest only should
be left. ^
Some of last year’s carrots, parsnips, and beets, should
be planted out in rows, two feet apart, and one foot di¬
stant from each other in the row, to stand and produce
seed.
Sowcions Some onions and leeks may he sown in mild dry wea-
ni s. tber, any time after the middle of this month. The
ground should he well dug, and the seeds sown when
the surface is dry, and then raked in. The best mode
is to divide the ground into beds of about four feet
wide, for the convenience of thinning, weeding, &c. ;
but they may also he sown in plots, without being di¬
vided into beds, in which case, if the soil be light, the
seed may be gently trodden in, before the surface is
raked. The leeks will be fit for transplanting in June
and July, and the onions for drawing in August. Some¬
times a small quantity of leek-seed is sown along with
the onion j and when the onions are drawn in August,
the leeks are allowed to remain to acquire a proper-
size; hut it is better to sow' each separately. The prin¬
cipal kinds of onion are Strasburg, Deptford, Spanish,
Portugal, long keeping, and red.
k The Hamburgh parsley and scorzonera are cultivated
«-for their roots ; the salsafy for its roots and tops. The
roots of all of them, if sown now or any time in spring,
will be fit for using in autumn, and continue good all
winter. The Hamburgh parsley roots are not only used
for culinary purposes, but recommended in medicine.
-They are said to be useful in the gravel, 'the seeds
may be sown in drills, six inches apart, and covered
with earth to the depth of half an inch. The plants
should be thinned in May or June, and left standing
at the distance of six inches from each other in the
rows.
^ About the middle of the month you may sow seeds of
ournet, lovage, angelica, marigold, fennel, dill, sorrel,
cuervi!, and clary. Each kind should he sown sepa¬
rately, either in the place where they are to remain, or
tuey may be transplanted in summer. See June.
About the middle or end of the month sow marjoram,
thyme, savory, and hyssop. The plants may either re-
mam where sown, or be planted out in the beginning
of summer. See June.
Towards the end of the month plant sbalot, garlic, and
8. rokambole. Having procured a quantity of their roots,
E N I N G.
du
421
pmle
e ^ Uieni \n rows nine inches apart and six February,
mcnes distant from each other in the row. They may Kitchen
be put in to the depth of two inches with the dibble or harden.
placed in drills, two inches deep, drawn with a hoe.’  
This is a proper time to raise a full crop of parsley. Pa,I7v
See January. j -v-
A few potatoes may he planted about the middle or PotatL
end of this month for an early crop; but if wanted very
early, some early dwarf potatoes should be planted in
a slight hot-bed. For the method of planting, see
March. 0
Horse radish is propagated by offsets or cuttings ofHors/ra.
the roots, about three inches long, which may he plant-dish,
ed either with the dibble or spade, at the distance of six
or eight inches from each other, in rows two feet apart.
When they are planted with the dibble, the holes ought
to be made 10 or 12 inches deep ; when with the spade
a trench should be made a full spade deep, in the bot¬
tom of which the offsets or cuttings should be placed
erect, and covered with earth from the next trench.
As they will not appear above ground till the month of
May, a crop of spinach, radishes, or small salad, may be
got from the ground, and cleared oft' before the horse
radish appears. After the plants have come above
ground, they ought to he kept clear of weeds.
About the middle or towards the end of the month,Sox/tunm,
sow some seed of the early Dutch turnip in a border of
light earth, in a warm situation. See March.
If no preparations were made last month for'raisi„ec>'
early encumbers and melons they may be commenced
aiiy time this month, with better prospect of success.
For the method of forming and managing the seed-bed*
see January.— If the cucumbers and melons, sown last
month and transplanted into small pots, he fit for ridg¬
ing out, a hot-bed for one or more frames should be
got ready for their reception, which should be raised to
the height of three feet and a half, and covered with a
frame and glasses. About a week afterwards, if the
hot-bed has settled uneverdy, the frame and glasses
should he removed ; and after the surface of the bed
has been made perfectly level, replaced. As soon as
the violent heat has subsided, the rank steam escaped,
and all danger of burning apparently over, cover the
bed to the depth of two inches with dry light rich
earth, and raise a conical heap of the same earth to
the height of about 10 inches, immediately under the
centre of each light. By the following day the earth
will have acquired a proper warmth, and the bed will
be fit for the reception of the young plants. The earth
laid over the surface of the bed, to the depth of two’
inches, will prevent the rank steam of the dung, on the
one hand, from rising up freely, and yet not keep it
down altogether : were much of the surface of the dung
exposed, and the steam allowed to escape freely, the
young plants would be destroyed; and, on the other
hand, were it prevented from escaping altogether, by
laying on earth to a sufficient depth at once, the bed
would become overheated, and the roots of the plants
might be burnt.
The pots containing the young cucumber and melon wJ9*
plants, which were transplanted last month (see Ja-mentffthe
NUARY), should he well watered the day previous to former
their being ridged out, to make the ball of earth ad-crpf’*
here, and come out of the pot entire. After the tops
of the hillocks of earth, which had been raised to the
height,
422
gardening.
February.
Kitchen
Garden.
height of 10 inches untier each light, have been Ratten¬
ed by reducing their height about two inches, make a
hole in the centre of each, capable of containing one ot
' the balls of earth, which is to be turned out of the pots.
Select some pots containing the strongest plants *, place
your hand on the surface of the pot, allowing the plants
to pass between your fingers •, invert it, and strike the
edge of it gently against the frame till the ball ol earth
comes out, which should be put into one of the holes in
Fart:
beginning of next month 5 but the melons will not be Feb
ripe before May or June. ^
Cucumbers and melons have male and xernale flowers ;i.
on the same plant, which are easily distinguished from I*!
one another. The male flowers, in the centre ot whichi31pt|
the anther® are situated that contain the farina (ortion
fecundating powder), have stalks of an equal thickness,flo"'
without any swell immediately under the flowers •,
whereas a srvelling is perceptible immediately under the
comes out, which should be put into one otie ^ - vvbicI, contain the female organ of gene-
t>,el,mock just mentionecl; close the as soon as they are pushed out from the stalks of
bail, and make it rise about an inch over its surface.
After they have been thus ridged out, they should re¬
ceive a gentle watering, and be covered with .the glas¬
ses till the steam begin to rise much, when air should
be given bv raising the glasses. These hot-beds into
which the" cucumbers and melons have been finally
transplanted, must be managed in the same manner as
the nursery beds, mentioned last month. A covering
of straw, or something of that nature, should be laid all
round the dung *, linings of fresh dung should be applied
to the sides of the bed when the heat begins to decline,
air admitted under the same circumstances and with
the same precautions as there stated. If three cucum¬
bers or two melons have been planted in the pots, as
before directed, one of the weakest of either should be
removed immediately before, or alter they are ru ge
out. Should any symptoms of burning appear soon af¬
ter the plants have been ridged out, part of the earth,
close to the bottom of the hillocks, must be removed j
and as soon as the violent heat has subsided, be replaced
with fresh earth. When the heat of the bed begins to
decline a little, especially if any of the roots of the
plants shew themselves through the sides of the hillocks,
a quantity of fresh earth should be applied all round
them, which should be kept within the frame for one
nierht previously, that it may acquire a proper tempera¬
ture, for should it be applied cold, it might injure the
.1 1    XV F Vi 1 ci r»ti rl H 1 -
ration, as scon as they are pushed out from the stalks of
the plant, which is the germen or future fruit. If
none of the farina of the male be conveyed into the fe¬
male flower, the germen decays, becomes yellowish, and
drops off. It becomes therefore necessary, particularly
at this early period, to impregnate the female flowers
by suspending male flowers over them, and shaking
some of the farina into the pistillum (or female organ);
for after the plants have continued some time in flower,
the air of the hot-bed in which they grow becomes
loaded with the farina, by which means it is wafted into
the female flowers. Insects likewise, particularly bees,
at a more advanced period of the year, serve to convey
it from flower to flower. As soon as the female flowers
have opened, pinch off" a newly blown male flower, to¬
gether with a portion of its foot stalk, remove tne great¬
est part of its corolla or flower leaf, introduce it into
the female flower, and either touch the pistillum of the
female gently with the anther® of the male so as to
make some of the farina adhere, or shake the male
flower over the pistillum of the female in order to make
some of the farina fall on it. In a day or two after im¬
pregnation the germen or future fruit begins to swell,
and in about a fortnight, if the weather be favourable
and the heat of the bed good, the young cucumbers
may he brought to table. This operation may be em*
ployed to produce new varieties, not only of cucumbers
and melons, but of many other vegetables. M ere the
93
Topping.
yuung roots. Two or three fS ff“r ‘M3; fcLirjone^riR; of'mdoi to'be impregnated with
tional quantity of fresh earth should be applied to 0ther a kind would be produced par-
sides of the hills ; and in two or three more the whole ^ of both ; thus a large
surface of the bed ma, be earthed over as h.gh as the takmg migll’t be improved
plants --e got two rou^.eaves and
;^^t=V«,a(o the .con
sir. r.TS&S; si t» -'".a
very small, with a needle or pin, being careful not to
injure the joint. After the plants are thus topped or
stopped, they soon acquire strength ; and in about 10
or 12 days, each of them will throw out two or three
runners, which will shew flowers sometimes at the se¬
cond or third joint. Were the plants not to be topped,
the principal shoots would probably advance to the
length of about two feet, without sending off any run¬
ners to fill up the frame, and without shewing a single
flower. If none of the runners, which are pushed out
after the first topping, shew flowers at the third or
fourth joint, they should be topped likewise, which wi
is periormeu uy lemoving uic . e
one species, and impregnating it with the farina ot ano¬
ther of the same natural family. The plants procee -
ing from such a commixture partake more of the pro¬
perties of the male than the female parent. Me have
seen a hybrid produced from the papaver somnijerum
impregnated with the farina of ^ papaver onentak,
so like the male parent as with difficulty to be dis¬
tinguished from it.
The papaver orientate produces only one flower on
a stalk ; some of this hybrid however carried more than
one, and in this particular alone it resembled theffl-
paver somniferum^ which branches very much. r
Knight has made some curious and interesting expen-
fmirth inint they should be topped likewise, which win ~ 7. T , j * -i j fol-
^ f ilipm tn nush out two or three runners, all ments on this subject, which he has detailed
cause each ofthem to push out two or tnreer nr to Sir Jose oh Banks, published m the
of which may perhaps prove fruitful. As these runners
advance in growth they ought to be trained regularly
along the surface of the beds, and all very weak or re¬
dundant shoots removed. The cucumbers, if well ma¬
naged, will be fit for the table about the end of this or
lowing letter to Sir Joseph Banks, published m ® 5.
Transactions of the Royal Society. “ The re®u
some experiments which I have amused, myself wit (
making on plants, appearing to me to be interesting to ^ „
the naturalist, by proving the existence of superfcetation
III. GARDENING.
in the vegetable work!, and being likely to conduce to
ary. * - —o  -----; o  j   —
icn some improvements in agriculture, I have taken the li¬
en- berty to communicate them to you. T!ie breeders of
animals have very long entertained an opinion that con¬
siderable advantages are obtained by breeding from
males and females not related to each other. Though
this opinion has lately been controverted, the number
of its opposers has gradually diminished, and I can speak
from my own observation and experience, that animals
degenerate in size, at least on the same pasture, and in
other respects under the same management, when this
process of crossing the breed is neglected. The close
analogy between the animal and vegetable world, and
the sexual system equally pervading both, induced me
to suppose that similar means might be productive of
similar effects in each 5 and the event has, I think, fully
justified this opinion. The principal object I had in
view, was to obtain new and improved varieties of the
apple, to supply the place of those which have become
diseased and unproductive by having been cultivated
beyond the period which nature appears to have assign¬
ed to their existence. But as I saw that several years
must elapse before the success or failure of this process
could possibly be ascertained, I wished in the interval
to see what would be its effects in annual plants. A-
mongst these none appear so well calculated to answer
my purpose as the common pea, not only because I
could obtain many varieties of this plant, of different
forms, sizes, and colours, but also because the struc¬
ture of its blossom, by preventing the ingress of insects
and adventitious farina, has rendered its varieties re¬
markably permanent. I had a kind growing in my
garden, which, having been long cultivated in "the same
soil, had ceased to be productive, and did not appear to
recover the whole of its former vigour when removed to
a soil of a somewhat different quality: on this my first
experiment in 1787 was made. Having opened a do¬
zen of its immature blossoms, I destroyed the male
parts, taking great care not to injure the female ones j
and a few days afterwards, when the blossoms appeared
mature, I introduced the farina of a very large and lux¬
uriant gray pea into one half of the blossoms, leaving
the ocher half as they were. Bhe pods of each grew
equally well, but I soon perceived that in these into
whose blossoms the farina had not been introduced, the
seeds remained nearly as they were before the blossoms
expanded, and in that state they withered. Those in
the other pods attained maturity, but were not in any
sensible degree different from those afforded by other
plants of the same variety 5 owing, I imagine, to the
external covering of the seed (as I have found in other
plants) being furnished entirely by the female. In the
succeeding spring the difference however became ex¬
tremely obvious, for the plants from them rose with ex¬
cessive luxuriance, and the colour of their leaves and
steins clearly indicated that they had all exchanged
their whiteness for the colour of the male parent. The
seeds produced in autumn were dark gray.
“By introducing the farina of another white variety,
(or in some instances by simple culture), I found this
colour was easily discharged, and a numerous variety of
new kinds produced, many of which were in point of
size and in every other respect much superior to the ori¬
ginal white kind, and grew with excessive luxuriance,
’Ome of them attaining the height of more than twelve
feet. I had frequent occasion to observe in this jdant
a stronger tendency to produce purple blossoms and co¬
loured seeds than white ones ; for when I introduced
the farina of a purple blossom into a white one, the
whole seeds in the succeeding year became coloured j
but when I endeavoured to discharge this colour by re¬
versing the process, a part only of them afforded plants
with white blossoms j this part sometimes occupying one
end of the pod, and being at other times irregularly
intermixed with these which, when sown, retained their
colour. It might perhaps be supposed that something
might depend on the quantity of farina employed $ but
I never could discover, in this or any other experiment
in which supcrfoetation did not take place, that the
largest or smallest quantity of farina afforded any dif¬
ference in the effect produced.
“ The dissimilarity I observed in the offspring afford¬
ed by different kinds cf farina in these experiments,
pointed out to me an easy method of ascertaining whe¬
ther superfcetation, (the existence of which has been
admitted amongst animals), could also take place in the
vegetable world. For as the offspring of a white pea
is always white, unless the farina of a coloured kind be
introduced into the blossom j and as the colour of the
gray one is always transferred to its offspring though
the female be white, it readily occurred to me, that if
the farina of both were mingled or applied at the same
moment, the offspring of each could be easily distin¬
guished.
“ My first experiment was not altogether successful,
for the offspring of five pods (the whole which escap¬
ed the birds) received their colour from the coloured
male. There was, however, a strong resemblance to
the other male in the growth and character of more
than one of the plants, and the seeds of several in the
autumn very closely resembled it in every thing but
colour. In this experiment, I used the farina of a white
pea, which possessed the remarkable property of shri¬
velling excessively when ripe, and in the second year I
obtained white seeds from the gray ones above men¬
tioned, perfectly similar to it. I am strongly disposed
to believe, that the seeds were here of common paren¬
tage ; but I do not conceive myself to be in possession
of facts sufficient to enable me to speak with decision
on this question.
“ If, however, the female afford the first organized
atom, and the farina act only as a stimulus, it appears
to me by no means impossible, that the explosion of
two vesicles of farina at the same moment (taken from
different plants) may afford seeds (as I have supposed)
of common parentage, and as I am unable to discover
any source of inaccuracy in this experiment, I must
believe this to have happened.
“ Another species of superfoetation, (if I have justly
applied the term to a process in which one seed ap¬
pears to have been the offspring of two males), has
occurred to me so often as to remove all possibility of
doubt as to its existence. In 1797, that year after I
had seen the result of the last-mentioned experiment,
having prepared a great many white blossoms, I intro¬
duced the farina of a white pea, and that of a gray pea,
nearly at the same moment into each, and as in the last
year, the character of the coloured male had prevailed,
I used its farina more sparingly than that of the white
one, and now almost every pod afforded plants of dif¬
ferent
423
February.
Kitchen
Garden.
424
February, ferent colours* The majority however were white, hut
Kitchen the characters of the two kinds were not sufficiently tlis-
Garden. tinct to allow me to judge with precision whether any
v J of the seeds produced were of common parentage or
not. In the last year I was more fortunate, having
prepared blossoms of the little early frame pea, 1 intro¬
duced its own farina, and immediately afterwards, that
of a very large and late gray kind j and I sowed the
seeds thus obtained in the end of the last summer. Many
of them retained the colour and character of the small
early pea not in the slightest degree altered, and blos¬
somed before they were 18 inches high, whilst others
(taken from the same pods) whose colour was changed,
grew to the height of more than four feet, and were
killed by the frost before any blossoms appeared.
“ It is evident that in those instances, superfoetation
took place, and it is equally evident that the seeds were
not all of common parentage. Should subsequent ex¬
perience evince that a single plant may be tbe offspring
of two males, the analogy between animal and vegetable
nature may induce some curious conjectures relative to
the process of generation in the animal world.
“ In the course of the preceding experiments, I
could, never observe that the character either of the
male or female in this plant at all preponderated in the
offspring, but as this point appeared interesting, I made
a few trials to ascertain it. And as the foregoing ob¬
servations had occurred in experiments made principally
to obtain new and improved varieties of the pea for
garden culture ; I chose for a similar purpose the more
hardy varieties usually sown in the fields. By intro¬
ducing tbe farina of the largest and most luxuriant kinds
into the blossoms of the most diminutive, and by revers¬
ing this process, I found that the powers of the male
and female in their effects on the offspring are exactly
equal. The vigour of the growth, the size of the
seeds produced, and the season of maturity, were the
same, though the one was a very early, and the other a
late variety. 1 had in this experiment a striking in¬
stance of the stimulative effects of crossing the breeds;
for the smallest variety, whose height rarely exceeded
two feet, was increased to six feet, whilst the height of
the large and luxuriant kind was very little diminished.
By this process, it is evident that any number of new
varieties may be obtained ; and it is highly probable,
that many of these will be found better calculated to
correct the defects of different soils and situations, than
any we have at present; for I imagine that all we now
possess have in a great measure been the produce of
accident, and it will rarely happen, in this or any other
case, that accident has done all that art will be found
able to accomplish.
“ The success of my endeavours to produce improv¬
ed varieties of the pea, induced me to try some experi¬
ments on wheat, but those did not succeed to my ex¬
pectations. I readily obtained as many varieties as I
wished, by merely sowing the difl'erent kinds together,
for the structure of the blossoms of this plant, (unlike
that of pea), freely admits the ingress of adventitious
farina, and is thence very liable to sport in varieties.
Some of these I obtained were excellent, others very
bad ; and none of them permanent. By separating
the best varieties, a most abundant crop was produced,
hut its quality was not quite equal to the quantity,
and all the discarded varieties again made their appear-
Panll!
ance. It appeared to me an extraordinary circum-
stance, that in the years 1795 and 1796, when almost IvLej
the whole crop of corn in this island was blighted, the ^jk
varieties thus obtained, and these only, escaped in this'"“iH
neighbourhood, though sown in several difterent soils
and situations.
“ My success in the apple (as far as long experience
and attention have enabled me to judge from the culti¬
vated appearance of trees which have not yet borne
fruit) has been fully equal to my hopes. But as the
improvement of this fruit was the first object of my
attention, no probable means of improvement either
from soil or aspect were neglected. The plants, how- ! ,
ever, which I obtained from my efforts to unite the
good qualities of two kinds of apple seem to possess
the greatest health and luxuriance of growth, as well as
the most promising appearance in other respects. In
some of these, the character of the male appears to pre- i
vail; in others, that of the female ; and in others both
appear blended, or neither is distinguishable. These
variations, which were often observable in the seeds (
taken from the single apple, evidently arise from the
want of permanence in tbe characters of this fruit
when raised from seed.
“ The results of similar experiments on another fruit,
the grape, were nearly the same as of those on the ap- 1 (
pie, except that by mingling the farina of a black and
a white grape, just as the blossoms of the latter were ex¬
panding, I sometimes obtained plants from the same
berry so dissimilar that I had good reason to believe
them the produce of superfoetation. By taking off the
cups and destroying the immature male parts (as in the
pea), I perfectly succeeded in combining the characters
of different varieties of this fruit, as far as the changes
of form and autumnal tints in the leaves of the offspring
will allow me to judge.
Many experiments of the same kind were tried on
other plants ; but it is sufficient to say that all tended to
evince, that improved varieties of every fruit and escu¬
lent plant may be obtained by this process, and that
nature intended that a sexual intercourse should take
place between neighbouring plants of the same species.
The probability of this will, I think, be apparent,
when we take a view of the variety of methods which
nature has taken to disperse the farina, even of these
plants in which it has placed the male and female parts
within the same empalement. It is often scattered by
an elastic exertion of the filaments which support it in
the first opening of the blossom, and its excessive light¬
ness renders it capable of being carried to a great di¬
stance by the wind. Its position within the blossom
is generally well adapted to place it on the bodies of in¬
sects, and the villous coat of the numerous family of
bees is not less well calculated to carry it. I have fre¬
quently observed with great pleasure the dispersion of
the farina of some of the grasses, when the sun had just
risen in a dewy morning. It seemed to be impelled
from the plant with considerable force, and being blue
was easily visible, and very strongly resembled in ap¬
pearance the explosion of a grain of gunpowder. An
examination of the structure of the blossoms of many
plants, will immediately point out that nature has some¬
thing more in view than that its own proper males
should fecundate each blossom, for the means it employs
are always best calculated to answer the intended pur¬
pose.
GARDENING
;t HI.
CARD
iaty pose. But the farina is often so placed that it can never
hen reach the summit of the pointal, unless by adventitious
len. means ; and many trials have convinced me that it has
-J no action on any other part of it. In promoting this
sexual intercourse between neighbouring plants of the
same species, nature appears to me to have an important
purpose in view ; for independent of its stimulative
power, this intercourse certainly tends to confine with¬
in more narrow limits those variations which accidental
richness or poverty of soil usually produces. It may be
objected by those who admit the existence of vegetable
mules, that under this extensive intercourse these must
have been more numerous ; but my total want of suc¬
cess in many endeavours to produce a single mule plant,
makes me much disposed to believe that hybrid plants
have been mistaken for mules, and to doubt (with all
the deference I feel for the opinions of Linnaeus and
his illustrious followers) whether nature ever did or ever
will permit the production of such a monster. The
existence of numerous mules in the animal world be¬
tween kindred species is allowed, but nature has here
guarded against their production, by impelling every
animal to seek its proper mate; and amongst the fea¬
thered tribe, when, from perversion of appetite, sexual
intercourse takes place between those of distinct gene¬
ra (a), it has in some instances at least rendered the
death of the female the inevitable consequence. But
in the vegetable world there is not any thing to direct
the male to its proper female, its farina is carried by
winds and insects to plants of every difl’erent genus and
species, and it therefore appears to me (as vegetable
mules certainly are not common) that nature has not
permitted them to exist at all.
“ I cannot dismiss this subject, without expressing my
regret, that those who have made the science of botany
their study should have considered the improvement of
those vegetables, which in their cultivated state afford
the largest portion of subsistence to mankind and other
animals, as little connected with the object of their
pursuit. Hence it has happened, that whilst much at¬
tention has been paid to the improvement of every spe¬
cies of useful animal, the most valuable esculent plants
have been almost wholly neglected. But when the ex¬
tent of the benefit which would arise to the agricul¬
ture of the country, from the pessession of varieties of
plants, which with the same extent of soil and labour
would afford even a small increase of produce, is consi¬
dered, this subject appears of no inconsiderable impor¬
tance. The improvement of animals is attended with
much expence, and the improved kinds necessarily extend
themselves slowly j but a single bushel of improved wheat
or peas may in ten years be made to afford seed enough
to supply the whole island, and a single apple or other
fruit tree may within the same time be extended to
every garden in it. These considerations have been the
cause of my addressing the foregoing observations to
you at this time; for it was much my wish to have ascer¬
tained before I wrote to you, whether in any instance a
jungle plant can be the offspring of two male, parents.
I he decision of that question must of necessity have oc-
E N I N G. 42
copied two years, and must therefore be left to the test
of future experiment.” Fruit'
The opinion Mr Knight endeavours to establish to- Ganteu.
wards the end of his letter, is certainly incorrect, if he v—~
means to assert that hybrids can only be produced by a
commixture of different varieties of the same species,
and that none can be produced by the union of plants'
of different species. The fact already stated relative to
the hybrid produced between the papav. oriental, and
somnif. (two species as different, in every respect, from
each other as the horse and ass).
Sect. II. Fruit Garden.
Where peaches, nectarines, and apricots, have not Prun^nj of
been pruned before this, that work ought to be done
without delay, because the flower buds after they have
begun to swell (which they do at this season) are easily
rubbed off. Plums, cherries, apples, pears, gooseber¬
ries, currants, and raspberries, &e. may likewise be
pruned during this month, if neglected till now.
About the end of tbe month you may prune figTiji.
trees, as by that time all danger of the young shoots
being killed by the frost will be over. As the young
shoots of last season alone produce figs the ensuing, a
sufficient supply of them must be left to nail on to the
wall; and superfluous, ill-placed, very strong long-joint¬
ed shoots, and small weak ones, ought to be cut away
close to the branch of the former year’s growth. The
blanches which are retained ought to be laid in and
nailed to the wall at full length, at the distance of about
half a foot from each other. They ought not to be
shortened, because the figs are generally produced from
that part of the branch near to the extremity : on this
account likewise care must be taken, in choosing those
which are to be retained, not only to prefer the shoots
of moderately vigorous growth, but likewise those
which have had least of their extremities killed by the
frost, for it frequently happens that the frost kills the
succulent extremities of branches, and sometimes even
the whole shoot.
Shortening the branches has another bad effect be¬
sides removing the part from which the fruit is to pro¬
ceed, it makes them throw out a crowd of lateral shoots,
which create confusion and shade the fruit. All worn-
out old branches which are not furnished with a suffi¬
cient number of young lateral shoots, ought to be cut
away, either close to the main branch from which they
proceed, or close to some shoot placed near their lower
end. Young fig trees may be planted also any time
this month. See October.
Strawberry beds should now receive a dressing. Last pjant*Sta
year’s runners should be cut away, weeds and decayed strawber-
leaves removed, the ground between the rows dug or
loosened with the hoe, and some earth drawn up about
the roots of the plants. Strawberries may be planted
towards the end of the month : for the method, see June
and September.
Any time this month you may begin to force the For0e?
trees on hot walls, in vine, peach, and cherry houses, early Trait.
&c.
(Aj) This is said to be the case with the drake and the hen.
f
?K
Vol. IX. Part II.
426
GARDE
February. &c. They ought to be covered with the glasses, some
Pleasure or time previous to the application of fire-heat, and it the
Flower houses have been constructed with pits for containing
Garden, hot-beds of tanners bark, or horse dung, a quantity of
If tanners bark is to be
either should be got ready,
used, it ought to be spread out and exposed to the air,
that it may dry, for if it be put in too wet it will either
not heat at all, or heat violently and soon rot, but it
properly dried, the heat will be moderate and last for a
long time. When horse dung is to be used, it ought
to be forked up into a heap and allowed to remain for
a few days, during which time it should be turned two
or three times with a fork that it may be thoroughly
mixed. Slight fires should be applied for two or three
days at first, which may be gradually increased. They
ought to be kindled about sunset, and supplied with fuel
from time to time till about ten o’clock, which will
keep the house in a proper heat until morning, when
the fires should again be set a going, if the heat has de¬
clined, but it will seldom be necessary at this season to
keep the fires burning all day. The fuel employed
may be either coal, wood, peat, or turf: of these coal
is best, because it makes the strongest, the most dura¬
ble, and most easily managed fire. The heat of each
house should be regulated by a thermometer. The de¬
cree of warmth kept up at this season, should not much
exceed the 6o° of Fahrenheit. When the sun shines
bright, the heat must be regulated by opening the glasses
more or less, and admitting the external air. Besides
the trees that may be trained to the wall or front of the
house, pots or boxes containing cherry or peach trees
may be introduced ; likewise pots of kidney beans,
strawberries, &c. roses, and a variety of other flowers.
The trees and plants within the house must be duly
watered, and have plenty of air admitted to them
whenever the weather will permit. When the fruit
approach to maturity a greater heat should be main¬
tained within the house, which may be effected during
the day by the rays of the sun, and sparing admission
of the external air, and during the night (if the wea¬
ther be cold) by fire.
it.
Sect. III. The Pleasure or Flower Garden.
ice Towards the end of the month, you may sow some
Sow tender tender annuals, such as balsams, cockscombs, globe
anHUa *' amaranthus, ice plants, egg plants, &c. They must
be sown in a hot-bed, which is to be formed and earth¬
ed over in the same way as seed beds for cucumbers and
melons. See January. The seeds may either be sown
in the earth of the bed, or in pots plunged into the earth.
Or a few may be sown in pots, and introduced into a
cucumber or melon bed. When the plants have ac¬
quired sufficient strength to admit of being transplanted,
they should be put into separate pots and transferred to
j other hot-beds. See April.
Hardy an- About the end of the month, you may sow some
miais. seed of mignionet, ten weeks stock, larkspur, flos A-
donis, convolvulus, lupines, scarlet, sweet-scented, and
Tangier pea, candytuft, dwarf lychnis, Venus’s look¬
ing glass, Lob el’s catchfly, Venus’s navel wort, dwarf
poppy, annual sunflower, oriental mallow, lavatera,
hawkweed, and many others. They must be sown in
N I N G. Par 1
places where they are to remain, for none of these plants pe,
succeed so well when they are transplanted. Plea!
Dig small patches with a trowel in the flower borders, f er
break the earth well, remove part of it from the surface . Gi "
with the edge of the trowel, and sow the seeds, which
should be covered with the earth which had been moved
aside from the surface of the patches. The smaller
seeds, such as mignionet, ten weeks stock, larkspur, &c.
should be covered to the depth of about a quarter of an
inch ; the larger ones, such as lupines, painted and sweet
peas, annual sunflower, &c. may be covered to the
depth of an inch. Alter the plants have advanced a
little in growth, they should be thinned out in propor¬
tion to their size, viz. one sunflower should be left in a
place, two plants of lavatera and oriental mallow, four
or five of the larger, and six or eight of the smaller
lupines, and so on in proportion.
Most kinds of hardy perennials and biennials maypi^
be planted out this month, viz. polyanthuses, prim-Per-
roses, London pride, violets, double daisies, double
chamomile, saxifrage, rose campion, rockets, campanu¬
la, catchfly, scarlet lychnis, double feverfew, bache¬
lor’s button, carnations, pinks, sweetwilliam, colum¬
bines, monkshood, tree primrose, foxglove, golden-
rod, perennial asters, perennial sun-flower, holyhocks,
French honeysuckles, wallflowers, and many others.
Where auricula plants are much valued, and whereDreqd
there are many of the finer varieties, they are common-*°JJ|
ly kept in pots. During mild weather any time this
month, it would be proper to give them some fresh earth.
Clear away all dead leaves from the plants, remove some
of the old earth from the sides of the pot all around, so far
as you can do it without injuring the roots, and fill the
pots with fresh earth prepared for the purpose. See
September.
Auricula and polyanthus seed may be sown any time
this month, either in the open grounds or. in pots.
When sown in pots or boxes they are more easily moved
to proper situations during diflierent seasons. Sow them
in light rich earth, and cover them to the depth of
about a quarter of an inch. The pots or boxes should
be placed in a situation sheltered from the north, a,nd
exposed to the morning and mid-day sun, from which
they ought to be removed in April to a more shady
place. They will be fit for transplanting in the month
of June. See June. _ 11
About the end of the month plant out the carnationsTrai m
which were raised last year by cuttings or layers,tarn “<
into pots or borders where they are to remain to produce
flowers in the ensuing summer. j1
Any time this month you may transplant evergreen E«j
trees, and shrubs ; such as pines, firs, evergreen oaks,g,et
hollies, yews, cypresses, cedars, phillyreas, arbutuses,
laurels, laurustinus, &c.
The finer sorts of tulips, hyacinths, anemones, ranun*pro; n
culuses, &c. should he protected during severe weather,lips, *•
as they begin to appear above ground. I or the method
of sheltering them, see January.
Grass walks and lawns ought to be kept clean, poled
and rolled at least once a week if the weather permit
it. After being rolled with a wooden roller to take
off the worm-casts, a heavy stone or iron one should be
passed over them to render them firm. Their edges
ought likewise to be cut with an edging iron about the
D end
2
tin.
GARDENING.
i Ea
Ho' i
.for
jary. end. of the month, which will give them a neat ap-
itry. pearance.
Gravel and grass walks may be made during this
7 , month : for the latter, see January, and the former
’s March.
Edgings of boxwood, thrift, daisies, thyme, hyssop,
&c. may he planted this month. Boxwood forms the
neatest, most durable, and most easily kept edging, and
if planted now it will succeed very well. For the me¬
thod, see October. Where any of the old boxwood
edgings have become irregular, they ought to be taken
up and replanted.
Thrift is frequently employed as an edging, and well
kept makes a very neat one. The plants may be either
put in with the dibble so close as to touch, or at the
distance of two or three inches from each other, or
planted as boxwood, see October. Daisies are some¬
times used, and form a very pretty edging; they may
, be planted in the same manner as the thrift.
A great variety of flowers, such as hyacinths, jonquils,
and roses, &c. may be placed in the hot-house, vinery,
or peach-house; and when they have come into flower
they may be placed in a green-house, or in apartments
of a dwelling house.
Sect. IV. Nursenj.
Many things mentioned under the article work to
be done in the nursery for January mzy likewise be done
tins month ; such as pruning young trees and shrubs,
digging betw’een the rows, propagating by cuttings,
suckers, and layers, &c. See January.
Such layers of last year, as appear well rooted, should
be removed from the parent plant (or stool), and plant¬
ed in rows of from one to two feet asunder, according
to the size of the plant, and at the distance of a foot or
foot and a half from each other in the row.
If seeds or stones of apples, pears, cherries, and plums,
•were not sown last autumn to raise stocks for budding
and ingrafting, they should be sown about the begin¬
ning of this month. They should be sown in light soil,
and covered to about the depth of an inch. The plants
raised from this sowing will be fit for transplanting in
the beginning of next winter or spring. The seeds of
berries and nuts of shrubs and forest trees may likewise
be sown any time this month in narrow beds, and cover¬
ed in proportion to their size, viz. the small seeds to the
depth of about half an inch, the larger to the depth of
an inch or an inch and a half, and some of the nuts even
to a greater depth.
Trees and shrubs may be removed from the seed-bed
or from where they stand too thick, and planted out in
rows at proper distances, or transplanted into the places
where they are to remain.
Young trees that were budded successfully last sum¬
mer should be cut down to within about four inches of
the bud. See June and July.
1 Pears, plums, and cherries may be ingrafted towards
the end of the month, if the weather is mild: apples
likewise may be ingrafted at the same time, or in the
course of the following month.
Grafting or engrafting, in gardening, is the taking
a shoot from one tree, and inserting it into another, in
such a manner, that both may unite closely and become
one tree. J
427
By the ancient writers on husbandry and gardening February
this operation is called incision, to distinguish it from Nursery.
inoculation or budding, which they call insertion.' 
Grafting has been practised from the most remote an- . 114
tiquity, but its origin and invention are differently re- H,storfty of
lated by naturalists. Theophrastus tells us, that a bird^ **
having swallowed a fruit whole, cast it forth into a cleft
or cavity of a rotten tree, where, mixing with some of
the putrefied parts of the tree, and being washed with
the rains, it germinated, and produced within this tree
a tree of a different kind. This led the husbandman
to certain reflections, from which afterwards arose the
art of engrafting.
1 liny gives a diflerent account of the origin of graft¬
ing . lie says, a husbandman wishing to make a palli-
sade in his ground, that it might endure the longer,
and with a view to fill up and strengthen the bottom of
the pallisade, wattled it with the twigs of ivy. The ef¬
fect of this was, that the stakes of the pallisades tak¬
ing root, became engrafted into the twigs, and produced
large trees, which suggested to the husbandman the art
of engrafting.
^ 1 he use of grafting is to propagate any desirable sorts
of fruit so as to be certain of the variety: for as all
good varieties of fruit have been accidentally obtained
from seeds, so the seeds of these, when sown, will many
of them degenerate, and produce such fruit as is not
worth cultivating; but when grafts are taken from such
trees as produce good fruit, these will never alter from
their kind, whatever be the stock or tree on which they
are grafted. Many have supposed that fruit undergoes
a change, by being engrafted; but this is not the case,
M. Du Hamel tried it on different trees, and for fear of
error repeated every experiment several times. He
grafted the peach on the almond, the plum on the apri¬
cot, the pear upon the apple, the quince on the white
thorn, one species of plum on another, and the almond
and apricot on the peach. All these succeeded alike ;
the fruit was never altered ; the leaves, the wood, the
flowers, were perfectly the same with those of the tree
from which the grafts were taken.
Some authors have made mention of engrafting trees
of distinct genera on one another; such as the apple on
the oak, the elm, the maple, and the plum. M. Du
Hamel tried a number of these experiments, none of
which proved successful. Engrafting seems never to
succeed but when trees of the same natural family are
grafted on one another. Some trees are supposed to
live longer, and grow more vigorously when engrafted
than when growing in a natural state. It is said, that
this is the case with the peach, when engrafted on the
plum. But it is commonly alleged, that engrafted
trees do not live so long as they would have done in
their natural state. The reason why engrafted trees
are short lived, perhaps proceeds from another cause
than merely from the circumstance of being grafted,
viz. the age of the tree from which the scions were
originally taken. tl
The proper tools and other materials used in graft-Method of
ing, are, 1. A strong knife for cutting off the headsperfbjming
of the stocks previous to the insertion of the graft; also
a small hand saw for occasional use in cutting off the
heads of large stocks. 2. A common grafting knife or
sharp pen knife for cutting and shaping the grafts rea¬
dy for insertion; also to slope and form the stocks for
3 H a th®
428
February, the reception of the grafts. 3. A flat grafting chisel
Nursery, and small mallet for cleaving large stocks, inclett gia t-
  ¥ —. ' jngs for ^|ie reception of the graft. 4. A quantity of
new bass strings for bandages for tying the grafted paits
close together, to secure the grafts, and promote their
speedy union with the stock. And, 5. A quantity of
grafting clay for claying closely round the grafts after
their insertion and binding, to defend the parts from
being dried by the sun and winds, for these parts ought
to be closely surrounded with a coat of clay in such a
manner as effectually to guard them from all weathers,
which would prove injurious to the young grafts, and
prevent their junction with the stock.
For this purpose some argillaceous loam or pure clay
must be procured, to which should be added one-fourth
part of fresh horse dung and a small portion of cut hay.
The whole must be well moistened with water, and
thoroughly beat with a stick after the manner of mor-
tar.
The scions or grafts (which should be shoots of last
year) ought to be selected and cut off some time about
the beginning or middle of the mouth. Each kind
ought to be put up separately in little bundles, which
should be inserted into the earth of a dry border, and
should be protected during severe weather by a cover¬
ing of straw or something of that nature. The reason
for taking them off at the time mentioned, is that their
growth may be checked, and that they may be preser¬
ved in a condition for grafting*, for were they to remain
on the trees, their buds would begin to swell, and would
soon advance so far as to be unfit for using with any
prospect of success. The stock intended to be grafted,
must, previous to the insertion of the graft, be cut
down •, those intended for dwarf trees, to be trained
on walls or espaliers, must be cut over five or six
inches above the groundj those intended for stand¬
ards should be cut over at the height of five or six
The stocks must vary according to the kinds of fruit
to be grafted on them, and to the size of the tree to be
produced. Apples are grafted on apple stocks raised
from seed, cuttings, or layers 5 for dwarfs, paradise pip¬
pin or Siberian crab stocks are used > for half dwarfs,
codlin stocks raised from suckers, cuttings or layers*, and
for full standards, stocks raised by sowing the seed of
crabs or any common apple. Pears are engrafted upon
pear stocks obtained from seed or suckers, on quinces,
and on white thorn. When they are engrafted on
quince stocks, they become dwarf, and are fit for espa¬
liers, &c.
Cherries are engrafted upon cherry stocks obtained
by sowing the stones of red or black cherries, and plums
are engrafted upon plum stocks raised from seed or
suckers (b).
There are different methods of grafting, termed
whip-grafting, cleft-grafting, crown-grafting, cheek¬
grafting, side-grafting, root-grafting, and grafting by
approach or inarching*, but whip-grafting and cleft¬
grafting are the most commonly used, and whip-grafting
most of all.
Part l
Whip-grafting being the most expeditious and sue- FeblJ
cessful method of grafting, is the most commonly prac- NuXJ
tised in all the nurseries j it is always performed upon'—vU
small stocks, from about the size of a goose-quill to half^.11
an inch or a little more or less in diameter, but the near-g,^ I
er the stock and graft approach in size, the better j and
is called whip-grafting, because the grafts and stock
being nearly of a size, are sloped on one side so as to fit
each other, and tied together in the manner of whips or
joints of angling rods. &c. 5 and the method is as fol¬
lows. Having the scions or grafts, knife, bandages,
and clay ready, begin the work by cutting off the head
of the stock at some smooth part j this done, cut one
side sloping upwards, about an inch and a half or near
two inches in length, and making a notch or small slit
near the upper part of the slope downwards, about half
an inch long, to receive the tongue of the scion ; then J
prepare the scion, cutting it to five or six inches in
length, forming the lower end also in a sloping manner,
so as exactly to fit the sloped part of the stock, as if
cut from the same place, that the bark of both may
join evenly in every part, and make a slit so as to form
a tongue to fit the slit made in the slope of the stock;
then place the graft, inserting the tongue of it into the
slit of the stock, applying the parts as evenly and close
as possible, and immediately tie the parts close together
with a string of bass, passing closely several times round
the stock and graft; then clay the whole over near an
inch thick all round, from about half an inch or more
below the bottom of the graft, to an inch above the top
of the stock, finishing the whole coat of clay in a kind
of oval form, closing it effectually about the scion, so
that neither air nor water may penetrate. The clay
must be examined from time to time, for should it crack
much, or fall off, a quantity of fresh clay ought to be
applied immediately. This sort of grafting may also
be performed upon the young shoots of any bearing tree,
if you wish to alter the kind of fruit or to have more
kinds than one on the same tree. By the middle or
latter end of May the graft will be well united with the
stock, as will be evident from the shooting of the buds
of the graft, when the clay should be removed j but the
bass bandage should remain until the united parts seem
to swell, and be too much confined, then the bandage
should be taken off entirely. _ i
Cleft-grating is so called because the stock being tooCk|!
large for whip-grafting, is cleft or slit down the middleSia U
for the reception of the graft, and is performed in
stocks from one to two inches diameter or upwards.
First, with a strong knife take off the head of the stock
with a sloping cut about an inch and a half long, then
cleave the stock with a strong knife or chisel and mallet
across the slope to the depth of about two inches, or
long enough to admit the graft, leaving the instrument
in to keep the cleft open. Prepare the scion by cutting
it to such length as to leave four or five eyes, sloping
the lower part of it on each side, wedge fashion, to the
length of an inch and a half or two inches, making
one edge very thin, and leaving the other much thicker
with the bark on $ then place it in the cleft at the back
GARDENING.
(b) Stocks which are raised from seed, generally grow more freely and vigorously than those raised from out-
lings or layers, and on that account are called free stocks.
p
r. III.
GARDENINGi
Cro ■
jral J.
Ifel] Par^ ^,e s!:oc^» ^ie ^’‘ckest edge outwards to the
jCLry. whole depth of the slope, taking care that the, bark of
the stock and graft join exactly j when the knife or
chisel is removed, each side of the cleft will press on the
graft and hold it fast. It must then be bound with a
bass bandage and clayed over as in whip-grafting, leav¬
ing three or four of the eyes of the scion uncovered.
If large stocks or branches are to be grafted in this
way, they must be cut horizontally and smoothed, and
may be cleft quite across, and a graft inserted on each
side. More clefts indeed than one may be made, and
two grafts put in each. This method of grafting may
be performed on the branches or stems of old trees, with
a view to produce vigorous branches or change the kind
of fruit.
Towards the latter end of May or beginning of June
(he junction of the graft with the stock will be effec¬
tually formed, when the clay may be removed, and in
a fortnight afterwards the bass bandage may also be
taken away.
Crown-grafting is commonly practised upon such
stocks as are too large to cleave, and is often perform¬
ed upon the large branches of apple and pear trees,
&c. that already bear fruit, when it is intended to
change the sorts, or supply the tree with a number
of new vigorous branches. It is termed crown-graft¬
ing, because, after the stock or branch has been cut
over, several grafts are inserted all around betwixt the
wood and bark, so as to produce a crown-like appear¬
ance ; this kind of grafting should not be performed
until March or early in April, for then the sap being in
motionrendersthe bark and wood of the stock much easier
to be separated for the admission of the graft. The man¬
ner of performing this sort of grafting is as follows: first
cut off the head of the stock horizontally, and pare the
top smooth ; then having the grafts, cut one side of
each flat, and somewhat sloping, an inch and a half,
forming a sort of shoulder at the top of the slope to rest
upon the crown of the stock} after the bark of the
stock has been raised by means of a wedge, so as to ad¬
mit the scion between the bark and the wood, let the
scion be thrust down to the shoulder with its cut
side next the wood of the stock : in this manner three,
four, or more grafts may be inserted into one stock or
branch. After the grafts have been inserted, let them
be tied tight, and let the clay be applied so as to rise an
inch above the top of the stock, taking care to form it
so as to prevent the admission of water, which would
injure the grafts. Crown-grafting may also be perform¬
ed by making several clefts in the crown of the stock,
and inserting the grafts into the clefts. The grafts
will be pretty well united with the stock by the end of
May or beginning of June, when the clay and bandage
may be taken away. The trees grafted by this me¬
thod will succeed very well ; but for the first two or
three years the grafts are liable to be blown out of the
stock by violent winds, to prevent which, long sticks
must be tied to the stock or branch, to which they may
be fixed.
Cheek-grafting is thus executed. Cut the head of
the stock off horizontally, and pare the top smooth.:
then cut one side sloping an inch and a half or two
inches deep, and cut the lower part of the graft sloping
the same length, making a sort of shoulder at the top
of the sloped part} it is then to be placed upon the
429
,,l,s
sloped part of the stock, resting the shoulder upon the February,
crown of it} bind it with bass, and finish it with a co- Nursery,
vering of clay as in whip-graftimr. ' v—1
Side-grafting is done by inserting grafts into the sides... 120
of the branches without cutting them over, and may bef„ g,a ^
practised upon trees to fill up any vacancy, orfor tlie1”^
purpose of variety, to have several sorts of apples, pears,
plums, &c. upon the same tree. It is performed thus.
I ix upon such parts of the branches where wood is
wanted to furnish the head or part of the tree ; there
slope oft the bark and a little ot the wood, and cut the
lower end of the grafts to fit the part as near as possi¬
ble ; then join them to the branch and tie them with
bass, and clay them over.
Root-grafting. This is done by whip-grafting scionsR00t-
upon pieces of the root of any tree of the same genus,grafting,
and planting the root where it is to remain ; it will take
root, dratv nourishment, and feed the graft. I22
Grafting by approach, or inarching, is preferred when Inarching,
the stocks designed to be grafted, and the tree from
which the graft is intended to be taken, either grow so
near, or can be placed so near together, that the branch
or graft may be made to approach the stock, without
separating it from the tree till after its union or junction
with the stock, so that the branch or graft being bent
to the stock they together form a sort of arch, whence
it is called grafting by approach, or inarching. It is
commonly practised upon such trees as are with difficul¬
ty made to succeed by any of the former ways of graft-
ing. When intended to propagate any kind of tree or
shrub by this method of grafting 5 if the tree be hardy
enough to grow in the open ground, a proper quantity
of young plants for stocks must be set round it, and
when grown of a proper height, the work of inarching
must be performed } if the brauches of the tree you in¬
tend to take grafts from be too high for the stocks, in
that case the stocks planted in pots, must be placed on
a slight stage or some support of that nature, of such a
height as to make them reach the branches. Inarching
is sometimes performed with the head of the stock cut
off, sometimes it is allowed to remain } when the head
of the stock is cut off, the work is more easily perform¬
ed, and is generally more successful, because the stock
having no top of its own to support, will transmit all
the nourishment taken up by its roots into the graft}
when the stocks are properly placed, make the branches
approach to them, and mark on the branches the places
where they will most easily join to the stock, and in
those parts of each branch, pare away the bark and part
of the wood two or three inches in length, and in the
same manner pare the stock at the proper place } then
make a slit upwards in the branch so as to form a sort of
tongue, and make a slit downwards in the stock to ad¬
mit it} let the parts be then joined, sloping the tongue
ol the graft into the slit of the stock so as to make the
whole join in an exact manner} then tie them close to¬
gether with bass, and afterwards cover the whole with a
proper quantity of clay, as before directed in the other
methods. After this, let a stout stake be fixed for the
support of each graft, to which the stock and graft may
he fixed, to prevent their being disjoined by the wind.
If this operation be performed in spring, the graft and
stock will be united in four months, when the branch may
be separated from the parent plant} this should be done
cautiously and with a sharp knife, lest the graft should
be
45°
GARDE
1' ebruary.
Nursery*
123
A new me
thod.
114
Extreme
brar.cli-
grafting.
be shaken and loosened from the stock. If the head
of the stock were not removed previous to inarching,
it should now be cut off close to the insertion 01 the
graft, and all the old clay and bandages should be
taken away and replaced with new, which should he
allowed to remain a few weeks longer. If the gra.t
and stock do not seem perfectly united the first autumn
after they have been inarched, they should be allowed
to stand till next autumn : for were the branch to be
cut off from the parent plant before a complete union
was formed between it and the stock, the operation
would prove abortive.
An anonymous author has given, in a treatise pub¬
lished at Hamburgh under the title Amccnitates Horten-
ses Novce, a new method of grafting trees, so as to have
very beautiful pyramids of fruit upon them, which will
exceed in flavour, beauty, and quantity, all that can
otherwise be produced. This he says he had long
experienced, and gives the following method of doing
it. The trees are to be transplanted in autumn, and all
their branches cut off: early in the following summer
the voung shoots are to be pulled off, and the buds are
then to.be engrafted into them in an inverted position.
This he says, not only adds to the beauty of the pyra¬
mids, but also makes the branches more fruitful. These
are to be closely connected to the trunk, and are to be
fastened with the common ligature j they are to be
placed circularly round the tree, three buds in each
circle, and these circles at six inches distance from each
other. The old trees may be grafted in this manner,
the success having been found very good in those of
twenty years standing; but the most eligible trees are
those which are young, vigorous, and full of juice, and
are not above an inch or two thick. When these young
trees are transplanted, they must be fenced round with
pales to defend them from the violence of the wind.
The buds engrafted must be small, that the wounds
made in the bark to receive them, not being very large,
may heal the sooner ; and if the buds do not succeed,
which will be perceived in a fortnight, there must be
others put in their place. The wound'made to receive
these buds must be a straight cut, parallel to the hori¬
zon, and the piece of bark taken out, must be down¬
wards that the rain may not get in at the wound. . In
the autumn of the same year this will be a green flourish-
ing pyramid, and the next summer it will flower, and
ripen its fruit in autumn.
Mr Fairman, of Kent, gives an account of a method
of renewing decayed trees, by what he calls extreme
branch-grafting, which has been published in the Me¬
moirs of the Society of Arts for 1802. It is addressed
to the Secretary.
“ Sir,
« From much conversation with Mr Bucknall, on the
idea of improving standard fruit trees, we could not hut
remark that in apple orchards, even in such as are most
valuable, some were to be seen that were stinted and
barren, which not only occasioned a loss in the produc¬
tion, but made a break in the rows, and spoiled the
beauty and uniformity of the plantation.
N I N G. Part
“ To bring these trees into an equal state of bearing, Pet,
size, and appearance, in a short time, is an object of the Nurr.
greatest importance in the system of orcharding, ami'—•
also for the recovery of old barren trees, which are
fallen into decay, not so much from age as from the
sorts of their fruits being of the worn out, and deemed
nearly lost, varieties.
“ Having long entertained these thoughts, and been
by no means inattentive to the accomplishment of the
design, I attempted to change their fruits by a new
mode of engrafting, and am bold enough to assert that
I have most fortunately succeeded in my experiments;
working, if I am to be auowed to say it, from the er¬
rors of other practitioners, as also from those of my own
habits.
“ My name having several times appeared in the
Transactions of the Society for the Encouragement of
Arts, &c.; and having the honour of being a member
of that Society, I thought no pains or expence would
be too much for the completion of so desirable an im¬
provement. Under these impressions, and having many
trees of this description, I made an experiment on three
of them in March 1798, each being nearly a hundred
years old. They were not decayed in their bodies, and
but little in their branches. Two of these were golden
pippins, and the other was a golden rennet: each had
likewise been past a bearing state lor several years. I
also followed up the practice on many more the succeed-
ing spring, and that of the last year, to the numbei of
forty at least, in my different plantations (c).
“ The attempt has gone so far beyond my utmost
expectation, that I beg of you, Sir, to introduce the
system to the society for their approbation ; and I hope
it will deserve the honour of a place in their valuable
Transaction?,
“ I directed the process to be conducted as follows:
cut out all the spray wood, and make the tree a perfect
skeleton, leaving all the healthy limbs ; then ciean tbe
branches, and cut the top of each branch off, wheie it
would measure from an inch to two inches in diameter.
Some of the branches must of course be taken off, where
it is a little larger, and some smaller, to preserve a head
or canopy of the tree ; and it will be necessary to take
out the branches which cross others, and observe the
arms are left to fork off; so that no considerable open¬
ing is to be perceived when you stand under the tree,
but that they may represent a uniform head. I must
here remark to the practitioner, when he is preparing
the tree as I directed, that he should leave the branches
sufficiently long to allow of two or three inches to be
taken off by the saw, that all the splintered parts may
be removed.
“ The trees being thus prepared, put in one or two
grafts at the extremity of each branch : and from this
circumstance I wish to have the method called extreme
branch grafting. A cement, hereafter described, must
be used instead of clay, and the grafts tied with bass 01
soft string. As there was a considerable quantity ot
moss on the bodies and branches of the trees, I ordered
my gardener to scrape it off, which is effectually one
when they are wet, bv a stubbed birch broom. I theu
J ordered
L
(c) The average expence I calculated at 2s. 6d. each tree.
III. GAUD
(irv ordered Iiim to brush them over with coarse oil, which
ry invigorated the growth of the tree, acted as a manure
 to the bark, and made it expand very evidently ; the
oid cracks were soon, by tills operation, rendered invi¬
sible.
“ All wounds should be perfectly cleaned out, and the
medication applied, as described in the Orcbardist, p. 14.
By the beginning of July the bandages were cut, and
the shoots from the grafts shortened, to prevent them
from blowing out. I must here, too, observe, that all
the shoots, or suckers from the tree, must enjoy the full
liberty of growth till the succeeding spring, when the
greater part must be taken out, and few but the grafts
suffered to remain, except on a branch where the
grafts have not taken ; in that case leave one or two of
the suckers, which will take a graft the second year, and
make good the deficiency. This was the whole of the
process (d).
“ By observing what is here stated, it will appear that
the tree remains nearly as large when the operation is
finished, as it was before the business began ; and this
is a most essential circumstance, as no part of the form¬
er vegetation is lost, which is in health fit to continue
for forming the new tree. It is worthy of notice, that
when the vivifying rays of the sun have caused the sap
to flow, these grafts, inducing the fluid through the pores
to every part of the tree, will occasion innumerablesuck-
ers or scions to start through the bark, which, together
with the grafts, give such energy to vegetation, that, in
the course of the summer, the tree will be actually-
covered over by a thick foliage, which enforces and
quickens the due circulation of sap. These, when
combined, fully compel the roots to work for the general
benefit of the tree.
“ In these experiments, I judged it proper to make
choice of grafts from the sorts of fruits which were the
most luxuriant in their growth, or any new variety, as
described in the 17th and 18th volumes of the Society’s
I ransactions, by which means a greater vigour was ex¬
cited ; and if this observation is attended to, the practi¬
tioner will clearly perceive, from the first year’s growth,
that the grafts would soon starve the suckers which
shoot forth below them, if they were suffered to remain.
With a view to accomplish this grand object of im¬
provement, I gave much attention, as I have observed
1 before, to the general practice of invigorating old trees j
and I happily discovered the error of the common mode
of engrafting but a short distance from the trunk or
body. There the circumference of the wounds is as
large as to require several grafts, which cannot firmly
unite and clasp over the stumps, and consequently these
wounds lay a foundation for after decay. If that were
not the case, yet it so reduces the size of the tree, that
it could not recover its former state in many years, and
it is dubious if it ever would j whereas, by the method
of extreme grafting, the tree will be larger in three or
four years, than before the operation was performed.
For all the large branches remaining, the tree has
nothing to make but fruit-bearing wood j and from the
very beautiful verdure it soon acquires, and the syinme-
E N I N G. 43
try of the tree, no argument Is necessary to enforce the February,
practice. Some ol the trees, done in this way, yielded G,eeii-
each two bushels of apples from the third year’s wood ,10,lse a,,d
■' * Hot-house.
Cement for Engrafting. 'r~‘
One pound of pitch,
One pound of rosin,
Half a pound of bees-wax,
A quarter of a pound of hog’s lard,
A quarter of a pound of turpentine j
to be boiled up together, but not to be used till you can
bear your finger in it.”
Sect. V. Green-house and Hot-house.
The same care of the green-house is required during
this month which was recommended in January,
severe frost, or very wet weather prevails, the glasses
must be kept close during the day to exclude the frost
and damp, or slight fires may be had recourse to for this
purpose.
In mild weather the glasses must be opened during Air to be
the day to admit air, and water must be given to the admitted,
plants regularly, though sparingly. Towards the end
of the month it will be proper to remove a little of the
earth from the surface and sides of the boxes or pots,
and to replace it with some fresh compost. If any of
the orange trees, myrtles, or plants of that nature,
have irregular heads, they may be cut so as to cause
them to throw out a number of new branches to fill up
any vacant places, or form an entirely new head. If
they require to be much pruned, or to be cut over alto¬
gether, it would be proper to shift them at the same
time, i. e. to remove them from the box or pot in which
they have stood with the ball of earth about their roots,
part of which, together with any matted roots, should
be pared off from the sides and bottom, and replaced in
the boxes and pots, with a proper addition of fresh
earth. Any of the plants which ai’e to undergo this
operation, that are very sickly, should have almost the
whole of the earth removed from their roots, and ought,
for some time after shifting, to stand in a bark-bed.
If the bark-bed in the pine stove received no fresh p;ne itow.
tan or turning last month, it should be examined as
early as convenient $ and if the heat should have at all
declined, it ought immediately to be turned or have an
addition of fresh tan, as directed last month. See Ja¬
nuary.
If a lively heat be not kept up in the bark-bed now,
when the plants shew flower, the size of the future fruit
will be considerably affected. A proper degree of
warmth, applied to the roots of the plants, will make
them grow vigorously and produce large fruit. The
heat of the air of the house must be kept at a proper
temperature, by due attention to the fires every night
and morning, and even during the day in frosty wea¬
ther, or when cold winds prevail. The bark-bed, in
which the succession pine-apple plants grow, should be
examined j and if the heat in it begins to decline, it
ought
system succeeds equally well on pear, as also on cherry trees, provided the medication is used to pre¬
vent the cherry tree from gumming.
432
March.
Kitchen
tJarden.
G A R D E N I N
ought to be turned or receive an addition of fresh tan. one another.
When the sun shines bright, and the weather is mode¬
rate, air must be given by opening some of the glasses.
Water should be given regularly both to the pine apple
and other plants in the hot-house, but much should not
be given at a time.
The kidney beans that were sown last month should
beans to be receive water frequently. If none were sown last month,
watered. 3ome 0f the early dwarf kinds may be sown now.
If no cucumbers were sown last month in the hot¬
house, some may be sown now ; or, plants raised in hot¬
beds may be introduced, and placed in any convenient
situation near the glass.
G. Partifj
IW
The plants will appear above ground in
Mu
i*7
Kidney
X 2 S
Cucumbers
sowa.
MARCH.
Sect. I. Kitchen Garden.
tip
Saw full
crops.
130
Brocati.
Saa cab-
baae.
*3*
Golewoits
133
Asparagus
We need not here give a detailed account of the me¬
thods of performing many of the things mentioned under
this head, in the two preceding months, though most of
them might be performed now with better prospect of
success, as this is the principal month in the year for
sowing and planting full crops of the greater part ot
kitchen-garden vegetables. We shall, therefore, mere¬
ly enumerate them. Make hot-beds. Sow cucumbers
and melons. Transplant and sow cauliflower. Trans¬
plant and sow cabbage. Transplant and sow lettuce.
Sow spinach, onions, leeks, radishes, carrots, parsnips,
beets, beans, peas, turnips, celery, small salad, parsley,
salsafy, and Hamburgh parsley. Plant shallot, garlic,
scorzonera, and rockambole.
Some seed of the early purple and cauliflower broco-
li should be sown, both about the beginning and towards
the end of the month, in a bed of rich earth, in an open
situation, to raise plants to be fit for the table the fol¬
lowing autumn. For the subsequent management, see
April, May, June, and July.
The seeds of the sea cabbage (crambe maritimd)
may be sown any time this month, in narrow beds of
light earth, about four feet wide, for the convenience of
weeding. They may either be sown all over the sur¬
face of the bed, tolerably thick, when they are to be
transplanted, or in drills a foot and a half or two feet
apart, where they are to remain. Those plants are per¬
ennial, and every year push up thick succulent shoots.
They should be covered some time during the course
of the winter, with dry earth, to the depth of a few
inches, by which the young shoots, as they come up in
spring, are blanched and become fit for use. They
should be cut as soon as they appear above ground, or
very soon after, in the manner of asparagus.
Sow brown and green cole, or bore cole.
Any time in the course of the month some seeds of
brown and green cole (kale) may be sown in an open
situation, for when they are shaded they are apt to grow
up tall and weak. The plants raised now will be fit for
planting cut in summer, and may be cut for use any
time from autumn to spring.
About the beginning of this month asparagus seed
may be sown in narrow beds of good earth in an open
situation. The seed may be scattered regularly all over
the surface of the bed, raked in, and then receive a
slight covering of earth from the alleys, or in drills,
about an inch deep, at the distance of six inches from
four or five weeks, when they ought to be kept clear of Ki
weeds and watered occasionally during dry weather. Ga
The plants raised now will be fit for transplanting next' ">J
spring into beds, where they are to remain and produce
crops, or into plots, to remain for a year or two till they j j
be fit for forcing.
This a proper season for making plantations of as-
paragus, for which purpose young plants of one or twotok LI
years old are commonly used. They succeed best in aedK
deep light soil, and in an exposed situation. The
ground should be well manured, dug to the depth of
12 or 15 inches, and divided into beds of the breadth
of four feet and a half, in which the asparagus may be
planted in rows, 10 or 12 inches apart, and about the
same distance from each other in the rows. The usuai^
mode of planting them is to stretch a garden line along
the bed, and to form a drill with a spade, to the depth
of about six inches, in which the asparagus roots are
placed with their crowns or buds uppermost.
A crop of onions may be sown in beds when it is an
object to make the most of the ground. ,.1
The surface of asparagus beds should be loosened orjc^,:
turned over with a fork, in the course of this month.
The instrument commonly made use of for this purpose,
is a fork with three flat blunt prongs. Care must be
taken not to dig too deep, lest the tops of the aspara¬
gus roots should receive injury. Immediately after the
surfaces of the beds have been loosened, they should be
raked over j for if the raking were to be deferred for
some time till the buds of the asparagus approach the
surface of the ground, they might be broken by the
teeth of the rake. Asparagus beds still continue to
produce good crops for 10 or 12 years, if properly ma¬
naged. They ought not to be cut till the third or
fourth year after they have been planted in rich soils;
however, a few of the strongest shoots may be cut even
in the second, but it should be done sparingly. When
asparagus has advanced to the height ot three or four
inches above ground, it should be collected for the
table ; but as the shoots are commonly cut about three
inches under the surface of the ground, care must be
taken not to injure the rising buds (for several buds
rise in succession from the same root), for this reason,
it is commonly cut with an instrument made on pur¬
pose, called an asparagus knife, which should be intro¬
duced close by the shoot to the requisite depth, and di¬
rected so as to cut it off obliquely. _ t d
Artichoke plants, that were earthed up during win-Artieli*
ter to protect them from frost, should now be exa-^
mined ; and if their stems appear to push up vigorously,4"
the earth ought to be removed and levelled. The soil
should likewise be loosened from the plants, and if ma¬
ny shoots proceed from the same root, they should all be
taken away except three of the strongest. 1 he redun¬
dant shoots, if carefully detached from the main root*
may be employed to form new plantations; the eartli,
therefore, should be so far removed as to allow the hand
to be introduced to slip them close to their inser-
tion. . 1
Plantations of young artichokes are made towards tiie pk*
end of this or in the course of next month, as soon, in¬
deed, as the offsets (the only way in which this pl»fd
is propagated) can be procured. For this purpose
choose a plot of good ground, dig in a good quantity
Pot t-rlis
So" In
relit
H m-
,]!, of rotten dung, ami plant tlie offsets ■with a dibble after
K j iett their tops and roots have been trimmed a little (ifitap-
ilen. pear necessary), in rows about four feet and a half
asunder, and at the distance of from two to three feet
in the rows. A crop of spinach, lettuce, radishes, &c.
may be got from the ground the first year, without in¬
juring the artichokes. This plantation will produce
heads in September and October, and will continue to
produce plentiful crops for six or seven years. When¬
ever artichokes are required late in the season, young
plantations ought to be formed every year, as it is from
them alone that heads may be expected late in autumn j
for the old plantations generally produce them in June,
July, and August. There are two sorts, the large
globe, and the French or green oval artichoke ; the
former is commonly preferred, on account of the size
of the head and the quantity , of eatable matter they
afford.
Slips or cuttings of sage, rue, rosemary, hyssop,
pro- ated.thyme, and savory, may be planted any time this month.
They should be planted about six inches apart, and to
the depth of nearly two-thirds of their length. By
next autumn they will be fit for transplanting.
Some seeds of skirrets may be sown in narrow beds,
in an open situation, either in drills six inches asunder,
or regularly over the surface of the bed. After the
plants have come above ground, they should be thinned
out to the distance of about six inches from one another,
and allowed to remain in the place where sown. This
plant is frequently propagated by offsets taken from old
roots, which should be planted at the distance of six or
eight inches from one another.
About the end of the month, if the weather be mild
and dry, a few early kidney-beans may be sown in a
well sheltered situation, at the foot of a wall, having a
south exposure. See April. But as these plants are
tender, they are liable to be injured by cold weather,
therefore a small quantity only should be sown now.
About the middle or latter end of the month some
cardoons may be sown for transplanting. For this pur¬
pose a piece of light ground should be well dug, the
seed sown thinly, and raked in evenly j a few weeks after
the plants have come up, they should be thinned out to
the distance of about six inches from one another, to
allow them room to grow till they are strong enough
to be planted out, which will be in June. See June.
They may be sown likewise in rows five feet asunder,
and at the distance of four feet from each other in the
row, and allowed to remain where sown. They are
biennial, grow to the height of three or four feet, and
are cultivated for the sake of the footstalks of their
leaves, which are blanched by being earthed up some¬
what in the manner of celery, on which account they
require a good deal of room.
This is a proper time to plant chives, a small species
of onion, which is used in spring as a substitute for
young onions. They grow in large tufts, which ar£
propagated by parting the roots into small tufts contain¬
ing eight or ten bulbs, which may be planted with the
dibble in beds or rows at the distance of six or eight
inches from one another.
You may now plant Jerusalem artichokes, a species
of sunflower {Jielianthm tuberosa) the roots of which
somewhat resemble the potato, and are to be planted
Vol. IX. Part II. v f
GARDENING.
433
>43
ifusai.
tichoi ■
much in the same manner, to the depth of about four Mmch.
inches, in rows three feet apart, and about half that Kitchen
distanceTrom each other in the row. They are fit for Maiden.
the table in October, and continue good all winter and v 
sPrJng- ,
A full crop of potatoes may be planted any time to-potatoes,
wards the end of this or in the course of next month.
Cuttings of moderate-sized potatoes (of the variety in¬
tended to be planted), each containing one or two eyes,
at least, may be put in with a blunt dibble, to the depth
of about four inches, in rows two feet apart, and at the
distance of about a foot from each other in the row, or
in trenches or holes made with the spade. In the fields
they are planted either with the dibble or in furrows
made by the plough. See Agriculture. They suc¬
ceed best in light soil, which should be well manured.
After they have come above ground, they ought to be
kept clear of weeds, and have a quantity of earth
drawn up about their stems. There are many varietiee
of this vegetable, which are obtained from seed 5 the
principal are, early dwarf, champion, large round white,
oblong red and white kidney, common kidney, small
white kidney, round red, large round dark red, &c. ^
Any time in the course of this month new planta-and mint,
tions of mint may be formed. This plant is propagat¬
ed by parting the roots or by cuttings of the young
stalks; the former is practised this month, the latter in
next and following month. Procure a quantity of the
roots from an old plantation of mint ; part and plant
them in rows six inches asunder, and about the same
distance from each other in the row, either with the
dibble, or in drills about an inch deep, drawn by the
hoe. These plants succeed very well in any soil, but
prefer a moist one. The kinds commonly cultivated
are spearmint, peppermint, orangemint, &c.
The leaves and flowers of Indian cresses are frequent-Sow indiaa
ly used for salads, and their seeds for pickling. TheciesseSi
seeds may be sown about the beginning of the month,
at the distance of two or three inches from each other,
in drills, about an inch deep. If they are not sown
along side of a hedge or other support, they may have
sticks placed beside them like peas after they have
come above ground. There are two kinds, the large,
and dwarf; the former is generally preferred.
Seeds of basil, love apple (or tomatoes), and capsicum, basilic
may be sown any time this month. They are tender ’
annuals, and must be sown in a hot-bed, to be after¬
wards planted out in the open ground in May; they
must be managed like other tender annuals. See Flower
Garden. Basil is used in soups and salads, and must be
sown in very dry earth, otherwise the seeds will rot.
Love apples are used in soups and for pickling. The
capsicum, of which there is great variety, is used as a
pickle, and for seasoning. The principal kinds are
the long-podded, heart-shaped, bell-shaped, angular-
podded, round short-podded, cherry-shaped, &c. s 3
Sow cucumbers and melons, to be planted out under cucumb#»
hand or bell-glasses. and melons.
Some cucumber and melon seed may be sown to¬
wards the end of this month, in any of the beds already
employed ; or one may be formed on purpose to raise
plants to be reared under bell or hand-glasses. Those
sown now will be fit for ridging out in the beginnins; of
May. See May.
3l
Sect.
434
CARD
March.
Fruit
Carden,
Sfxt. II. Truit Garden.
149
Trees
pruned,
150
planted,
All kinds of fruit trees mentioned under this head
last month may be pruned now, though it ought to be
performed as near the beginning of the month as pos¬
sible 5 for if the weather has been mild during the pre¬
ceding month, many of the trees will have^advanced
too far to be in a state proper for pruning. Figs, how¬
ever, on account of the late period at which they begin
to push, may be safely pruned 5 indeed this is the best
season for pruning them.
Fruit trees may still be planted, though the earlier in
the month the better ; for if mild weather prevails, the
buds of the trees will have advanced so far before the
end of the month, as to render transplanting less safe.
For the method, see October. The duration of the
planting season depends more on the mildness and se¬
verity of the weather than the time ol the year.
When apricot, nectarine, and peach trees are in
flower, they should be protected during frost with large
garden-mats fixed to the top of the wails by hooks, and
fastened at the bottom to prevent them from being agi¬
tated by the wind so as to dash off the blossoms. T. hese
mats must be removed during the mildest part of the
day, unless when the weather is very severe, and without
sunshine. Instead of mats, old fish-nets doubled may be
used for this purpose, and need not be removed during
the day; a number of small branches of evergreens
(well clad with leaves) fixed amongst the branches of
the trees in flower, will also afford shelter to the blos¬
som and setting fruit.
Dress strawberry beds, if not done last month. See
February.
and forced. Fruit trees on hot walls, in peach, cherry, and_ vine-
houses, must be duly attended to, must receive air and
water regularly, and have the fires put on every even¬
ing and cold morning.
E N 1 N G. Part [id
be sown in narrow drills, at the distance of two or MaJ|
three inches from one another, and each kind, separate- Nur , 1
ly or in pots, plunged in the earth of the bed. After '—y, L
the plants have come up, they will require plenty of free
air and moderate watering-, and when they have acquired
the height of two or three inches, they must be gradually
hardened to bear'the open air, by taking the lights en¬
tirely off in mild warm days. Instead of hot-bed frames
and lights, oil-paper frames, or hand-glasses, may be
made use of. The plants raised now will be fit for
transplanting into the flovver border in May. If hardy
annuals were not sown last month, they may be sown
any time during the present. I
Cuttings of double chrysanthemums which were plant* Manr
ed last autumn in pots or boxes, should be planted out meat
into pots or flower borders if mild weather prevails.
tSI
protected
iu flovver,
Sect. III. Flower Garden and Pleasure Ground.
i53
Transplant
early an¬
nuals.
Auricula plants in pots should b^ protected from rain
If any early annuals, such as balsams, cockscombs,
&c. were sown last month, they will be fit for planting
out into small pots or a hot-bed prepared for the pur¬
pose. This hot-bed should be raised to the height of
two feet j and when the violent heat has subsided, co¬
vered over to the depth of six inches with rich dry
earth. The plants may be put in at the distance of
three or four inches from one another, or rather in
small pots, because from these they can be more easily
removed into larger ones at a subsequent period. Due
attention must be paid to give them water and air when
requisite ; and linings of fresh dung must be applied to
the bed whenever the beat begins to decline. If pro¬
perly taken care of, they will be fit for final transplanta¬
tion in May or June.
If no tender annuals were sown in February, some
may he sown any time this month.
Sow less tender or half-hardy annuals, such as China
aster, Indian pink, capsicum, French and African mari¬
gold, chrysanthemum, tree and purple amaranthus, and
Chinese hollyhocks.
Sow tender Form a slight hot-bed any time this month, which
and hardy need not be raised higher than two feet, and earth it
annuals. over to the depth of about six inches. The seed may
2
i54
and frost, and should still be kept covered with hooped cuia,
arches, over which mats may be occasionally thrown,
for should they he exposed to much rain or severe
weather now when their flower-stalks begin to advance,
the future bloom might be injured. Keep the pots
clear of weeds, and give them a little water in dry
weather, or expose them to a gentle shower. If the
pots received no fresh earth last month, let them receive
some now. ijS
Let the hoops mentioned the two preceding monthsl’y^i11-
still continue over the beds of tulips, hyacinths, ranun-^
cuius, &c. for if severe weather occurs, the beds must
be protected by a covering of mats, as already mention¬
ed. See January. When the stalks of hyacinths,
particularly double ones, have advanced almost to their
full height, they are apt to be borne down by the weight
of their own flowers, therefore a neat small stick ought
to be fixed in the ground close to every plant, to which
the flowerstalks should be fastened by a piece of brass
or other soft ligature. iji
Ranunculuses and anemones may still be planted theyramine,
will succeed the early ones, and flower in June andanilai11
July.   ”dt
Towards the end of the month, seeds of biennial andgowi,i
perennial flowers may be sown, such as carnations,mah, I
pinks, sweetwilliams, wallflowers, and stock julyflowers
of all sorts, also rose campion, catchfly, scarlet lychnis,
columbines, Greek valerian, polyanthus, auriculas, sea-
biouses, and Canterbury bells likewise hollyhocks,
French honeysuckles, rockets, honesty or satin flower,
tree primrose, shrubby mallow, broad-leaved campanula,
foxglove, snapdragon or frogsmouth, &c.
Biennial and perennial plants may likewise be trans¬
planted at this season. 1;
Trees and shrubs, both deciduous and evergreen, may Plant »
still be planted j but that work should be finished beforeand *tl'
the end of the month.
Sect. IV. Nursery.
Fruit trees, elms, &c. may he engrafted; and theh’gra|>
shoots of trees engrafted last year should be so sl)0ld>ment
ened about the time their buds begin to swell, as to leave tree! |.
four or five buds, which will push out branches to fornideflt
a head. The shoots of last year’s growth of trees bud-yo11'-
ded the preceding summer should likewise be shortened,
and the heads of trees budded last summer should be
cut off about four inches above the bud, which will
cause
Pf
So'1
III.
pro ;ate
CARD
H ch. cause it to push out vigorously, The part of the stock
jiiery. which is left will serve as asupport, to which the young
u«.——' branch may he fixed in the course of the summer, to pre-
t vent it from being blown out by the wind.
, eds Seeds of hardy trees and shrubs may be sown
ofu .&c<any time this month, in beds three or four feet wide,
which should be well dug, and thoroughly pulverized.
The seed may be sown either regularly over the surface
o( the bed or in drills, and covered in proportion to
their size; the acorns and other large seeds to the depth
of from an inch and a half to two inches, and the
smaller ones from about half an inch to an inch. Some
of the more delicate shrubs, such as the arbutus, &c.
may be sown in pots or boxes, by which means they
will be more easily protected from the severity of the
weather in winter.
Most kinds of trees and shrubs may be propagated by
!)»ciiflgs.cuttings this month, particularly vines.
The vine cuttings must be shoots of last year’s growth,
about ten or twelve inches long, and each furnished with
three buds. II cut from the vines during the winter,
before the sap begins to rise, and preserved in dry earth,
they will succeed the better. Some leave about an inch
of the former year’s wood attached to each cutting, but
this is unnecessary. They may he planted in rows a
foot and a half asunder, and at the distance of eight or
ten inches from each other in rows, and so deep as to
leave only their uppermost bud above ground ; they
should afterwards be occasionally watered, and kept
clear of weeds. Though cuttings of vines may be raised
in the open air, much better plants mav be obtained by
striking them in a hot-bed or tan-pit in a hot-house.
At pruning season select some well-ripened shoots, cut
them into pieces of a convenient length, and insert them
a little way into pots filled with dry earth, where they
may remain till wanted for planting. Protect them in
severe, but in mild weather, expose them to the free air.
About the beginning of this month, if there is no room
in the hot-beds already made, prepare one on purpose,
which may be formed and earthed over exactly like a
seed-bed for melons. See January. Fill a number
of pots, about four inches deep, corresponding to the
cuttings you mean to plant, with light rich earth. Take
the cuttings you have preserved during the winter; select
the roundest and fullest buds ; cut the branch about a
quarter of an inch above, and about three inches below
the bud, with a sharp knife, so as to make a smooth cut,
and insert each close by the side of the pot, so deep
that the bud may be covered about a quarter of an inch
by the earth of the pot; for it is alleged, that a cutting
strikes with greater freedom when placed close to the
side than in the middle of the pot. When plants are
raised in this maimer from a single bud, they seem as if
reared from seed. As soon as the cuttings are planted,
plunge the pots into the earth of the bed, give them a’
gentle watering, and put on the glasses." Attention
must be paid to the bed, to see that the heat be not too
strong, for a moderate bottom heat is all that is neces¬
sary. Air should he freely admitted during the day
and even during the night, in mild weather; but when
the weather is cold, the beds should be covered with
mats during the night to protect them from frost. The
cuttings should likewise be shaded when the sun shines
very iright, with mats, and should receive occasional
wateung. When the plants are about six or eight
E N I N G. 4.5
inches high they will require to be shifted into larger AnriL
pots, which must be done cautiously for fear of injuring Kitchen
their roots. Take pots of about six inr.hps onJ Carden;
their roots. Take pots of about six inches deep, and
about the same width ; put a little good earth into the
bottom of each, and turn the cutting out of the small
pot into it with the ball of earth as entire as possible
and fill it up with earth. The frames of the beds
should be raised in proportion as the plants increase in
height and the heat of the bed renewed by linings of
fresh dung when on the decline. Support the shoots
when they are about ten or twelve inches high, and
pinch oft the tendrils and lateral shoots as soon as they
appear. They will be fit for planting out in the end of
June or beginning of July.
WI,C„ dry weather prevails, give gentle wateringsWW*
to seeding trees and shrubs, and keep them free from seedlin»s,
weeds.
Sect V. Green-house and Hot-house.
The plants m the green-house should receive air a;,
1 1Ur,n?,"''t I”' f,°S,y 'VM,l'er> a”11 ,n°re (leefy ad-
frequent and plentiful waterings than in the two former mbted.
months Dead branches or decayed leaves should be
removed and any of the larger leaved plants that ap¬
pear foul should have their leaves cleaned with a wet
sponge. 1 hose also which require shifting or pruning
may be managed as directed last month. Sow seeds
and plant cuttings of green-house plants ; for which
purpose a hot-bed or tan-pit of a hot-house will be ne¬
cessary at tills season.
Pine apple plants will require a good deal of warmth, Tre’^ent
particularly ,n the tan-p.t ; as their fruit will now be of p?™
considerably advanced, they must therefore be kept inaaPPles-
vigorous state of growth, to secure large fruit. If the
heat of the tan-bed be not very great, at least one-third
0 new ought to be added. After the tan has been
procured, it ought to be spread out and dried a little
and then laid up in a heap, in some shed adjacent to
the hot-house, till it begin to ferment. The plants
should then be taken from the tan-bed, and a quantity
ot the decayed tan removed from its surface and sides
to make room for the new, which must be thoroughly
mixed with the old ; and as this operation ought to be
completed in the course of one day, a sufficient number
of bands should be employed to effect it. Both pine
apples and other plants in the hot-house should be re
gularly watered, and have fresh air admitted in bright
calm days, from about two hours before till two or three
after noon.
APRIL.
Sect. I. Kitchen Garden.
If the heat begin to decline in the cucumber and Manag!
melon beds, they should receive linings as directed in ,nent oi'eu-
the lormer months ; for these plants will not yield finecumbeiS
fruit, or a plentiful crop, if the beds are destitute of a™*1 me,on*'
proper heat. Air must be admitted every day, and a
moderate watering given ever four or five days, parti¬
cularly to cucumbers; but melons should receive it spa-
ringly, especially when their fruits are setting, as much
water at that time would prove injurious, aud make the
fruit drop off. Keep the plants clear of all decayed
3-^2 leaves
436
April.
Fruit
Carden.
167
Plant
lettuce.
GARDE
leaves ami decayed male flowers. When the sun shines
so bright as to cause the leaves of cucumbers and melons
to flag, it will be proper to shade them ior two or three
hours, during its greatest heat, with a thin mat or a
little loose hay, strewed thinly over the glasses.
Make hot-beds on which to ridge out cucumbers or
melons under hand glasses or oiled paper frames. See
May.
Sow some cabbage, Cilicia, imperial, and large ad¬
mirable cabbage lettuces any time this month 5 indeed,
some ought to be sown about the beginning, middle,
and towards the end of the month, to secure a regular
succession. Should the lettuces that were sown last
month or in February stand too thick, they may be
thinned out and transplanted at the distance of about
ten inches from each other, and watered occasionally till
they take root.
Some early kidney beans, viz. the Battersea,speckled,
dun-coloured, and Canterbury dwarfs, may be planted
towards the end of the month, in a well-sheltered situa¬
tion, exposed to the south, in drills two feet or two feet
and a half asunder, and about two inches from each
other in the drills. The tall running kinds should not
be planted till next month.
Some of the cabbage and savoy plants, which were
sown in February and March, should be thinned and
transplanted, w'hen their leaves are about two inches
broad, into beds, to gain strength before their final trans¬
plantation ; and those which have stood the winter may
be planted out for good.
Cauliflower plants under bell or hand glasses should
have some earth drawn up about their stems, and should
be exposed to the open air during the day in good
weather. Those sown last month should be planted
out into beds in the open air or into slight hot-beds, to
forward their growth. Some of the strongest of the
plants raised in the early part of spring may be planted
out at the end of the month, at the distance of two
or two feet and a half each way from one another,
and should be occasionally watered till they are well
rooted.
Young plants of brocoli, which were sown last month,
may be planted out at the distance of two or three
Inches from one another, to acquire strength for final
transplantation ; and some seed of the early purple, late
purple, and cauliflower brocoli, may be sown to raise
plants for transplanting in June. Some plants of last
year’s sowing, which produced heads this spring, should
he allowed to remain for seed, which will ripen in
August.
Sect. II. Fruit Garden.
Transplant In late seasons, pear, plum, and cherry trees may still
and prune, he planted, and even apricot, peach, and nectaime $ but
it should be done as early in the month as possible, for
if any of these have advanced much in growth before
they are transplanted, they will not push freely in the
course of the summer, and will be liable to be injured
by drought. Where pruning has been neglected, it
may still be done, but the sooner the better, for many
fruit trees will now be in flower.
,*73 Fruit trees in flower should still he protected in cold
fruitPtr°eeC6Ct weather. See March. All ill-placed shoots should
158
kidney
beans.
169
Traisplant
cabbages,
&c.
170
cauli¬
flowers,
171
brocoli,
N 1 N G. Part
he rubbed off, and the young fruit on apricot trees where
set too thick should be thinned.
Look over the vines trained on walls about tbe end Gan!
of tbe month, and rub oft' the young shoots which pro- ~
ceed from the old wood, unless they happen to be situ-
ated where a supply of young wood is wanted 5 like-tines, 1
wise where two shoots proceed from the same eye on
branches of last year’s growth, let the weakest be rub¬
bed off. Stakes should be placed beside tbe vines in
the vineyard, to which they should be tied, and tbe
ground between the rows should be kept perfectly free
from weeds. _ 1-
The vine was introduced by the Homans into Britain, llisto
and appears formerly to have been very common. From^ya,
the name of vineyard yet adhering to the ruinous sites
of our castles and monasteries, there seem to have been
few in tbe country but what had a vineyard. The
county of Gloucester is particularly commended by
Malmsbury in the twelfth century, as exceeding all the
rest of tbe kingdom in the number and goodness of its
vineyards. In the earlier periods of our history the isle
of Ely vras expressly denominated the Isle of Vines by
the Normans. Vineyards are frequently noticed in the
descriptive accounts of Doomsday 5 and those of Eng¬
land are even mentioned by Bede as early as the com¬
mencement of the eighth century.
Doomsday book exhibits to us a particular proof that
wine was made in England during the period preceding
the Conquest. And after the Conquest, the bishop of
Ely appears to have received at least three or four tuns
annually, as tithes from the produce of the vineyards
in his diocese, and to have made frequent reservations
in his leases of a certain quantity of wine for rent. Dr
Thomas, the late dean of Ely, gives the following ex¬
tracts from the archives of that church.
*5
12
1
12
2
16
d<
3*
24
6
Z.
Exitus vineti - - - 2
Ditto vinese - - - 10
Ten bushels of grapes from the vineyard o
Seven dolia musti from the vineyard, I2th
Edward II. - - - IJ
"Wine sold for - - 1
Verjuice " “ 7 1
One dolium and one pipe filled with new
wine, and supposed at Ely. For wine
out of this vineyard > - 1
For verjuice from thence. - - o
No wine but verjuice made, 9th Edward IV.
From these extracts it appears that Ely grapes would
sometimes ripen, and the convent made wine of them •,
and sometimes not, and then they converted them in¬
to verjuice. Maddocks in his history of the Exche¬
quer, i. 464. says that the sheriffs of Northampton¬
shire and Leicestershire, were allowed their account,
for the livery of the king’s vinedresser at Rockingham,
and for necessaries for the vineyard. A piece of land
in London, now forming East Smith field and some adjoin¬
ing streets, wms withheld from the religious house within
Aldgate by four successive constables of the lower in
the reigns of Rufus, Henry, and Stephen, and made by
them into a vineyard, to their great emolument. In the
old accounts of rectorial and vicarial revenues, and in
the old registers of ecclesiastical suits concerning them,
the
III.
tlis tithe of wine is an article that frequently occurs in
:: Kent, Surry, and other counties. And the wines of
'>■ Gloucestershire within a century after the Conquest were
‘“^little inferior to the French in sweetness. It is alleged
that a black grape very similar to the black muscadine
was introduced from Gaul into Britain, about the
middle of the third century. To these proofs of the
antiquity of vineyards in Britain, we shall add the
following account of the vineyard at Pains-hill, Surry,
(the most extensive one at present in England), given
by the original proprietor, the honourable Charles
Hamilton, to Sir Edward Barry, and published in his
Treatise on Wines, p. 468.
“ The vineyard at Pains-hill is situated on the
south side of a gentle hill, the soil a gravelly sand : it
is planted entirely with two kinds of Burgundy grapes,
the Auveruat, which is the most delicate, but the
tenderest *, and the Miller grape, commonly called the
black cluster, which is more hardy. The first year
I attempted to make red wine in the usual way, by
treading the grapes, then letting them ferment in a
vat, till all the husks and impurities formed a thick
crust at the top : the boiling ceased, and clear wine
was drawn off from the bottom. This essay did not
answer; the wine was so very harsh and austere, that
I despaired of ever making red wine fit to drink j
but through that harshness I perceived a flavour some¬
thing like that of some small French white wines,
which made me hope I should succeed better with
white wine. That experiment succeeded far beyond
my most sanguine expectation j for the very first year
I made white wine, it nearly resembled the flavour
of Champagne; and in two or three years more, as
the vines grew stronger, to my great amazement my
wine had a finer flavour than the best Champagne I
ever tasted. The first running was as clear as spirits ;
the second was ceil de perdrix ; and both of them spark¬
led and creamed in the glass like Champagne. It
would be endless to mention how many great judges
of wine were deceived by my wine, and thought it
, superior to any Champagne they ever drank; but such
' is the prejudice of most people against any thing of
English growth, I generally found it most prudent
: not to declare where it grew, till after they had pas¬
sed their verdict upon it. The surest proof I can
1 give of its excellence is, that I have sold it to wine
merchants for fifty guineas a hogshead j and one wine
merchant to whom I sold five hundred pounds worth
at one time assured me, he sold some of the best of
it from 7?. 6d. to 10s. 6d. per bottle. After many
years experience, the best method I found of making
and managing it was this: I let the grapes hang till
they had got all the maturity the season would aive
them •, then they were carefully cut off with scissars,
and brought home to the wine barn, in small quan-
titles, to prevent their heating, or pressing one another 5
| then they were all picked off the stalks, and all the
| mouldy or green ones were discarded, before they
were put upon the press j where they were all pres¬
sed in a few hours after they were gathered : much
would run from them, before the press squeezed
them, from their own weight one upon another. This
running was as clear as water, and sweet as syrup;
and all this of the first pressing, and part of the
GARDENIN' G.
second continued white ; the other pressings grew red¬
dish, and were not mixed with the best. As fast as
the wine run from the press into a large receiver, it
was put into the hogsheads, and closely bunged up.
In a few hours one would hear the fermentation be¬
gin, which would soon burst the casks, if not guard¬
ed against, by hooping them strongly with iron, and
securing them in strong wooden frames, and the heads
with wedges. In the height of fermentation, I have
frequently seen the wine oozing through the pores of
the staves. The hogsheads were left all the depth of
winter in the cold barn, to reap the benefit of the frosts.
When the fermentation was over, which was easily dis¬
covered by the cessation of noise and oozing, but to
be more certain, by pegging the cask, when it would
he quite clear, then it was racked off into clean hogs¬
heads, and carried to the vaults, before any warmth
of weather could raise a second fermentation. In
March, the hogsheads were examined ; if any were not
quite fine, they were fined down with common fish glue
in the usual manner ; those that were fine of themselves
were not fined down, and all were bottled about the
end of March; and in about six weeks more would be
in perfect order for drinking, and would be in their
prime for about one year; but the second year the fla¬
vour and sweetness would abate, and would gradually
decline, till at last it lost all flavour and sweetness ; and
some that I kept sixteen years became so like old hock,
that it might pass for such to one who was not a perfect
connoisseur. The only art I ever used to it, was put¬
ting three pounds of white sugarcandy to some of the
hogsheads, when the fine was first tunned from the
press, in order to conform to a rage that prevailed, to
drink none but very sweet Champagne. I am convin¬
ced much good wine might be made in many parts of
the south of England. Many parts are south of Pains-
hill ; many soils may be yet fitter for it; and many
situations must be so; for mine was much exposed to
the south-west wind (the worst of all for vines), and
the declivity was rather too steep ; yet with these dis¬
advantages it succeeded many years. Indeed the un¬
certainty of our climate is against it, and many fine
crops have been spoiled by May frosts and wet sum-
but one good year balances many disappoint-
437
April.
F rwit
Garden.
ments.,v
In a dissertation on the growth of wine in England
by F. X.Visper, printed at Bath 1786, there is a method
of training vines along the surface of the ground pro¬
posed, which seems well adapted to the northerly cli¬
mate of Britain, fbr which the Rev. M. L. Broeg ob¬
tained a patent. Mr Visper acknowledges that he took
the first hint from the following passage, from Lord
Chancellor Bacon : “ The lowness of the fruit boughs
makes the fruit greater, and causes it to ripen better; for
we always see in apricots, peaches, and mello-cottens ;
upon a wall, the largest fruit is towards the bottom ;
and in France, the grapes that make the wine grow
upon low vines bound to small stakes, while the raised
vines in arbours make verjuice.” He adds “ It is re¬
ported, that in some places vines are suffered to grow
like herbs, spreading upon the ground, and the grapes
of these vines are very large; it were proper to try
whether plants usually sustained by props, will not bear
large leaves and fruit if laid along the ground.”
Seciy.
43 8
April.
Flower
Garden, or
I’leasuie
Ground,
&.C.
176
Sow and
transplant
annuals.
177
Plant ever
greens.
178
Walks
dressed.
GARDENING.
Part
Sect. III. The Flower Garden, or Pleasure Ground.
Sow and transplant tender annuals. See February
and March. Protect hyacinths, ranunculuses, and
anemones, planted in beds, from heavy rain and fiost,
as directed in January and February ; likewise, when
they are in flower, from very bright sunshine, from
about two hours before till two or three alter noon ; but
in this case the covering should be raised to a consider¬
able height, to admit air, and allow them to be viewed.
Plant tuberoses in a hot-bed or lint-house, and give
them but little water till they have come above
ground.
Evergreen shrubs and trees may still be planted, but
the earlier in the month the better.
Grass walks and lawns should be poled, rolled, and
mown. Gravel walks may be broken up and turned.
and the plants then put into pots filled entirely with M
fresh earth. KitJn
After the plants have been thus shifted, they should Gal,
have a moderate quantity of water given them frequent-
ly, which will promote their growth. The young pine
apple plants which were raised from suckers or crowns
last season should likewise be shifted into larger pots, if
their roots appear to have filled those in which they have
stood during the winter : if healthy, they should be
turned out of the pots with the hall of earth entire } if
otherwise, they must be treated like the succession
plants as above. _ , ;j|
This is a proper season for propagating hot house Prop . ,,
plants by cuttings, layers, &c. or for sowing their seeds.tot-lil]
Cuttings of green-house plants may likewise be struckpIailuI
in the bark bed of the hot-house, and kept there till fit
for transplanting.
MAY
Sect. IV. Nursery.
Sect. I. Kitchen Garden.
179
1'xamine
newly en¬
grafted
trees.
iSo
Those bud
ded last
year.
181
And trans¬
plant yomq
outs.
Look over newly engrafted trees, and see it the ciaj
keeps close about the grafts, as it is apt to crack and
fall off j when you find it any way defective so as to
admit the air and rain to the graft, then remove it and
applv fresh clay in its stead. All shoots which rise
f'rotn the stalk below the graft must be taken oil when¬
ever they are produced j for if permitted to remain,
they would rob the graft of nourishment, and prevent
it shooting freely.
Trees that were budded last year, will now begin to
push out their first shoots. Should they be infested with
insects, so as to cause any of their leaves to curl, ithese
should be picked off, and pains taken to destroy the ver¬
min. Shoots that proceed from the stock under the
bud must be rubbed off as soon as they appeal.
The sowing and transplanting of young trees and
shrubs from the seed-bed, or where they stand too thick,
should be finished early in the month, and if very dry
weather prevail, water should be given to seed-beds,
cuttings, and lately transplanted trees and shrubs.
Sect. V. Green-house and Hot-house.
Aib. may Vie admitted, and water given more fieely
than in the former months, because the plants will be¬
gin now to advance in growth •, but in general the ma¬
nagement must be nearly the same as recommended last
„ month. ,,,11
.. A proper degree of warmth, both in the bark bed
heTfor and in the air of the hot-house, is requisite for fruiting
pine apples, pine apple plants. Water may be mere frequently
uiven, and air admitted more freely, because the wea¬
ther will be milder-, and in other respects they must be
managed as directed in March. The succession pine
apple plants, or such as are to fruit next year, should
be shifted into larger pots, (viz. 24s.) the size com-
mor.lv made use of. When the plants are healthy,
they should be turned out of the pots with the ball of
earth about their roots as entire as possible, and put
them into larger ones with an additional quantity of
fresh earth *, but should the plants be sickly, infested
with insects, or appear to have bad roots, the wnoie
of the earth should be shaken off, and the roots trim¬
med, a few of the under leaves stripped off the stem,
Melons require attention, particularly when theirTreattW
fruit are setting. The heat of the hot-beds must beotme. j
kept up by proper linings ; water must be given mo-&c' 1
derately, and air admitted regularly. In warm wea¬
ther when the sun shines bright, the plants should be
shaded from its rays for an hour or two about mid¬
day, by a covering of mats or something of that na¬
ture. A piece, of tile or slate should be placed under
each fruit after it is set, to prevent it from coming
into contact with the moist earth of the bed, which
would injure it, and cause it to drop off. Ridges may
be formed for the reception of the melon and cucum¬
ber plants, which were sown last or preceding month,
to be raised under hand or bell glasses. These rid¬
ges should be about four feet wide, and are to be .
constructed in the same manner as hot-beds. See Ja¬
nuary. The dung should be raised to the height of
two feet and a half, and covered with six or eight inches
of rich light earth, and may he made either in trenches
about a foot deep or on the surface of the ground.
When more than one ridge is to be constructed, they
should be placed parallel to one another at the di¬
stance of about four feet, which interval should af¬
terwards be filled up with fresh horse dung when the
heat in the ridges begins to decline j this will both
revive the heat, and when earthed over, will afford
room to extend the advancing runners of the plants.
As soon as the ridges are earthed over, the hand or
bell glasses may be put on along the middle of the bed,
at the distance of four feet, when intended for melons,
and three feet when for cucumbers *, and the following
day, or as soon after as the earth under the glasses has
become warm, a hole should be made under each, into
which two melon or three cucumber plants are to be
put with the ball of earth about their roots ; the earth
should then be well closed about the ball and stem oi the
plant, a little water given, and the glasses put on. |
Shade them for a day or two, and give air during the j ,
day by raising the glasses. When the plants have 11 e
the glasses, the runners must be trained out from un er
them, but this should not take place till the en 0
the month, or some time in June. Oil paper
are sometimes used for covering the ridges. Ibese
frames
Mi III. G A R D
frames are made of thin slips of wood covered with
paper, rendered transparent and water proof by means
of oil. Melons reared in this way will produce plen¬
tifully in August and September, and cucumbers from
the middle of June, till the cold weather in autumn
set in. If no cucumber plants were raised in March
or April for this purpose, some seeds may be sown in
the ridges. Some may likewise be sown about the end
of the month in the open ground, to produce a crop
for pickling ; but should cold weather prevail at that
time, it should be deferred till June. Gourds and
pumpkins may be sown in the open ground in a warm
situation, or in a hot-bed, to be afterwards transplant¬
ed.
A full crop of kidney beans may be planted both of
the dwarf and tall running sorts : the former, viz.
black speckled, Battersey and Canterbury white,should
be planted in drills about an inch deep, and two feet
and a half asunder, at the distance of two or three
inches from each other; the latter, viz. the scarlet and
large Dutch white, should be sown in drills, about an
inch and a half deep, and three feet and a half or four
asunder. These running kinds must have tall sticks,
or some support of that nature.
The capsicum and love apples which were raised last
E N I N G.
'lain i-
ley b is,
iS,
lapsii
ic.pl ied or the preceding month in hot-beds, may be planted out
into well sheltered situations exposed to the south.
Some spinach plants, both of the smooth and prickly
seeded, should be allowed to run up for seed ; and some
of the different kinds of radishes should be transplanted
for the same, purpose.
The different crops should be kept clear of weeds
and thinned with the hoe. Turnips may be left at the
distance of seven or eight inches from each other; car¬
rots, six or eight; parsnips, eight to ten or twelve ;
onions, four or five ; Hamburgh parsley, scorzonera,
and salsafy, six or seven ; and cardoons, five or six ;
that they may acquire strength for final transplantation.
Plant out cabbages, savoys, cauliflower, brocoli, and
bore-cole.
iow sj
iac!i.
iS
iVeed.sl
bin cjii,
189
'lant c
%
190
lall-tr
lined,
191
mine
»,
Sect. II. Fruit Garden.
As wall trees will now have made vigorous shoots, a
sufficient quantity of the best placed lateral, and all the
terminal ones, should be trained to the wall, and all
foreright, ill placed, superfluous, and very luxuriant
shoots, should be removed. None of the young branches
should be shortened, unless where a supply of°new wood
is wanted to fill up some vacant space. When the fruit
stands too thick on wall trees, they should be thinned.
When wall trees are infested with insects, means should
be made use of to destroy them; the curled leaves
should be picked oft with a view to check their propa¬
gation : tobacco dust may be sometimes employed with
advantage ; but water sprinkled plentifully over the
branches with an engine constructed on purpose, is the
most efficacious remedy.
Bet vines both on walls and in vineyards be looked
over; and let all superfluous branches, which proceed
r°m the old wood or lateral shoots, which are pushed
out by the young branches, he rubbed off; indeed this
Must be done constantly during the summer.
439
Sect. III. The Flower Garden, or Pleasure Ground. Kitchen
Garden.
Tender annuals should be transplanted Into newly' ' 1
formed hot-beds, when they are wished to flower earlyTra^l,lt
nui ./i ull perfection, particularly balsams and cocks- tender an-.
combs- _ _ mials into
Bet the auricula plants in pots, which are past flower, hot-beds.
e paced in some situation where they may enjoy T-eat^enh
some_ free air and the sun till about ten o’clock in theo/aS
morning. las.
Some wallflower and stock gilliflower seed may be r94
sown about the beginning of the month; cuttings also^7fee
of double wall-flowers and stocks may be planted under &
bell and hand glasses, or in a shady border.
mI cFZi! Pla,nts sown last Transplant
March, will be fit for transplanting about the end ofbiennials,
strength ,llt0 WherC t{iey may remain to acquire
Sect. IV. Nursery.
Towards the end of the month, the clay should beNewW
removed from newly grafted trees, and the bandages grafted
loosened because they might check the growth of the trees,
grafts, which will now shoot freely; and all buds under
>■116 giaft should be carefully removed.
Sect. V. Green-house and TIoUhouse.
About the end of the month, if the weather shouldPknutob*
be favourable, the greater part of the plants may be removed
removed from the green-house, and placed in some vvell-in‘o open
sheltered situation in the open air. The plants in theaIr*
hot-house should receive water and air freely, particu¬
larly in bright weather. ^
JUNE.
Sect. I. Kitchen Garden.
The same care of cucumbers and melons which was Melon,
recommended for last month, is necessary now ; the cn- kc
cumbers sown in the open ground last month should
be thinned, when they begin to push out their first
rough leaves, and a few more seeds may be sown for the
same purpose, but the earlier in the month the better
Transplant celery for blanching. For this purpose*
form trenches, about a spade deep and three feet apart •
ay the earth which comes out of the trenches regular¬
ly along eac!l side ; lay into each trench some well rot¬
ten dung, and dig it in : put the plants in a row along
the middle of the trench at the distance of four or five
inches from one another. About a month or six weeks
alter they have been planted, when they have acquired
the height of six or eight inches, a quantity of earth
should be laid about their stems, to blanch them and
prepare them for the table ; this should be done during
dry weather, and repeated once a fortnight, or according
as the plants advance in growth, till they are blanched
to the height of a foot or fifteen inches. The earlier
sown celery will be fit for transplanting about the be¬
ginning of the month ; the later sown, about the end.
About the latter end of the month transplant endive
for!
440
gardening.
Part;[,
June.
b'ruit
Garden
&c.
199
Endive
blanched.
400
Cauliflow¬
ers, See.
planted
out.
40t
Sow tur¬
nips.
404
Plant out
sleeks.
403
and pot¬
herbs.
for blanching 5 which should he planted out in rows, a
foot apart, and at the same distance trom one another
in the row. Some endive seed should be sown foi a
principal crop j the green curled is commonly sown for
this purpose, because it is least apt to be injured by rain
or cold.
The cauliflower, brocoli, and bore-cole plants which
were sown last month, should be planted out at the
distance of about three inches from one another, into
beds where they may remain, to acquire strength to fit
them for final transplantation in July. Some of the
early cauliflower plants, which have formed good heads,
should be allowed to stand for seed, which will ripen in
September.
About the middle of this month is the best season
for sowing a principal crop of turnips 5 the different
kinds commonly sown, are the yellow, white Dutch,
round white, stone-turnip, Swedish, black Russian, small
French round. The large white Norfolk, green topped,
and red-topped, are chiefly used lor field culture.
Plant out leeks in rows nine inches asunder, and
about six inches from one another in the row*, it is
an usual practice to trim off the extremities of their
leaves and of their roots before they are planted.
Plant out pot-herbs, such as thyme, savory, sweet-
marjoram and hyssop ; likewise angelica, marygolds,
clary, See. A rainy or dull day should be chosen, and
the plants put in at the distance of six inches from one
another; occasional watering will be necessary, till
they have taken root. Cuttings or slips of sage, hys¬
sop, rue, rosemary, lavender, &c. may be planted 111 a
shady situation, and occasionally watered.
or four inches apart, or more closely together, and co* j,
vered with bell or hand glasses. Kul
Propagate carnations, pinks, and double sweet*wd* tiaiL ■
liams, by layers. Select young shoots about five or six'
inches long for this purpose; strip off the leaves fromCarniliJ
the lower part of the stalks, and trim off tjie tops of those jc'c, ’,IJ
placed at its extremity ; make a slanting cut with a
sharp knife on the under part of the stalk, which should
commence at a joint near the middle of the shoot, and
extend upwards almost half w?ay to the next; make a
hole in the earth about an inch or an inch and a half
deep, immediately under the shoot, for its reception ;
fix it down with a small hooked stick, and cover it with
earth, except an inch or two at its extremity. A little
water should be given in dry weather, which will make
the layers strike root more readily. Pinks and carna¬
tions may likewise be propagated by cuttings or pipings.
These pipings are formed of the extremities of the young
shoots, taken off immediately under the third joint,
which should be inserted into light earth almost to their
tops, (the extremities of their leaves being previously
trimmed off). They should receive a little water to
make the earth settle closely about them, and should be
covered with a bell or hand glass, llie earth is some¬
times rendered quite wet, and reduced to a state resem¬
bling mortar, before the pipings are introduced.
About the end of the month hedges should receive
their first clipping.
Sect. IV. Nursery.
Sect. II. Fruit Garden.
I04 Wall trees, and vines in the vineyard, require the
VVAI-.L irees, Him viuco m  
Strawberry attentlon th[s month that was recommended last.
plants pre
pared.
When plantations of strawberries are wanted, the young
plants that are produced at the joints of the runners,
that are furnished with good roots, should be taken up
about the end of this month, and planted in a shady
border at the distance of about six inches from one
another; by September they will be fit to be planted
out at the distance of a foot or fifteen inches fiom each
other.
I.
About the end of the month you may inoculateFruilh
peaches, nectarines, apricots, and roses : for the method,inoc« 1.
see July.
If any of the trees that were budded last summer, or
engrafted last spring, have made very vigorous shoots,
stakes should be fixed into the ground close to the
stocks, to which both the stocks and shoots must be
fixed.
Propagate both deciduous and evergreen shrubs by
layers, particularly such as do not push out roots freely
except from the new wood.
Sect. V. Green-house and Ilot-house.
Sect. III. Flower Garden, or Pleasure Ground.
405
Bulbous
roots, &c.
takeu up.
to 6
Propagate
perennial
plants.
The roots of hyacinths, jonquils, ranunculuses, &c.
should be taken up after their stalks begin to decay,
dried and preserved till planting season; the roots of
narcissus, crocus, snow-drop, &c. may likewise be taken
up and separated, and either planted again immediately
or kept till autumn.
Take up also autumnal flowering bulbs, such as
colchicum, autumnal crocuses and narcissus, Guernsey
and belladona lilies, cyclamens, &c. ; take off the oft-
sets, and plant them again immediately, or keep them
till next month.
Perennial plants, such as double scarlet lychnis,
double rocket, &c. may be propagated by cuttings of
their stalks; each cutting should consist of three or four
joints, two of which, (or more than one half the length
of the cutting), should be inserted into the ground;
they may be either planted into a shady border, three
3
i
If the green-house plants were not placed in the 0PellE*o| 1
air last month, on account of the coldness of the wea-pvop e
ther, they may be safely trusted out now. These plants
may be propagated this month by cuttings, layers, in¬
arching, Sec.
Hot-house plants may likewise be propagated now,
and should receive a plentiful allowance of air and wa¬
ter ; pine apple plants which are approaching to matii'
rity should be sparingly watered, because too much wa¬
ter would injure the flavour ot the fruit.
JULY.
Sect. 1. Kitchen Garden.
PlaNT out cabbages, savoys,brocoli, bore-cole,endive Ch1 ..
and celery; for the methods see the former months.3cc
Sow some hrocali seed about the beginning 0
month. Sow some endive seed for a winter ciop ; ^
green curled endive is the best for this purpose
some
Fa
GARDENI NvG.
I
Frai to-
ttcls:
some white and Batavian may likewise be sown. Some
kidney-beans, of the dwarf kind, should be sown for a
late crop. Some turnip-rooted or Spanish radish may
be sown, and managed exactly like turnip : there are
two kinds, the black and the white ; both of which are
very hardy, and stand the winter well.
Some peas and beans may be sown when a late crop
is wanted.
As artichokes now advance to maturity, those who
prefer one large head to two or three smaller ones,
ought to cut oil all the lateral heads from the stalks,
before they exceed the size of a hen’s egg j which will
promote the growth of the principal head. It is a
common practice to break down the stalks of arti¬
chokes near the ground, as soon as their heads have
been cut for the table, to make them push more vigor¬
ously from the root.
If the stalks of onions, garlick, and shallot, begin to
decay, which is sometimes the case about the end of
this month, they should be pulled up and dried. See
August.
Sect. II. Fruit Garden.
As fruits advance to maturity, wall trees should be
protected from birds by nets j and means should be
taken to destroy snails, \vasps, and other insects.
441
becomes useless ; but if no hole appears, the bud is good, 7U<V
and may be inserted into tl.e stock, by raising the bark
with the hand of the budding knife on each side 0f House amt
the perpendicular cut, immediately under the cross cut. fIot'Uouse
If the piece of bark which contains the bud be too lorn’- '~~'v
lor the incision made in the stock, it should be reduced
to a proper length with the knife, and introduced be-
tween the bark and wood of the stock, and placed so as
to make the bud project through the perpendicular cut.
Jriaving fixed the bud, and placed the bark of the stock
closely above it, put a bandage of mat, which should
be previously steeped in water to increase its tenacity
round the stock, which should extend from a little be¬
low to a little above the incision ; taking care that
none of the folds of the bandage cover the bud.
In three weeks or a month after the inoculation has
been performed, the buds will have united with the
stock, which is discoverable by the bud appearing
plump 5 the bandages should then be removed : were
they to remain, they would cramp the buds and injure
them. . The incisions should be made in the stocks
about six inches above ground, when dwarf trees are
wanted; and at the height of six feet, when standards
are to be inoculated : the buds remain dormant, and re¬
quire no further attention till next spring •, when they
begin to push out, the heads of the stalks should be
cut off.
Sect. III. Flower Garden, or Pleasure Ground.
Some tender annuals may be planted out into the
flower borders in the open air.
Seedling auriculas and polyanthuses may be planted
out, into a border not exposed to the mid-day sun, at the
distance of two inches from one another, and watered
occasionally.
Sect. IV. Nursery.
Metbd:f
WClll
lion,
Inoculate apricots, peaches, nectarines, plums, and
pears; the first four are commonly inoculated on plum
stocks, the last on pear or quince stocks. Inoculating
or budding, as it is termed, may be performed on many
other trees, and shrubs; the method of performing it is
as follows,
"With a budding knife, which resembles a penknife
with a flat handle, make a horizontal cut at some
smooth part quite through the bark of the stock, from
the middle ot which make a perpendicular cut down¬
wards, about two inches in length, so as to form a fi¬
gure resembling the letter T. Take a young shoot of
the tree, with which you intend to inoculate, cut off
the leaves from its lower extremity, leaving a small part
of the footstalk of each; then, about an inch under the
lowest bud, make a cross cut in the shoot almost half¬
way through, with the knife slanting upwards, and
with a clean cut, bring it out about half an inch above
the bud, detaching part both of the wood and bark
containing the bud. Separate the small piece of the
wood which was taken off along with the bud, from
the bark, which is readily done with your knife, pla¬
cing the point of it between the bark and wood at one
end; then examine the inside of the bark, to see if the
internal end of the bud be left; for if there appears a
sma 1 hole, the eye is gone with the wood, and the bud
VOL. IX. Part II. +
Seedling pines, where they stand too thick in the sted>iL
seed-bed, may be transplanted ; but great care must be pines train,
taken to water them and shade them from the sun. planted.
Sect. V. Green-House and Hot-House.
Green-house plants require a plentiful supply of wa- Thin Hie
ter at this season. If the fruit have set too thick on fruit of
orange or lemon trees, they should be thinned, other-ortM1Ses*
wise they will not acquire a proper size. 2ig
As many of the pines will ripen their fruit in the Propagate
course ot this month, it is a proper time to begin to pine apples,
propagate these plants, which is done by planting the
crowns that are produced at the top of the fruit, and
the suckers which proceed from the root of the plants,
about the time the fruit is ripe, or soon after they are*
cut.
These suckers or crowns, if properly managed, will
produce fruit in two years, and then decay. Each fruit
is surmounted by at least one crown, which frequently
has a number of offsets at its base; and each plant, after
it has produced fruit, throws out from its root one or
inoie suckers before it decays. fhe crowns, when
they are separated from the fruit, must lie five or six
days in some dry place, till the part which was attach¬
ed to the fruit is completely dried, before they are fit
for planting. The suckers which proceed from the root
of the plant should be taken oil, when they have ac¬
quired the length of five or six inches, and when their
lower extremity has become brown ; they must likewise
lie m some dry situation for a few days, till the part by
which they were connected with the root of the parent
plant be thoroughly dried. Put each crown or sucker
into a small pot, filled with light rich earth, and plunge
them in the bark-bed of a hot-house, or in a hot-bed
made on purpose. IIP
A method of raising pine apples in water is given by
William Bastard, Esq. of Devonshire, in the 67th vo- pines ii*
3 K lume wat<*
442
G
July.
Green¬
house and
A R D E
His account
]ume of the Philosophical Transactions,
of this method is as follows :
« In the front part of the house, and indeed any-
Hot-house. w,iere ;n the lowest parts of it, the pine-apple plants
  ' will not thrive well in water. The way m which 1
treat them is as follows :—I place a shelf near the high¬
est part of the back wall, so that the pine apples may
stand without absolutely touching, but as near it as can
be ; on this sbelf I place pans full ol water, about seven
or eight inches deep ; and in these pans I put the pine¬
apple plants, growing in the same pots of earth as they
are generally planted in, to be plunged into the bark-
bed in the common way * that is, I put the pot of
earth, with the pine plant in it, in the pan full of wa¬
ter and as the water decreases I constantly till up the
pan I place either plants in fruit, or young plants,
as soon as they are well rooted, in these pans of water,
and find they thrive equally well : the fruit reared this
wav is always much larger, as well as better flavoured,
than when ripened in the hark-bed. I have more than
once put only the plants themselves without any earth,
I mean after they had roots, into these pans of water,
with only water sufficient to keep the roots always co¬
vered, and found them flourish beyond expectation. In
my house the shelf I mention is supported by irons from
the top-, and there is an intervening space of about 10
inches between the back wall and the shelf. A neigi-
bour of mine has placed a leaden cistern upon the top
of the back flue, in which, as it is in contact with the
flue, the water is always warm when there is fire in the
house, and finds his fruit excellent and large. My
shelf does not touch the back flue, but is about a foot
above it; and, consequently, the water is only warmed
by (he air in the house. Both these methods do well.
The way I account for this success is, that the warm
air, always ascending to the part where the shelf is pla¬
ced, as being the highest part of the house, keeps it
much hotter than in any other part. The temperature
at that place is, I believe, seldom less than what is in¬
dicated by the 73° of Fahrenheit’s thermometer, and
when the sun shines it is often above 100°: the water
the plants grow in seems to enable them to bear the
greatest heat, if sufficient air be allowed ; and I often
see the roots of plants growing out of the holes in the
bottom of the pot of earth, and shooting vigorously in
the water. . r , • , ^ i
“ My hot-house, the dimensions of which it may be
proper to know, is 6o feet long, and II feet wide, the
flues included 5 six feet high in the front, and 11 feet at
the back of the inside of the house. It is warmed by
two fires. A leaden trough or cistern on the top of the
back flue is preferable to my shelf j as in it the pine
plants grow much faster in the winter, the water being
always warmed by the flue. Of this I have seen great
benefits these last two months in my neighbourhood.
“ It is not foreign to this purpose to mention, that as
a person was moving a large pine plant from the hot-bed
in my house last summer, which plant was just shewing
fruit, by some accident he broke off the plant just above
the earth in which it grew, and there was no root what¬
ever left to it. By way of experiment, I took the
plant, and fixed it upright in a pan of water, without
any earth whatever, in the shelf; it there soon threw
out roots, and bore a pine apple that weighed upwards
of two pounds.”
N I N G. . . Pari: l|
I. The bromelia ananas, of which there are six va- A, 1
rieties: 1. Ovatus, or oval-shaped pine apple. 2. Py- Ki
ramidalis (pyramidal), or sugar-loaf pine. . 3. Glaber, G „
with smooth leaves. 4. Lucidus, with shining green ^ "
leaves. 5. Serotinus, with a yellowish-coloured flesh, J
6. Viridis, or green pine apple. # of tk jj
The first sort of ananas is the most common in Europe yappl
but the second sort is much preferable to it, the fruit of
this being larger and much better flavoured : the juice
of this sort is not so astringent as that of the first •, so
that this fruit may be eaten in greater quantity, with
less danger. This sort frequently produces suckers im¬
mediately under the fruit, whereby it may be increased
much better than the common sort j so that in a few
years it may be the best common sort in Bntain.
The third sort is preserved for curiosity by way of
variety $ but the fruit is not worth any thing.
The sort with very smooth green leaves, was raised
from seeds taken out of a rotten fruit, which came from
the West Indies to the late Henry Heathcote, Esq.
from whom Mr Miller received one plant, which pro¬
duced large fruit: this is what the people of America
call the king pine.
august.
Sect. I. Kitchen Garden.
Sow some prickly-seeded, or triangular-leaved spi-Sow tst
nach, for a winter and spring crop ; for though the™>p;
rcund-seeded produces larger and more succulent leaves,
the prickly-seeded is to be preferred now, because it is
by much the hardier of the two. After the plants have
got their first leaves about an inch broad, they should
be thinned to the distance of four inches from one ano¬
ther, and kept free from weeds. 1
Sow some cabbage seed, both of the early and late Cabi.
kinds, to produce plants for next year.
Sow some onions, to be used when young in winter0nic
or spring, or to produce a crop of early onions this
summer. The Strasburgh or any other kind may be
sown now, but the Welsh onion is very hardy, and
stands the winter well; for though their tops should be
destroyed by the severity of the weather, they will push
up again from the root in the spring: this onion, how-
ever, does not produce bulbs.
Towards the end of the month sow some cauliflowerCiU wi
seed to produce plants for an early crop next summer,
which may be protected during the winter, either under
hot-bed frames, bell or hand-glasses, or 111 a well-shel¬
tered border exposed to the south. Between the I
and 24th of this month is, perhaps, the best time to
sow these seeds. The London gardeners, who sow
great quantities, are accustomed to sow them on a par¬
ticular day, viz. the 21st of this month. If they be
sown too early, they are apt to button, as the gar e
ers term it, i. e. run up to seed without producing hearts
of a proper size 5 and if they be sown too late, t
plants do not acquire sufficient strength, befoie win e , j
to enable them to support the severity of the weather-
Sow some lettuce seed about the middle of the montl A
both to supply the table lat« in the autumn, or .
ning of winter, and to plant out into well-s ie er
borders, or under hot-bed frames, to stand during wi
ter* Plant
p»
III.
GARDENING.
ijjit. Piant out brocoli, savoys, bore-cole, and celery, for
1 R the use of winter and spring.
K«IpV The cardoons which were planted in June should
have some earth laid up to their stems, to blanch them
jjjJmt and render them fit for the table. That this may be
[)rac &.C. accomplished the more easily, tie up the leaves of each
plant, with a piece of bass mat or small straw rope, and
apply some earth close round the stem, which earthing
must be repeated at intervals, till it rise to the height of
two feet.
The principal crops of onions will be fit for taking up
taiMP *n course this month. Choose a dry day for
(nitr taking them up; take off the stalks within two or three
inches of the bulb ; spread them in some dry place, ex¬
posed to the sunshine, for 10 or 12 days, that they may
be thoroughly dried.
443
SeptemlxT.
Kitchen
Garden.
Tfim 'if
Sect. II. Fruit Garden.
Dre he Look over vines, figs, and other wall trees; remove
vine to ah foreright and superfluous branches, and nail the
others close into the wall, that the rays of the sun may
have free access to the fruit.
Vines in the vineyard likewise should be fixed to the
stakes, and cleared of all superfluous shoots.
Sect. III. Flower Garden^ or Pleasure Ground.
Profile About the end of the month, you may propagate by
£bro slips, fibrous-rooted perennial plants, such as double rose
root campion, catchfly, double scarlet lychnis, double rocket,
pere ik double ragged robin, bachelors button, gentianella, poly¬
anthuses, auriculas, double daisies, &c. As these plants
frequently grow in tufts, they may be taken up and di¬
vided, taking care that every slip be provided with some
j roots.
Treacnt Auricula plants in pots should receive fresh earth,
of am las, Auricula and polyanthus seed may be sown any time
, this month, but will not come up till spring,
aide Layers of carnations,double sweetwilliams,and pinks,
that are properly rooted, may be separated from the*
parent plant, and planted into borders or pots. Cut¬
tings and pipings of pinks and carnations, may be plant¬
ed out into beds or borders.
Towards the end of the month the seeds of bulbous-
rooted flowers, such as tulips, hyacinths, narcissus, iris,
crocus, fritillaria, crown imperial, lilies, and snowdrops;
likewise, the seeds of anemone, ranunculus, and cycla¬
men, may be sown in beds or boxes, to obtain new va¬
rieties. They must be protected during winter from
frost; and when they appear above ground in spring,
they must be kept clear of weeds.
Plant out seedling biennials and perennials.
About the end of this month hedges should receive
t
SowB
Hiphe
their second clipping.
1 ,3.<
;tMWr
Sect. IV. Nursery.
. Budding may still be performed about the begin-
j mng of the month, and those trees which were budded
three weeks or a month ago, should be examined. If the
buds remain plump and fresh, there is reason to believe
that they have succeeded; in that case the bandages
roust be loosened. &
Sect. \ . Green~house and Plot-house,
Green-house plants, in the open air, must be ma¬
naged as already directed.
The plants in the hot-house must receive a plentiful
allowance of air and water.
Succession pine-apple plants, that are to produce fruit
next year, should be shifted into larger pots,viz. twenty-
fours or sixteens, about the beginning of the month.
The plants should be turned out of the old pots and
placed in the new ones, a quantity of light rich earth
being previously put into the bottom of each. Each pot
should then be filled with some of the same earth, water¬
ed, and plunged into the tan, which, at the same time,
should be turned over and receive an addition of about
one-third of fresh tan.
SEPTEMBER.
Sect. I. K itchen Garden.
Plant some brown Dutch, cos, and common cab-pi'rjL.
bage lettuce, in a well-sheltered situation, exposed to the lettuce,
mid-day sun, to be covered with hot-bed frames and
glasses, which should not be put over them till some
time next month.
Plant out from the seed-bed the cauliflowers thatc
were sown last month, into well-sheltered borders, atfWe'rs.
the distance of three or four inches from one another,
taking care not to plant them so deep as to cover their
hearts with earth. These plants may be either planted
out again next month under garden frames, bell or hand¬
glasses to stand during the winter, or may remain where
planted.
Plant brocoli, savoys, bore-cole, celery, and endive. RroSi;
Earth up celery and cardoons. ’
Tie up the leaves of endive with a piece of bass mat,
or something of that nature, to blanch them, and pre¬
pare them for the table.
Mushroom beds may be formed any time this month, prenir8..
as spawn will very easily be procured during August, tion of*"
beptember, or October. The spawn has the appear-n3usbrooixt
ance of a white mould shooting out in strings, which, beds‘
when bruised, smells like mushrooms. It may be ob¬
tained either from old mushroom beds, old hot-beds, or
dung hills that are principally composed of horse dung,
and from pasture fields, indeed in any place where
horse or sheep’s dung has lain for some time undisturbed
and not exposed to much moisture ; and may be pre¬
served for a considerable length of time, in a proper state
for using. If spawn is not otherwise to be procured,
some may be produced by laying a quantity of horse-
dung and rich earth in alternate layers, and co¬
vered with straw to exclude the rain and air ; for the
more these are excluded, the sooner the spawn will ap¬
pear, which commonly happens in about two months
after the dung and earth have been laid together.
Mushroom beds should be formed of dung that has been
spread out for some time, without having been ferment¬
ed, and may be made two or three feet broad, and of
any length. A stratum of dung about a foot thick,
should be laid first, which should be covered with
rich earth to the depth of about four inches, then ano-
3 K a ther
444
September, ther stratum of dung about ten Inches tliick, which
Fruit should be covered like the former; a third stratum of
Garden, dung may be laid and covered with earth like the two
v—' former. The whole should be made to grow narrower
as it advances in height, and formed into a ridge re¬
sembling the roof of a house. When the bed is finished
it should be covered with straw, to exclude the rain,
and to prevent the bed from being dried by the sun or
wind, in which situation it should remain eight or ten
Jays, when the bed will be in a proper temperature of
warmth to receive the spawn. The spawn should be
placed in lumps four or five inches asunder, in the
sloping sides of the bed, and covered with a little rich
earth; the whole must then be covered with a thick
coat of straw. When these beds are made in spring or
autumn, as the weather in those months is temperate,
the spawn will take soon, and the mushrooms will ap¬
pear in about a month after the bed has been made ;
but when these are made in winter, when the weather
is cold, or even in summer when the weather is very
hot, a much longer time will elapse. The principal
thing to be attended to, in the management of these
beds^ is to preserve them in a proper degree of moisture
and warmth. Therefore, when the weather is very
cold or very wet, care must be taken to apply a thick
covering of dry straw, and when the bed appears dry,
a gentle watering must be given.
GARDENING. Parlil
Sect. III. Flower Garden, or Pleasure Ground.
Transplant and propagate fibrous-rooted perennial
plants by slips.
Towards the end of the month, hyacinths, tulips,
and other bulbs, may be planted. See October. plan/
Sect. IV. Nursery.
Transplant evergreens towards the end of the tv.. 11
month, such as Portugal laurels, laurustinus, arbu-ancTL
tus, &c. _ 8at'f 1-
Both evergreens and deciduous trees and shrubs maySrta|4
be propagated by layers or cuttings about the end of
the month.
Sect. V. Green-house and Hot-house.
About the end of the month, if the weather be Tend! i
cold, orange and lemon trees, and many of the ten-plauj >
derer kinds of green-house plants, should be removed
into the house.
About the end of this month or beginning of next,Ta]1; <
the tan-bed in the hot-house should be refreshed with areneii
quantity of new tan, one half or two-thirds according
as the old tan may be more or less decayed.
OCTOBER.
Sect. II. Fruit Garden.
JruitVo be Where any fruit, particularly grapes, are shaded
exposed to with leaves, pains should be taken to expose them to
lbe *un* the rays of the sun, that they may acquire proper fla¬
vour, likewise when the clusters are entangled, they
should be disengaged, that each may have the benefit
240 of the sun and air. .
Plant Strawberries may be planted any time tins month
strawber- w|ien the weather is showery. If rain should not fall
towards the beginning of the month, the transplanting
should be deferred, otherwise they must be watered oc¬
casionally, for some time after they are planted. If
anv were planted into beds in June, they will be in ex¬
cellent condition for planting out now ; but if none
were planted out then, the best rooted plants produced
at the joints of the runners, or offsets from the old
plants, should be chosen, and planted at the distance
of a foot or 15 inches from one another, either in beds,
about four feet wide, or in rows along the borders.
Most kinds of strawberries succeed best in an open si¬
tuation, but the wood strawberry may be planted under
the shade of trees or bushes.
different The principal kinds of strawberries, are, the scarlet
kinds of or Virginian, white wood, green wood, red wood,
straw- jarge white wood, hautboy strawberry, large globe
berries. jiautb0y, oblong hautboy, royal hautboy, green haut¬
boy, Chili strawberry, globe Chili, sugar-loaf Chili,
pine apple Chili, Bath Chili, Carolina Chili, white
Carolina Chili, Devonshire Chili, Royal Chili, Dutch
Chili, Alpine or prolific, which produces fruit from
June to November, red Alpine, white Alpine, scarlet
Alpine, piue-apple strawberry, red, white, and green.
About the end of the month, most of the late pears
and apples will be fit for taking down, to be laid up
for keeping. See October,
Sect. I. Kitchen Garden.
. 1 • 41
Plant out some of the lettuces that were raised mPlam
August, into a well-sheltered border, or into a hot-bedleU"s
frame, to supply the table during winter and spring. J(,
Cauliflowers that were planted out last month from thecanli.
seed-bed, may now be planted under hot bed frames, attar -
the distance of about four inches from one another, orderfr '•
under bell or hand glasses. Four or five plants may be
put under each hand glass, all of which (should they
survive the winter) may again be planted out in the
spring, except one, or at most two, of the strongest,
which should be allowed to remain and produce heads.
See February.
Propagate aromatic vegetables by slips, such as thyme,
mint, balm, sage, &c. _ _ . J J
Asparagus beds should receive their winter dressing,fires «•
i. e. their stalks should be cut down, and the alleys be-rag“!
tween the beds should be dug, and a little of the earth
from the alleys spread over the surface of each bed.
Asparagus beds require some dung once every two years,
which should be applied at this season. Before the
alleys are dug, a little well rotten dung should be spread
over the surface of the beds, dug in with a fork, and
covered with a little of the earth from the alleys.
Where forced asparagus is required early in winter, a
hot-bed may be made any time this month. See
January.
Plant some early Mazagan beans, and hotspur peas,
about the end of the month, to stand the winter, and
produce a crop early in summer.
Sect. II. Fruit Garden.
i
Winter pears and apples should in general be
thered this month. Some will be fit to take down fb**1 ’
beginning^
<Ji
| 111. VI A\ LJ
j beginning of the month, others will not be ready before
J t the middle or towards the end. To know when the
l:;u. fruits have had their full growth, some of them should
i"—' be tried in different parts of the tree, by turning them
gently upwards; if they quit the tree easily, it is a sign
of maturity, and time to gather them. But none of the
more delicate eating pears should be permitted to hang
longer on the trees than the middle of the month, es¬
pecially if the nights prove frosty; for if they are once
touched with the frost, it will occasion many of them
to rot before they are fit for the table : and therefore,
in general, let neither apples nor pears remain longer
on the trees than the middle or the end of this month,
for they will not improve by hanging on the trees after
that time. The best apples and pears which are in¬
tended for long keeping, should be taken down one by
one, on a dry day, and carefully put into baskets, to
be carried to the fruitery, or place where they are to be
stored up. The fruit themselves should be dry when
taken down from the trees, therefore should not be ga¬
thered too early in the morning, before the dew on
their surface has evaporated. They should be laid in
a heap for ten days or a fortnight, that their watery
juices may transpire; each should then be thoroughly
dried with a cloth, and laid on the shelves of the
fruitery, or in boxes or hampers well covered with dry
straw or hay.
Prslaid About the end of the month, apricots, peaches, and
ph uit nectarines may be pruned. See January.
All sorts of fruit trees may be planted, such as apri¬
cots, peaches, nectarines, plums, cherries, apples, pears,
quinces, vines, figs, mulberries, medlars, services, fil¬
berts, See. The ground, for this purpose should be
trenched to the depth of one or two spades, and should
be well manured. If the borders on which the fruit
trees are to be planted have not a sufficient depth of soil,
a quantity of good earth may be added. Peaches, nec¬
tarines, apricots, plums, and cherries, are commonly
planted at the distance of about fifteen feet from one
another. Pears and apples when engrafted on dwarf
stocks may be planted about the same distance, but
those which are on free stocks, about eighteen or twenty
feet. Cherriesand plums for standards should be planted
at the distance of twenty or twenty-five feet from one
another. Apples and pears, on free stocks, should be
I planted in rows, thirty or forty feet asunder, and at the
distance of twenty-five or thirty feet from one another
. in the row. Dwarf apples and pears, however, may be
planted at less than half that distance.
The principal kinds of apricots are, the early musca¬
dine, Turkey, Brussels, Roman, Breda, orange, Algiers,
royal, Moor-park, alberget, transparent, Dunmore, or
apricot peach, and Portugal.
The principal sorts of peaches are, the red magdalen,
■white magdalen, red nutmeg, white nutmeg, nobless,
early Newington, old Newington, great French mig-
none, small miguone, admirable chancellor, Millet’s
niignone, incomparable, violet native, purple native,
Royal George, Montauban, teton de Venus, round
transparent, Catharine, and bloody peach.
The principal kinds of nectarines are, early nut¬
meg, Newington, red, Homan, violet, musk, golden,
scarlet, Elruge, Temple, Murray, Brugnion, white
Italian.
The principal sorts of plums are, the Primordan or
Garden.
early white, Precoce or early black, early Morocco, Ociohci.
Orleans, green gage, la royale, damas de Tour, damas fruit
vxolette, white bonum magnum or egg plum, red bo-
num magnum or Imperial, Perdrigron white, Perdri-
gron violet, Monsieur plum, drap d’or, royal dauphin,
Fotheringham, azure native, or early blue gage, queen
mother, myrobalan, apricot plum, red, white, diapree.
Monsieur native, Boche carbon, Jaune native, grosse
queen Claude, petite queen Claude, imperiale violette
or blue imperial, petite mirabille, damas musque, dia-
pr^e noire, diapree violette, imperitrice blanche or
white empress, imperitrice noire or late black, Spanish
damas, damas of September, St Catharine, common
damson, Bullace.
The principal kinds of cherries are, the early May,
May-duke, arch-duke, Harrison’s duke, white heart,
black heart, bleeding heart, Adams’s crown heart,
Hertfordshire heart, ox heart,Turkey,carnation, amber,
Kentish or Flemish, Portugal, morella, white crossian,
black coroun, small black guigne or geen, small red
guigne, smallest wild black of the woods and hedges,
ditto red.
I he principal kinds of apples are, the common codlin, AppJc*.
Kentish codlin,^Dutch codlin, Margaret, golden pippin,
gold rennet, Plolland pippin, Kentish pippin, nonpareil,
royal russet, Wheeler’s russet, golden russet, gray russet,
winter pearmain, scarlet pearmain, Loan’s pearmain,
aromaticrusset, pommed’Appis,Newton pippin, English
rennet, autumn rennet, winter queening, margille,
nonesuch, gray Leadington, Marget, tender rennet,
kitchen rennet, large white, Italian, Spanish rennet,
Canada rennet, grosse rennet de Normandie, Fearns
pippin, white French rennet, cluster pearmain, lemon
pippin, French pippin, winter greening, winter pippin,
Flanders pippin, white costin, Kirton pippin, stone
pippin, courpendu or hanging body, courpendu red,
rambour summer, rambour winter, rennet grise, French
rennet, cat’s head, leather-coat, russet of winter, pomme
de gelee, Siberian crab, American cherry crab, two
years apple, hanging on the trees, if permitted, till the
second year.
I he principal kinds of pears are, the green missal, pcarsl
Catharine, jargonelle, cnisse madame, Windsor chamon-
telle, cressane, echasserie, grasse blanquette, beure de
roi, white beure, winter beure, colmar, St Germain,
lent St Germain, Martinsee, grasse muscat, autumn
muscat, orange bergamot, Hambden’s, bergamot, red
beure, golden beur<, brown beure, great rousselet, petit
rousselet, Holland bergamot, verte longue, winter bon-
chretien, summer ditto, Spanish ditto, Messieur Jean,
Green sugar, la marquis, swan egg, virgleuse, Portugal,
gray goodwife, citron de carmes, ambrette, royal
d’hiver, St Michael, Louise bonne, summer orange,
winter orange, Swiss bergamot, devionett.
Baking pears. Large black pear of Worcester, Par¬
kinson’s warden, Uvedale St Germain, Cadillac. The
principal kinds of quinces are the Portugal, apple quince,
pear quince. The principal kinds of mulberries are
the common black, white, red, medlars, Dutch, Not¬
tingham or English. Services. Common wild service,
bervey, sweet service or serb, apple-shaped, pear-shaped
berry-shaped.
The principal sorts of figs are, the common blue,
early long blue, early white, large white, large Genoa, ^S‘
Brunswick, Marseilles, Cyprian, brown Ischia, brown
Malta.,
^4-6 GARDE
November. Malta. Filberts. Large red skinned filbert, white
Kitchen skinned, common hazel nut, Barcelona nut, cob nut,
Garden. c]uster nut, Byzantine nut.
Gooseberries, currants, and raspberries, may likewise
be planted about the end of this month. See Ja¬
nuary.
Sect. III. Flower Garden, or Pleasure Ground.
Bulbous BuLBOUS-rooted plants, such as tulips, hyacinths,
roots piant-.narcissus, jonquils, crocus, dens-canis, crown imperial,
sword lily, ixia, Persian and English iris, ranunculus,
and anemone, may be planted any time this month,
either in beds by themselves, or in flower borders, to¬
gether with other flowers } but the finer sorts of tulip,
hyacinths, ranunculus, and anemone, are commonly
planted in beds, six or eight inches distant, and two or
three deep.
Plant out deciduous and evergreen trees and shrubs.
The method of planting all these is to open a circular
hole, wide enough to receive the roots, and about a
spade deep, more or less, according to the length of the
roots.
Thorn and other hedges may be planted towards the
end of this month, or any time in the course of the
next.
Sect. IV. Nursery.
Sow Stone Sow haws, holly berries, hips, barberries, yew-berries,
fruit. Stc. acorns, beech-masts, maple and ash-seed, cherry and
plum stones, in a bed about four feet wide. It is a
common practice to keep haws and hips, in heaps cover¬
ed over with earth for twelve months j for those which
are sown without this preparation frequently lie a whole
year in the seed-bed without coming above ground.
Plant cuttings of laurels and evergreens.
Sect. V. Green-house and Hot-house.
The hardier kinds of green-house plants should be
all removed into the green-house, when they should
have plenty of air, except in very cold or wet weather.
The succession pine-apple plants should be removed
into the fruiting house, which should previously receive
a quantity of new tan, as directed last month. The
younger succession plants likewise should be moved in¬
to the place of those that have been transferred into the
fruiting house, air should be given freely in mild wea¬
ther, and water very moderately.
NOVEMBER.
Sect. I. Kitchen Garden.
Blanchea- Tie up endive for blanching, continue to earth-up
dire, See. cardoons, and dress the plantations of artichokes, i. e.
cut down their larger leaves, and lay some earth about
the plants, to protect them during winter.
Carrots and parsneps may be taken up, and preserved
in sand during the winter.
Some more peas and beans may be sown to succeed
those that were sown last month, or to supply their
place if they should be cut off by the severity of the
weather.
2
N I N G.
Part I
, Nov)|i
SECT. II. Fruit Garden. F:
. . ,. ■Ga
The best time for pruning vines is immediately after ^
the fall of the leaf, because the greatest possible time pruj! ]
in that way is allowed for healing the wounds. Vinesvinti ]
that are cut about the time of the rise of the sap in the
spring, are apt to bleed profusely •, this happens some¬
times even to those that are pruned in the course of the
winter. It is a common error, in pruning vines, to allow
the branches to grow too close together, particularly in j
those varieties which grow vigorously, and have very
large leaves *, for, in summer, when the leaves are fully
expanded, they are so much crowded together as to ex¬
clude the rays of the sun from the fruit. When pruning
is properly performed, the young branches should be
left at the distance of from one foot or two feet, and
even upwards, from one another ; but this in a great
measure must be regulated by the size of their leaves.
The Syrian grape has leaves about a foot and a half
broad, with foot-stalks six inches long. The black
Hamburgh has leaves twelve or thirteen inches broad,
with foot-stalks seven inches long. The black clus¬
ter on the contrary has leaves five inches broad, with
foot-stalks three inches long. Blue frontignac and claret
grape have leaves six inches broad, with foot-stalks about
four inches long. When vines are weakly, each shoot
should be shortened so as to leave only three or four
eyes $ when they are moderately vigorous, each should
be left about a foot long. When very vigorous, some
of the shoots may be left three or four feet long or
more j the shoots of vines, however, that are trained to
the rafters of a vinery or pine-stove may be left eighteen
or twenty feet long. It has been observed, that both
the largest grapes and finest clusters are produced on
shoots of a considerable length. When-vines have been
allowed to run into confusion, much time and pains are
requisite to reduce them to regularity ; but when they
have been trained regularly from the beginning, pruning
is easily and expeditiously performed. ,,
If the following directions for training vines in a])irec j
vinery be observed, they will easily be kept in order,form i
and plentiful crops of good fruit may be expected. T'nt8,
Vines may be planted both on the back wall and
front of a vinery j those on the back wall should be
planted from six to twelve feet asunder, according to
the vigour of growth of the particular sort, and in such
a position that the two uppermost buds may point east
and west j those on the front should be planted so as one
may be trained to each rafter. When the vines begin
to grow, all the buds except the two uppermost must
be rubbed off from those on the back wall, and all ex¬
cept the uppermost from those on the front wall. If any
of the plants shew fruit the first year, the clusters should
be rubbed off, as well as the tendrils and lateral shoots,
and the principal shoots should be trained regularly to
the trellis as they advance in growth. Fires should be
put in the vinery during the spring, to encourage an
early growth in the vines, that they may have full time
to ripen their wood. In the month of June the glasses
may be taken off altogether, hut should be put on again
in September, and continued till the fall of the leaf,
when the vines should be pruned. The two shoots
which each vine on the back wall was permitted to
push, should be cut down to their third or fourth bud,
according
gardening.
i III.
ber. according as either of them appears fullest and strongest,
lit an(l then hent down as near as possible to a horizontal
jp11,, position, forming a figure resembling the letter T.
1“ Plants in front that are trained to the rafters, should
be cut down almost to the bottom, and no more left
than is merely sufficient to train them to the rafter.
Only two shoots should again he permitted to grow on
each plant on the back wall, and one on those of the
front, and these may be allowed to run the whole height
of the house before they are stopped. After the vine
shoots are stopped (which is done by pinching off their
tops), they will in general push out laterals at three or
four eyes, on the upper part of the shoot. These late¬
rals should not entirely be taken off, as it would cause
more eyes lower upon the shoots to push out. It would
therefore be prudent to permit the first laterals to grow
twelve or fourteen inches, and then to pinch oft' their
tops. These laterals, in their turn, will push out secon¬
dary laterals, which should be pinched off'at the second
or third joint, and in that tvay the sap may be diverted
till the end of the season.
The shoots of the plants on the back wall must be
brought down to a horizontal position, and cut so that
the branches of each plant may reach within a foot
of the other. If all the vines on the rafters have pushed
vigorously, it will be proper to prune every other plant
down to three or four eyes, and the rest to from twenty
to twenty-five eyes each, the latter being intended to
produce fruit, and the former to make bearing wood
against another year. When the vines begin to push
in the spring of tV.e third year, the shoots of those on the
back wall should not be allowed to stand nearer one
another than a foot or fifteen inches, all the intermediate
buds being carefully rubbed oft'. The shoots ought to
be trained up perpendicularly, and however vigorous
they may be, no more than one cluster should be allow¬
ed to remain on any of them : all of them may run up
to the height of five or six feet before they are stopped.
The shoots on the rafters, that were pruned to twenty
or twenty-five eyes each, will probably push at all of
them •, but not more than five or seven shoots should be
permitted to remain, even on the strongest 5 viz. a
leading shoot, and two or three on each side. Care
being taken to leave one shoot as near the bottom as
possible, as the whole branch will require to be pruned
down to this shoot next winter. Only one shoot should
be left upon those vines that were pruned down to three
or four eyes, at every other rafter ; and this must be
trained up the rafter as in the preceding year. At
next pruning season all the shoots proceeding from the
horizontal branches of the vines in the back wall should
be pruned down to three or four eyes. The vines on
the front which produced fruit should be pruned to their
lowest shoot, which should be shortened, so as to leave
four or five eyes. Those at every other rafter which
were shortened the preceding year, and which were
allowed to push one shoot, should now be pruned like
the bearers of the former year ; i. e. twenty or twenty-
five eyes should be left on each. In the following and
all succeeding seasons, these vines on the front will re¬
quire a similar management, with this difference, that,
as they acquire more strength, they may be permitted to November,
push more shoots, and more clusters may be allowed to Flower
remain on each shoot ^ for, as the vines advance in age, f*ai(ien or
they will certainly be enabled to produce every year for i!}easure
a certain period, a larger crop of fruit. The spurs nf, v<iaijnd-<
the vines on the hack-wall, i. e. the shoots that were
shortened to three or four eyes, should be allowed to push
up one shoot: these shoots at next pruning season must
be cut so as to leave a long one, viz. about four feet,
and a short one, alternately. The long ones should be
allowed to push five shoots (all the other buds being
rubbed oft), the four lateral of which should be cut
down to two or three eyes each, at next pruning season,
and the terminal one should be left about a foot and a
hall long. I he short shoots between the long ones must
constantly be pruned down to two or three "eyes each,
in order to keep up a proper succession of bottom wood.
The pruning following season must be the same, with
this difference, that the upright shoots, as they have
acquired a foot and a half additional length, may be
allowed to push seven shoots instead of five.
The principal kinds of vines (e) are, * the white n-ff 259
muscat of Alexandria, * black damascus, * golden hindTof
gallician, *iwhite frontinac, *fgrisly frontinac, black grapes,
or purple frontinac, ft blue or violet frontinac, ff red
frontinac, *f white sweet water, *f black Hamburgh,
*f red Hamburgh or Gibraltar grape, * white Ham¬
burgh, *f malvoise or blue tokay, *f genuine tokay,
*f flame-coloured tokay, ff brick grape, *f white mus¬
cadine or chasselas, *f royal muscadine or d’arboyce,
*f Malmsey grape, *i claret grape, * Syrian, ff Bur¬
gundy or Munier grape, ft small black cluster, f large
black cluster, ft early black July grape or morillon,
noir natif, f white parsley-leaved.
Gooseberries and currants may be pruned any time 260
from the fall of the leaf, till their buds begin to grow
in the spring. If these bushes be not well pruned, the berries and
fruit will neither be large nor well-flavoured. The currants,
principal thing to be attended to is, to keep them open;
for they are very apt to become over-crowded with
branches: all suckers therefore which arise from the
root, or shoots which proceed from the main stem,
should be removed, because they would only create con¬
fusion, by growing up into the heart of the bush.
When last summer’s shoots stand too thick, on the main
branches, which is frequently the case, particularly
with gooseberries, they should be thinned, and few
either of them or of the main branches should he short¬
ened, because the more they are shortened the more
liable they are to run to wood. They who make use
of garden-shears, for sake of expedition, which is too
frequently the case, may save time, and make neat-look¬
ing bushes, but will be disappointed with respect to the
quantity and quality of their fruit.
Sect. III. Flower Garden, or Pleasure Ground.
Fibrous-rooted perennial plants may still be plant¬
ed *, likewise bulbous-rooted plants, such as tulips, hya¬
cinths, &c.
Shrubs and ornamental or forest trees may he trans¬
planted,
commoiMvall mar^e^ * are ^or a ^ot'^ouse 7 those marked f are for a vinery} and those marked f are for a
448
December.
Kitchen
Garden.
GARDENING.
planted now or any time during the winter when the
weather is open.
Part
*61
Construc¬
tion of
green¬
houses.
Sect. IV. The Nursery.
Transplant young trees and shrubs, and protect
tender seedlings during severe weather.
Sect. V. Green-Tlouse and Hot-House.
The plants in the green-house should have air during
the day, whenever the weather will permit, and should
receive but little water. The plants in the hot-house
should likewise receive air during the day in favourable
weather, and fires must be put on every evening, but
seldom need to be continued during the day, except the
weather is very severe.
DF-CEMBER.
Sect. I. Kitchen Garden.
The cauliflower plants and lettuces planted under
hot-bed frames, or under bell or hand-glasses, should be
exposed to the air during the mild days, and protected
during severe weather with a covering of mats or straw.
In dry weather celery and cardoons should be earthed
up, and endive tied up for blanching.
In this month there is nothing to be done either in
the fruit garden, nursery, green-house, or hot-house, that
has not already been taken notice of in the preceding
months. 1
Here we shall add some observations on the con*
struction of green-houses and hot-houses.
A green-house constructed for the protection of such
vegetables as cannot stand in the open air during win¬
ter, may vary in form and dimensions according to the
fancy of the proprietor, and the number of plants it is
intended to contain. When the front only is of glass,
which formerly was the only, and even still is the pre¬
valent, mode of constructing green-houses, the pillars
between the sashes ought to be as narrow as the weight
they have to support will admit of, and formed so as to
give the least possible obstruction to the light 5 they
may be either of stone, brick, wood, or cast iron. The
height of the sashes should equal it not exceed the
width of the house, that a sufficient quantity of light
may be thrown on the plants which stand near the back
wall, otherwise they will lose colour, become unhealthy
and deformed 5 for not only the colour, but the vigour,
and even the form of vegetables, depends on the light.
When one half or t he whole of the roof is of glass,
which ought to be the case, there is no necessity for
attending to the proportion the height ought to bear
to the width of the house. The ends of the house
should also be of glass, unless when it is connected with
a series of other buildings. The pots containing the
plants are commonly set on benches, which gradually
increase in height as they recede from the front; how¬
ever, when the roof is of glass, the arrangement may be
different. Every green-house ought to be furnished
with flues } for" though many winters may occur in
which the application of fire heat may not be necessary,
■vet such intense frosts at times prevail as would infalli¬
bly kill a great many of the plants : external coverings, Com
it is true, are frequently made use of as a protection tfoJ
against the severity of the weather, but they do not Gr«
answer the purpose equally well, for when the frost eon*hfmsej
tinues long they cannot be applied day and night with-
out doing injury, by excluding air and light •, the ap¬
plication of fire-heat is likewise necessary for banishing
the damp, which very much injures and frequently de¬
stroys the plants, during long-continued, dull, rainy
weather. The flues in green-houses are frequently con¬
fined to the back wall, but they ought to pass in
front of the house likewise, because the plants situated
there are most liable to be injured by the severity of
the weather.
As fires are seldom required, and those but very
slight ones, merely to banish frost and damp, it will
not be necessary from economical motives to construct
the flues so as to throw oil'the greatest possible quantity
of heat; they may therefore be concealed, that they may
not affect the appearance of the house.
Hot-houses for rearing plants which grow in warmer
climates, or for forcing at an early period such vege¬
tables as grow in the open air, vary considerably accord¬
ing to the different purposes for which they are intend¬
ed. xst, Conservatories, or dry stoves, so called because
they are constructed without pits for containing tanners
bark, oak leaves, or other fermentable substances, and
in which the plants grow in the earth which forms the
floor of the house, and not in pots. These are common¬
ly of a considerable width and height, and are either
covered entirely, or at least on the front, roof, and ends,
with glass. 2dly, Hot-houses for rearing exotic plants,
furnished with a pit containing tanners bark, oak leaves,
heated sand, &c. in which pots containing the plants
are plunged: these likewise are of considerable breadth
and height, and have their front, roof, and ends, cover¬
ed with glass. 3dly, Pine-houses, which are furnished
with a pit, as above : these are lorv, the roof being with¬
in a few feet of the surface of the pit, that the pine
plants may be as near the light as possible, and the root
and part of the front only need be of glass.
Vine-houses are commonly constructed without pits,
and are generally about 12 or 14 feet high, sometimes
very narrow, at other times of considerable breadth;
the former answer best for forcing at a very early period,
and in both houses the vines are commonly trained both
to the back and front.
Peach houses are almost always constructed without
pits, are of a moderate height, and vary in breadth.
The peaches are trained either to the front or back, or
to both ; and sometimes they are planted in the middle
of the house, and allowed to grow like standard fruit
trees, in which case the house should be capacious.
Cherry and fig-houses are constructed nearly in the
same way as peach-houses. The flues for warming all
these ought to pass round the front as well as the back
of the house, and ought to have as much of their sur¬
face exposed as possible ; for the more of the surface of
the flue comes in contact with the air of the house, the
more readily the house w ill be warmed : therefore they
ought not to be built in contact with the front or back
walls when that can be avoided, but ought to be sup¬
ported on pillars of brick to keep them f-om resting on
the ground.
The furnaces for containing the fuel are placed some¬
times
in. CARD
Tic- times in front, sometimes at the end, but most frequent-
(0f ]y behind the house. They ought to be situated so far
n- below the level of the flue, as is necessary to cause a
^‘sufficient draught; if this be not attended to, the smoke
will not pass through the flues to warm the houses, but
escape some other way. When the furnaces are about
18 inches high (a common size), they ought to be
placed about two feet below the level of the flue, that
the heated air may have an ascent of about six or eight
inches, which will be sufficient to give the requisite
draught.
When the hot-house is of considerable extent, it is
better to employ several moderate, than a smaller num¬
ber of strong fires, for violent fires are apt to crack the
flues, in which case the smoke escapes into the house,
and injures the plants. Some are partial to large fires,
from an idea that they consume less fuel in proportion ;
but this is a mistake, for two moderate fires are found
to heat the same extent of hot-house to an equal de¬
gree, and more equably, with a less expenditure of
fuel than one large one. One moderate fire will be
sufficient for an extent of 500 or 600 square feet of
glass, but if the house is protected with coverings du«
ENING: . . 449
ring the night, it will he sufficient for 700 or 800 : Construe
thus the number of square feet of glass being known, tion of*
the lequisite number of fires may be easily ascertained. Greca-
Tlie fires employed for warming hot-houses may at thehoBses, fice‘
same time be converted to other useful purposes. At
Billing in Northamptonshire, the seat of Lord John
Cavendish, the furnaces are constructed to burn lime at
the same time that they heat the hot-house. One fur¬
nace can burn four bushels of lime, and consume about
three-fourths of a hundred weight of coal, when lighted
only at night and in the morning.
Hot-houses are sometimes protected during the win¬
ter nights by external coverings of wood or canvas,
. This renders less fire necessary; but the saving
in point of fuel is more than overbalanced by the origi¬
nal expence of the covering, by the trouble of taking it
off and putting it on morning and evening, and by the
quantity of glass broken, particularly when the cover¬
ing is made of canvas, which is apt to be dashed
against the glass by the wind. When light coverings
of cloth are applied internally they are not liable to the
last-mentioned objection, but there are few hot-houses
where they can be so applied.
A.
B.
'when sown,
flben earthed up,
iarly kidney,
ull crop of,
irndive,
roots, how protected in beds,
when planted,
when taken up,
23
30
66
185
29
49
jo
205
when planted,
1 when transplanted,
!*t, when sown,
I'M!.when sown,
'«$per, when to examine,
26
27
I4I
18, 44
25
. .  
raised in a hot-bed, 69, 170,
L,. . 224, 236
irly crop, how raised, 73
JfTHees, when pruned, an
r»H«. Part II. 39
INDEX TO PART III.
AKWALS, when sown, N° 51, 76, 100,
101, 154
Ippi-rees, when pruned, 38
when gathered, 249
different kinds of, 31
Arms, different kinds of, 250
Arti< keSf when earthed up, 31
when dressed and planted, 256
137
Jerusalem, when planted, 143
HMIWi how sown and managed, 133
—135
beds dressed, 248
Cherry trees, difl'erent kinds of, N° 2$0
Crops, full, for the kitchen garden, 129
Cucumbers, early, how raised, 67, 91
E.
Engrafting of fruit trees, when per¬
formed, 113
history of, 114
method of performing, 115
different kinds of, 116—124
F.
Figs, method of pruning, 97
different kinds of, 253
Flowers, how protected in pots, 48
forced in hot-houses, - 52
Fruit trees, how to force the growth
of! „ 46, 99
pruning of, 96
engrafting of, 113
planting, ijo
protecting the flower, 15*, 173
G.
Garden, kitchen.
Garlic, when planted,
Grapes, different kinds of,
Green-houses, construction of,
17
86
259
260
H.
Hot-houses, construction of,
Hot-beds, method of preparing,
I.
Inarching of fruit trees.
Inoculation of fruit trees,,
f
260
3»
2 22
21S
Lawns, dressing of,
Leeks, how raised,
Lettuce, when sown,
L.
54, 106
83
24. 79> 167
M.
Melon seeds, when sown, 33, pr, 92
topping, ’ 93
impregnation of,
observations on,
treatment of, 184,198
Mushroom-beds, how to manage, 32
preparation of, 238
N.
40
250
59
Nectarines, when pruned,
different kinds of,
Nursery,
°.
Onions, how raised,
early crop of, 223
time of taking up, 227
P.
Parsley, when sown, 21, 84
Peach trees, when pruned,
different kinds of, 250
Pease, when sown, 22
late crop of, 211
Pear trees, when pruned, ^8
different kinds of, 252
Pine apples, management of, 5^
stove for, J2^
heat for, ^
how propagated, 218
3 L Pme
45°
Pine apples, raised in water,
varieties of,
Plum trees, when pruned,
different kinds of,
Potatoes, early, when planted,
full crop of,
Pot-herbs, when sown,
planted out,
R.
Radishes, when sown,
horse, how propagated,
Raspberries, when pruned and planted, 43
S.
Salad, small, 20
N° 219
220
39
250
36
144
85
203
17
89
gardening.
Seedlings, N° 60 Trecs> ProPagated layer8>
Ind,
Shrubs, how managed, 53
Spinach, when sown, J9
winter crop of, 221
Strawberries, forcing of the growth
of, 47
time and mode of dres¬
sing, 98
plantations of, made, 204,
240
different kinds of, 241
T.
Trees, roots of, how protected, 45
time proper for planting, 44
cuttings,
suckers,
air cautiously admitted to, :
Turnips, full crop of,
V.
Vines, how propagated,
dressed,
history of,
pruning and training of, 257. j
W.
Walks, grass and gravel, dressing of, f
Gardiner
11.
Garizim.
GAR
GARDINER, Stephen, bishop of Winchester,
and lord chancellor of England, born at Bury St Ed-
, munds in Suffolk, was natural son to Richard Woodville,
brother to Queen Elizabeth wife to Edward ly. was
learned in the canon and civil laws, and in divinity.
He signed the divorce of Henry VIII. from Katharine
of Spain •, abjured the pope’s supremacy j and wrote
De vera et falsa obedientia, in behalf of the king j yet
in Edward’s reign he opposed the reformation, and vyas
punished with imprisonment j but Queen Mary coming
to the throne, she enlarged him. He drew up the ar¬
ticles of marriage between the queen and Bhilip ol
Spain, which were very advantageous to England. He
was violent against the reformers •, but on his death-bed
was dissatisfied with his life, and often repeated these
words : Prravi cum Petro, sed non flevi cum Retro.
He died in 1555’ , ,
GARGARISM (from “ to wash th®
mouth •,”) a gargle. Its use is for washing the mouth
and throat with, when inflammations, ulcerations, &c.
are there. A small quantity may be taken into the
mouth, and moved briskly about, and then spit out j
or if the patient cannot do this to any advantage, the
liquor may be injected by a syringe. When gargles are
required, their use should be more frequently repeated
than is done in common practice.
GARGET, a disease of cattle, consisting m a swel¬
ling of the throat and the neighbouring parts j to pre¬
vent which bleeding in the spring is recommended. .
GARGIL, a distemper in geese, which by stopping
the head frequently proves mortal. Three or four
cloves of garlic, beaten in a mortar with sweet butter,
and made into little balls, and given the creature fast-
in?, are the ordinary cure. .
G 4RIDELLA, a genus of plants belonging to the
decandria class, and in the natural method ranking
under the 26th order, Multisiliquce. See Botany
GARIZIM, GERIZIM, or Gerisim, in Ancient Geo¬
graphy, a mountain of Samaria, at the foot of which
stood Sichem 5 so near, that Jotham could be heard by
the Sichemites from its top, (Judges, ix. 7.). Tamous
for the temple built on it by Sanballet, in favour of bis
GAR
son-in-law Manasseh, by the permission of Alexander ^
the Great, and 200 years after destroyed by John Hyr- ^
canus, son of Simon, the fourth in succession of the
moneans (Josephus).
GARLAND, a sort of chaplet made of flowers,
feathers, and sometimes precious stones, worn on the
head in manner of a crown.—The word is formed of
the French guirlande, and that of the barbarous^ Latin
garlanda, or Italian ghirlanda. Menage traces its on-
gin from gi/rus through gyrulus, to gyrulare, gyrlan-
dum, ghirlandum ; and at length ghirlanda and guir-
lande ; so that guirlande and garland are descended in
the sixth or seventh degree from gyrus.—Rick rejects
this derivation, and brings the word from gardel hnnda,
which in the northern languages signify a nosegay art¬
fully wrought with the hand. .
Garland also denotes ornaments of flowers, fruits,
and leaves, intermixed; anciently much used at the
gates of temples, where feasts and solemn rejoicings
were held; or at any other place where marks of pub-
lie joy or gaiety were required, as at triumphal arches,
tournaments, See.
GARLIC. See Allium, Botany Index.
GARMENT, that wherewith any person is clothed.
See Dress and Habit.
GARNET, in Natural History, a very beautitm
gem, of a red colour, with an admixture of blue, bee
Mineralogy Index. c
When pure and free frorn blemishes, it is little inte¬
rior in appearance to the oriental ruby, though on y 0
a middle degree of hardness between tlm sapphire am
common crystal. It is found of various sizes, from t a
of a pin’s head to an inch in diameter.
Among lapidaries and jewellers, genuine garnets
are known by different names according to their cm-
ferent degrees of colour. 1. The garnet, simp y s
called, is the finest and most valuable kind, “el”S °
very deep blood-red with a faint admixture 0
2. The rock-ruby ; a name very improperly given -
the garnet when it is of a very strong but not deep re »
and has a fairer cast of the blue ; this is a very beau
ful gem. 3. The sorane or serain garnet; tbat 0
yet brighter red, approaching to the colour
GAB [ 451 3 . GAB
et cinnabar, with a faint blue tinge. 4. The almandine,
a garnet only a little paler than that called the rock-
u nibij.
Garget-Colour. See Colouring of Glass.
To imitate Garnets. The making the counterfeit
garnet in paste is done as follows.—-Take prepared cry¬
stal two ounces, common red-lead six ounces, manga¬
nese 16 grains, zaffre three grains ; mix all well, put
them into a crucible, cover it with lute, and set it in
a potter’s kiln for 24 hours. Or take crystal two
ounces, minium five ounces and a half, manganese 15
grains, zaffre four grains : mix them well together $
and let all be baked, in a pot well luted, in a kiln, 24
hours.
GARONNE, a large river of France, which has its
source in the Pyrenean mountains, and falls into the
sea 60 miles below Bourdeaux.
Garonne, Upper, a department in the south of
France. The south part extends to the Pyrenees, and
is rugged and mountainous : the north part has a hilly
or undulating surface. It produces corn, wine, olives,
silk, figs, almonds, and abounds in pasturage. The
mountains contain mines of copper, lead, iron, and
coal. The population in 1815 was 367,000. Thou-
louse is the chief town.
GARRICK, David, Esq. the great Roscius of his
age and country, who for nearly 40 years shone the
brightest luminary in the hemisphere of the stage, was
born at the Angel Inn at Hereford, in the year 1716.
His father, Captain Peter Garrick, was a French re¬
fugee, and had a troop of horse which were then quar¬
tered in that city. This rank he maintained in the ar¬
my for several years, and had a majority at the time of
his death j that event, however, prevented him from
ever enjoining it. Mr Garrick received the first rudi¬
ments of his education at the free-school at Litchfield ;
which he afterwards completed at Rochester, under
the celebrated Mr Colson, since mathematical professor
at Cambridge. Dr Johnson and he were fellow-stu¬
dents at the same school; and it is a curious fact, that
these two celebrated geniuses came up to London in the
same coach, with the intention of pushing themselves
into active life. On the 9th of March 1736, he was
entered at the honourable society of Lincoln’s Inn.
The study of the law, however, he soon quitted $ and
followed for some time the employment of a wine mer¬
chant: but that too disgusting him, he gave way at last
to the irresistible bias of his mind, and joined a travel¬
ling company of comedians at Ipswich in Suffolk, where
he went by the name, of Lyddle. Having in this poor
school of Apollo got some acquaintance with the thea¬
tric art, he burst at once upon the world, in the year
1740-1, in all the lustre of perfection, at the little
theatre in Goodman’s Fields, then under the direction
of Henry Giflard.
The character he first performed was Richard III.
in which, like the sun bursting from behind a cloud,
he displayed in the earliest dawn even more than me¬
ridian brightness. His excellence dazzled and asto¬
nished every one 5 and the seeing a young man, in no
more than his 24th year, and a novice in reality to
the stage, reaching at one single step to that height of
perfection which maturity of years and long practical
experience had not been able to bestow on the most
capital performers of the English stage, was a pheno¬
menon that could not but become the object of uni¬
versal speculation and of as universal admiration. The
theatres at the west end of the town were deserted •
Goodman’s Fields, from being the rendezvous of citi¬
zens and citizens wives alone, became the resort of all
ranks of men ; and Mr Garrick continued to act till
the close of the season.
Having very advantageous terms offered him for the
performing in Dublin during some part of the summer
(1741), he went over thither, where he found the
same just homage paid to his merit which he had re¬
ceived from his own countrymen. To the service of
the latter, however, he esteemed himself more imme¬
diately bound ^ and therefore in the ensuing winter,
engaged himself to Mr Fleetwood, then manager of
Drury Lane ; in which theatre he continued till the
year 1745, when he again went over to Ireland, and
continued there the whole season, joint manager with
Mr Sheridan in the direction and profits of the theatre
royal in Smock Alley. From thence he returned to
England, and was engaged for the season of 1746 with
Mr Rich at Covent Garden. This was his last per¬
formance as a hired actor: for in the close of that sea¬
son, Mr F leetwood’s patent for the management of Dru¬
ry Lane being expired, and that gentleman having no
inclination further to pursue a design by which, from
his want of acquaintance with the proper conduct of it,
or some other cause, he had considerably impaired his
fortune ; Mr Garrick, in conjunction with Mr Lacy,
purchased the property of that theatre, together with the
renovation of the patent j and in the winter of 1747,
opened it with the greatest part of Mr Fleetwood’s
company, and with the great additional strength of Mr
Barry, Mrs Pritchard, and Mrs Cibber, from Covent
Garden.
Were we to trace Mr Garrick through the several
occurrences of his life,—a life so active, so busy, and so
full of occurrences as his, we should swell this account
to many pages. Suffice it to say, he continued in the
unmolested enjoyment of his fame and unrivalled ex¬
cellence to the moment of his retirement. His univer¬
sality of excellence was never once attacked by compe¬
tition. Tragedy, comedy, and farce, the lover and
the hero, the jealous husband who suspects his wife
without cause, and the thoughtless lively rake who at¬
tacks her without design, were all alike his own. Rage
and ridicule, doubt and despair, transport and tender¬
ness, compassion and contempt 5 love, jealousy, fear,
fury, and simplicity ; all took in turn possession of his
features, while each of them in turn appeared to be
the sole possessor of his heart. In the several charac¬
ters of Lear and Hamlet, Richard, Dorilas, Romeo,
and Lusignane j in his Ranger, Bayes, Drugger, Kite-
ly, Brute, and Benedict, you saw the muscular con¬
formations that your ideas attached to them all. In
short, Nature, the mistress from whom alone this great
performer borrowed all his lessons, being in herself in¬
exhaustible, this her darling son, marked out for her
truest representative, found an unlimited scope for
change and diversity in his manner of copying from
her various productions. There is one part of theatri¬
cal conduct which ought unquestionably to be recorded
to Mr Garrick’s honour, since the cause of virtue and
morality, and the formation of public manners, arp
considerably dependent upon it j and that is, the zeal
with which he aimed to banish from the stage all those
plays which carry with them an immoral tendency,
3 k 2 and
G A It
[ 45
anil to prune from those which do not absolutely, on the
whole, promote the interests of vice, such scenes of
licentiousness and liberty, as a redundancy of wit and
too great liveliness of imagination have induced some
of our comic writers to indulge themselves m, an to
which the sympathetic disposition of our age of gallantry
and intrigue has given sanction. The purity of the
English stage has certainly been much more fully esta¬
blished during the administration of this theatrical
minister, than it had ever been during preceding
managements. He seems to have carried jus modest,
moral, chaste, and pious principles with him into the
very management of the theatre itself, and rescued per¬
formers from that obloquy which had attached to the
profession. Of those who were accounted blackguards,
unworthy the association of the world, he made gentle¬
men, united them with society, and introduced them
to all the domestic comforts of life. The theatre was
no longer esteemed the receptacle of all vice ; and the
moral, the serious, the religious part of mankind, did
not hesitate to partake of the rational entertainment of
a play, and pass a cheerful evening undisgusted with the
licentiousness, and uncorrupted by the immorality, ot
the exhibition.
Notwithstanding the numberless and laborious avo¬
cations attendant on his professsion as an actor, and Ins
station as a manager j yet still his active genius was
perpetually bursting forth in various little productions
in the dramatic and poetical way, whose merit cannot
but make us regret his want of time for the puisuance
of more extensive and important works. It is certain
that his merit as an author is not of the first magni¬
tude : but his great knowledge of men and manners,, of
stage effect, and his happy turn for lively and striking
satire, made him generally successful*, and his pro¬
logues and epilogues in particular, which are almost in¬
numerable, possess such a degree of happiness, both in
the conception and execution, as to stand unequalled.
His ode on the death of Mr Pelham ran through four
editions in less than six weeks. His Ode on Shake-
peare is a masterly piece of poetry ; and when deliver¬
ed by himself, was a most capital exhibition. His al¬
terations of Shakespeare and other authors have been
at times successful, and at times exploded. The exclu¬
sion of the gravediggers scene from Hamlet will never
, be forgotten to him by the inhabitants of the gakery
at Drury. Though necessary to the chasteness of the
scene, they cannot bear to lose so much true sterling
wit and humour; and it must be owned, that exube¬
rances of that kind, though they hurt the uniformity,
vec increase the luxuriance of the tree. Among his
alterations the following are part*, Every Man in his
Humour, altered from Ben Johnson*, Romeo and Ju¬
liet, Winter’s Tale, Catherine and Petruchio, Cymbe-
line*, Hamlet, &c. altered and made up from Shake¬
speare *, Gamesters, a comedy, from Shirley *, Isabella,
from Southerne. To these we add, as original pro¬
ductions, The Farmer’s Return, and Linco’s Travels,
interludes*. Guardian, Lethe, Lying Valet, Miss in
her Teens, Male Coquet, Irish Widow, and other co¬
medies in two acts *, Enchanter, a musical entertain¬
ment*, Lilliput: the Christmas Tale is ascribed to him,
and many others. . , . ,.
We noiv bring him to the period of his retirement
in the spring of 1776 } when, full of fame, with the ac-
2 ] GAR
quirement of a splendid fortune, and growing into c:ir
years, he thought proper to seek the vale ot life, to ||
enjoy that dignified and honourable ease which was Gan
compatible with his public situation, and which he had' -
so well earned by the activity and the merits of his dra¬
matic reign. But very short indeed was the period al- ,
lotted to him for this precious enjoyment: for on the
20th of January 1779, he departed this life ; leaving no
one rival in excellence upon earth to compensate for
his loss, or a hope cf our ever meeting with his liks
again.
GARRISON, in the art of war, a body of forces,
disposed in a fortress, to defend it against the enemy,
or to keep the inhabitants in subjection : or even to be
subsisted during the winter season: hencegarmon and
winter quarters are sometimes used indifferently for the
same thing ; and sometimes they denote different things.
In the latter case, a garrison is a place wherein forces
are maintained to secure it, and where they keep regular
guard, as a frontier town, a citadel, castle, tower, &c.
The garrison should be always stronger than the towns¬
men.
Du Cange derives the word from the corrupt Latin
garnisio, which the latter writers use to signity all man¬
ner of munition, arms, victuals, &c. necessary (or the
defence of a place, and sustaining of a siege.
Winter quarters signify a place where a number of
forces are laid up in the winter season, without keeping
the regular guard.
GARSTANG, a town in Lancashire, 227 mile*
from London, It is near a mile in length, but built in
a very irregular manner, with dirty streets, and very in¬
different houses. The population amounts to 790 per¬
sons. The church is a stately Gothic structure. By the
late inland navigation, it has communication with the
rivers Mersey, Dee, Ribble, Ouse, "Irent, Darwent, Se¬
vern, Humber, Thames, Avon, &c. which navigation,
including its windings, extends above 500 miles, in the
counties of Lincoln, Nottingham, Aork, Westmore¬
land, Chester, &c. W. Long. 2. 42. N. Lat. 53. 52.
GARTER, a ligature for tying up the stocking j but
particularly used for the badge of a noble order of
knights, hence denominated the
Order of the Garter, a military order of knighthood,
the most noble and ancient of any lay order in the
world, instituted by Edward III. The knights com¬
panions are generally princes and peers; and the king
of England is the sovereign or chief of the order. The
number of knights was originally 26: but six were
added in 1786, on account of the increase of the royal
family. They are a college or corporation, having a
great and little seal.
Their officers are a prelate, chancellor, register, king-
at-arms, and usher of the black rod. They have also
a dean, and 12 canons and petty canons, vergers, and
26 pensioners or poor knights. The prelate is the
head. This office is vested in the bishop of Winchester,
and has ever been so. Next to the prelate is the chan¬
cellor $ which office is vested in the bishop of Salisbury,
who keeps the seals, &c. The next is the register,
who by his oath is to enter upon the registry, the scru¬
tinies, elections, penalties, and other acts of the order,
with all fidelity : The dean of Windsor is always regis¬
ter ex officio. The fourth officer is Garter and king*
at-arms, being two. distinct offices united in one person.
° Garter
G A ft [ 453 ] - GAR
cr. Garter carries the rod and sceptre at the feast of St
George, the protector of this order, when the sovereign
is present. Pie notitles the election of new knights,
attends the solemnity of their installation, carries the
garter to foreign princes, &c. He is the principal offi¬
cer within the college of arms, and chief of the heralds.
See KiNG-at-Arms.
All these officers except the prelate have fees and
pensions. The college of the order is seated in the
castle of Windsor, within the chapel of St George, and
the charter house, erected by the founder for that pur¬
pose. The habit and ensign of the order, are, a garter,
mantle, cape, george, and collar. The three first were
assigned the knights companions by the founder j and
the george and collar by Henry Vllf.
The garter challenges pre-eminence over all the
other parts of the dress, by reason that from it the noble
order is denominated j that it is the first part of the ha¬
bit presented to foreign princes and absent knights,
who, and all other knights-elect, are therewith first a-
dorned ; and it is of so great honour and grandeur,
that by the bare investiture with this noble ensign, the
knights are esteemed companions of the greatest mili¬
tary order in the world. It is worn on the left leg
between the knee and calf, and is enamelled with this
motto, Honi soit q,ui mal y pense j i. e. Shame to
him that thinks etui hereof: The meaning of which
is, that King Edward having laid claim to the king¬
dom of France, retorted shame and defiance upon him
that should dare to think amiss of the just enterprise he
had undertaken, for recovering his lawful right to that
crown $ and that the bravery of those knights whom
he had elected into this order, was such as would enable
him to maintain the quarrel against those that thought
ill of it.
The mantle is the chief of these vestments made use
of upon all solemn occasions. The colour of the man¬
tle is by the statutes appointed to be blue. The length
of the train of the mantle only distinguishes the sove¬
reign from the knights companions. To the collar of
the mantle is fixed a pair of long strings, anciently
woven with blue silk only, but now twisted round, and
made of Venice gold and silk, of the colour of the
robes, with knobs or buttons, and tassels at the end.
The left shoulder of the mantle has from the institu¬
tion been adorned with a large garter, with the device
Honi SOIT, &c. Within tins is the cross of the or¬
der, which was ordained to be worn at all times by
King Charles I. At length the star was introdu¬
ced, being a sort of cross irradiated with beams of
silver.
The collar is appointed to be composed of pieces of
gold in fashion of garters, the ground enamelled blue,
and the motto gold.
When the knights wear not their robes, they are to
have a silver star on the left side $ and they commonly
bear the picture of St George, enamelled on gold, and
beset with diamonds, at the end of a blue ribbon, cros-
s ng the body from the left shoulder. They are not to
appear abroad without the garter, on penalty of 6s. 8d.
paid to the register.
^ The manner of electing a knight companion into
tnis most noble order, and the ceremonies of investi¬
ture, are as- follow. When the sovereign designs to
elect a companion of the Garter, the chancellor belong¬
ing to this order draws up the letters, which, passing Gaiter,
both under the sovereign’s sign manual and signet of the -v—1
order, are sent to the person by Garter principal king
at arms j and are in this manner, or to the same effect:
“ We, with the companions of our most noble order
of the Garter, assembled in chapter, holden this present
day at our castle at Windsor, considering the virtuous
fidelity you have shown, and the honourable exploits
you have done in our service, by vindicating and main¬
taining our right, &c. have elected or chosen you one
of the companions of our order. Therefore, We re¬
quire you to make your speedy repair unto us, to receive
the ensigns thereof, and be ready for your installation
upon the—day of this present month, &e.”
The garter, which is of blue velvet bordered with
fine gold wire, having commonly the letters of tlm
motto of the same, is, at the time of election, buckled
upon the left leg, by two of the senior companions,
who receive it from the sovereign, to whom it was
presented upon a velvet cushion, by Garter king at
arms, with the usual reverence, whilst the chancellor
reads the following admonition, enjoined by the sta¬
tutes : “ To the honour of God omnipotent, and in
memorial of the blessed martyr St George, tie about
thy leg, for thy renown, this noble garter j wear it as
the symbol ot the most illustrious order, never to be
forgotten or laid aside ; that thereby thou mayest be
admonished to be courageous ; and having undertaken
a just war, in which thou shall he engaged, thou
mayest stand firm, valiantly fight, and successfully con¬
quer.” The princely garter being then buckled on, and
the word of its signification pronounced, the knight elect
is brought before the sovereign, who puts about his
neck, kneeling, a dark blue ribbon, vvhereunto is ap¬
pendant, wrought in gold within the garter, the image
of St George on horseback, with his sword drawn,
encountering with the dragon. In the mean time, the
chancellor reads the following admonition : “ Wear
this ribbon about thy neck, adorned with the image of
the blessed martyr and soldier of Christ, St George,
by whose imitation provoked, thou mayest so overpass
both prosperous and adverse adventures, that having
stoutly vanquished thy enemies both of body and soul,
thou mayest not only receive the praise of this tran¬
sient combat, but be crowned with the palm of eternal
victory.” Then the knight elected kisses the sovereign’s
hand; thanks his majesty for the great honour done him j
rises up and salutes all the companions severally, whe
return their congratulations. See a representation of
the above insignia, among others, on the plate belong¬
ing to Orders of Knighthood.
Since the institution of this order, there have been
eight emperors and twenty-eight kings, besides nu¬
merous sovereign princes, enrolled as companions there¬
of. Its origin is somewhat differently related. The
common account is, that the countess of Salisbury
at a ball happening to drop her garter, the king took
it up and presented it to her with these words, ‘ Ho¬
ni sott qui mal y pense; i. e. Evil to him that evil
thinks. This accident, it is said, gave rise to the order
and the motto j it being the spirit of the times to mix
love and war together : but as in the original statutes
of this order there is not the least conjecture to coun¬
tenance such a feminine institution, credit cannot be
given to this tradition. Camden, Fern?j &c. take it
to
Garter,
Garth.
GAB [ 454 1
to have been Instituted on occasion of the victory oh- at London in 1663.
tained by Edward over the French at the battle or
' Cressy that prince, say some historians, ordered Ins
garter to be displayed, as a signal of battle : in com¬
memoration whereof, he made a garter the principa
ornament of the order, erected in memory of this signal
victory, and a symbol of the indissoluble union of tie
kniSt appears from Rastel’s Chronicle, lib. yi. quoted by
Granger in the supplement to his Biographical History,
that this order was devised by Richard I. at the siege o
the city of Acre, when he caused twenty-six knights,
who firmly stood by him, to wear thongs of blue leather
about their legs, and that it was perfected in the nine¬
teenth vear of Edward III. ....
In 1551, Edward VI. made some alterations in the
ritual of this order: that prince composed it in La¬
tin, the original whereof is still extant in his own
hand writing. He there ordained, that the order
should no longer be called the order of St George, but
that of the Garter; and, instead of the george, hung
at the collar, he substituted a cavalier, bearing a book
on the point of his sword, with the word protect™ gra¬
ven on the sword, and verbum Dei on the book : with
a buckle in the left hand, and the word Jides thereon.
Garter, principal King at Arms. This office was
instituted by Henry V.
Garter, and principal king at arms, are two dishnct
offices united in one person : Garter’s employment is to
attend the service of the order of the Garter j for which
he is allowed a mantle and badge, a house in Windsor
castle, and pensions both from the sovereign and
knights, and lastly, fees. He also carries the rod and
scentre at every feast of St George, when the sovereign
is present, and notifies the election of such as are new
chosen j attends the solemnity of their installations,
takes care of placing their arms over their seats ;
and carries the garter to foreign kings and princes,
for which services it has been usual to join him in com¬
mission with some peer, or other person of distinc¬
tion. . , • r
Garter’s oath relates only to services being perform¬
ed within the order, and is taken in chapter before the
sovereign knights. His oath, as king at arms, is taken
before the earl marshal. . .
Garter is also a term in heraldry, signifying the
moiety or half of a bend.
GARTH is used in some parts of England for a
little backside or close. It is an ancient British word.
Gardd, in that language, signifies garden, and is pro¬
nounced and written garth. This word is also used for
a dam or wear, &c.
Garth Men, is used in our statutes for those who
catch fish by means of fish garths, or wears. By statute
it is ordained, that no fisher, nor garth men, shall use
anv nets or engines to destroy the fry of fish, &c.
W Ric. II. cap. 9. The word is supposed by some to
be7 derived from the Scotch word gart, which signifies
forced or compelled; because fish are forced by the
wear to pass in a loop, where they are taken.
Garth, Sir Samuel, an excellent English poet and
phvsician, was descended from a good family in York-
shire. He was admitted into the college of physicians
GAR
    ^ He at that time zealously promo- Qa
ted and encouraged the erecting of the dispensary for |;
the relief of the sick poor, by giving them advice gra- Gar'- i
tis, and medicines at low rates. This work of charity J
having exposed him and many other physicians to the
envy and resentment of several persons of the same fa¬
culty as well as apothecaries, he ridiculed them, with
a peculiar spirit and vivacity, in a poem called the
Dispensary, in six cantos, highly esteemed. He was
one of the most eminent members of the famous so¬
ciety called the K^it Kat Glub, which consisted of noble¬
men and gentlemen distinguished by their excellent
parts and "affection to the house of Hanover. Upon
the accession of George I. he was knighted, and made
physician in ordinary to his majesty, and physician ge.
neral to the army. Nor were these more than just re¬
wards even of his physical merit. He had gone through
the office of censor of the college in 1702; and had
practised always with great reputation, and a strict
regard to the honour and interest of the faculty, never
stooping to prostitute the dignity of his profession,
through mean and sordid views of self-interest, to any,
even the most popular and wealthy characters. In a
steady adherence to this noble principle, he concurred
with the much celebrated Dr Radcliffe, with whom he
was also often joined in physical consultations. He
had a very extensive practice, but was very moderate
in his views of advancing his own fortune ; his huma¬
nity and good nature inclining him more, to make use
of the great interest he had with persons in power, for
the support and encouragement of other men of letters.
He chose to live with the great in that degree of inde¬
pendency and freedom which became a man possessed
of a superior genius, whereof he was daily giving fresh
proofs to the public. One of his last performances in
polite letters, was his translation of the whole four¬
teenth hook, and the story of Cinnus in the fifteenth
book, of Ovid’s Metamorphoses. These, together with
an English version of the rest, were published in
17175 and he has prefixed an excellent preface to the
whole, wherein he not only gives an idea of the work,
and points out its principal beauties, but shows the
uses of the poem, and how it may be read to most pro¬
fit. The distemper which seized him the ensuing
year, and ended not but with his life, caused a gene¬
ral concern 5 which was particularly testified by Lord
Lansdowne, a brother poet. He died, after a short
illness, which he bore with great patience, in January
^(JaRVE, Christian, an eminent German philoso¬
pher. See Supplement.
GARUMNA, or Garonne, a noble and navigable
river of Gaul, which, rising from the Pyrenees, former¬
ly bounded Aquitain on the north (Caesar) ; but by the
new regulation of Augustus divided it in the middle,
emptying itself to the north of Burdegala, in the
Aquitanic ocean. Mela observes, concerning it, that
unless it is swelled by winter rains, or the melting
of the snow, it is for a great part of the year shoaly
and scarcely navigable 5 but when increased by t e
meeting tide, whereby its waters are impelled, it is some¬
what fuller 5 and the farther the river advances, 1
is broader, till at length it resembles a large frith or
arm of the sea, not only bearing large vessels, but a^-
Gs
Ga
GAS [ 45S ] ^ GAS
ma so swelling like a raging sea, tosses them extremely,
especially if the direction of the wind be one way and
:n>-’ that of the current another.
GAS, in Chemistry, a general name for all perma¬
nently elastic fluids, which are obtained by chemical
processes, as azotic gas, muriatic acid gas, nitrous gas.
See Chemistry Index. It is derived from the German
gascht or gast, signifying the ebullition attending the
expulsion of elastic fluids from substances in a state of
effervescence. It was first employed by Van Helmont.
Gas Lights. See Supplement.
GASCOIGNE, Sir William, chief justice of the
court of king’s bench under Henry IV. A most
learned and upright judge ; who being insulted on the
bench by the prince of Wales, afterwards Henry V,
with equal intrepidity and coolness committed the
prince to prison j and by this seasonable fortitude laid
the foundation of the future glory of that great monarch,
who from this event dated his reformation from the
licentiousness of his youth. It is not well authenticated
that the prince struck Sir William, as recorded by
Shakespeare j but all authors agree, that he interrupted
the course of justice to screen a lewd servant. Sir
William died in 1413.
Gascoigne, George, an English poet of some fame
in the early part of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, was
born at Walthamstow in Essex, of an ancient family,
and educated at both universities, but principally at
Cambridge. From thence he removed to Gray’s Inn,
and commenced student of the law j but having a ge¬
nius too volatile for that study, he travelled abroad, and
for some time served in the army in the Low Countries.
He afterwards went to France $ where he became ena¬
moured of a Scottish lady, and married her. Being
at length, says Wood, weary of those vanities, he re¬
turned to England : and settled once more in Gray’s
Inn, where he wrote most of his dramatic and other
poems. The latter part of his life he spent in his na¬
tive village of Walthamstow, where he died in the year
1578. He had the character of a polite gentleman,
an eloquent and witty companion, et vir interpoetas sui
seculipreestantissimus. His plays, first printed separate¬
ly, were afterwards, with several other poems, &c. re¬
printed into two volumes 410 j the first volume in 1577,
the second in 1587.
GASCOIN, or Gascoign, denotes the hinder thigh
of a horse, which begins at the stifle, and reaches to the
ply or bending of the ham.
GASCONADE, a boast or vaunt of something
very improbable. The term has its rise from the Gas¬
cons, or people of Gascony in France, who it seems
have been distinguished for bragging and rhodomon-
tade.
GASCONY, the most south-west province of France,
is bounded hy Guienne on the north, by Languedoc
1 on the east, by the Pyrenees which separate it from
Spain on the south, and by the bay of Biscay on the
West. It had its name from the ancient inhabitants,
called Gascones or Vascones; by the moderns Basques,
or Vasques. After these were subdued by the Franks,
they had for some time dukes of their own,, who were
subject to the dukes of Aquitaine ; but both were at
last dispossessed by the kings of France. The country
produces corn, wine, fruits, &c. The inhabitants are
noted for a corrupt pronunciation : and their tendency
to exaggerate their own exploits, has rendered Gas- Gascony
cojiade a proverbial expression. !| ’
GASSENDI, Peter, one of the most celebrated Gastric,
philosophers France has produced, was born at Chan- 'V—'—
tersier, about three miles from Digne in Provence, in
1592. When a child, he took particular delight in
gazing at the moon and stars as often as they appeared
in clear unclouded weather. This pleasure frequently
drew him into bye places, in order to feast his eye
freely and undisturbed j by which means his parents
had him often to seek, not without many anxious fears
and apprehensions. They therefore put him to school
at Digne $ where, in a short time, he made such an
extraordinary progress in learning, that some persons,
who had seen specimens of his genius, resolved to have
him removed to Aix, in order to study philosophy
under I esay, a learned minor friar. This proposal
was so disagreeable to his father, who intended to breed
him up in his own way to country business, as *being
more profitable than that of a scholar, that he would
consent to it only upon condition that he should return
home in two years at farthest. Accordingly young
Gassendi, at the end of the appointed time, repaired
to Chantersier 5 but he had not been long there when
he was invited to be professor of rhetoric at Digne, be¬
fore he was quite 16 years of age j and he had been
engaged in that office but three years, when his master
Fesay dying, he was made professor in his room at Aix.
When he had been there a few years, he composed his
Paradoxical Exercitationsj which, coming to the hands
of Nicholas Peiresc, that great patron of learning
joined with Joseph Walter prior of Valette in promot¬
ing him j and he having entered into holy orders, was
first made canon of the church of Digne and doctor of
divinity, and then obtained the wardenship or rector¬
ship of that church. Gassendi’s fondness for astronomy
grew up with his years ; and his reputation daily in¬
creasing, he was in 1645 appointed royal professor of
mathematics at Paris. This institution being chiefly
designed for astronomy, our author read lectures on
that science to a crowded audience. However, he
did not hold this place longj for a dangerous cough
and inflammation of the lungs obliged him, in 1647,
to return to Digne for the benefit of his native air.-—
Gassendi wrote against the metaphysical meditations of
Descartes j and divided with that great man the phi¬
losophers of his time, almost all of whom were Carte¬
sians or Gassendians. He joined to his knowledge of
philosophy and the mathematics an acquaintance with
the languages and a profound erudition. He wrote,
1. Three volumes on Epicurus’s Philosophy 5 and six
others, which contain his own philosophy. 2. Astro¬
nomical Works. 3. Ihe Lives of Nicholas de Peiresc, *
Epicurus, Copernicus, Tycho Brahe, Puerbachius, and
Regiomontanus. 4. Epistles, and other treatises. Ail
his works were collected together, and printed at Lyons
in 1658, in six volumes folio. He died at Paris in
1658, aged 63.
GASTEROSTEUS, the Stickleback, a genus of
fishes belonging to the order of thoracici. See Ichthy¬
ology Index.
GAST-hound. See Gaze Hound.
GASTRIC, in general, something belonging to the
stomach.
Gastric Juice, a thin pellucid liquor, which distils
from
GAT [ 456 ] GAT
from certain glands in the stomach, for the dilution, &c.
of the food. See Anatomy.
GASTROCNEMIUS, in Anatomy. See Anato¬
my, Table of the Muscles.
GASTROMANCY, or Gastromantia, a kind of
divination practised among the ancients by means of
words coming or seeming to come out of the belly.
The word is Greek, composed ol yafftjg,
belly, and pcuvUix, divination.
There is another kind of divination, called by the
same name gastromancy, which is performed by means
of glasses or other round transparent vessels, within
which certain figures appear by magic art. It is thus
called, because the figures appear as in the belly of the
vessels*
QASTRORAPHY, in Surgery, the operation of
sewing up wounds of the abdomen. See SuRGERY.
GASTROTOMY (of yaf-ng, and rip™, I cut), the
operation of cutting open the belly j otherwise called
the Cccsarean section. See Midwifery.
GAT AKER, Thomas, a learned critic and divine,
■was born at London in 1574, and studied at St John’s
college, Cambridge. He was afterwards chosen preach¬
er at Lincoln’s Inn j which he quitted in 1611, for the
rectory of Rotherhithe in Surry. In 1620, he made
a tour through the Low Countries j and in 1624, pub¬
lished at London a book, entitled, Transubstantiation
declared by the confession of the Popish Writers to
have no necessary foundation in God’s Word : he
wrote likewise a defence of this discourse. In 1642,
he was appointed one of the assembly of divines, and
was engaged with them in writing annotations upon
the Bible. He died in July 1654, in the 80th year
of his age. Besides the above works, he published,
I. A Dissertation upon the Style of the New Testa¬
ment. 2. De Nomine Tetragrammata. 3. De Diph-
thongis, sive Bivocahbus. 4. An Edition and Transla¬
tion of the Emperor Marcus Antoninus’s Meditations.
5. A Collection of Sermons, in folio 5 and many other
works. His piety and charity were very exemplary ;
and his modesty so great, that he declined all ec¬
clesiastical dignity and court preferments. His ex¬
tensive learning was admired by Salmasius and other
great men abroad j his house was a private seminary
for young gentlemen of this nation, and many fo¬
reigners resorted to him to receive advice in their
studies.
GATE, in Architecture, a large door, leading or
giving entrance into a city, town, castle, palace, or
other considerable building. See ARCHITECTURE.
Thebes, in Egypt, was anciently known by the ap¬
pellation with a hundred gates. In ancient Rome there
was a triumphal gate, porta triumphulis. In modern
Rome there is the jubilee gate, which is only opened in
the year of a grand jubilee.
The gates of London were many of them con¬
verted into gaols or prisons, as Ludgate, Newgate,
&c. but they are now removed. The lesser or
by-gates are called posterns. Gates, through which
coaches, &c. are to pass, should not be less than 7
feet broad, nor more than 12 j the height to be the
breadth.
Gate, or Gait, in the manege, called in French
train, is used for the going or pace of a horse.
Gate, in a military sense, is made of strong planks,
$
with iron bars, to oppose an enemy. 1 hey are gene- G
rally made in the middle of the curtain, from whence |
they are seen, and defended by the two flanks of the GjJ
bastions. They should be covered with a good ravelin,1—'"^
that they may not be seen or enfiladed by the enemy.
These gates, belonging to a fortified place, are pas¬
sages through the rampart, which may be shut and
opened by means of doors and a portcullis. They are
either private or public.
Private gates are those passages by which the troops
can go out of the town unseen by the enemy, when
they pass to and from the relief of the duty in the
outworks, or from any other occasion which is to be
concealed from the besiegers.
Public gates are those passages through the middle
of such curtains, to which the great roads of public
ways lead. The dimensions of these are usually about
13 or 14 feet high, and 9 or 10 feet wide, continued
through the rampart, with proper recesses for foot
passengers to stand in out of the way of wheel car¬
riages.
Gates of Hell. This expression is used in Scripture,
to denote figuratively either the grave or the powers of
darkness, i. e. the devil and his angels.
The Mahometans use the expression literally, and
suppose that hell has seven gates. The first is that
where Mussulmans, who incur the guilt of sin, will be
tormented. The second is for the Christians. The
third is for the Jews. The fourth is for the Sabians.
The fifth for the Magians or worshippers of fire. The
sixth for Pagans and idolaters. And the seventh for
hypocrites, who make an outward show of religion, but
have none.
GATESHEAD, in the county of Durham, is as
it were the suburbs of Newcastle, though it lies in an¬
other county, being divided by the river Tyne ; over
which there is a fine stone bridge, with an iron gate in
the middle, having the arms of Durham on one side,
and those of Newcastle on the other, which is the boun¬
dary between the bishopric and Northumberland. The
church is a fine building, with a very high tower, which
is seen at a great distance ; and in the church-yard are
several ancient monuments. Few traces of its ancient
monastery remain, except a stone gateway. The popu¬
lation in 1811 amounted to 8782.
GATH, or Geth, in Ancient Geography, a cele¬
brated city of the Philistines, and one of their five
principalities. It is famous for having given birth to
Goliath. David made a conquest of it in the begin¬
ning of his reign over all Israel *, and it continued sub¬
ject to the kings his successors till the declension and
decay of the kingdom of Judah. Rehoboam rebuilt or
fortified it j King Uz-ziah retook it, and Hezekiah once
more reduced it under his subjection.
Gath stood about five or six miles from Jamnia,
about 14 south of Joppa, and 32 west of Jerusalem.
Hence some authors (among whom is F. Calmet)
have committed an egregious mistake in making Gath
the most southern, and Ekron the most northern, of
the Philistine cities ; as if these two had been the two
boundaries of their dominions, whereas these two ci¬
ties are not above five miles asunder; and Gaza is the
last of the five satrapies south. And Josephus (in the
place already quoted) expresses himself plainly enough,
when he aays, that Hezekiah took all the Philistine
cities
G A U
h
(
C i'|r
cities from Gaza to Gath $ there being many more
cities of that name, which signifies in the Hebrew a
wine press. Several other cities of the name of Geth
or Gath are mentioned in Eusebius and St Jerome,
whose situation, according to those authors, plainly
shows them to have been different places from this, and
from each other j besides those which had an adjunct
to distinguish them.
This city recovered its liberty and lustre in the time
of the prophets Amos and Micah j but was afterwards
demolished by Hazael king of Syria, after which it be¬
came of but little consideration till the time of the holy
war, when Fulk king of Jerusalem built a castle on its
ruins.
Gath Opher, Gath Epher, or Gath, in the canton
of Opher, in Galilee, was the birth-place of the prophet
Jonah. Joshua makes this city to be part of the tribe
of Zebnlun j and St Jerome, in his preface upon Jo¬
nah, says, that it was two miles from Sephoris, other¬
wise called Dioccesarea.
Gath Rimmon, a city belonging to the tribe of Dan.
St Jerome places it ten miles from Diospolis on the
way from Eleutheropolis. It was given to the Levites
of Kohath’s family.
Gath Rimmon, was also a city in the half tribe of
Manasseh, on this side Jordan, and was also given for
a place of abode to the Levites of Kohath’s family.
Gath Rimmon, was likewise a city in the tribe of
Ephraim, given to the Kohathites.
GATTON, a village in the county of Surry, 19
miles south from London. It lies under the side of a
hill going to Reygate; and is supposed to have been
known to the Romans, by reason of their coins and
other antiquities that have been found here. It is a
borough by prescription ; and has sent members to
parliament ever since the 29th of Henry VI. It was
formerly a large town j but is now a mean village, with
a small church, and without either fair or market. It
sends two members to parliament. The population in
1801 amounted to 112.
GAUBIUS, Jerome-David, M. D. professor of
medicine at Leyden, and afterwards fellow of the Roy¬
al Society of London, was born at Heidelberg in the
year 17°5* From the Jesuits he received the rudi¬
ments of his education, and was much esteemed by them
on account of his abilities j but his father afterwards
sent him to the orphan house of Halle, lest he should
be obliged to abjure his religion. The nature of the
discipline, however, he here found to be much too se¬
vere, which induced him to request his father to re¬
move him from it, which was accordingly complied
with. His teacher at this hospital attributing the dis¬
like of young Gaubius to the want of genius, urged
him to give his son some mechanical employment; but
the father thought proper to indulge his ardent desire
after knowledge, and accordingly sent him to Amster¬
dam to study under his uncle John, who was an eminent
physician. After prosecuting his medical studies for
some time at Hordwyk, he resolved to visit Leyden,
where the immortal Boerhaave was an eminent profes¬
sor, and whose penetrating eye soon discovered that
Gaubius was possessed of talents above mediocrity. He
honoured him with unlimited access to his house, de¬
lighted in imparting instruction to him, and gradually
iorwarded the cultivation of his mind. He took the
VOL. IX. Part II. I
[ 457 ]
G A U
degree of doctor at the age of 20, after a disputation
on the nature of solids, containing an abstract of the
system which he himself followed through life.
He travelled through various parts of Europe, and
when he returned to Heidelberg by the way of Stras-
burgh, he was appointed city-physician at Deventer in
the province of Overyssel ; but he soon after removed
to Amsterdam. Boerhaave never lost sight of his fa¬
vourite pupil ; for when the infirmities of old age and
indefatigable labour made him anxious to resign his
chair, Gaubius on his recommendation was appointed
to succeed him. He published his Instructions for writ¬
ing Recipes in the year 1738, by which he acquired
great and justly merited approbation, as he reduced the
art from a mere mechanical to a scientific form. His
Principles of Nosology is perhaps his most masterly per¬
formance, as it evinced that he was highly worthy of
such a preceptor. His next publication, which appear¬
ed in 1771, was his “ Adversaria varii Argumenti,” a
work which was particularly interesting to chemists j
and his oration on the 200th anniversary of the acade¬
my of Leyden attracted considerable notice, as in it
he traced out, with his accustomed acumen, the chief
epochs of the arts and sciences in Holland.
He was likewise the author of numerous and valuable
papers in the Transactions of the Society of Haerlem,
and was editor of many excellent performances, among
which we may rank Cramer’s Elementa artis docimas.
ticce; Albinus de presagienda vita et morte, and Swam¬
merdam’s Book of Nature, which he partly translated.
His literary merit spread his fame so far beyond the
bounds of his native country, that pupils repaired to
Leyden from every quarter of Europe. In addition to
his widely extended reputation, he was blessed with the
enjoyment of good health till he was 70 years of age,
and died on the 29th of November 1780, in his se¬
venty-fifth year.
One work of his, entitled “ Institutiones Pathologise
Medicinalis,” was deemed so valuable by Professor
Ackerman, and of such singular advantage in acade¬
mical lectures, that he gave the w'orld a fourth edition
of it, published at Nuremberg in 1787.
GAUDEN, Dr Joseph, son of John Gauden vicar
of Mayfield in Essex, was born there in 1605.
the commencement of the civil war, he was chaplain to
Robert earl of Warwick ; who taking part with the
parliament against the king, was followed by his chap¬
lain. Upon the establishment of the Presbyterian mo¬
del of church government, he complied with the rulins
powers, and was nominated one of the assembly of di¬
vines who met at Westminster in 1643, an^ to°k the
covenant; yet having offered some scruples and objec¬
tions to it, his name was afterwards struck out of the
list. Nor did he espouse the parliament cause anv
longer than they adhered to their first avowed prin¬
ciples of reforming only, instead of destroying, mo¬
narchy and episcopacy. In this spirit he was one of
those divines who signed a protestation to the army
against the violent proceedings that affected the life of the
king : and a few days after his execution published the
famous Eottfc BasmAunj, A Portraiture of his Sacred Ma¬
jesty in his Solitude and Sufferings; which ran through
50 editions in the course of a year. Upon the return
of Charles II. he was promoted to the see of Exeter ;
aud in 1662 was removed to Worcester, much to his
3 M regret,
Gauden
n
Gavelet.
G A V [ 458 ] G A U
regret, having flattered himself with the hopes of a
translation to Winchester ; and his death happened the
same vear. He wrote many controversial pieces suited
to the circumstances of the times, and to his own views
from them. The Eikon Basilike above mentioned he
published as the king’s private meditations : though on
this point there has been a long controversy. Alter
the bishop’s death, his widow, in a letter to one of her
sons, calls it The Jewel; and said, her husband had
hoped to make a fortune by it ; and that she had a
letter of a very ereat man’s, which would clear up that
he writ it. This assertion, as the earl of Clarendon
had predicted, was eagerly espoused by the anti-royal¬
ists, in the view of disparaging Charles I. But it has
been observed, that Gauden had too luxuriant an ima¬
gination, which betrayed him into a rankness of style
in the Asiatic way ; and from thence, as Bishop Bur¬
net argues with others, it may be certainly concluded,
that not he, but the king himself, was the true author
of the E«46>* ; in which there is a nobleness and
justness of thought, with a greatness of style, that made
it be looked on as the best written book in the English
language.
GAVEL or Gabel, among builders, bee Gabel.
Gavel, in Law, tribute, toll, custom, or yearly re¬
venue ; of which we had in old time several kinds.
See Gabel.
Gavel Itind, a tenure or custom belonging to lands
in the county of Kent. The word is said by Lambard
to be compounded of three Saxon words, gyfe, eal, kyn,
44 omnibus cognationeproximis data.” Verstegan calls it
gavelkind, quasi “ give all kind,” that is, to each child
his part: and Taylor, in his history of gavelkind, de¬
rives it from the British gaw/, that is, a hold or tenure,
and cenned, “ generatio wlfamilia uA so gavel ccn-
wei might signify tenuragenerationis.—It is universally
known what struggles the Kentish men made to pre¬
serve their ancient liberties, and with how much suc¬
cess those struggles were attended. And as it is prin¬
cipally here that we meet with the custom of gavel¬
kind (though it was and is to be found in some other
parts of the kingdom), we may fairly conclude, that
this was a part of these liberties : agreeable to Mr Sel-
den’s opinion, that gavelkind, before the Norman con¬
quest, was the general custom of the realm.. The dis¬
tinguished properties of this tenure are various : some
of the principal are these: 1. The tenant is of age
sufficient to alienate his estate by feotTment, at the age
of 15. 2. The estate does not escheat in case of an
attainder and execution for felony ; their maxim being,
“ the father to the bough, the son to the plough.”
3. In most places he had the power of devising lands by
Will, before the statute for that purpose was made.
4. The lands descend, not to the eldest, youngest, or
any one son only, but to all the sons together ; which
was indeed anciently the most usual course of descent,
all over England, though in particular places particu¬
lar customs prevailed.
GAVELET, in Law, an ancient and special cessa¬
vit used in Kent, where the custom of gavelkind con¬
tinues, by which the tenant, if he withdraws his rent and
uervices due to the lord, forfeits his land and tenements.
The process of the gavelet is thus. The lord is first
to seek by the steward of his court, from three weeks
to three weeks, to find some distress upon the tene¬
ment, till the fourth court; and if at that time he Qiiw
find none, at this fourth court it is awarded, that he i
take the tenement in his hand in name of a distress, GsL
and keep it a year and a day without manuring ; with-1 H
in which time, if the tenant pay his arrears, and make
reasonable amends for the withholding, he shall have
and enjoy his tenement as before : it he come not be¬
fore the year and day be past, the lord is to go to the
next county court with witnesses ot what had passed
at his own court, and pronounce there his process, to
have further witnesses ; and then by the award of his
own court, he shall enter and manure the tenement as
his own : so that if the tenant desired afterwards to
have and hold it as before, he must agree with the
lord; according to this old sajing : “ Has he not since
any thing given, or any thing paid, then let him pay
five pound for his were, e’er he become healder again.”
Other copies have the first part with some variation;
“ Let him nine times pay, and nine times repay.”
Gavelet, in London, is a writ used in the hustings,
given to lords of rents in the city of London. Here
the parties, tenant and demandant, appear by scirt
facias, to show cause why the one should not have hii
tenement again on payment of his rent, of the other
recover the lands on default thereof.
GAUGAMELA, in Ancient Geography, a village
of Aturia, lying between the rivers Lycus and Tigris;
famous for Alexander’s victory over Darius. It is said
to have been allowed to Darius Hystaspes for the
maintenance of a camel ; and hence the name. It was
not far from a more considerable place called Arbela;
whence the latter gave the name to the victory. See
Arbela.
GAUGE-POINT of a solid measure, the diameter of
a circle whose area is equal to the solid content of the
same measure.
GAUGER, a king’s officer, who is appointed to
examine all tons, pipes, hogsheads, and barrels, of wine,
beer, ale, oil, honey, &c. and give them a mark of
allowance, before they are sold in any place within the
extent of his office.
GAUGING. See Geometry.
GAUGiNG-JRod, an instrument used in gauging or
measuring the contents of any vessel. Lhat usually
employed is the four-foot gauging rod. It is com¬
monly made of box, and consists of four rules, each a
foot long and about three-eighths of an inch square,
joined together by three brass joints; by which means
the rod is rendered four feet long when the four rules
are quite opened, and but one foot when they are all pi
folded together. On the first face of this rod, mark-CIA '
ed 4, are placed two diagonal lines : one for beer and
the other for wine : by means of which the content of
any common vessel in beer or wine gallons may be rea¬
dily found, by putting the rod in at the bung hole of
the vessel till it meets the intersection of the head of
the vessel with the staves opposite to the bung hole.
For distinction of this line, there is written thereon,
beer and wine gallons. On the second face, 5, are a
line of inches and the gauge-line ; which is a line ex¬
pressing the areas of circles, whose diameters are the
correspondent inches in ale gallons. At the beginning
is written, ale area. On the third face, 6, are three
scales of lines ; the first, at the end of which is written
hogshead, is for finding how many gallons there are m
a
I
G A U L 459 ] ^ G A U
,,r. a hogshead when it is not full, lying with its axis pa¬
rallel to the horizon. The second line, at the end of
i'"* which is written B. L. signifying a butt lying is for the
same use as that for the hogshead. The third line is
to find how much liquor is wanting to fill up a hutt
when it is standing : at the end of it is written B. S.
signifying a butt standing. In the half of the fourth
face of the gauging rod, 7, there are the three scales of
lines,’to find the wants in a firkin, kilderkin, and bar¬
rel, lying with their areas parallel to the horizon.
They are distinguished by letters F.K.B. signifying a
jirkin, kilderkin, and barrel.
Use of the diagonal lines on this rod. To find the
content of a vessel in beer or wine gallons, put the
biased end of the gauging rod into the bung hole of
the cask, with the diagonal lines upwards, and thrust
this brased end to the meeting of the head and staves $
then with chalk make a mark at the middle of the
bung hole of the vessel, and also on the diagonal lines
of the rod, right against, over one another, when the
brased end is thrust home to the head and staves : then
turn the gauging rod to the other end of the vessel,
and thrust the brased end home to the end, as before.
Lastly, See if the mark made on the gauging rod come
even with the mark made on the bung hole, when the
rod was thrust to the other end $ which if it be, the
mark made on the diagonal lines will, on the same
lines, show the whole content of the cask in beer or
wine gallons.
If the mark made on the bung hole be not right
against that made on the rod when you put it the
other way, then right against the mark made on the
bung hole make another on the diagonal line ; and the
division on the diagonal line between the two chalks
will show the vessel’s whole contents in beer or wine
gallons. Thus, e. gr. if the diagonal line of the vessel
be 28 inches four-tenths, its contents in beer gallons
will be near 51, and in wine gallons 62.
If a vessel be open, as a half barrel, tun, or copper,
and the measure from the middle of one side to the
head and staves be 38 inches, the diagonal line gives
122 beer gallons ; half of which, viz. 61, is the con¬
tent of the open half tub.
If you have a large vessel, as a tun or copper, and
the diagonal line taken by a long rule proves 70 inches ;
1 the content of that vessel may be found thus : Every
inch at the beginning end of the diagonal line call ten
inches. Thus ten inches becomes 100 inches j and
every tenth of a gallon call 100 gallons } and every
whole gallon call 1000 gallons.
Example. At 44.8 inches on the diagonal beer
line is 200 gallons 5 so that 4 inches 48 parts, now
called 44 inches 8-tenths, is just two-tenths of a gallon,
now called 200 gallons j so also if the diagonal line be
76 inches and 7-tenths, a close cask of such diagonal
I will hold 1000 beer gallons: but an open cask but half
so much, viz. 500 beer gallons.
Use of the Gauge Line. To find the content of any
cylindrical vessel in ale gallons j seek the diameter of
the vessel in inches, and just against it on the gauge
line is the quantity of ale gallons contained in one inch
deep: this multiplied by the length of the cylinder
will give its content in ale gallons.
For example, suppose the length of the vessel 32.06,
and the diameter of its base 25 inches $ to find what
is the content in ale gallons P Right against 25 inches Ga«ain-
on the gauge line is one gallon and .745 of a gallon ; Rod,
which multiplied by 32.06, the length, gives 55.9447 Gaol,
gallons for the content of the vessel. v—■
The bung diameter of a hogshead being 25 inches,
the head diameter 22 inches, and the length 32.06
inches ; to find the quantity of ale gallons contained in
it ?—Seek 25, the bung diameter, on the line of inches,
and right against it on the gauge line you will find
X.745: take one-third of it which is .580, and set it
down twice j seek 22 inches in the head diameter, and
against it you will find on the gauge line 1.356; one-
third of which added to twice .580 gives 1.6096;
which multiplied by the length 32.06, the product will
be 51.603776, the content in ale gallons. Note, this
operation supposes, that the aforesaid hogshead is in
the figure of the middle frustum of a spheroid.
The use of the lines on the two other faces of the
rod is very easy ; you need only put it downright into
the bung hole (if the vessel you desire to know the
quantity of ale gallons contained therein be lying) to
the opposite staves ; and then where the surface of the
liquor cuts any one of the lines appropriated to that
vessel, will be the number of gallons contained in that
vessel.
GAUL, the name given by the Romans to the coun¬
try that now forms the kingdom of France.'—The ori¬
ginal inhabitants were descended from the Celtes or
Gomerians, by whom the greatest part of Europe was
peopled ; the name of Galli, or Gauls, being probably
given them long after their settlement in that country.
See Gallia.
The ancient history of the Gauls is entirely wrapped
up in obscurity and darkness ; all we know concerning
them for a long time is, that they multiplied so fast,
that their country being unable to contain them, they
poured forth in vast multitudes into other countries,
which they generally subdued, and settled themselves
in. It often happened, however, that these colonies
were so molested by their neighbours, that they were
obliged to send for assistance to their native country.
This was always very easily obtained. The Gauls were
upon every occasion, ready to send forth great numbers
of new adventurers ; and as these spread desolation
wherever they came, the very name of Gauls proved f
terrible to most of the neighbouring nations.—The^cco„nt of
earliest excursion of these people, of which we have any the Gaulish
distinct account, was into Italy, under a famed leader jncilrsious
named Bellovesus, about 622 years before Christ. Heint0
crossed the Rhone and the Alps, till then unattempted ;
defeated the Hetrurians ; and seized upon that part of
their country, since known by the names of Lombardy
and Biedmont.—dY\\Q second grand expedition was made
by the Ccenomani, a people dwelling between the rivers
Seine and Loire, under a general named Elitonis. They
settled in those parts of Italy, now known by the
names of Bresciano, the Cremonese, the Mantuan, Car-
niola, and the Venetian.—In a third excursion, two
other Gaulish nations settled cn both sides of the river
Po ; and in a fourth, the Boii and Lingones settled in’
the country between Ravenna and Bologna. The time
of these three last expeditions is uncertain.
The third expedition of the Gauls was more remark¬
able than any of the former, and happened about 200
years after that of Bellovesus. The Senones settled
3 M 2 between
Gaul.
Expedition
against the
Greeks.
Miserable
fatyj of the
nrmy.
G A U [
between Paris and Meaux, were invited into Italy by
a Hetrurian lord, and settled themselves in Umbria.
Brennus their king laid siege to Clusium, a city in al¬
liance with Home ; and this produced a war with the
Homans, in which the latter were at first defeated, and
their city taken and burnt; but at length the whole
army was cut off by Camillas, insomuch, that not a
single person escaped.
Some other expeditions the Gauls undertook against
the Homans: in which, though they always proved un¬
successful, by reason of their want of military disci¬
pline ; yet their fierceness and courage made them so
formidable to the republic, that, on the first news of
their march, extraordinary levies of troops were made,
sacrifices and public supplications offered to the gods,
and the law which granted an immunity from military
service to priests and old men, was, for the time, abo¬
lished.
Against the Greeks, the expeditions of the Gauls
were very little more successful than against the Ro¬
mans. The first of these we hear of was about 279
years before Christ, in the year after Pyrrhus had in¬
vaded Italy. At this time, the Gauls finding them¬
selves greatly overstocked at home, sent out three great
colonies to conquer new countries for themselves. One
of these armies was commanded by Brennus, another
by Cerethrius, and the third by Belgius. The first en¬
tered Pannonia or Hungary ; the second Thrace ;
and the third marched into Ulyricum and Macedonia.
Here Belgius at first met with great success j and en¬
riched himself by plunder to such a degree, that Bren¬
nus envying him, resolved to enter the same countries,
in order to share the spoil. In a short time, however,
Belgius met with such a total defeat, that his army
was almost entirely destroyed ; upon which Brennus
hastened to the same place. His army at first consist¬
ed of 150,000 foot and 15,000 horse : but two of his
principal officers revolted, and carried off 20,000 men,
with whom they marched into Thrace 5 where, having
joined Cerethrius, they seized on Byzantium and the
western coast of the Propontis, making the adjacent parts
tributary to them.-r—To retrieve this loss, Brennus sent
for fresh supplies from Gaul; and having increased his
army to 150,000 foot, and upwards of 60,000 horse,
he entered Macedonia, defeated the general who op¬
posed him, and ravaged the whole country. He next
inarched towards the straits of Thermopylae, with a
design to invade Greece; but was stopped by the
lorces sent to defend that pass against him. He pas¬
sed the mountains, however, as Xerxes had formerly
done ; upon which the guards retired, to avoid being
surrounded. Brennus then having ordered Acicho-
rius, the next to him in command, to follow at a di¬
stance with part of his army, marched with the bulk
of the forces to Delphi, in order to plunder the rich
temple there. This enterprise proved exceedingly un¬
fortunate : a great number of his men were destroyed
by a dreadful storm of hail, thunder, and lightning j
another part of his army was destroyed by an earth¬
quake ; and the remainder, somehow or other, ima¬
gining themselves attacked by the enemy, fought a-
gainst each other the whole night, so that in the morn¬
ing scarcely one half of them remained. The Greek
forces then poured in upon them from all parts j and
that i« such numbers, that though, Acichoriys came
460 ] G A U
up in due time with his forces, Brennus found himself <1
unable to make head against the Greeks, and was de-tj
feated with great slaughter. He himself was despe¬
rately wounded j and so disheartened by bis misfortune,
that, having assembled all his chiefs, he advised them
to kill all the wounded and disabled, and to make the
best retreat they could : after which he put an end to
his own life. On this occasion, it is said that 20,000
of these unhappy people were executed by their own
countrymen. Acichorius then set out with the remain¬
der for Gaul; but, by being obliged to march through
the country of their enemies, the calamities they met
with by the way were so grievous, that not one of them
reached their own country. A just judgment, say the
Greek and Roman authors, for their sacrilegious inten¬
tions against Delphi.
The Romans having often felt the effects of theGav
Gaulish ferocity and courage, thought proper at last, ^4
in order to humble them, to invade their country.^ 1
Their first successful attempt was about 118 years be-12^
fore Christ, under the command of Quintus Marcius,
surnamed Rex. He opened a way betwixt the Alps and
the Pyrenees, which laid the foundation for conquering
the whole country. This was a work of immense la¬
bour of itself, and rendered still more difficult by the
opposition of the Gauls, especially those called the
Staeni, who lived at the foot of the Alps. These people,
finding themselves overpowered by the consular army,
set fire to their houses, killed their wives and children,
and then threw themselves into the flames. After this
Marcius built the city of Narbonne, which became the
capital of a province. His successor Scaurus also con¬
quered some Gaulish nations j and in order to facili¬
tate the sending troops from Italy into that country, he
made several excellent roads between them, which be¬
fore were almost impassable. These successes gave
rise to the invasion of the Cimbri and Teutones j an ac¬
count of whose unfortunate expedition is given under
the articles Cimbri, Rome, Teutones, &c.
From this time, the Gauls seemed to be formidable
to the Romans, and even seem to have been for some
time on good terms with them. At last, however,
the Helvetii kindled a war with the republic, which
brought Caesar over the Alps, and ended in the total ,
subjection of the country. Orgetorix was the firstSurpn:
cause of it; who had engaged a vast number of hissucce!
countrymen to burn their towns and villages, and to
go in search of new conquests. Julius Caesar, to whose
lot the whole country of Gaul had fallen, made such
haste to come and suppress them, that he was got to-
the Rhone in eight days j broke down the bridge of
Geneva, and, in a few days more, finished the famed,
wall between that city and Mount Jura, now St Claude,
which extended seventeen miles in length, was sixteen
feet high, fortified with towers and castles at proper
distances, and a ditch that ran the whole length of
it. If his own account of it may be relied upon, he
did not set out till the beginning of April; and yet
this huge work was finished by the ides or 15th of the
month; so that, subtracting the eight days he was a-
coming, it must have been all done in about five.days;
a. prodigious work, considering he had but one legion
there, or even though the whole country had. given
him assistance. Whilst this was doing, and the rein-
fprcements he wanted were coming, be amused the
Helvetii,
Juliet
lax.
G A U
V '
, ,, Helvetii, who had sent to demand a passage through
/ the country of the Allobroges, till he had got his re-
® inforcements ; and then flatly refused it to them :
whereupon a dreadful battle ensued } in which they lost
one hundred and thirty thousand men, in spite of all
their valour; besides a number of prisoners, among'
whom were the wife and daughter of Orgetorix, the
leader of this unfortunate expedition. The rest sub¬
mitted, and begged they might be permitted to go
and settle among tha-Edui, from whom they original¬
ly sprung ; and at the request of these last, were per¬
mitted to go.
The Gauls were constantly in a state of variance with
one another; a.nd Cassar, who knew how to make the
most of these intestine broils, soon became the protec¬
tor of the oppressed, a terror to the oppressor, and the
umpire of all their contentions. Among those who
applied to him for help, were his allies the Edui ;
against whom Ariovistus, king of the Germans, had
joined with the Arverni, who inhabited the banks of the
Loire, had taken the country of the Sequani from them,
and obliged them to send hostages to him. Csesar forth¬
with sent to demand the restitution of both,, and, in aa
interview which he soon after obtained of that haughty
and treacherous prince, was like to have fallen a sacri¬
fice to his perfidy : upon which he bent his whole
power against him, forced him out of his strong in-
trenchments, and gave him a total overthrow. Ario¬
vistus escaped, with difficulty, over the Rhine ; but his
two wives, and a daughter, with a great number of
Germans of distinction, fell into the conqueror’s hand.
Caesar, after this signal victory, put his army into win-
( ter quarters, whilst he went over the Alps to make the
A join! necessary preparations for the next campaign. By this
confe H- time all the Belgae in general were so terrified at his
success, that they entered into a confederacy against
the Romans as their common enemy. Of this, Labi-
emis, who had been left in Gaul, sent Caesar notice ;
upon which he immediately left Rome, and made
such dispatch, that he arrived upon their confines in
about fifteen days. On his arrival, the Rhemi submit¬
ted to him ; but the rest appointing Galba king of
the Suessiones general of all their forces, which a-
mounted to one hundred and fifty thousand men,
marched directly against him. Caesar, who had seized
on the bridge of the Axona, now Aisne, led his Jight
horse and infantry over it: and whilst the others were
'hoG , encumbered in crossing that river, made such a terrible
slaughter of them, that the river was filled with their
[ 461 ]
G A U
tftntt
ithai i ll*c iivcr was nnea wun tneir
wjit, >nsomuch that their bodies served for a bridge to
those who escaped. This new victory struck such tex*-
ror into the rest, that they dispersed themselves; im¬
mediately after which, the Suessiones, Bellovaci, Am-
biones, and some others, submitted to him. The Ner-
vu, indeed, joined with the Atrebates and Veroman-
dui against them; and having first secured their wives
and children, made a vigorous resistance for some time .;
hut were at length defeated, and the greatest part of
them slain. Ihe rest, with their wives and old men*
surrendered themselves, and were allowed to live in their
own cities and towns as formerly* The Aduatici were
next subdued ; and, for their treaclxery to the conquei’-
or, were sold for slaves, to the number of 50,003.
oung Crassus, the son of the triumvir, subdued like¬
wise seven other nations, and took possession of their ci¬
ties ; which not only completed the conquest of the Bel- Gaul,
gte, but brought several nations from beyond the Rhine '' ‘
to submit to the conqueror. The Veneti, or ancient
inhabitants of Vannes in Brittany, who had been like¬
wise obliged to send hostages to the conqueror, were, in
the mean time, making great preparations by sea and
land to recover their liberty. Caesar, then in Illyri-
cum, was forced to equip a fleet on the Loire ; and ha¬
ving given the command of it to Brutus, went and de¬
feated them by land, as Brutus did by sea ; and having
put their chief men to death, sold the rest for slaves.
1 he Unelli, with Veridorix their chiei, together with
the Lexovii and Aulerei, were about the same time sub¬
dued by Sabinus, and the Aquitani by Crassus, with the
loss of 30,000 men. There x'emained nothing but the
countries ol the Morini and Menapii to be conquered
of all Gaul. Caesar marched himself against them ; but
he found them so well intrenched in their inaccessible
fortresses, that he contented himself with burning and
ravaging their country ; and having put bis troops into
winter quarters, again passed over the Alps, to have a
more watchful eye on some of his rivals there. He was,
however, soon after obliged to come to defend his Gaul¬
ish conquests-against some nations of the Germans, who
were coming to settle there, to the number of 400,00c.
Ihese be totally defeated, and then resolved to carrv
his conquering arms into Germany ; but for an account
of his exploits there, see the article Germany. j
Upon his return into Gaul, he found it labouring Tbe Gsuf*
under a great famine, which had caused a kind of uni-
versal revolt. Cotta and Sabinus, who were left in the^fjH,}'
country of the Eburones, now Liege, were betrayed^ ‘
into an ambush by Ambiorix, one of the Gaulish chiefs,
and had most of their men cut off. The Aduatici had
fallen upon Q. Cicero, who was left there with one le¬
gion, and had reduced him to great straits : at the same
time Labienus, with his legion, was attacked by Indu-
tiomarus, at the bead of the Rhemi and Senones ; but
had better luck than the rest, and by one bold sally
upon them, put them to flight, and killed their general.
Caesar acquired no small credit by quelling all these
revolts 4 but each victory^cost the lives of so many of
his troops, that he was forced to have recourse to Pom-
pey for a fresh supply, who readily granted him two of
his own legions to secure his Gaulish conquests.
But it was not long before the Gauls, ever restless A te^ond
under a foreign yoke, raised up a new revolt, and revolt,
obliged him to return thither. His fear lest Pompey
should gain the affections of the Roman people, had
obliged him to,strip the Gauls of their gold and silver,
to bribe them over to his interest; and this gave no
small handle to those frequent revolts which happened
during his absence. . He quickly, however, reduced
the Nervii,, Aduatici, Menapii, and Treviri; the last
of whom bad raised the revolt, under the command of
Ambiorix.: but be found the flame spread much farther,
even to the greatest part of the Gauls, who had chosen
Vercingetorix their generalissimo. Caesar was forced
to leave Insubria, whither he had retired to watch the
motions of Pompey, and, in the midst of winter and
snow, tarepass the Alps into the province of Narbonne.
Here he gathered his scattered troops with all possible
speed ; and, in spite of the hard weather, besieged and
took Noviodunum, now Noyons ; and defeated Vercin¬
getorix, who was come to the, relief of that place. He
next
G A U ' [46
<vM,!. next took thei city of Avaricum, now Bonrges, one of
the strongest in Gaul, and which had a garrison of
40,000 men 5 of whom he made such a dreadful slaugh¬
ter, that hardly 800 escaped. Whilst he was besieging
Gergovia, the capital of the Arverni, he was informed
that the Nitiobriges, or.Agenois, were in arms j and
that the AEdui were sending to Vercingetorix 10,000
men, which they were to have sent to reinforce Cresar.
Upon this news, he left Fabius to carry on the siege,
and marched against the iEdui. These, upon his ap¬
proach, submitted, in appearance, and were pardoned •,
hut soon after that whole nation rose up in arms, and
murdered all the Italian troops in their capital. Caesar,
at this, was in great straits what measures to take; but
resolved at length to raise the siege of Gergovia, and at
once attack the enemy’s camp, which he did with some
success; but when he thought to have gone toNoviodu-
num, or Noyons, where his baggage, military chest,
&c. were left, he heard that the AEdui had carried it
off, and burnt the place. Labienus, justly thinking
that Cmsar would want his assistance in the condition
he now was, went to join him, and in his way defeated
a Gaulish general named Camulogenus, who came to
oppose his march; but this did not hinder the revolt
irom spreading itself all over Celtic Gaul, whither Ver¬
cingetorix had sent for fresh supplies, and, in the mean
time, attacked Ctesar; but was defeated, and forced to
retire to Alesia, a strong place, now Alise in Burgun¬
dy, as is supposed. Hither Csesar hastened, and be¬
sieged him; and having drawn a double circumvallation,
with a design to starve him in it, as he was likely to
have done, upon that account refused all offers of a sur¬
render from him. At length, the long expected rein-
i;) forcement came, consisting of 160,000 men, under four
Tbey are generals: these made several fruitless attacts on Caesar’s
again sub- trenches, but were defeated in three several battles,
dued. which at length obliged Vercingetorix to surrender at
discretion. Caesar used all his prisoners with great se¬
verity, except the ./Edui and Arverni, by whose means
he hoped to gain their nations, which were the most
potent of Celtic Gaul : nor was he disappointed ; for
both of them submitted to him, and the former received
him into the capital, where he spent the winter, after
he put his army into winter quarters. This campaign,
as it proved one of the hardest he ever had, so he gain¬
ed more glory by it than any Roman general had done
before : yet could not at all by this procure from the ser¬
vile senate, now wholly dedicated to his rival, a pro¬
longation of his proconsulship ; upon which he is re¬
ported to have laid his hand upon his sword, and said,
that that should do it.
He was as good as his word ; and the Gauls, upon
their former ill success, resolving to have as many sepa¬
rate armies as provinces, in order to embarrass him the
more, Cassar, and his generals Labienus and Fabius,
were forced to fight them one after another 5 which
they did, however, with such success, that, notwith¬
standing the hardness of the season, they subdued the
Bituriges, Carnutes, Rhemi, and Bellovaci, with their
general Correus, by which he at once quieted all the
Belgic provinces bordering on Celtic Gaul. The next
who followed were the Treviri, the Eburones, and the
Andes, under their general Dumnacus. The last place
which held out against him was Uxellodunum ; which
was defended by the two last acting generals of the
s ] C A U
Gauls, Drapes the Senonian, and Luterius the Cadur. 5
cean. The place being strong and well garrisoned,
Cresar was obliged to march thither from the farthest
part of Belgie Gaul ; and soon after reduced it, for
want of water. Here again he caused the right hands
of all that were fit to bear arms to be cut off-, to deter i,
the rest from revolting afresh. Thus was the conquest Gaul !
of Gaul finished from the Alps and Pyrenees to theductJ]
Rhine, all which vast tract was now reduced to a Ro-^ODW]|'
man province under the government of a prsetor.!’ro' I
During his several expeditions into Gaul, Caesar is said 1 l
to have taken 800 cities; to have subdued 300 dif¬
ferent nations; and to have defeated, in several battles,
three millions of men, of whom one million were killed,
and another taken prisoners.—The history of the coun¬
try, from the time of its conquest by the Romans to
the present, is given under the articles Rome and
France. 1
The Gauls were anciently divided into a great num-Char.
her of different nations, which were continually at war^c'. 1
with one another, and at variance among themselves.^1
Cassar tells us, that not only all their cities, cantons,
and districts, hut even almost all families, were divided
and torn by factions; and' this undoubtedly facilitated
the conquest of the whole. The general character of
all these people was an excessive ferocity and love of
liberty. This last they carried to such an extreme,
that either on the appearance of servitude, or incapa¬
city of action through old age, wounds, or chronic
diseases, they put an end to their own lives, or pre¬
vailed upon their friends to kill them. In cities, when
they found themselves so straitly besieged that they
could hold out no longer, instead of thinking how to
obtain honourable terms of capitulation, their chief
care very often was to put their wives and children to
death, and then to kill one another, to avoid being led
into slavery. Their excessive love of liberty and con¬
tempt of death, according to Strabo, very much facili¬
tated their conquest by Caesar ; for pouring their nume¬
rous forces upon such an experienced enemy as Caesar,
their want of conduct very soon proved the ruin of the
whole.
The chief diversion of the Gauls was hunting; and
indeed, considering the vast forests with which their
country abounded, and the multitude of wild beasts
which lodged in them, they were under an absolute
necessity to hunt and destroy them, to prevent the
country from being rendered totally uninhabitable.
Besides this, however, they had also their hippodromes,
horse and chariot races, tilts and tournaments ; at all
of which the bards assisted with their poems, songs,
and musical instruments.-—.For ah account of their
religion, see the article Druid.
The Gauls were excessively fond of feasting, m
which they were very profuse; as, like all other north¬
ern nations, they were great lovers ol good eating and
drinking. Their chief liquors were beer and wine.
Their tables were very low They ate but little bread,
which was baked flat and hard, and easily broken m
pieces ; hut devoured a great deal of flesh, boiled, roast¬
ed, or broiled; and this they did in a very slovenly
manner, holding the piece in their hands, and tearing
it with their teeth. What they could not part by thi*
way, they cut with a little knife which hung at their
girdle. When the company was numerous, the Cory-
G A U
phce, or chief of the feast, v?ho was either one of the
richest, or noblest, or bravest, sat in the middle, with
Pe the master of the bouse by his side ; the rest took their
‘“'places next according to their rank, having their ser¬
vants holding their shields behind them. These feasts
seldom ended without bloodshed; but if by chance the
feast proved a peaceable one, it was generally accompa¬
nied not only with music and songs, but likewise with
dances, in which the dancers were armed cap-a-pee,
and beat time with their swords upon their shields. On
certain festivals they were wont to dress themselves in
the skins of beasts, and in that accompany the proces¬
sions in honour of their deities or heroes. Others dres¬
sed themselves in masquerade habits, some of them very
indecent, and played several antic and immodest tricks.
This last custom continued long after their conversion
to Christianity.
GAULANITIS, or Gaulonitis (Josephus); in
Ancient Geography, according to the different manner
of writing the capital, Gaulan or Gaulon } the extreme
part of Bashan to the south, and bordering on the tribe
of Gad. It w'as divided into the Superior, which to
the east extended to Arabia ; and into the Inferior,
which lay on the lake of Genesareth, (Josephus).
GAULON, or Golan, the capital of the Gaulani-
tis Superior ; a Levitical city and place of refuge, (Mo¬
ses, Joshua).
0. GAULOS, Ancient Geography, a small island of
hicily, in the African sea, adjoining to Melite or Mal¬
ta; with commodious harbours; a colony of Phoeni¬
cians, with a cognominal town. Gaulonitse, the people,
’ Inscription). Now called Go%o, five miles to the west
of Malta.
GAULTHERIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
decandria class; and in the natural method ranking
or^er» Bicornes. See Botany Index.
GAUN F-Bellied, in the manege, is said of a horse
whose belly shrinks up towards his flanks.
GALNFLET. See Gantlet.
GAUNTLOPE, pronounced Gauntlet, a military
punishment for felony, or some other heinous offence.
In vessels of war, it is executed in the following man¬
ner. The whole ship’s crew is disposed in two rows,
standing face to face on both sides of the deck, so as to
| <orm a 1,ne whereby to go forward on one side, and re¬
turn aft on the other; each person being furnished with
a sma 1 twisted cord, called a knittle, having two or
11!’ee knots upon it. The delinquent is then stripped
naked above the waist, and ordered to pass forward
! between tlm two rows of men, and aft on the other
81 e, a certain number of times, rarely exceeding three •
during which every person gives him a stripe as he runs
?‘ong. Jn his passage through this painful ordeal, he
is sometimes tripped up, and very severely handled
while incapable of proceeding. This punishment, which
>s called running the gauntlet, is seldom inflicted, except
or such crimes as naturally excite a general antipathy
mong the seamen : as, on some occasions, the culprit
would pass without receiving a single blow, particu-
arly in cases of mutiny and sedition. But this mode
punishment is now, we believe, rarely or never re-
>°i ed to, either in the army or navy.
n the land service, when a soldier is sentenced to run
gauntbpe the regiment is drawn out in two ranks
g each other; each soldier, having a switch in his
t 463 ]
gay
hand, lashes the criminal as he runs along naked from r* ,1
the waist upwards. While he runs, the drums beat at
each end of the ranks. Sometimes he runs three, five Gay-
or seven times, according to the nature of the offence!  *
The major is on horseback, and takes care that each
soldier does his duty.
GAVIES, or Gaurs. See Gaeres.
. GAVOTTA, or Gavotte, is a kind of dance, the
air of which has two brisk and lively strains in common
time, each of which strains is tvvice'played over. The
first has usually four or eight bars ; and the second con¬
tains eight, twelve, or more. The first begins with a
minim, or two crotchets, or notes of equal value, and
the hand rising ; and ends with the fall of the hand
upon the dominant or mediant of the mode, but never
upon the final, unless it be a rondeau : and the last be¬
gins with the rise of the hand, and ends with the fall
upon the final of the mode.
Tempi di Gavotta, is when only the time or move¬
ment ot a gavotte is imitated, w’ithout any regard to
the measures or number of bars or strains.—Little airs
are often found in sonatas, which have this phrase to
regulate their motions.
GAURA, a genus of plants belonging to the octan-
dna class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 17th order, Calycanthemce. See Botaky Index.
GAUSE, or Gawse, in Commerce, a very thin,
slight, transparent kind of stuff, woven sometimes of
silk, and sometimes only of thread To warp the
silk for making of gause, they use a peculiar kind of
mill, upon which the silk is wound: this mill is a
wooden machine, about six feet high, having an axis
perpendicularly placed in the middle thereof, with six
large wings, on which the silk is wound from off the
bobbins by the axis turning round. When all the
silk is on the mill, they use another instrument to wind
it off again on two beams: this done, the silk is passed
through as many little beads as there are threads of
silk ; and thus rolled on another beam to supply the
loom. J
The gause loom is much like that of the common
weavers, though it has several appendages peculiar to
itself. See Loom.
There are figured gauses; some with flowers of gold
and silver, on a silk ground : these last are chiefly
brought from China.
GAY, John, a celebrated English poet, descended
from an ancient family in Devonshire, was born at
Exeter, and received his education at the free school
Barnstaple in that county, under the care of Mr
William Rayner.—He was bred a mercer in the
Strand ; but having a small fortune, independent of
business, and considering the attendance on a shop as
a degradation of those talents which he found himself
possessed of, he quitted that occupation, and applied
himself to other views, and to the indulgence of his
inclination for the Muses. In 1712 we find him secre¬
tary, or rather domestic steward, to the duchess of
Monmouth, in which station he continued till the be¬
ginning of the year 1714 j at which time he accompa¬
nied the earl of Clarendon to Hanover, whither that
nobleman was despatched by Queen Anne. In the lat¬
ter end of the same year, in consequence of the queen’s
death, he returned to England, where he lived in the
highest estimation and intimacy of friendship with
many
GAY [ 464 ] G A
many persons of the first distinction both in rank and lication of it afterwards in quarto.
abilities.—He was even particularly taken notice of by
Queen Caroline, then princess of Wales, to whom he
had the honour of reading in manuscript his tragedy of
the Captives; and in 1726 dedicated his Fables, by
permission, to the duke of Cumberland.—From this
countenance shown to him, and numberless promises
made him of preferment, it was reasonable to suppose,
that he would have been genteelly provided for in some
office suitable to his inclination and abilities. Instead
of which, in 1727, he was offered the place ot gentle¬
man usher to one of the young princesses ; an ottice
which, as he looked on it as rather an indignity to a
man whose talents might have been so much better em¬
ployed, he thought proper to refuse; and some pretty
warm remonstrances were made on the occasion by his
sincere friends and zealous patrons the duke and du¬
chess of Queensberry, which terminated in those two
noble personages withdrawing from court in disgust.
Mr Gay’s dependencies on the promises ot the great,
and the disappointments he met with, he has figu¬
ratively described in his fable of the Hare with many
friends. However, the very extraordinary success he
met with from public encouragement made an ample
amends, both with respect to satisfaction and emolu¬
ment, for those private disappointments.—I or, in the
season of 1727-8, appeared his .B^ar * Opera; the
vast success of which was not only unprecedented, but
almost incredible.—It had an uninterrupted run in
London of 63 nights in the first season, and was re¬
newed in the ensuing one with equal approbation. It
spread into all the great towns of England ; was play¬
ed in many places to the 30th and 40th time, and at
Bath and Bristol 50 ; made its progress into VV ales,
Scotland, and Ireland, in which last place it was acted
for 24 successive nights ; and last of all it was perform¬
ed at Minorca. Nor was the fame of it confined to he
reading and representation alone, for the card table
and drawing room shared with the theatre and closet
in this respect; the ladies carried about the favourite
songs of it engraven upon their fan mounts ; and screens,
and other pieces of furniture were decorated with the
same. In short, the satire of this piece was so striking,
so apparent, and so perfectly adapted to the taste of all
degrees of people, that it overthrew the Italian opera,
that Dagon of the nobility and gentry, which had so
long seduced them to idolatry, and which Dennis, by
the labours and outcries of a whole life, and ■r'any other
■writers by the force of reason and reflection, had in vain
endeavoured to drive from the throne of public taste.
The profits of this piece were so very great, both to the
author and Mr Rich the manager, that it gave rise to a
uuibble, which became frequent in the mouths of many,
vix That ithadmade Rich gay, and Gay rich; and it has
been asserted, that the author’s own emoluments from it
were not less than 2000I. In consequence of this suc-
eess Mr Gay was induced to write a second part to it,
which he entitled Folly. But the disgust subsisting be¬
tween him and the court, together with the misrepre¬
sentations made of him as having been the author ot
™me diaffected libels and seditious pamphlets, occasion¬
ed a prohibition and suppression of it to be sent from the
lord chamberlain, at the very time when every thing
was in readiness for the rehearsal of it. A very con¬
siderable sum, however, accrued to him from the pub-
3
   j -Mr Gay wrote se- (
veral other pieces in the dramatic way, and many very Gi
valuable ones in verse. Among the latter, his Trivia, r,
or the Art of Walking the Streets of London, though his
first poetical attempt, is far from being the least consi-
derable, and is what recommended him to the esteem
and friendship of Mr Pope : but as, among his drama¬
tic works, his Beggar's Opera did at first, and perhaps
ever will, stand as an unrivalled masterpiece, so, among
his poetical works, his Lables hold the same rank, ot
estimation ; the latter having been almost as universally
read as the former was represented, and both equally
admired. Mr Gay’s disposition was sweet and affable,
his temper generous, and his conversation agreeable and
entertaining. But he had one foible, too frequently in¬
cident to men of great literary abilities, and which sub¬
jected him at times to inconveniences which othervvisc
he needed not to have experienced, viz. an excess of in¬
dolence, without any knowledge of economy. So that,
though his emoluments were, at some periods of his life,
very considerable, he was at others greatly straitened in
his circumstances; nor could he prevail on himself to
follow the advice of his friend Dean Swift, whom we
find in many of his letters endeavouring to persuade him
to the purchasing of an annuity, as a reserve for the exi¬
gencies that might attend on old age.—Mr Gay chose
rather to throw himself on patronage, than secure to
himself an independent competency by the means point¬
ed out to him; so that, after having undergone many
vicissitudes of fortune, and being for some time chiefly
supported by the liberality of the duke and duchess
of Queensberry, he died at their house in Burlington
gardens, in December 1732. He was interred in
Westminster Abbey, and a monument erected to his
memory, at the expence of his aforementioned noble
benefactors, with an inscription expressive ol their re¬
gards and his own deserts, and an epitaph in verse by
Mr Pope.
GAZA, Theodore, a famous Greek in the 15th
century, was born in 1398. His country being invad-
ed by the Turks, he retired into Italy; where he
at first supported himself by transcribing ancient au¬
thors, an employment the learned had frequent re¬
course to before the invention of printing. His un¬
common parts and learning soon recommended him to
public notice; and particularly to Cardinal Bessarion,
who procured him a benefice in Calabria. He was
one of those to whom the revival of polite literature
in Italy was principally owing. He translated from
the Greek into Latin, Aristotle’s History of Animals,
Theophrastus on Plants, and Hippocrates’s Apho¬
risms ; and from the Latin into Greek, Scipio’s Dieam,
and Cicero’s Treatise on Old Age. He wrote severa
other works in Greek and Latin ; and died at Rome m
Gaza, in Ancient Geography, a principal city and
one of the five satrapies of the Philistines. It was situ¬
ated about 100 stadia from the Mediterranean, on an
artificial mount, and strongly walled round. It was
destroyed by Alexander the Great, and aftervyards y
Antiochus. In the time of the Maccabees it was a
strong and flourishing city ; but was destroyed a thin
time by Alexander Jannueus. At present it has a nu
serable appearance. The buildings are mean, bot as
to the form and matter. Some remains of its ancien
grandeur
q -
G? t
G A Z
grandeur appear in the handsome r  ..  
marble which support some of the roofs ; while others
are disposed of here and there, in different parts of al-
“■^most every beggarly cottage. On the top of the hill,
at the north-east corner of the town, are the ruins of
large arches sunk low into the earth, and other foun¬
dations of a stately building, from whence some of
the bashaws have carried off marble pillars of an in¬
credible size. The castle is a contemptible structure,
and the port is ruined. E. Long. 34. 55. N. Lat. 31.
28.
GAZE-hound, or Gast-hound, one that makes more
use of his sight than of his nose. Such dogs are much
used in the north of England : they are fitter in an
open champaign country than in bushy and woody
places. If at any time a well-taught gaze-hound takes
a wrong way, he will return upon a signal, and begin
the chase afresh. He is also excellent at spying out the
fattest of a herd 5 and having separated it from the rest,
will never give over the pursuit till he has worried it
to death.
GAZEL, in Zoology, a species of Capra. See
Mammalia Index.
GAZETTE, a newspaper, or printed account of
the transactions of all the countries in the known world,
in a loose sheet or half sheet. This name is with us
confined to that paper of news published by authority.
The word is derived from gazetta, a Venetian coin,
which was the usual price of the first newspaper print¬
ed there, and which was afterwards given to the paper
itself.
The first gazette in England was published at Ox¬
ford, the court being there, in a folio half sheet, No¬
vember 7. 1665. O11 the removal of the court to Lon¬
don, the title was changed to the London Gazette.
The Oxford gazette was published on Tuesdays, the
London on Saturdays: and these have continued to be
the days of publication ever since.
GAZNA, a city of Asia, once much celebrated,
and the capital of a very extensive empire j but which
is now either entirely ruined, or become of so little
consideration, that it is not taken notice of in our
books of geography. The city was anciently an em-
pory and fortress of Sablestan, not far from the confines
of India. During the vast and rapid conquests of the
Arabs, all this country had been reduced under their
subjection. On the decline of the power of the caliphs,
however, the vast empire established by Mahomet and
his successors was divided into a number of independent
principalities, most of which were but of short duration.
In the year of the Hegira 384, answering to the 994th
of the Christian era, the city of Gazna, with some part
of the adjacent country, was governed by Mahmud
Gazni j who became a great conqueror, and reduced
under his subjection a considerable part of India and
most of Persia.
Hus empire continued in the family of Mahmud
^azni for upwards of 200 years. None of his suc¬
cessors, however, were possessed of his abilities ; and
t lerefore the extent of the empire, instead of increas¬
ing, was very considerably diminished soon after Mah-
niud’s death. The Seljuks made themselves masters of
lorasan, and could not be driven out ; the greatest
part of the Persian dominions also fell off j and in the
547th year of the Hegira, the race of Gazni sultans
Vol. IX. Part II.
[ 465 ] ' G A Z
pillars of Parian was entirely set aside by one Gauri, who conquered
Khosru Shah the reigning prince, and bestowed his
dominions on his own nephew Gayathoddin Moham¬
med. These new sultans proved greater conquerors
than the former, and extended their dominions farther
than even Mahmud Gazni himself had done. They
did not, however, long enjoy the sovereignty of Gazna ;
for in 1218, Jenghiz Khan having conquered the
greatest part of China and almost all Tartary, began
to turn his arms westward ; and set out against "tlio
sultan of Gazna at the head of 700,000 men.
To oppose this formidable army, Mohammed, the
reigning sultan, could muster only 400,000 men $ and,
in the first battle, 160,000 of his troops are said to have
perished. After this victory, Jenghiz Khan advanced j
Mohammed not daring to risk a second battle, the loss
of which would have been attended with the entire
ruin of his kingdom. He therefore distributed his
army amongst the strongest fortified towns he had in
his dominions ; all of which Jenghiz Khan took one af¬
ter another. The rapid progress of his conquests, in¬
deed, almost exceeds belief. In 1219 and 1220, he
had reduced Zarnuk, Nur, Bokhara, Otrar, Saga-
nak, Uzkant, Alshash, Jund, Tonkat, Khojend, and
Samarcand. Mohammed, in the mean time, fled first
to Bokhara j but on the approach of Jenghiz Khan’s
army, quitted that place, and fled to Samarcand.
When this last city was also in danger of being invest¬
ed, the sultan did not think proper to trust himself in
it more than in the other, though it was garrisoned by
110,000 of his bravest troops; and therefore fled
through byways into the province of Ghilan in Persia,
where he took refuge in a strong fortress called Esta-
bad. But being also found out in this retreat, he fled
to an island in the Caspian sea called Abiskun; where
he ended his days, leaving his empire, such as it was,
to his son Jaloloddin.
The new sultan was a man of great bravery and ex¬
perience in war; but nothing was able to stop the pro¬
gress of the Moguls. In 1220 and 1221, they made
themselves masters of all the kingdoms of Karazim and
Khorasan, committing everywhere such massacres as
were never heard of before or since that time. In the
mean time Jaloloddin assembled his forces with the ut¬
most diligence, and defeated two detachments of the
Mogul army. This happened while Jenghiz Khan
was besieging Bamiyan ; but answered little other pur¬
pose, than serving to bring upon that city the terrible
destruction of which an account is given under the ar¬
ticle Bamiyan. Immediately after the reduction of
that city, Jenghiz Khan marched towards Gazna ;
which was very strongly fortified, and where he expect¬
ed to have found Jaloloddin. But he had left the
place 15 days before; and, as Jenghiz Khan’s army
was much reduced, he might perhaps have stood his
ground, had it not been for an accident. He had
been lately joined by three Turkish commanders, each
of whom had a body of 10,000 men under his com¬
mand. After his victories over the Moguls, these
officers demanded the greatest share of the spoils;
which being refused, they separated themselves from
the sultan. He used his utmost endeavours to make
them hearken to reason ; and sent several messages
and letters to them, representing the inevitable ruin
which must attend their separation, as Jenghiz Khau
i N
G A Z
c; r / n a.
[ 466
was advancing against them with Ills whole army. At
1 last they were persuaded to lay aside their animosi¬
ties; hut it was now too late ; for Jenghiz, Khan, be¬
ing informed of what passed, detached 60,000 horse
to prevent their joining the sultan’s army ; who, find¬
ing himself deprived of this powerful aid, retired to¬
wards the river Indus. When he was arrived there,
he stopped in a place where the stream was most rapid
and the place confined, with a view both to pre¬
vent his soldiers from placing any hopes of safety in
flight, and to hinder the whole Mogul army from at¬
tacking him at once. Ever since his departure from
Gazna he had been tormented with a colic : yet, at a
time when he suffered most, hearing that the enemy’s
vanguard was arrived at a place in that neighbourhood
called Herder, he quitted his litter, and, mounting a
horse, marched with some of his chosen soldiers in the
night; surprised the Moguls in their camp ; and hav¬
ing cut them almost all in pieces, without the loss of
a single man on his side, returned with a considerable
bo-jty.
Jenghiz Khan, finding by. this that he had a vigi¬
lant enemy to deal with, proceeded with great circum¬
spection. When he came near the Indus, he diew out
his army in battalia : to Jagatay, one of his sons, he
gave the command of the right wing', to Otkay,
another son, he gave the command of the left : and
put himself in the centre, with 6000 of his guards.
On the other side, Jaloloddin prepared for battle like
one who had no resource hut in victory. He first sent
the boats on the Indus farther off; reserving only one
to carry over his mother, wife, and children . but un¬
luckily the boat split when they were going to embark,
so that they were forced to remain in the camp. Ihe
saltan took to himself the command of the main body
of the army. His left wing, drawn up under shelter
of a mountain which hindered the whole right wing
of the Moguls from engaging at once, was command¬
ed by his vizir} and his right by a lord named Amin
Malek. This lord began the fight ; and forced the
enemy’s left wing, notwithstanding the great disparity
of numbers, to give ground. The right wing of the
Moguls likewise wanting room to extend itself, the sul¬
tan made use of his left as a body of reserve, detaching
from thence some squadrons to the assistance of the
troops who stood in need of them. He also took one
part of them with him when he went at the head of
his main body to charge that of Jenghiz Khan j which
he did with so much resolution and vigour, that he not
only put it in disorder, but penetrated into the place
where Jenghiz Khan had originally taken his station :
but that prince having had a horse killed under him,
was retired from thence, to give orders for all the
troops to engage. _ , .
This disadvantage had like to have lost the Moguls
the battle *, for a report being immediately spread that
the enemy had broken through the main body, the
troops were so much discouraged, that they would cer¬
tainly have fled, had not Jenghiz Khan encouraged
them by riding from place to place in order to show
himself. At last, however, Jaloloddin’s men, who
were in all but qo,ooo, having fought a whole day
with ten times their number, were seized with fear
and fled. One part of them retired to the rocks which
were on the shore of the Indus, where the enemy’s horse
]
G A Z
could not follow them j others threw themselves into c
the river, where many were drowned, though some had
the good fortune to cross over in safety j while the rest
surrounding their prince, continued the fight through
despair. The sultan, however, considering that he
had scarce 7000 men left, began to think of providing
for his own safety : therefore, having bidden a final
adieu to his mother, wife, and children, he mounted a
fresh horse, and spurred him into the river, which he
crossed in safety, and even stopped in the middle of it
to insult Jenghiz Khan, who was now arrived at the
bank. His family fell into the hands of the Moguls j
who killed all the males, and carried the women into
captivity.
Jaloloddin being now securely landed in India, got
up into a tree in order to preserve himself from wild
beasts. Next day, as he walked melancholy among
the rocks, lie perceived a troop of his soldiers, with
some officers, three of whom proved to be his particu¬
lar friends. These, at the beginning of the defeat,
had found a boat in which they had sailed all night,
with much danger from the rocks, shelves, and rapid
current of the river. Soon after, he saw 500 horse
coming towards him 5 who informed him of 4000 more
that had escaped by swimming over the river 5 and
these also soon after joined the rest. In the mean time
an officer of his household, named Jamalarrazad,
knowing that his master and many of his people were
escaped, ventured to load a very large boat with arms,
provisions, money, and stuff to clothe the soldiers;
with which he crossed the river. For this important
service Jaloloddin made him steward of his household,
and surnamed him the Chosen or the Glory of the Faith.
For some time after, the sultan’s affairs seemed to go
on prosperously ; he gained some battles in India j but
the princes of that country, envying his prosperity,
conspired against him, and obliged him to repass the
Indus. Here he again attempted to make head against
the Moguls 5 but was at last defeated and killed by
them, and a final end put to the once mighty empire
of Gazna.
The metropolis was reduced by Otkay $ who no
sooner entered the country in which it was situated,
than he committed the most horrid cruelties. The
city was well provided with all things necessary for
sustaining a siege ; had a strong garrison, and a brave
and resolute governor. The inhabitants, expecting
no mercy from Jenghiz Khan, who they knew hail
sworn their ruin, were resolved to make a desperate
defence. They made frequent sallies on the besiegers,
several times overthrew their works, and broke above
100 of their battering rams. But one night, after an
obstinate fight, part of the city walls fell down j and
a great number of Moguls having filled up the ditch,
entered the city sword in hand. The governor per¬
ceiving ail was lost, at the head of his bravest soldiers
rushed into the thickest of bis enemies, where he and ms
followers were all slain. However, Gazna was not en¬
tirely destroyed, nor were the people all killed \ tor
after the massacre had continued for lour or five hours,
Otkay ordered it to cease, and taxed those who were
left alive at a certain rate, in order to redeem themse ves
and the city. It does not, however, appear that a ter
this time the city of Gazna ever made any considerable
figure.—It was taken by the Moguls in the
'((Ptt.
?andi
?S7.
G E B [ 4^7 1 G E B
GEBRES. See Gabres.
GECCO, in Natural History, a name given by the
■ Indians to their terrible poison, which kills when mix-
"^ed with the blood even in the smallest quantity'. They
say that this gecco is a venomous froth or humour vo¬
mited out of the mouths of their most poisonous ser¬
pents ; which they procure in this fatal strength, by
hanging up the creatures by the tails, and whipping
them to enrage them : they collect this in proper ves¬
sels as it falls 5 and when they use it, they either poi¬
son a weapon with it, or wounding any part of the flesh
introduce the smallest quantity imaginable into it j and
this is said to be immediate death.
GECKO. See Lacerta, Erpetology Index.
GED, William, an ingenious though unsuccessful
artist, who was a goldsmith in Edinburgh, deserves to
be recorded for his attempt to introduce an improve¬
ment in the art of printing. The invention, first
practised by Ged in 1725, was simply this. From any
types of Greek or Roman, or any other character, he
formed a plate for every page, or sheet, of a book, from
which he printed, instead of using a type for every let¬
ter, as is done in the common way. This was first
practised, but on blocks of wood, by the Chinese and
Japanese, and pursued in the first essays of Coster the
European inventor of the present art. “ This improve¬
ment (says James Ged the inventor’s son) is principal¬
ly considerable in three most important articles, viz.
expence, correctness, beauty and uniformity.”
In July 1729, William Ged entered into partner¬
ship with William Fenner, a London stationer, who
was to have half the profits, in consideration of his
advancing all the money requisite. To supply this,
Mr John James, then an architect at Greenwich (who
built Sir Gregory Page’s house, Bloomsbury church,
&c.) was taken into the scheme, and afterwards his
brother Mr Thomas James, a letter founder, and James
Ged the inventor’s son. In 1730, these partners ap¬
plied to the university of Cambridge for printing Bibles
and common prayer books by blocks instead of single
types j and, in consequence, a lease was sealed to them,
April 23. 1731. In their attempt they sunk a large
sum of money, and finished only two prayer books ; so
that it was forced to be relinquished, and the lease was
afterwards given up. Ged imputed his disappointment
to the villany of the pressmen, and the ill treatment of
his partners (which he specifies at large), particularly
Fenner, whom John James and he were advised to pro¬
secute, but declined it. He returned to Scotland in
r73^» where he gave his friends a specimen of his per¬
formance, by an edition of Sallust. But being still un¬
successful, and having failed in obtaining redress from
Fenner, who died insolvent, he was preparing again to
set out for London, in order to join with his son James
as a printer there, when he died October 19. 1749.
Ged’s son attempted unsuccessfully, in 1751, to revive
this invention $ Messrs Tilloch and Foulis about the
year 1782 practised it on a small scale at Glasgow ;
and of late years many beautiful editions of the classics
have been printed in this way by Didot of Paris, and
.Wilson and Company of London -f-.
GEDDES, Alexander, a learned Scots Catholic
divine and eminent bible critic, was born in the parish
of Ruthven in Banffshire, in the year 1737. His pa¬
rents were respectable, although not opulent. His fa¬
ther was a farmer, who deemed no trouble too great, Ge(1, .
m order to procure for his children as liberal an educa-
tion as possible. Both father and mother were of the
Catholic persuasion, and the only book of consequence
which the former had in his library was an English
translation of the bible, in which young Geddes was in¬
structed with such care and attention, that he was able
to give an account of the history of it before he had
Reached the eleventh year of his age. The first instruc¬
tions he received, after those of his parents, were commu¬
nicated by a school-mistress in the vicinity, by whom he
ivas so much distinguished, that it became the first men¬
tal gratification which, in his own opinion, he ever felt.
Fie was next put under the tuition of a young man from
the city of Aberdeen, who had been engaged by the
laird for the education of his own children; and after¬
wards went to a place called Scalan, in the Highlands,
where those were to be trained up who designed to devote
themselves to the Catholic priesthood, and to finish their
education at some foreign university. Here it was, in
this obscure retreat, that Geddes laid the foundation of
that intimate acquaintance with the learned languages,
by which he was so eminently distinguished in the subse¬
quent part of his life. lie went to the Scots university at
Paris in the year 1758, and soon after began the study of
rhetoric in the college of Navarre. By the strength of
his genius and his indefatigable attention, he was soon at
the head of this class, although he had to contend with
two veterans, and became the favourite of Vicaire the
professor, whose friendship lasted to the close of life.
Instead of entering into the philosophical class at the
usual time, he studied that subject at home, in order to
facilitate his theological studies, on which he entered
under M. M. Bure and de Sauvent, at the college of
Navarre, and Lavocat at the Sorbonne was his He-
brew preceptor. So great, or rather astonishing, was
his progress, that Professor Lavocat urged him strong¬
ly to continue at Paris; but his friends prevailed with
him to return to his native country in 1764. His first
charge as a priest was in a Catholic chapel in the
county of Angus, from which he removed to Tra-
quair in 1765, and became chaplain to the earl of that
name, where he remained for about three years. This
situation was most agreeable to his literary pursuits, as
he had unlimited access to a very extensive library,
which greatly assisted him in the prosecution of his dar¬
ling studies. He left the earl’s house in the year 1768,
and returned to Paris, where he devoted his time du¬
ring the following winter to the perusal of books and
manuscripts in the king’s libraries, making large ex¬
tracts from scarce copies, particularly such as were in
the Hebrew tongue.
In the spring of 1769* l*e returned to his native
country, and became pastor of a congregation at Auch-
inhalrig in Banffshire, where he was for some time in¬
volved in pecuniary difficulties, out of which he was ex¬
tricated by the liberality of the then duke of Norfolk.
These were occasioned by the debts he incurred in
building a new chapel for his flock, and in making the
parson’s house one of the neatest and most convenient in
Scotland. With the view of bettering his circum¬
stances he commenced fanner; but as he had to borrow
money to stock his farm, and as the crops failed for three
successive seasons, he was under the necessity of aban¬
doning this scheme In a much poorer state than when he
3 N 2 - first
G E D [ 46*
first projected it. Rut his unwearied exertions, joined
to the assistance of friends, again relieved him, and he
was enabled to discharge every claim against him of a
pecuniary nature in an honourable manner.
In the year 1779 he resigned his pastoral charge at
Auchinhalrig, which was a heavy stroke to the mem¬
bers of his congregation, as the zeal and diligence with
which he discharged the duties of his ministerial func¬
tion had endeared him to all. He was also justly
esteemed for his attention to the instruction of youth.
Next year the university of Aberdeen conferred on him
the degree of LL. D. a literary honour which was
never bestowed on any Roman Catholic by that body
since the Reformation. He afterwards went to Lon¬
don, that he might prosecute his favourite studies with
greater facility, and give the world his English trans¬
lation of the Old and New Testament, to which he had
turned his attention for a number of years. He offici¬
ated for some months after his arrival at the imperial
ambassador’s chapel in Duke-street, till the term of
Easter 1782, at which time it was suppressed by order
of the emperor Joseph II. after which Dr Geddes seems
to have declined entirely the exercise of his clerical
functions.
No sooner had the design of Mr Geddes, relative to
a new translation of the Bible been made public, than
he met with formidable opposition from his Catholic
brethren ", an event which the doctor with good reason
seems to have anticipated. His own words on this oc¬
casion were : “I expect not excessive profits from exces¬
sive exertion. I trust I shall never want meat, and
clothes, ‘AnAfirc ; to a philosophical and contented mind,
what more is necessary ?” He was many years em¬
ployed in preparing this important work for the press,
before he had any prospect of adequate success. In ad¬
dressing the English Catholics on the subject of his
translation, he has these memorable words : “ At any
rate, 1 do what I think it my duty to do, and do it fair¬
ly and openly. In the following pages ye will find neither
palliation nor disguise. I pour out my sentiments with
the same sincerity as if I were before the tribunal of
Him who is to judge the living and the dead. Mis¬
take I may, hut prevaricate I never will.” He disco¬
vered this noble spirit in every action of his life, and in
all his transactions and intercourse with mankind, al¬
though he did not conciliate the regard of those who
could have bestowed upon him the most effectual as¬
sistance.
After spending much of his life in biblical studies,
he met with a long and cruel interruption, of which he
thus speaks : “ I had but little hope of ever living in a
situation to resume them, when Providence threw me
into the arms of such a patron as Origen himself might
have been proud to boast of—a patron, who, for these
ten years past, has, with a dignity peculiar to himself,
afforded me every convenience that my heart could de¬
sire towards the carrying on and completing of my ar¬
duous work.”
It is needless to inform the public, that the. patron to
whom the learned doctor here alludes was Lord Petre.
For this munificence, continued through the whole of
bis life, and even beyond it by his latter will, Christians
of every denomination will feel sentiments of gratitude,
when they are qualified to make a true estimate of the
advantages of free and impartial enquiry.
! ] G E B
In the year 1792, the first volume of his translation
was published, dedicated to his patron Lord Petre, con-~y
taining the first six books of the Old Testament. Soon
after this volume made its appearance, three apostolic
vicars, calling themselves the bishops of Rama, Acan-
thos, and Centuriae, issued a pastoral letter, addressed to
their respective flocks over which they presided, warn¬
ing them against the reception of Dr Geddes’s transla¬
tion. In his reply to the bishop of Centurise we find
these words : “ Perhaps, my lord, you wish to have an¬
other occasion of exercising your episcopal authority,
and of playing with censures as children do with a new
ball.-—I wish your lordship much joy of the bauble ; but
however, my lord, beware of playing too often with it.
Read St Chrysostom on Ecclesiastical Censures, and
learn from him a little more moderation. Permit an
old priest to tell you, that it is a very great ornament
in a ijoung bishop. As to myself, my lord, I am not
afraid of your threats, and shall laugh at your censures
as long as I am conscious that I deserve them not.—You
cannot hinder me from praying at home $ and at home
I will pray, in defiance of your censure, as often as l
please. The chief Bishop of our souls is always accessi¬
ble j and through him I can, at all times, have free ac¬
cess to the Father, who will not reject me, but for vo¬
luntary unrepented crimes. In the panoply of con¬
scious innocence, the whole thunder of the Vatican
would in vain be levelled at my head.”
The second volume of his translation, owing to a va¬
riety of interruptions, did not make its appearance til!
the year 1797, to which was prefixed a dedication to
her royal highness the duchess of Gloucester, as an
“early, spontaneous, and liberal encourager of the
work.” In this volume the doctor gives up, and boldly
combats, the absolute inspiration of scripture, believing
that the Hebrew, like all other historians, wrote from
such human documents as they could find, and were of
consequence liable to similar mistakes. rl his latitude of
thinking naturally led the doctor to give up as fabulous,
and wholly unworthy of the divine philanthropy, every
command, precept, and injunction, which appeared un¬
worthy even of human authority. He denied of con¬
sequence, that the command given to destroy the Ca-
naanites could have God for its author. This volume
of Critical Remarks was published in 1800, in which
he enters into an able vindication of his own theory,
which rather increased than diminished the number of
enemies, for as he wrote to please no party, he foresaw
that he would have enemies in every party, and so it
happened.
Dr Geddes was a man of extensive literature, uncom¬
mon liberality of thinking, the friend of all mankind j
a man of integrity, honour, and benevolence *, in the
strictest sense of the word, a truly genuine Catholic,
and whose love of truth was so invincible, that nei¬
ther hopes nor fears could induce him to con-
ceal it. .
His prospectus of a new translation of the Bible in
4to was published in and a letter to the bishop
of London on the same subject in 1787* Pr<?*
posals were printed in 1788. As a controversial wri¬
ter, Dr Geddes was eminently distinguished by his let¬
ter to Dr Priestley, in defence of the divinity of Je¬
sus Christ, and by one to a member of parliament, on
the expediency of a general repeal of the penal sta¬
tute?
G E H [
tutes which have a respect to religions opinions. In
5^ ^ the spring of the year 1800, he published an apology
ill—' for the Roman Catholics of Great Britain, in which he
zealously defended his peculiar tenets, but displayed a
commendable moderation, when be mentioned tbe in¬
juries to which he himself and brethren were subjected
bv the continuance of persecuting laws ; and, when he
argued in behalf of abolishing all legal disabilities, he
discovered the soundest logical understanding.
We shall close our short account of this great man in
the words of one who u’as well acquainted with him, and
fully qualified to appreciate his merits. “ It must he
lamented, that, in the death of Dr Geddes, the world
has lost the services of a man, who by his acute and pe¬
netrating genius—his various, profound, and extensive
erudition—his deep research—his indefatigable appli¬
cation—and his independent, dignified, and unfettered
spirit, rising superior to the prejudices of education j
nobly disdaining the shackles of system j spurning the
petty temporizing arts of unmanly accommodation ;
and setting at defiance all the terrors of malignity, bi¬
gotry, and intolerance, was supereminently qualified
for the great, laborious, and important work in which
he had, for a long series of years, been engaged, of giv¬
ing an English version of the venerable literary re¬
mains of sacred antiquity, the scriptures of tbe Old and
New Testament. During his life, this work did not
meet with encouragement adequate to the magnitude of
the design ; or, it may be added, to the merit of the
execution. In this last respect, it will be matter of
surprise to all who are competent to judge of the nature
of such an enterprise, how much has been done, and
with what uncommon ability and success. It every¬
where displays the skilful hand of a master.”
He had corrected and prepared his translation for
the press up to the hundredth and eighteenth psalm,
when he was seized with a most painful and excrucia¬
ting distemper, which put a period to his inestimable
life on the 26th of February 1802. The learned world
will unquestionably have cause to lament, that Dr Ged-
des was arrested by the hand of death in the midst of
his career, unless that unexpected phenomenon, an¬
other Geddes, should make his appearance, and happily
finish what his extraordinary predecessor conducted so
far with such astonishing abilities j but rara avis in
terris.
GEHENNA, a scripture term which has given
some pain to the critics. It occurs in St Matthew, v.
22. 29. 30. x. 28. xviii. 9. xxiii. 15. 33. Mark ix.
43. 45. 47. Luke xii. 5. Janies iii. 6.
The authors of the Louvain and Geneva versions re¬
tain the word gehenna as it stands in the Greek ; the
like does M. Simon : the English translators render it
by heil and hellfire, and so do the translators of Mods
and Father Bohours.
The word is formed from the Hebrew gehinnom, i. e.
“ valley of Hinnom.” In that valley, which was near
Jerusalem, there was a place named Tophet, where some
Jews sacrificed their children to Moloch, by making
them pass through the fire. King Josias, to render this
place for ever abominable, made a cloaca or common
sewer thereof, where all the filth and carcases In the
city were cast.
The Jeivs observed farther, that there was a continual
fire ke^t up there, to burn and consume those carcases4
469 ]
GEL
Gdiert.
for which reason, as they had no proper term in their Gehenaa
language to signify hell, they made use of that of gehen- ||
na or gehinnom, to denote a fire unextinguishable.
GEL A, in Ancient Geography, a city of great ex¬
tent on the south of Sicily, taking its name from the ri¬
ver Gelas, which washes it. It was built by colonists
from Rhodes and Crete, 45 years after the building of
Syracuse, or in the third year of the 22d Olympiad,
690 before Christ ; originally called Lirulii, from tbe
colonists of Lindus, a city of Rhodes, who settled there
first. Now lerra ISuova, and the river called Flume
di Terra Nuova. The people were called Geloi, Ge/en-
scs, and Gelani. J iie city of Gela, after having stood
408 years, was destroyed by Phintias, tyrant of Agri-
gentum *, and the inhabitants were removed to a new.
city, called Phintias after his name.
GELATINA, Jelly. See Jelly.
GELATINOUS, among the physicians, is applied
to any thing approaching to the glutinous consistence
of a jelly.
GELD, in the English old customs, a Saxon word
signifying money, or tribute. It also denoted a com¬
pensation for some crimes committed : Hence wergeld,
in their ancient laws, was used for the value of a man
slain ; and orfgeld, of a beast.
GELDENHAUR, Gerard, in Latin Geldenha-
rius, an historian and Protestant divine in the 16th
century. He was a native of Nimeguen, and studied
classical learning at Deventer. Pie went through his
course of philosophy at Louvain, where he contracted
a very strict friendship with several learned men, and
particularly with Erasmus. He became reader and
historian to Charles of Austria, and afterwards tu
Maximilian of Burgundy. At length he embraced
the Protestant religion, taught history at Marpiwg,
and afterwards divinity till his death, in 1542. He
wrote, 1. History of Holland. 2. History of Low
Countries. 3. History of the bishops of Utrecht 3 and
other works.
GELDERLAND. See Cuelderland.
GELDERS. See Guelders.
GELDING, the operation of castrating any animal.
See Castration, Farriery Index.
GELE'E, Claude. See Claude.
GELENHAUSEN, a small imperial town of Wet-
teravia in Germany, with a castle built by the emperor
Frederic I. E. Long. 8. 13. N. Lat. 50. 20.
GELLENIUS, Sigismund, a learned and excellent
man, born of a good family at Prague, about the year
1498. Erasmus conceiving an esteem for him at Ba¬
sil, recommended him to John Frobenius as a corrector
for his printing-house; which laborious charge he ac¬
cepted, and had a great number of Hebrew, Greek,
and Latin books to correct: he also translated many
works himself from the Greek and Latin; and pub¬
lished a dictionary in four languages, Greek, Latin,
German, and Sclavonian. Profitable and honourable
employments were offered him in other places 3 but no¬
thing could tempt him to quit his peaceful situation at
Basil. He died in 1555. All his translations are
highly esteemed.
GELINOTTE, or Grus. See Tetrad, Orni¬
thology Index.
GELLERT, Christian Furghtegolt, was born ,
at Hayniehen, in July 1715, near Freyberg, where
his.
GEL [ 470 ] GEM
CJellert, his father was a clergyman. He was extraordinary pro
Gem. iessor of philosophy at Leipsic, and a distinguished vvri-
v ' ter among the Germans. When but 13 years of age
lie discovered a poetical genius ; but having none to
guide his taste for this kind of composition, he was led
to imitate Gunther, Neukerch, and Hanke, men of in¬
different abilities. He studied theology at Leipsic in
1734, and returned home at the expiration of four
years, when be commenced public speaker 5 but his
timid disposition prevented him from shining as an ora¬
tor in the pulpit. The delicacy of bis constitution for¬
bidding him to aspire after extensive learning, he con¬
fined himself to the acquisition of that which might ren¬
der him useful. He was much respected for his first
attempts in poetry, called Amusements of Reason and
Wit, which appeared in 1742.
The labour which he found requisite for the composi¬
tion of sermons, inclined him to lay aside the clerical
profession, and devote himself wholly to the instruction
of vouth, in which he not only diffused knowledge
through the minds of his pupils, but also inspired them
with the love of religion and virtue. He was made
A. M. in 1744, and published the first volume of his
fables in the ensuing year. His “ Swedish Countess”
was the first German romance deserving of notice. He
gave the world the second part of his fables in 1748,
although two years before this period he was much af¬
flicted with hypochondriacal affections. In 1751, he
was solicited to accept the office of extraordinary pro¬
fessor of philosophy, together with a decent salary,
which was augmented on the termination of the war.
Assailed by unconquerable lowness of spirits and con¬
firmed melancholy, he still exhibited the same patience,
resignation, and universal philanthropy as he had ever
shewn, and which excited the admiration of the enemy
during the war. His sufferings continued to increase in
severity, and at last terminated his existence on the
13th of December 1769. He contributed much to the
improvement of the taste and morals of his countrymen,
and their gratitude for his services made them deeply
lament his loss. His praise was resounded by every
voice, his likeness was cast in gypsum, and moulded in
wax ; it was engraved on copper, and represented in
sculpture and painting.
It is said of this amiable man and captivating writer,
by Kutner, who wrote the lives of German authors,
that it will probably be a century before the appearance
of another poet, so fully qualified to excite the love and
admiration of his cotemporaries, and obtain such a
powerful influence over the taste and way of thinking
of all descriptions of men. If it would indicate too
much partiality to call him a genius of the first class, he
certainly was a most agreeable and fertile writer; the
poet to whom religion and virtue are deeply indebted ;
an able reformer of public manners, and fonder of af¬
fording consolation, than of plunging into despondency.
Klutner gives him a most excellent and enviable charac¬
ter in these words: “ As long as the Germans shall
understand their present language, will the works of
Geliert be read ; and his character will be honoured
while virtue is known and respected.”
GELLI, John Baptist, an eminent Italian writer,
was born of mean parents at Florence, in the year 1498.
He was bred a taylor, some say a shoemaker; but had
such an extraordinary genius, that he acquired several
languages, and made an uncommon progress in the belles Gi
lettres : and though he continued always to work at his |;
trade, became acquainted with all the wits and learned G*
men at Florence, and his merit was universally known. U"’~v
He was chosen a member of the academy there, and
the city made him a burgess. He acquired the highest
reputation by his works, which are, I. I. Caprici del
Bottaio, quarto ; which contains ten dialogues. 2.
La Circe, octavo. This, which also contains ten dia¬
logues, and treats of human nature, has been trans¬
lated into Latin, French, and English. 3. Disserta¬
tions in Italian on the poems of Dante and Petrarch.
4. The comedies of La Sporta and La Errore; and
other works. He died in 1563.
GELLLBRAND, Henry, a laborious astronomer
of the 17th century, was born in 1597. Though he
was not without good views in the church, yet he be¬
came so enamoured with mathematical studies, that on
the death of his father he became a student at Oxford,
contented himself with his private patrimony, and de¬
voted himself solely to them. On the death of Mr
Gunter, he was recommended by Mr Briggs to the
trustees of Gresham college, for the astronomical pro¬
fessorship there; to which he was elected in 1627. ^‘s
friend Mr Briggs dying in 1630, before he had finish¬
ed his Trigonometria Britannica, it was finished by
Gellibrand at his request. He wrote several other
things, chiefly tending to the improvement of naviga¬
tion ; and died in 1636.
GELLIUS, Aulus, a celebrated grammarian who
lived in the 2d century under Marcus Aurelius and
some succeeding emperors. He wrote a collection of
observations on authors, for the use of his children;
and called it Nodes Atticce, because composed in the
evenings of a winter he spent at Athens. The chief
value of it is for preserving many facts and monu¬
ments of antiquity not to he found elsewhere. Cri¬
tics and grammarians have bestowed much pains on
this writer.
GELLY. See Jelly.
GEJiO, or Gelon, a son of Dinomenes who made
himself absolute at Syracuse 484 years before the
Christian era. He conquered the Carthaginians at
Himera, and made his oppression popular by his great
equity and moderation. He reigned seven years, and
his death was universally lamented at Syracuse. He
was called the father of his people, and the patron of
liberty, and honoured as a demigod. His brother
Hiero succeeded him. See Syracuse.
GEM, in Natural History, a common name for all
precious stones ; of which there are two classes, the
pellucid and semipellucid.
The bodies composing the class of pellucid gems are
bright, elegant, and beautiful fossils, which are found
in small detached masses, extremely hard, and of great
lustre.
The bodies composing the class of semipellucid gems,
are stones naturally compound, not inflammable or solu¬
ble in water, found in detached masses, and composed
of crystalline matter debased by earth : however, they
are but slightly debased ; and are of great beauty and
brightness, of a moderate degree of transparency, and
are usually found in small masses.
The knowledge of gems depends principally on ob¬
serving their hardness and colour. Their hardness i»
commonly
GEM [ 471 ] , GEM
commonly allowed to stand in the following order:
The diamond the hardest of all j then the ruby, sap¬
phire, jacinth, emerald, amethyst, garnet, carneol,
chalcedony, onyx, jasper, agate, porphyry, and marble.
This difference, however, is not regular and constant,
but frequently varies. Good crystals may be allowed
to succeed the onyx; but the whole family of me¬
tallic glassy fluors seems to be still softer.—In point of
colour, the diamond is valued for its transparency, the
ruby for its purple, the sapphire for its blue, the eme¬
rald for its green, the jacinth for its orange, the
amethyst carneol for its carnation, the onyx for its
tawney, the jasper, agate, and porphyry, for their ver¬
milion, green, and variegated colours, and the garnet
for its transparent blood red.
All these gems are sometimes found coloured and
spotted, and sometimes quite limpid and colourless. In
this case the diamond cutter or polisher knows how to
distinguish their different species by their different de¬
grees of hardness upon the mill. For the cutting or
polishing of gems, the fine powder of the fragments
of those that are next in degree of hardness is always
required to grind away the softer $ but as none of
them are harder than the diamond, this can only be
polished by its own powder.
Cronstedt observes of gems in general, that the co¬
lour of the ruby and emerald are said to remain in the
fire, while that of the topaz flies off: hence it is usual
to burn the topaz, and thence substitute it for the dia¬
mond. “ Their colours (says our author) are com¬
monly supposed to depend upon metallic vapours; but
may they not more justly be supposed to arise from a
phlogiston united with a metallic or some other earth P
because we find that metallic earths which are perfectly
well calcined give no colour to any glass: and that the
manganese, on the other hand, gives more colour than
can be ascribed to the small quantity of metal which is
to be extracted from it.” M. Magellan is of opinion,
that their colour is owing chiefly to the mixture of
iron which enters their composition j hut approves the
sentiment of Cronstedt, that phlogiston has a share in
their production, it being well known that the calces
of iron when dephlogisticated produce the red and
yellow colours of marble, and when phlogisticated to a
certain degree produce the blue or green colours.
With regard to the texture of gems, M. Magellan
observes, that all of them are foliated or laminated,
and of various degrees of hardness. Whenever the
edges of these laminae are sensible to the eye, they have
a fibrous appearance, and reflect various shades of co¬
lour, which change successively according to their an¬
gular position to the eye. These are called by the
French chatoyantes; and what is a blemish in their
transparency, often enhances their value on account of
their scarcity. But when the substance of a gem is
composed of a broken texture, consisting of various
sets of laminae differently inclined to each other, it
emits at the same time various irradiations of different
colours, which succeed one another according to their
angle of position. This kind of gems has obtained the
name of opals, and are valued in proportion to the
brilliancy, beauty, and variety of their colours. Their
crystallization, no doubt, depends on the same cause
which produces that of salts, earths, and metals, which
is treated of under the article Crystallization. The
following table shows the component parts of gems ac¬
cording to the analysis of Bergman and M. Achardj the
letter B prefixed to each denoting Bergman’s analysis,
and A that of Achard.
Red oriental ruby,
Ditto,
Blue oriental sapphire,
Ditto,
Yellow topaz from Saxony,
Green oriental emerald,
Ditto,
Yellow brown orient, hyacinth,
Ditto,
Tourmalin from Ceylon,
Ditto from Brasil,
D itto from Tyrol,
Garnet from Bohemia,
Argil. Silic. Calc Iron.
B 40 39 9 10
a37-5 42.5 9 11
B 58 35 5 2
A 58 33 6 3
B 46 39 8 6
B 60 24 8 6
A 60 23 10 7
B 40 25 20 13
A 42 22 20 16
J 39 37 15 9
B 50 34 n 5
B 42 40 12 6
A 30 48 11 10
But later analyses shew that the component parts are
different from the above, particularly the colouring
matters which are here ascribed to iron. See Mine¬
ralogy.
The cbrysoprase from Koseinitz in Silesia was like¬
wise analyzed by M. Acbard ; who found that it con¬
tained 456 grains of siliceous earth, 13 of calcareous,
six of magnesia, three of copper, and two of iron. “This
(says M. Magellan) seems to be the only gem that con¬
tains no argillaceous earth.”
Imitation or Counterfeiting of Gems in Glass. The
art ol imitating gems in glass is too considerable to be
passed without notice : some of the leading compositions
therein we shall mention upon the authority of Neri
and others.
These gems are made of pastes j and are noway in¬
ferior to the native stones, when carefully made and
well polished, in brightness or transparence, hut want
their hardness.
The general rules to be observed in making the pastes
are these : 1. That all the vessels in which they are
made be firmly luted, and the lute left to dry before
they are put into the fire. 2. That such vessels be
chosen for the work as will bear the fire well. 3. That
the powders be prepared on a porphyry stone ; not in
a metal mortar, which would communicate a tinge to
them. 4. That the just proportion in the quantity of
the several ingredients be nicely observed. 5. That
the materials be all well mixed j and, if not sufficient¬
ly baked the first time, to be committed to the fire
again, without breaking the pot $ for if this be not
observed, they will be full of blisters and air blad¬
ders. 6. That a small vacuity be always left at the top
of the pot, to give room to the swelling of the ingre¬
dients.
To make paste of extreme hardness, and capable 0*
all the colours of the gems, with great lustre and beau¬
ty.— Take of prepared crystal, ten pounds ; salt of
polverine, six pounds j sulphur of lead, two pounds:
mix all these well together into a fine powder $ make
the whole with common water into a hard paste $ and
make this paste into small cakes of about three ounces
weight each, with a hole made in their middle 5 dry
them in jffie sun, and afterwards calcine them in the
straitest part of a potter’s furnace. After this, pow-
GEM
Gm. tier them, and levigate them to a perfect fineness on a
—v—porphyry stone, and set this powder in pots in a glass
furnace to purify for three days : then cast the whole
into water, and afterwards return it into the furnace,
where let it stand 15 days, in which time all foulness
and blisters will disappear, and the paste will greatly
resemble the natural jewels. To give this the colour
of the emerald, add to it brass thrice calcined ; for a
sea green, brass simply calcined to a redness-, for a
sapphire, add zaffer, with manganese; and for a topaz,
manganese and tartar. All the gems are thus imitated
in this, by the same way of working as the making of
coloured glasses ; and this is so hard, that they very
much approach the natural gems.
The colour of all the counterfeit gems made of the
several pastes, may be made deeper or lighter accord¬
ing to the work for which the stones are designed ; and
it is a necessary general rule, that small stones for rings.
See. require a deeper colour, and large ones a paler.
Besides the colours made from manganese, verdigris,
and zaffer, which are the ingredients commonly used,
there are other very fine ones which care and skill
may prepare. Very fine red may be made from gold,
and one not much inferior to that from iron ; a very
fme green from brass or copper; a sky colour from
silver, and a much finer one from the granates of Bo¬
hemia.
Avery singular and excellent way of making the
paste to imitate the coloured gems is this : Take a
quantity of saccharum saturni, or sugar of lead, made
with vinegar in the common way ; set it in sand, in a
glass body well luted from the neck downwards ; leave
the mouth of the glass open, and continue the fire 24
hours ; then take out the salt, and if it be not red but
yellowish, powder it fine, and return it into the vessel,
"and keep it in the sand heat 24 hours more, till it be¬
comes as red as cinnabar. The fire must not be made
so strong as to melt it, for then all the process is spoil¬
ed. Pour distilled vinegar on this calcined salt, and
separate the solution from the dregs ; let the decanted
liquor stand six days in an earthen vessel, to give time
for the finer sediment to subside ; filter this liquor,
and evaporate it in a glass body, and there will remain
a most pure salt of lead ; dry this well, then dissolve it
in fair water ; let the solution stand six days in a
glazed pan ; let it subside, then filter the clear solu¬
tion, and evaporate it to a yet more pure white and
sweet salt; repeat this operation three times; put the
now perfectly pure salt into a glass vessel, set it in a
sand heat for several days, and it will be calcined to a
fine impalpable powder of a lively red. This is called
the sulphur of lead.
Take all the ingredients as in the common composi-
ition of the pastes of the several colours, only instead of
red lead, use this powder ; and the produce will well
reward the trouble of the operation, as experience has
often proved.
A paste proper for receiving colours may be readily
made by well pounding and mixing six pounds of white
sand cleansed, three pounds of red b ad, two pounds of
purified pearl ashes, and one pound of nitre. A softer
paste may be made to the same manner, of six pounds
«>f white sand cleansed ; red lead, and purified pearl-
ashes, of each three pounds; one pound of nitre, half
a. pound of borax, and three ounces of arsenic. ITor
GEM
common use a pound of common salt may be substi-
tuted for the borax- This glass will be very soft, and
will not bear much wear if employed for rings, buckles,
or such imitations of stones as are exposed to much
rubbing ; but for ear-rings, ornaments worn on the
breast, and those little used, it may last a considerable
time.
In order to give paste different colours, the process
is as follows : For
Amethyst. Take ten pounds of either of the com-
positions described under Colouring of Glass, one ounce
and a half of manganese, and one drachm of zaffer;
powder and fuse them together.
Black. Take ten pounds of either of the composi¬
tions just referred to, one ounce of zaffer, six drachms
of manganese, and five drachms of iron, highly cal¬
cined ; and proceed as before.
Blue. Take of the same composition, ten pounds;
of zaffer, six drachms; and of manganese, two drachms:
and proceed as with the foregoing.
Chrysolite. Take of either of the compositions for
paste above described, prepared without saltpetre, ten
pounds, and of calcined iron five drachms; and pursue
the same process as with the rest.
Bed Cornelian. Take of the compositions mentioned
under Colouring of Glass, two pounds ; of glass of an¬
timony, one pound ; of the calcined vitriol called scar¬
let ochre, two ounces ; and of manganese, one drachm.
Fuse the glass of antimony and manganese with the
composition ; then powder them, and mix them with
the other, by grinding them together, and fuse them
with a gentle heat.
White Cornelian. Take of the composition just re¬
ferred to, two pounds ; of yellow ochre well washed,
two drachms ; and of calcined bones, one ounce. Mis
them, and fuse them with a gentle heat.
Diamond. Take of the white sand, six pounds; of
red lead, four pounds ; of pearl ashes, purified, three
pounds ; of nitre two pounds; of arsenic five ounces;
and of manganese, one scruple. Powder and fuse
them.
Aigue-marine. Take ten pounds of the composition
under Glass ; three ounces of copper highly calcined
with sulphur ; and one scruple of zaffer. Proceed ns
before.
Emerald. Take of the same composition with the
last, nine pounds ; three ounces of copper precipitated
from aquafortis ; and two drachms of precipitated iron.
See Emerald, Mineralogy Index.
Garnet. Take two pounds of the composition undet
Glass ; two pounds of the glass of antimony, and two
drachms of manganese. For vinegar garnet, take of
the composition for paste, described in this article, two
pounds; one pound of glass of antimony, and half an
ounce of iron, highly calcined : mix the iron with the
uncoloured paste, and fuse them : then add the glass
of antimony powdered, and continue them in the heat
till the whole is incorporated.
Gold ox full Yellow. Take of the composition for
paste ten pounds ; and one ounce and a half of iron
strongly calcined ; proceeding as with the others.
Deep Purple. Take of either of the compositions for
paste, ten pounds; of manganese, one ounce ; and of
zaffer, half an ounce.
Ruby. Take cue pound of eithsr of the comport-
tions
[ 472 ]
GEM
i
tions for paste, and two drachms precipitate of gold by
tin ; powder the paste, and grind the calx of gold with
it in a glass, flint, or agate mortar, and then fuse them
together. A cheaper ruby paste may be made with
half a pound of either of the above compositions, half a
pound of glass of antimony, and one drachm and a half
of the calx of gold ; proceeding as before.
Sapphire. Take of the composition for paste, ten
pounds 5 of zafler, three drachms and one scruple ; and
of the ca/x Cassii, one drachm. Powder and fuse them.
Or the same may be done, by mixing with the paste
one-eighth of its weight of smalt.
Topa%. Take of the compositions under Glass
ten pounds, omitting the saltpetre; and an equal
quantity of the Gold-coloured hard Glass. Powder
and fuse them. See Topaz, Mineralogy Index.
Turquoise. Take of the composition for blue paste
already described, ten pounds ; of calcined bone, horn,
or ivory, half a pound. Powder and fuse them.
Opaque white. Take of the composition for paste
ten pounds; and one pound of calcined horn, ivory,
or bone ; and proceed as before.
Semitransparent white, like opal. See Opal, Mine¬
ralogy Index.
To the above we shall add the following receipts and
processes, contained in a memoir by M. Fontanieu of
the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, and said to
have met with much approbation.
I. Of the Bases. Although the different calces of lead
are all adapted to produce the same effect in vitrifica¬
tion ; yet M. Fontanieu prefers lead in scales, and
next to that minium, as being the most constantly
pure. It is necessary to sift through a silk sieve the
preparations of lead one wishes to make use of in the
vitrification, in order to separate the grosser parts, as
also the lead found in a metallic state when white lead
in scales is employed.
The base of factitious gems is calx of lead and rock
crystal, or any other stone vitrifiable by the calces al¬
ready mentioned. Pure sand, flint, and the transpa¬
rent pebbles of rivers, are substances equally fit to make
glass: but as it is first necessary to break the masses
of crystal, stones, or pebbles, into smaller parts ; so
by this operation particles of iron or copper are fre¬
quently introduced, and to these dust or greasy matters
are also apt to adhere. Our author therefore begins by
putting the pounded crystal or pebbles into a crucible,
which lie places in a degree of heat capable of making
the mass red hot; he then pours it into a wooden bowl
filled with very clear water ; and shaking the bowl
from time to time, the small portions of coals furnished
by the extraneous bodies swim on the surface of the
water, and the vitrifiable earth, with the iron, &c.
rests on the bottom. He then decants the water ; and
having dried the mass, he pounds it, and sifts the powder
through the finest silk sieve : he then digests the pow¬
der during four or five hours with marine acid, shaking
the mixture every hour. After having decanted the
marine acid from the vitrifiable earth, he washes the
latter until the water no longer reddens the tincture of
turnsol. The said earth being dried, is passed through
a silk sieve, and is then fit for use. Nitre, salt of tar¬
tar, and borax, are the three species of salts that enter
with quartz and the several calces of lead into M. Fon-
tanieu’s vitrifications.
Vol. IX. Part II.
1 473 ]
GEM
Much of the success in the art of making coloured
stones depends on the accurate proportion of the sub¬
stances made use of to form the crystal which serves as
a base to the factitious stones. After having tried a
great variety of receipts, our author found they might
be reduced to the following.
1. Take two parts and a half of lead in scales, one
part and a half of rock crystal or prepared flints, half
a part of nitre, as much borax, and a quarter part of
glass of arsenic. These being well pulverized and
mixed together, are to be put into a Hessian crucible,
and submitted to the fire. When the mixture is well
melted, pour it into cold water : then melt it again a
second and a third time; taking care, after each melt¬
ing, to throw it into fresh cold water, and to separate
from it the lead that may be revived. The same cru¬
cible should not be used a second time, because the
glass of lead is apt to penetrate it in such a manner as
to run the risk of losing the contents. One must also
be careful to cover the crucible well, to prevent any
coals getting into it, which would reduce the calx of
lead, and spoil the composition.
2. lake two parts and a half of white ceruse, one
part of prepared flints, half a part of salt of tartar,
and a quarter part of calcined borax : melt the mixture
in a Hessian crucible, and then pour it into cold water;
it is then to be melted again, and washed a second
and a third time, the same precautions being observed
as for the first base.
3. Take two parts minium, one part rock crys¬
tal, half a part of nitre, and as much salt of tartar:
this mixture being melted, must be treated as the for¬
mer.
4. Take three parts of calcined borax, one part of
prepared rock crystal, and one part of salt of tartar ;
these being well mixed and melted together, must be
poured into warm water: the water being decanted,
and the mass dried, an equal quantity of minium must
be added to it; it is then to be melted and washed several
times as directed above.
5. That called by our author the Mayence base, and
which he considers as one of the finest crystalline com¬
positions hitherto known, is thus composed: Take
three parts of fixed alkali of tartar, one part of rock
crystal or flint pulverized : the mixture to be well
baked together, and then left to cool. It is afterwards
poured into a crucible of hot water to dissolve the
frit; the solution of the frit is then received into a
stone-ware pan, and aquafortis added gradually to the
solution till it no longer effervesces : this water being
decanted, the frit must be washed in warm water till it
has no longer any taste : the frit is then dried, and
mixed with one part and a half of fine ceruse or white
lead in scales; and this mixture must be well levigated
with a little distilled water. To one part and a half
of this powder dried add an ounce of calcined borax:
let the whole be well mixed in a marble mortar, then
melted and poured into cold water as the other bases
already described. Hiese fusions and lotions having
been repeated, and the mixture dried and powdered,
a 12th part of nitre must be added to it, and then
melted for the last time ; when a very fine crystal will
be found in the crucible.
6. As a composition for furnishing very fine white
stones : Take eight ounces of ceruse, three ounces of
3 O rock
Gera.
G E
M [ 474 ] GEM
two ounces of borax finely Shake the whole and pour it into a cucmbit, when a
rock crystal pulverized, # _
powdered, and half a grain of manganese: having
melted and washed this mixture in the manner directed
above, it will produce a very fine white crystal.
II. Of the Colours. The calces of metals, as already
observed, are the substances employed to colour facti¬
tious gems ; and on the preparation of these calces
depends the vividness of their colours.
o, From Gold.'} To obtain the mineral purple
known by the name of precipitate of Cassius, M. Fon-
tanieu employs the following different processes.
x. Dissolve some pure gold in aqua regia, prepared
with three parts of precipitated nitrous acid and one
part of marine acid j and to hasten the dissolution, the
matrass should be placed in a sand bath. Into this
solution pour a solution of tin in aqua regia. The
mixture becomes turbid, and the gold is precipitated
with a portion of the tin, in the form of a reddish pow¬
der ; which after being washed and dried, is called
precipitate of Cassius.—The aqua regia employed to
dissolve the tin is composed of five parts of nitrous
acid and one part of marine acid : to eight ounces
of this aqua regia, are added sixteen ounces of distilled
water. Some leaves of lYIalacca tin, about the size and
thickness of a sixpence, are then put into this diluted
aqua regia, till it will dissolve no more of them : which
operation our author observes,requires commonly twelve
or fourteen days; though it might probably be hastened
by beating the tin still thinner, and then rolling it into
the form of a hollow cylinder, or turning it round into
spiral convolutions, and thus exposing a greater extent
of surface to the action of the menstruum. In order to
prepare more readily the precipitate of Cassius, M.Fon-
tanieu puts into a large jug eight ounces of solution of
tin, to which he adds four pints of distilled water: he
afterwards pours into this metallic lye some solution .of
<rold, drop by drop, taking care to stir the whole with
a glass tube: when the mixture becomes of a deep
purple colour, he ceases dropping the solution of gold •,
and in order to hasten the precipitation of the mineral
purple, pours into the mixture a pint of fresh urine.
Six er seven hours after, the precipitate is collected at
the bottom of the vessel: the fluid is then decanted;
and the precipitate, washed once or twice, is dried till
it becomes a brown powder.
2. Pour into a vessel of fine tin with a thick bottom
four ounces of the solution of gold j three minutes
after add two pints of distilled water. Let this mix¬
ture stand in the tin vessel during seven hours, taking
care to stir it every hour with a glass tube $ afterwards
pour it into a conical glass jug, and add to it a pint of
new urine : the mineral purple is soon precipitated,
and then is to be washed and dried.
3. Distil in a glass retort placed in a bath of
ashes, some gold dissolved in aqua regia, made with
three parts nitrous and one part marine acid ; when
the acid is passed over and the gold contained in the
retort appears dry, leave the vessel to cool, then pour
into it some new aqua regia, and proceed to distil as
before. Keplace the aqua regia twice upon the gold,
and distil the same. After these four operations, pour
by little and little into the retort some oil of tartar
per deliquium, which will occasion a brisk.effervescence:
when this ceases, distil the mixture till it becomes
dry, and then put some warm water into the retort.
3
precipitate is deposited, the colour of which is some-.
times brown and sometimes yellow: After having
washed this precipitate, dry it. Our author says, this
mineral purple was much superior to the foregoing,
since two grains of it only were sufficient to an ounce
of the base, whilst it required of the other two a 20th
part of the base. And he adds, that he found a means
of exalting the colour of the precipitate of Cassius, by
putting to it a sixth part of its weight of glass of an¬
timony finely powdered, and of nitre in the proportion
of a drachm to eight ounces of the base.
b. From Silver.} The oxide of silver, being vitrified,
produces a yellowish gray colour. This oxide enters
only into the composition of the yellow artificial dia¬
mond and the opal. M. Fontanieu introduces it into
the base in the form of lima cornea.
In order to prepare it, he directs to dissolve the sil¬
ver in precipitated nitrous acid, and afterwards to
pour into it a solution of sea salt: a white precipitate
is obtained; which, being washed and dried, melts
very readily in the fire, and is soon volatilized if not
mixed with vitrifiable matters. To make the yellow
diamond, 25 grains of this luna cornea are put to an
ounce of the fourth base : the dose of silver may be di¬
minished according to the shade of yellow that one
wishes to procure.
c. From Copper.} The oxide of copper imparts to
white glass the finest green colour ; but if this metal
be not exactly in a state of oxide, it produces a brownish
red colour. Mountain blue verdigris, and the residue
of its distillation, are the different preparations of cop¬
per which our author employs to make the artificial
emeralds.
d. From Iron.} Although it has been asserted
that the oxides of iron introduce a very fine transpa¬
rent red colour into white glass, M. Fontanieu could
only obtain from it a pale red a little opake. The
oxide of iron that he employed was in the proportion
of the 20th part of the base.
There are several ways of preparing the oxide of
iron called crocus Martis, or saffron of Mars. In ge-
neral, it is necessary that this metal be so far oxidated
that the magnet ceases to attract it: thus one may
use the scales of iron found upon the bars of the fur¬
naces which serve to distil aquafortis. By digesting
filings of steel with distilled vinegar, then evaporat¬
ing and replacing the vinegar 10 or 12 times, upon
these filings and drying them alternately, an oxide o*
iron is obtained, which must be sifted through a
silk sieve, and then calcined. The oxide of iron thus
obtained by the vinegar, our author says, only in¬
troduced into his bases a green colour inclining to a
yellow. ,
By the following process a saffron of Mars ol the
finest red colour is obtained : Let an ounce of iron fil*
ings be dissolved in nitrous acid in a glass retort, and
distilled over a sand bath to dryness. After having
replaced the acid or the dry oxide, and re-distilled it a
second and a third time, it is then edulcorated with
spirits of wine, and afterwards washed with distille
<?, From the Magnet.} It is necessary to calcine the
magnet before it be introduced into the vitrifications.
Having therefore torrefied the magnet during two
0 hours,
GEM
hours, it must be washed and dried
■^ed in the composition of the opal.
f, From Cobalt.'] The oxide of cobalt is only proper
to introduce a blue colour into glass 5 but this semi¬
metal is rarely found free from iron and bismuth, and
therefore it is first necessary to separate them from it.
This is done by calcining the ore of cobalt in order to
disengage the arsenic j afterwards the oxide must be
distilled in a retort with sal ammoniac, and the iron
and the bismuth are found sublimed with this salt.
The distillation must be repeated with the sal ammo¬
niac till this salt is no longer coloured yellow. The
cobalt which remains in the cornute is then calcined
in a potsherd, and becomes a very pure oxide; which
being introduced into the base, in the proportion of
a poodth part, gives it a very fine blue colour, the in¬
tensity of which may be increased at discretion by the
addition of oxide of cobalt. In order to prepare black
enamel resembling that which is called black agate of
Iceland; melt together a pound and a half of one of
the bases, two ounces of the oxide of cobalt, two ounces
of crocus Martis prepared with vinegar, and two ounces
of manganese.
g, From Tin.] The oxide of tin, which is of a white
colour, renders opake the glass with which it is melted,
and forms white enamel. For this purpose, calcine the
putty of tin ; then wash and dry it, and sift it through
a silk sieve. Take six pounds of the second base, the
same quantity of the calcined putty of tin, and 48
grains of manganese.
h, From Antimony.] Antimony is only susceptible
of vitrification in a certain state of oxidation, and then
it produces a reddish or hyacinth coloured glass ;
but if the antimony be in a state of absolute calx,
such as the diaphoretic antimony, then it is no longer
vitrifiable, and may be substituted for oxide of tin to
make white enamel. M. Fontanieu introduces the glass
of antimony in the composition of artificial topazes. For
the oriental topaz, he takes 24 ounces of the first base,
and five drachms of the glass of antimony. To imitate
the topaz of Saxony, he adds to each ounce of the base
five grains of the glass of antimony. For the topaz of
Brazil, he takes 24 ounces of the first base, one ounce
24 grains of glass of antimony, and 8 grains of the pre¬
cipitate of Cassius.
i, From Manganese.] This mineral employed in a
small quantity, renders the glass whiter; a larger
quantity produces a very fine violet colour, and a
still larger dose of it renders the glass black and
opake.
There are two ways of preparing manganese. 1. The
most simple consists in exposing it to a red heat, and
then quenching it with distilled vinegar; it is after¬
wards dried and powdered, in order to pass it through
a silk sieve. 2. Haudiquer de Blancour describes the
second manner of preparing the manganese, proper to
furnish a red colour, and names it fusible manganese.
Take of manganese of Piedmont one pound ; torrefy
and pulverize it; then mix it with a pound of nitre,
and calcine the mixture during 24 hours; afterwards
wash it repeatedly in warm water, till the water of the
lyes has no longer any taste; dry the manganese, and
mix with it an equal weight of sal ammoniac ; levigate
this mixture on a slab of porphyry with oil of vitriol
diluted with water to the strength of vinegar. Dry the
L 475 J - GEM
It JS only employ- mixture, and introduce it into a cornute ; distil by a
graduated fire ; and when the sal ammoniac is sublimed
wergh it, and add to the mixture an equal quantity,
-then distil and sublime as before, and repeat the opera¬
tion six times, being careful at each time to mix the sal
ammoniac and the manganese upon the porphyry with
diluted oil of vitriol.
At Tournhault in Bohemia, there is sold a fusible
glass of a yellow colour, very like that of the topaz of
Brazil, which, when exposed to a degree of fire in a cu¬
pel sufficient to redden it, becomes of a very fine ruby
colour, more or less deep according to the degree of
hre to which it has been exposed. Our author assayed
this glass, and found it to contain a great deal of lead,
but was not able to discover any gold in it.
III,^ Of the different degrees of fire necessary for
Factitious Gems. Our author observes, that there are
three degrees of heat very different in their energy.
The fire kept up in the wind furnaces in the laborato¬
ries of chemists, is less active than that whose effect is
accelerated by the means of bellows ; and a fire sup¬
ported by wood, and kept up during 60 hours without
interruption, produces singular effects in vitrification,
and renders the glass finer and less alterable.
"VY hen recourse is had to the forge, in order to ope¬
rate a vitrification, it is necessary to turn about the
crucible from time to time, that the mass may melt
equally. Some coal also should be replaced, in pro¬
portion as it consumes towards the nozel of the bel¬
lows; for without this precaution, we should run the
risk of cooling the crucible opposite to the flame, and
probably of cracking it, when all the melted mass run¬
ning among the coals would be totally lost. Though
this is the readiest way of melting, it should not be em¬
ployed out of choice; for the crucible often breaks, or
coals get into it, which may reduce the lead to the me¬
tallic state.
The wind furnace is either square or round. A
small cake of baked clay or brick, of the thickness of
an inch, is placed upon the grate ; and upon this cake
is placed the crucible, surrounded with coals. The
degree of heat produced by this furnace is much less
than that of the forge : but in order to succeed in the
vitrification, M. Fontanieu recommends the use of a
furnace described by Kunckel, of which, the interior
part is so disposed, that we may place crucibles at
three different heights ; and the name of chambers is
given to those steps upon which the crucibles are pla¬
ced.
It is obvious, that the degree of heat cannot be equal
in the said three chambers. In the first or lowest
chamber the heat is greatest, afterwards in the next,
and lastly, in the highest. We should begin by placing
the crucibles according to their size, in these different
chambers; by which means the best effect in vitrifica¬
tion is produced.
In order to conduct the fire well, only three billets
of white wood should be put into the furnace at a time
for the first 20 hours, four billets at a time for the next
20 hours, and six billets for the last 30 hours; in all
60 hours. The furnace is then left to cool, care being
taken to stop the air hole with some lute ; and in about
48 hours after, when the kiln is quite cold, the cruci¬
ble is to be withdrawn.
IV. The Compositions, i. For the white diamond :
3 ® 2 Take
G E M
[ 476 1
GEM
Take the base of Mayence. This crystal is very pure,
ami has no colours.
2. Tor the yellow diamond : To an ounce ot the
fourth base, add for colour 25 grains ot luna cornea or
10 grains of glass of antimony.
V For the emerald: 1. To 15 ounces of either ot
the bases, add for colour one drachm of mountain blue
and six grains of glass of antimony, or, 2. To an ounce
of the second base, add for colour 20 grains of glass ot
antimony, and three grains of calx of cobalt.
4. For the sapphire : To 24 ounces of the Mayence
base, add for colour two drachms 46 grains of the calx
of cobalt.
5. For the amethyst : To 24 ounces of the Mayence
base, add for colour four drachms of prepared manganese
and four grains of precipitate of Cassius.
6. For the beryl : To 24 ounces of the third base,
add for colour 96 grains of glass of antimony and four
grains of calx of cobalt.
7. For the black agate : To 24 ounces ot either ot
the bases, add two ounces of the mixture directed
above in par. f.
8. For the opal: To an ounce of the third base, add
for colour 10 grains of luna cornea, two grains of mag¬
net, and 26 grains of absorbent earth.
9. For the oriental topaz : To 24 ounces of the first
or third base, add for colour five drachms of glass of
antimony.
10. For the topaz of Saxony : To 24 of the same
base, add for colour six drachms of the glass ot anti¬
mony.
ix. For the topaz of Brasil : To 24 ounces of the
second or third base, add for colour one ounce 24
grains of the glass of antimony and eight grains of pre¬
cipitate of Cassius.
12. For the hyacinth: To 24 ounces of the base
made with rock crystal, add for colour two drachms 48
trains of glass of antimony.
1^, For the oriental ruby : I- To 16 ounces of the
Mayence base, add for colour a mixture of two drachms
48 grains of the precipitate of Cassius, the same quan¬
tity of crocus Martis prepared in aquafortis, the same
of golden sulphur of antimony and of fusible manganese,
•with the addition of two ounces of mineral crystal : or,
2. To 20 ounces of the base made with flint, add half
an ounce of fusible manganese and two ounces of mine¬
ral crystal.
14. For the balass ruby: 1. To 16 ounces of the
Mayence base, add the above colouring powder, but
diminished a fourth part j or, 2. To 20 ounces of the
base made with flints, add the same colouring powder,
but with a fourth less of the manganese.
The factitious gems are easily distinguished from the
natural^ by their softness and fusibility j by their solu¬
bility in acids *, by their causing only a single refrac¬
tion of the rays of light j and in many cases, by their
specific gravity, which exceeds 2.76 in all precious
gems of the first order, as the diamond, ruby, sap¬
phire, &c.
Imitation of Antique Gems. There has been at dif¬
ferent times a method practised by particular persons
of taking the impressions and figures of antique gems,
with their engravings, in glass of the colour of the ori¬
ginal gem. This has always been esteemed a very va¬
luable method, and greatly preferable to the more or- (
dinary ones of doing it on sealing wax or brimstone;1—
but, to the misfortune of the world, this art being a
secret only in the hands of some particular persons
who got their bread by it, died with them, and every
new artist was obliged to re-invent the method ; till
at length Mr Homberg having found it in great per¬
fection, gave the whole process to the world to be no
more forgotten or lost; and since that time it has been
very commonly practised in France, and sometimes in
other places.
Mr Homberg was favoured in his attempts with all
the engraved gems of the king’s cabinet; and took such
elegant impressions, and made such exact resemblances
of the originals, and that in glasses so artfully tinged
to the colour of the gems themselves, that the nicest
judges were deceived in them, and often took them for
the true antique stones. The counterfeit gems also
serve, as well as the original one, to make more co¬
pies from afterwards; so that there is no end of the
numbers that may be made from one ; and there is
this farther advantage, that the copy may be easily
made perfect, though the original should not be so,
but should have sustained some damage from a blow or
otherwise.
The great care in the operation is to take the im¬
pression of the gem in a very fine earth, anfl to press
down upon this a piece of proper glass, softened or
half melted at the fire, so that the figures of the im-
pression made in the earth may be nicely and perfectly
expressed upon the glass. In general, the whole pro¬
cess much resembles that of the common founders.
But when it is brought to the trial, there is found a
number of difficulties which were not to be foreseen,
and which would not at all affect the common works of
the founder. For this purpose, every earth will serve that
is fine enough to receive the impressions, and tough
enough not to crack in the drying : these all serve lor
their use, because the metals which they cast are of a
nature incapable of mixing with earth, or receiving it
into them, even if both are melted together, so that
the metal always easily and perfectly separates itself
from the mould ; but it is very difficult in these casts
of glass. They are composed of a matter which differs
in nothing from that of the mould, but that it has
been run into this form by the force of fire, and the
other has not yet been so run, but is on any occasion
ready to be so run, and will mix itself inseparably
with the glass in a large fire: consequently, if there
be not great care used, as well in the choice of the
glass as in the manner of using it, when the whole is
finished there will be found great difficulty in the se¬
parating the glass from the mould, and often this
cannot be done without wholly destroying the inv-
pression.
All earths run more or less easily in the fire as they
are more or less mixed with saline particles in their na¬
tural formation. As all salts make earths run into
glass, and as it is necessary to use an earth on this oc¬
casion for the making a mould, it being also necessary
to the perfection of the experiment that this earth
should not melt or run, it is our business to search out
for this purpose some earth which naturally contains
very little salt. Of all the species of earth which Mr
Homberg examined on this occasion, none proved so
much
GEM [ 477 ] - GEM
, much divested of salts, or so fit for the purpose, as the
•—'common tripela, or Tripoli, used to polish glass and
stones. Of this earth there are two common kinds:
the one reddish, and composed of several flakes or stra¬
ta j the other yellowish, and of a simple structure. These
are both to be had in the shops. The latter kind is
from the Levant; the former is found in England,
France, and many other places. The tripela must be
chosen soft and smooth to the touch, and not mixed
with sandy or other extraneous matter. The yellowish
kind is the best of the two, and is commonly called
Venetian tvipoli. This receives the impressions very
beautifully; and never mixes with the glass in the ope¬
ration, which the red kind sometimes does. Mr Hom-
herg usually employed both kinds at once in the fol¬
lowing manner: first powder a quantity of the red
tripela in an iron mortar, and sifting it through a fine
sieve set it by for use; then scrape with a knife, a
qnantity of the yellow tripela into a sort of powder,
and afterwards rub it till very fine in a glass mortar
with a glass pestle. The finer this powder is, the finer
will be the impression, and the more accurately perfect
the cast. The artificer might naturally suppose, that
the best method to obtain a perfect fine powder of this
earth would be by washing it in water; but he must
be cautioned against this. There is naturally in this
yellowish tripoli a sort of unctuosity, which when it is
formed into a mould keeps the granules together, and
gives the whole an uniform glossy surface: now the
washing the powder takes away this unctuosity; and
though it renders it much finer, it makes it leave a
granulated surface, not this smooth one, in the mould ;
and this must render the surface of the cast less smooth.
When the two tripelas are thus separately powder¬
ed, the red kind must be mixed with so much water
as will bring it to the consistence of paste, so that it
may be moulded like a lump of dough between the
fingers; this paste must be put into a small crucible
of a flat shape, and about half an inch or a little more
in depth, and of such a breadth at the surface as is a
little more than that of the stone whose impression is
to be taken. The crucible is to be nicely filled with
this paste lightly pressed down into it, and the sur¬
face of the paste must be strewed over with the fine
powder of the yellow tripela not wetted. When this
is done, the stone, of which the impression is to be taken,
must be laid upon the surface, and pressed evenly down
into the paste with a finger and thumb, so as to make
it give a strong and perfect impression ; the tripela is
then to be pressed nicely even to its sides with the
fingers, or with an ivory knife. The stone must be thus
left a few moments, for the humidity of the paste to
moisten the dry powder of the yellow tripela which is
strewed over it: then the stone is to be carefully raised
by the point of a needle fixed in a handle of wood ; and
the crucible being then turned bottom upwards, it will
fall out, and the impression will remain very beautifully
on the tripoli.
If the sid es of the cavity have been injured in the
falling out of the stone, they may be repaired ; and the
crucible must then be set, for the paste to dry, in a place
where it will not be incommoded by the dust.
The red tripoli being the more common and the
cheaper kind, is here made to fill the crucible only to
save the other, which alone is the substance fit for ta¬
king the impression. When the stone is taken out,
it must he examined, to see whether any thing be lodged
in any part of the engraving, because if there he any
of the tripela left there, there will certainly he so much
wanting in the impression. When the crucible and
paste are dry, a piece of glass must be chosen of a pro¬
per colour, and cut to a size proper for the figure ;
this must be laid over the mould, .but in such a man¬
ner that it does not touch the figures, otherwise it
would spoil them. The crucible is then to be brought
near the furnace by degrees, and gradually heated till
it cannot be touched without burning the fingers ; then
it is to be placed on the furnace under a muffle, sur¬
rounded with charcoal. Several of these small cru¬
cibles may he placed under one muffle; and when they
are properly disposed, the aperture of the muffle should
have a large piece of burning charcoal put to it, and
then the operator is to watch the process, and see when
the glass begins to look bright; this is the signal of
its being fit to receive the impression. The crucible
is then to be taken out of the fire; and the hot glass
must be pressed down upon the mould with an iron in¬
strument to make it receive the regular impression :
as soon as this is done, the crucible is to be set at the
side of the furnace out of the way of the wind, that
it may cool gradually without breaking. When it is
cold, the glass is to be taken out, and its edges should
be grated round with pincers, which will prevent its
flying afterwards, which is an accident that sometimes
happens when this caution has been omitted, especially
when the glass is naturally tender. The different co¬
loured glasses are of different degrees of hardness, ac¬
cording to their composition ; but the hardest to melt
are always the best for this purpose, and this is known
by a fewr trials.
If it be desired to copy a stone in relief which is
naturally in creux, or to take one in creux which is
naturally in relief, there needs no more than to take
an impression first in wax or sulphur, and to mould
that upon the paste of tripela instead of the stone itself;
then proceeding in the manner before directed, the
process will have the desired success.
A more simple and easy method than the above, is
by taking the casts in gypsum, or plaster of Paris as
it is commonly called. For this purpose, the gypsum
must be finely pulverized, and then mixed with clear
water to the consistence of thick cream. This is pour¬
ed upon the face of the gem or seal of which the im¬
pression Is wanted, and which must be previously moist¬
ened with oil to facilitate the separation of the cast;
and in order to confine the liquid plaster, it is only ne¬
cessary to pin a slip of oiled paper round the sides of
the seal by way of a cap or rim. When the plaster is
dry, it is to be taken off, and set before the mouth of
the furnace, in order to free it entirely from moisture;
when it is fit to be used as a matrix in the same w'ay as
that formed with the tripoli earths. Only no crucible or
other receptacle is at all necessary ; the casts being form¬
ed like so many small cakes half an inch thick, and thus
put into the furnace with bits of glass upon them.
The glass, after coming to a proper heat, is pressed
down upon the mould with an iron spatula to receive
the desired impression, the pressure requisite being
more or less according to the size of the stone. This
method has been long practised very successfully, and
with
G E M
[
Gem.
with no small emolument, by that ingenious seal en-
' graver Mr Deuchar of Edinburgh. The only respect
in which it is inferior to the other more operose and ex¬
pensive methods, consists in the chance of air bubbles
arising in pouring on the plaster-, winch chance, how¬
ever, is less in proportion to the fineness of the gypsum
employed. When air bubbles do occur, the casts may
be laid aside, as it is so easy to replace them.
The application of pastes to multiply and preserve
the impressions of camaieux and intaglios, is an object
very interesting to artists and to antiquaries, as well as
to men of learning and taste in the fine arts.
This art, though only lately restored in any degree
of perfection, is of very considerable antiquity. 1 he
great prices which the ancients pa.d for the eiegant
gems engraved by the celebrated Greek artists, could
not but early suggest to them the idea of mult.plying
their numbers, by taking off their impressions in wax,
in sulphur, in plaster, or in clay ; but more particulai y
in coloured glass, or that vitrified substance commonly
called paste* , . .
As the impressions on paste are durable, and imi¬
tate the colours and brilliancy of the original stones,
they serve the same purposes as the gems themselves.
This art was therefore practised not only by the
Greeks, but by all the nations who cultivated Grecian
11 Many of the finest gems of antiquity are now lost,
and their impressions are to be found only on ancient
pa«tes. Great therefore is the value of these pastes.
Numerous collections of them have been formed by
the curious. Instances of this are found in the Flo¬
rentine Musseum, in Stosch’s work on ancient gems
with inscriptions, in Winkelmann’s description of
Stosch’s cabinet, and in the noble collection of Mr
Charles Townley in London..
The art of taking impressions of gems seems not to
have been altogether lost even in the Gothic ages ;
for Heraclius, who probably lived in the ninth century,
and wrote a book De coloribus et artibus Romanorwn,
teaches in very plain though not elegant terms how to
make them. Indeed, some of the few persons who then
possessed this art, taking advantage of the ignorance
of the times, sold pastes for original gems. Ihus the
famous emerald of the abbey of Heichnaw near Con¬
stance, although a present made by Charlemagne, is now
found to be a piece of glass. And thus the.celebrated
emerald vase in the cathedral of Genoa is likewise
found to be a piece of paste (a). The Genoese got
this vase at the taking of Cesarea in the year lioi as
an equivalent for a large sum of money -, nor was any
imposition then suspected, for in the year 1319 they
pawned it for 1200 merks of gold.
But this ingenious art, revived indeed in Italy in the
time of Laurence of Medici and Pope Leo X. was not
cultivated in an extensive manner till the beginning of
the present century, when M. Homberg restored it, as
already mentioned. In this he is said to have been
greatly assisted and encouraged by the then duke of
478 ] GEM
Orleans regent of France, who used to amuse himself c
with that celebrated chemist in taking oft impressions 1—
in paste from the king of trance s, fiom his own, and
other collections of gems.
According to the French Encyclopedists, M. Cla-
chant the elder, an engraver of some note, who died at
Paris in 1781, learned this art from his royal highness,
to whose household his father or he seems to have be-
lono-ed. Mademoiselle Feloix next cultivated this art,
ancf it is believed still carries it on. She had been taught
by her father, who in quality of gar$on de chambre to
the regent had often assisted in the laboratory of his
master, where he acquired this knowledge. Her col¬
lection consists of 1800 articles.
Baron Stosch, a Prussian, who travelled over Europe
in quest of original engraved stones and impressions of
ancient gems for the elegant work which he published
and Picart engraved (b), was well acquainted with this
art. He had taught it to his servant Christian Dehn,
who settled at Rome, where he made and sold his well
known sulphur impressions and pastes. He had.col¬
lected 2500 articles. Dolce has arranged them in a
scientific order, and given a descriptive catalogue of
them.
It was chiefly from Dehn’s collection that the taste
for sulphurs and pastes has become so universal. They
are great objects of study, and often require, much learn¬
ing to explain them. They have unquestionably serv-
ecf to extend and improve the art of engraving on
stones } and have been of infinite use to painters, to
statuaries, and to other artists, as well as to men of
classical learning and fine taste.
It is very difficult to take off impressions, and per¬
fectly to imitate various-coloured cameos. It cannot
be properly done in wax, sulphur, plaster, or glass o
one colour only. The difficulties arising from their size
and form, and from the various nature of the different
sorts of glass which do not well unite into different
strata, are very numerous : nor could the completest
success in this chemical and mechanical branch of the
art produce a tolerable cameo. Impressions or imita¬
tions, if unassisted by the tool of the engraver, do not
succeed : because the undercutting and deep work of
most of the originals require to be filled up with clay
or wax, that the moulds may come off safe without in¬
juring them. Hence the impressions from these moulds
come off hard and destitute of delicacy, sharpness, and
precision of outline, till the underworking ot the
moulder is cut away. But Mr Reiffenstem at Roine,
by his genius, perseverance, and the assistance ot able
artists, has overcome these difficulties •, and has had the
satisfaction of succeeding, and producing variegated
cameos which can hardly be distinguished from the on-
gl Mr Lippart of Dresden, an ingenious glazier, and an
enthusiast in the fine arts, practised this branc 1 no un
successfully ; but not finding sufficient encouragemen
for his pastes of coloured glass, or perhaps from local
difficulties in making them well and cheap, he at>an-
(a) See M. de la Condamine’s Diss. in Memoir, de 1’Acad. Roy. de Paris, 1757.
(b) Gemma; antique coloratse, sculptorum nominibus insigmtoe, sere incisse per Bernardum ncau.
dam. 1724, folio.
Amstelo-
GEM [ 479 ] GEM
doned this art. He substituted in its place impressions
of fine white alabaster or selenite plaster. Such im¬
pressions, when carefully soaked in a solution of white
Castile soap, then dried, and rubbed over with a soft
brush, take a very agreeable polish. They show the
work perhaps to better advantage than red or white
sulphurs do ; but they are not so durable, and are lia¬
ble to be defaced by rubbing.
Of these impressions Mr Lippart published three
different collections, each of them containing 1000
articles; and to the merit of having increased the num¬
ber of Madamoiselle Feloix and Christiano Helm’s
collections, which are all inserted in his, lie added
that of employing two learned Germans to arrange
and describe them. The first thousand were arran¬
ged and described by the late Professor Christ at Leip-
sic, and the second and third thousand by Professor
Heine at Goettingen. Nor did Mr Lippart stop here :
but to make the study of antiquity more easy and ac¬
ceptable to artists, he selected out of the whole collec¬
tion of 3000, a smaller one of 2000 of the best and
more instructive subjects, of which he himself drew
up and published a description in German.
But of all the artists and ingenious men who have
taken impressions of engraved gems in sulphur and in
paste, no one seems to have carried that art to such per¬
fection as Mr James Tassie, a native of Glasgow, who
resided in London from the year 1766 till his death.
His knowledge in various branches of the fine arts,
particularly in that of drawing, naturally led him to
it. The elegant portraits which he modelled in wax,
and afterwards moulded and cast in paste, and which
entirely resemble cameos, are well known to the pub¬
lic.
Mr Tassie, profiting of all the former publications of
this sort, and by expence, industry, and access to many
cabinets in England and other kingdoms to which for¬
mer artists had not obtained admission, was enabled
to inci-ease his collection of impressions of ancient and
modern gems to the number of above 15,000 articles.
It is the greatest collection of this kind that ever ex¬
isted ; and serves for all the purposes of artists, anti¬
quaries, scholars, men of taste, and even philosophers.
The great demand for his pastes was perhaps owing in
the beginning to the London jewellers, who introduced
them into fashion by setting them in rings, seals, brace¬
lets, necklaces, and other trinkets.
The reputation of this collection having reached the
empress of Russia, she was pleased to order a complete
set; which being accordingly executed in the best and
most durable manner, were arranged in elegant cabi¬
nets, and are now placed in the noble apartments of her
imperial majesty’s superb palace at Czarsko Zelo.
Mr Tassie, in executing his commission, availed him¬
self of all the advantages which the improved state of
chemistry, the various ornamental arts, and the know¬
ledge of the age, seemed to afford. The impressions
were taken in a beautiful white enamel composition,
which is not subject to shrink or form air bladders ;
which emits fire when struck with steel, and takes a
fine polish ; and which shows every stroke and touch Qe,n
of the artist in higher perfection than any other sub- jjn
stance. When the colours, mixed colours, and nature Gemara.
of the respective originals, could be ascertained, they v—
were imitated as completely as art can imitate them ;
insomuch that many of the paste intaglios and cameos
in this collection are such faithful imitations, that
artists themselves have owned they could hardly be
distinguished from the originals. And when the colour
and nature of the gems could not be authenticated, the
pastes were executed in agreeable, and chiefly trans-
parent, colours; constant attention being bestowed to
preserve the outlines, extremities, attributes, and in¬
scriptions.
It was the learned Mr Raspe (from whom this ac¬
count (c) is taken) who arranged this great collection,
and made out the descriptive catalogue. His arrange¬
ment is nearly the same with that of the late Abb6
Winkelmann, in his decription of the gems which be¬
longed to Baron Stosch. But as modern works were
inserted in this collection, he found it necessary to
make a few alterations, and added some divisions to
those of M. Winkelmann, as will appear from the fol¬
lowing conspectus, with which we shall conclude this
detail:
I. Ancient Art and Engravings.
Egyptian hieroglyphics, sacred animals, divinities,
priests.
Basilidian, Gnostic, and other talismans, &c.
Oriental and barbarous ancient and modern engra¬
vings.
Greek and Roman original copies, and imitations
(the Etruscan are classed with the Greek works).
A» Mythology or fabulous age. Gods, inferior di¬
vinities, religious ceremonies.
B, Heroic age before the siege of Troy.
C, Siege of Troy.
D, Historic age. Of Carthage, Greece, Rome, sub¬
jects unknown.
E, Fabulous animals and chimeras.
F, Vases and urns.
II. Modern Art and Engravings.
A, Religious subjects.
B, Portraits of kings and sovereigns,
C, Portraits of illustrious men in alphabetical order.
D, Portraits unknown.
E, Bevices and emblems.
F, Cyphers, arms, supporters, and medley of modern
history.
GEMAPPE, a village of Austrian Hainault, three
miles west-by-south ofMons, rendered memorable for
a victory which the French under General Bumourier
obtained over the Austrians, Nov. 5. 1792; in which
the carnage on both sides was so dreadful, that three
coal pits in the vicinity were filled up with the dead
bodies of men and horses.
GEMARA, or Ghemara, the second part of the
Talmud.
The
(c) Account of the present state and arrangement of Mr James Tassie’
irona ancient and modern gems, by R. C. Raspe, London, 1786, 8vo.
s collection of pastes and impressions
GEM
[ 480 ]
GEM
Gemara The word ntna gemara, is commonly supposed to
H denote a supplement*, but in strictness it rather signi-
Geminiani. ges complement, perfection : being formed of the Ghal-
dee ana, gemar, or ghemery “ to finish, perfect, or
complete any thing.” ,.,17
The rabbins call the Pentateuch simply the law *
the first part of the Talmud, which is only an expli¬
cation of that law, or an application thereof to parti¬
cular cases, with the decisions of the ancient rabbins
thereon, they call the Mtsc/ina, i. e. “ second law:
and the scond part, which is a more extensive and am¬
ple exnlication of the same law, and a collection °f de¬
cisions of the rabbins posterior to the Mischna, they
call Gemara, q. d. “ perfection, completion, finishing
because they esteem it the finishing of the law, or an
explication beyond which there is nothing farther to be
'^The Gemara is usually called simply Talmud, the
common name of the whole work. In this sense we
sav there are two Gemaras or Talmuds ; that of Je-
rusalem and that of Babylon : though in strictness^ the
Gemara is only an explication of the Mischna, given
bv the Jewish doctors in their schools: much as the
commentaries of our school divines on St Thomas, or
the master of the sentences, are an explication of the
writings of those authors.
A commentary, Mons. Tillemont observes, was wrote
on the Mischna, by one Johanan, whom the Jews
place about the end of the second century *, but Pa.
Morin proves, from the work itself, wherein mention
Is made of the Turks, that it was not wrote till the
time of Heraclius, or about the year 620 5 and this is
what is called the Gemara, or Talvmd of Jerusalem,
which the Jews do not use or esteem much because of
its obscurity.
They set a much greater value on the Gremara, or
Talmud of Babylon, begun by one Asa ; discontinued
for 73 years, on occasion of the wars with the Saracens
and Persians *, and finished by one Josa, about the close
of the seventh century. See Talmud. . ...
Though the name Talmud, in its latitude, includes
both the Mischna and the two Gemaras, yet it is pro¬
perly that of Asa and Josa alone which is meant under
that name. This the Jews prize above all their other
writings, and even set it on a level with Scripture it¬
self : in effect, they conceive it as the word of God,
derived by tradition from Moses, and preserved with¬
out interruption to their time. R. Jehuda, and after¬
wards R. Johanan, R. Asa, and R. Josa, fearing the
traditions should be lost in the dispersion of the Jews,
collected them into the Mischna and the Gemara. See
CaRAITES and RaBBINISTS.
GEMINI, in Astronomy, the Twins *, a constella¬
tion or sign of the zodiac, the third in order, repre¬
senting Castor and Pollux and it is marked thus, n.
The stars in the sign Gemini, in Ptolemy’s catalogue,
are 25 *, in Tycho’s, 25 j in Hevelius’s, 38 j in the
Britannic catalogue, 85.
GEMINIANI, a celebrated musician and composer,
was born at Lucca in the year 1680. He received his
fust instructions in music from Alessandro Scarlatti *,
and after that became a pupil of Carlo Ambrosio Lu-
nati, surnamed II Gobbo, a most celebrated pei former
on the violin *, after which he became a disciple of Co¬
relli and under him finished his studies on that instru-
3 '
ment. In the year 1714 he came to England ; where Gere
in a short time he so recommended himself by his ex-'—
quisite performance, that all who professed to love and
understand music were captivated with hearing him—
Many of the nobility laid claim to the honour of being
his patrons *, but he seemed chiefly to attach himself
to Baron Kilmansegge, chamberlain to King George I.
as elector of Hanover, and a favourite of that prince.
In 1716, he published and dedicated to his patron 12
sonatas a violino violone e cembalo: the first six with
fugues, or double stops as they are vulgarly called j
the last with airs of various measures, such as alie-
mandes, courantes, and Jiggs. Ibis publication was
so well relished by the baron, that he mentioned Ge-
miniani to the king as an excellent performer 5 in con¬
sequence of which our musician had the honour to per¬
form before his majesty, in concert with the celebrated
Handel, who played on the harpsichord. But though
Geminiani was exceedingly admired, yet he had not
a talent at associating music w’ith poetry, nor do we
find that he ever became a public performer: he
was therefore obliged to depend for his subsistence
on the friendship of his patrons and the profits which
accrued to him from teaching. He had also the
misfortune to be an enthusiast in painting *, and the
versatility of his temper was such, that, in order to
gratify this passion, he not only suspended his studies,
and neglected to exercise his talents, but involved him*
self in debts. In 1727, he was offered the place of
master and composer of the state music in Ireland j
but this could not be conferred on a Catholic, and Ge-
miniani refused to change his religion : upon which it
was given to Matthew Dubourg, a young man who
had been one of his pupils, and was a celebrated per¬
former on the violin. Geminiani then set himself to
compose parts to the opera quinta of Corelli ; or, in
other words, to make concertos of the first six of his
solos. This work he completed, and, with the help
of a subscription, at the head of which were the names
of the royal family, published in 1726. In I73^>
published his opera seconda, which contains a celebrated
minuet that goes by his name. He published many
other pieces, the profits of which did not much mend
his circumstances ; but this perhaps was owing to bis
rambling disposition and enthusiastic fondness of paint¬
ing. He was also an utter stranger to the business
of an orchestra, and had no idea of the labour and
pains necessary in the instruction of singers for the per¬
formance of music to which they were strangers. The
consequence of this was, that a concerto, spirituale, which
he had advertised for his own benefit in 1748, failed in
the performance. The audience, however, compassion¬
ated his distress, and sat very silent till the books were
changed ; when the performance was continued with
compositions of the author’s own, and which he exe¬
cuted in such a maimer as was never forgotten. Ihe
profits arising from this performance enabled him to
take a journey to Paris ; where he staid long enough
to get plates engraven for a score of solos, and the par s
of two operas of concertos. About the year 1755 16
returned to England, and advertised them for sale.—
In 1761 Geminiani went over to Ireland; and was
kindly entertained there by Mr Matthew Du ®urS»
who had been his pupil, and was then master ot t e
king’s band in Ireland. This person through ie
° course
GEM
uiani, course of his life had ever been disposed to render him
•ima.’ friendly offices ; and it was but a short time after Ge-
miniani’s arrival at Dublin that he was called upon to
do him the last. It appears that Geminiani had spent
many years in compiling an elaborate treatise on music,
which he intended for publication j but soon after his
arrival at Dublin, by the treachery of a female ser¬
vant, who, it was said, was recommended to him for
no other end than that she might steal it, it was con¬
veyed away, and could not be recovered. The great¬
ness of this loss, and his inability to repair it, made a
deep impression on his mind $ and, as it is conjectured,
hastened his end; at least he survived it but a short
time, ending his days on the 17th of September 1762.
The following list comprises the whole of his publica¬
tions, except two or three articles of small account:
Twelve solos for a violin, opera prima ; six concertos
in seven parts, opera seconda ,* six concertos in seven
parts, opera ter%a; twelve solos for a violin, opera
quaj'ta; six solos for a violoncello, opera quinta $ the
same made into solos for a violin: six concertos from
his opera quarto ; six concertos in eight parts, opera
settima ; rules for playing in taste j a treatise on good
taste j the art of playing the violin; 12 sonatas from
his first solos, opera undecima ; Eipieno parts to ditto;
lessons for the harpsichord; Guido Armonica; supple¬
ment to ditto ; the art of accompaniment, two books ;
his first two operas of concertos in score ; and the En¬
chanted Forest.—Of his solos the opera prima is esteem¬
ed the best. Of his concertos some are excellent, others
of them scarce pass the bounds of mediocrity. The
sixth of the third opera not only surpasses all the rest,
but, in the opinion of the best judges of harmony, is
the finest instrumental composition extant.
GEMMA, or Bud, in Botany: a compendium or
epitome of a plant, seated upon the stem and branches,
and covered with scales, in order to defend the tender
rudiments enclosed from cold and other external injuries,
till, their parts being unfolded, they acquire strength,
and render any further protection unnecessary.
Buds, together with bulbs, which are a species of
buds generally seated upon or near the root, constitute
that part of the herb called by Linnaeus hybernacula;
that is, the winter quarters of the future vegetable: a
very proper appellation, as it is during that severe
season that the tender rudiments are protected in the
manner just mentioned.
Plants, considered in analogy to animals, may pro¬
bably enough be reckoned both viviparous and ovipa¬
rous. Seeds are the vegetable eggs; buds, living
fetuses, or infant plants, which renew the species as
certainly as the seeds.
Buds are placed at the extremity of the young shoots,
and along the branches, being fixed by a short foot¬
stalk upon a kind of brackets, the remainder of the
leaves, in the wings or angles of which the buds in
question were formed the preceding year. They are
sometimes placed^ single ; sometimes two by two, and
those either opposite or alternate ; sometimes collected
m greater numbers in whirls or rings.
^ ith respect to their construction, buds are com¬
posed of several parts artificially arranged. Externally,
we find a number of scales that are pretty hard, fre¬
quently armed with hairs, hollowed like a spoon, and
placed oyer each other like tiles. These scales are
^ ol. IX, Part II. f
[ 481 ]
GEM
fixed into the inner plates of the bark, of which thev
appear to be a prolongation. Their use is to defend v
the internal parts of the bud; which, being unfolded
will produce, some, flowers, leaves, and stipulm; others’
footstalks and scales. All these parts, while they re¬
main in the bud, are tender, delicate, folded over each
other, and covered with a thick clammy juice, which
is sometimes resinous and odoriferous, as in the taca-
mahac tree. This juice serves not only to defend the
more tender parts of the embryo plant from cold, the
assaults of insects, and other external injuries ; but
likewise from excessive perspiration, which, in its
young and infant state, would be very destructive. It
is conspicuous in the buds of horse chesnut, poplar, and
willow trees.
In general, we may distinguish three kinds of buds;
that containing the flower, that containing the leaves,
and that containing both flower and leaves.
The first, termed gemma fiorifera, and by the French
bouton afleur or a fruit, contains the rudiments of one
or several flowers, folded over each other, and surround¬
ed with scales. In several trees, this kind of bud
is commonly found at the extremity of certain small
branches, which are shorter, rougher, and less gar¬
nished with leaves, than the rest. The external scales
of this species of bud are harder than the internal;
both are furnished with hairs, and in general more
swelled than those of the second sort. The bud con¬
taining the flower too is commonly thicker, shorter, al¬
most square, less uniform, and less pointed ; being ge¬
nerally terminated obtusely. It is called by Pliny
oculus gemma; and is employed in that species of
grafting called mocuIatio?i, or budding.
The second species of bud, viz. that containing the
leaves,termed and by the French bouton
a feuilles or a bois, contains the rudiments of several
leaves, which are variously folded over each other, and
outwardly surrounded by scales, from which the small
stipulas tnat are seated on the foot of the young branches
are chiefly produced. These buds are commonly more
pointed than the former sort. In the hazel nut, how¬
ever, they are perfectly round ; and in horse chesnut,
very thick.
The. third sort of bud is smaller than either of the
preceding; and produces both flowers and leaves,
though not always in the same manner. Sometimes
the flowers and leaves are unfolded at the same time.
This mode of the flower and leaf hud is termed by
Linnaeus gemma folifera et jiorifera. Sometimes the
leaves proceed or emerge out of this kind of bud upon
a small branch, which afterwards produces flowers,
This mode of the flower and leaf bud is termed by
Linnaeus gemma folifera Jiorfera, and is the most com¬
mon bud of any.
Such buds as produce branches adorned only with
leaves, are called bai'ren; such as contain both leaves
and Rowers, fertile. From the bulk of the bud we
may often with ease foretel whether it contains leaves
only, or leaves and flowers together, as in cherry and
pear trees.
Neither the buds produced on or near the root,
called by some authors turiones, nor those produced on
the trunk, and from the angles or wings of the leaves,
contain, in strict propriety, an entire delineation of the
plant: since the roots are wanting; and in various
3 P buds,
Gemma.
GEM
[ 482 ]
GEN
Gemma.
buds, as we have seen, shoots are contained with
1 leaves only, and not with flowers : but as a branch
may bo considered as a part similar to the whole plant,
and, if planted, would in process of revegetation ex¬
hibit or produce roots and flowers, we may in general
allow, that the bud contains the whole plant, or the
principles of the whole plant, which may be unfolded
ad libitum; and thus resembles the seed, in containing
a delineation of the future plant in embryo : for a -
though the bud wants a radicle, or plumula, of which
the seed is possessed, yet it would undoubtedly form
one, if planted in the earth. But as the medullary
part adhering to the bud is too tender, and by the
abundance of juice flowing into it from the earth would
be disposed to putrefaction, the buds are not planted
in the soil, but generally inserted within the bark of
another tree J yet placed so that the production of the
marrow, or pith, adhering to them may he inserted
into the pith of the branch in which the fissure or cleft
is made *, by which means there is a large communica¬
tion of juice. This propagation by gems or buds
called inoculation, is commonly practised with the hrst
sort of buds above described.
From the obvious uses of the buds, we may collect
the reason why the Supreme Author of nature has
o-ranted this sort of protection to most of the trees that
are natives of cold climates : and, on the other hand,
denied it to such as, enjoying a warm benign atmo¬
sphere, have not the tender parts of their embryo
shoots exposed to injuries and depredations from the
severities of the weather. Of this latter kind are the
plants of the following list 5 some of them very large
trees; others smaller woody vegetables, of the shrub
and under-shrub kind : Citron, orange, lemon, cassava,
mock orange, blad apple, shrubby swallow-wort, alater-
nns, shrubby geraniums, berry-bearing alder, Christ’s
thorn, Syrian mallow, boabab or Ethiopian sour
gourd, justicia, mild sena, the acacias and sensitive
plant, coral tree, stinking bean trefoil, medicago,
oleander, viburnum, sumach, ivy, tamarisk, heath,
Barbadoes cherry, lavatera, rue, shrubby nightshade,
Guinea henweed, cypress, lignum vitoe, and savine, a
species of juniper.
On annual plants, whose root as well as stalk perishes
after a year, true buds are never produced j in their
stead, however, are produced small branches, like a
little feather, from the wings of the leaves, which
wither without any farther expansion if the plants climb
and have no lateral branches \ but if, either by their
own nature or from abundance of sap, the plants be¬
come branched, the ramuli just mentioned obtain an
increase similar to that of the whole plant.
The same appearance obtains in the trees of warm
countries, such as those enumerated in the above list, in
which a plumula, or small feather, sends forth branches
without a scaly covering-, as, in such countries, this
tender part requires no defence or protection from cold.
A scaly covering then is peculiar to buds, as it protects
ihe tender embryo enclosed from all external injuries.
When we therefore speak of trees having buds that are
naked or without scales, our meaning is the same as if
we had said that they have no buds at all.
The buds that are to be unfolded the following
year, break forth from the evolved buds of the present
year, in such a manner as to put on the appearance
of small eminences in the wings or angles of the leaves. Ge,
These eminences or knots grow but little during the j
summer j as, in that season, the sap is expended on the penii
increase of the parts of the plant : but in autumn,
when the leaves begin to wither and fall olF, the buds,
placed on the wings, increase ; and the embryo plant
contained in the bud is so expanded, that the leaves and
flowers, the parts to be evolved the following year, are
distinctly visible. Thus in horse chesnut the leaves,
and in cornel tree the flowers, are each to be observed
in their respective buds.
As each bud contains the rudiments of a plant, and
would, if separated from its parent vegetable, become
every way similar to it; Linnaeus, to show the wonder¬
ful fertility of nature, has made a calculation, by which
it appears^ that, in a trunk scarcely exceeding a span in
breadth, io,oco buds (that is, herbs) maybe produced.
What an infinite number, then, of plants might be
raised from a very large tree !
GEMMATIO, from gemma, “ a bud a term used
by Linnaeus, expressive of the form of the buds, their
origin, and their contents. It includes both those pro¬
perly called buds, and those which are seated at the
roots, styled bulbs.
As to the origin of buds, they are formed either of
the footstalks of°the leaves, of stipulae, or of scales of
the bark. Their contents have been already discovered,
in the preceding article, to be either flowers, leaves, or
both.
GEMONIiE scal®, or Gradus Gemonit, among
the Romans, was much the same as gallows or gibbet
in England.—Some say they were thus denominated
from the person who raised them; others, from the
first criminals that suffered on them ; and others, from
the verb gemo, “ I sigh or groan.”
The gradus gemonii, according to Publius Victor or
Sextus Rufus, was a place raised on several steps, from
whence they precipitated their criminals ; others re¬
present it as a place whereon oflfenders were executed,
and afterwards exposed to public view. The gemonus
scalce were in the tenth region of the city, near the
temple of Juno. Camillus first appropriated the place
to this use, in the year of Rome 358.
GENDARMES, or Gens d’ahmes, in the French
armies, a denomination given to a select body of horse,
on account of their succeeding the ancient gendarmes,
who were thus called from their being completely
clothed in armour ; (see Scots Gendarmes, infra.)
These troops were commanded by captain lieutenants,
the king and the princes of the blood being their
captains; the king’s troop, besides a captain-lieute¬
nant, had two sublieutenants, three ensigns, and three
guidons.
Grand Gendarmes, latterly were a troop composed
of 250 gentlemen ; the king himself was their captain,
and one of the first peers their captain-lieutenant, who
had under him two lieutenants, three ensigns, three
o-uidons, and other officers.
Small Gendarmes, were the Scots gendarmes, the
queen’s, the dauphin’s, the gendarmes of Anjou, Bur¬
gundy, the English and Flemish gendarmes, having
each a captain lieutenant, sub-lieutenant, ensign, gui¬
don, and quarter-master.
Scots Gendarmes, were originally instituted by
Charles VIL of France, about the middle of the 15!
century,
rmes
(JEN [483]/ GEN
century, and formed a part of his guard j in which that the candidates produce their genealogy, to show Gcnedo-
fiogy*
station also they acted under other princes. It was their that they are noble by so many descents " II
prerogative to take precedence of all the companies of GENEALOGICA arbor, or Tree of Consaneui General,
the srendarmene or I ranee; and. on narticular orra- mitn clunlfioo « I— i:„  1 . ' ■ ■■   
•«/
the gendarmerie of France ; and, on particular occa¬
sions, they even preceded the two companies of the
king’s mousquetaires. The sons of the Scottish mo-
narchs were the usual captains of this company j and,
after Mary’s accession to the throne, its command
belonged to them as a right. It was thence that
James VI. made a claim of it for his son Prince Henry.
This honour, and its emoluments, were also enjoyed
by Charles I. and the next in command to this prince
was Louis Stuart duke of Lennox. George Gordon
marquis of Huntly, succeeded the duke of Lennox in
the year 1624, and took the title of captain or com¬
mander in chief when Charles I. mounted the English
throne. It is not certain whether Charles II. was ever
captain of this company ; but it was conferred on his
brother the duke of York, who was captain of the
Scots gendarmes till the year 1667, 'vhen I‘e resigned
his commission into the hands of the French king.
Since that time no native of Great Britain has enjoyed
this command. See Scots Guards.
All the diflerent gendarmeries are now abolished, in
consequence of the reforming systems that have lately
taken place in France.
GENDER, among grammarians, a division of nouns,
or names, to distinguish the two sexes.
This was the original intention of gender: but after¬
wards other words, which had no proper relation either
to one sex or the other, had genders assigned them,
rather out of caprice than reason 5 which is at length
established by custom. Hence genders vary according
to the languages, or even according to the words in¬
troduced from one language into another. Thus, arbor
in Latin is feminine, but arbre in French is masculine j
dens in Latin is masculine, but dent in French is
feminine.
The oriental languages frequently neglect the use of
genders, and the Persian language has none at all.
The Latins, Greeks, &c. generally content them¬
selves to express the different genders by different ter¬
minations ; as bonus equus^ “ a good horse j” bona equa,
“ a good mare,” &c. But in English we frequently
go further, and express the difference of sex by differ¬
ent words : as boar, sow ; boy, girl j buck, doe $ bull,
Cow; cock, hen j dog, bitch, &c.—We have only
about 24 feminines, distinguished from the males, by
the variation of the termination of the male into m;
of which number are abbot, abbess j count, countess ;
actor, actress $ heir, heiress $ prince, princess, &c.
which is all that our language knows of any thing like
genders.
The Greek and Latin, besides the masculine and
feminine, have the neuter, common, and the doubtful
gender; and likewise the epicene, or promiscuous,
which under one single gender and termination includes
both the kinds.
GENEALOGY, an enumeration of a series of an¬
cestors ; or a summary account of the relations and al¬
liances of a person or family, both in the direct and
collateral line.
The word is Greek, 5 which is formed of
V*mj, “ race or lineage,” and Aoyaj, “ discourse.”
In divers chapters and military orders, it is required,
mtjj, signifies a genealogy or lineage drawn out under
the figure of a tree, with its root, stock, branches,
&c. The genealogical degrees are usually represented
in circles, ranged over, under, and aside each other.
This the Greeks called stemmata, a word signifying
crown, garland, or the like. See the articles Con¬
sanguinity and Descent, and the plates there re¬
ferred to.
GENEP, a strong town of Germany, in the circle
of Westphalia, subject to the king of Prussia. E. Long.
4. 29. N. Lat. 51. 42.
GENERAL, an appellation given to whatever be¬
longs to a whole genus.
General Assembly. See Assembly.
General Charge, in Law. See Charge to enter
Heir.
General Terms, among logicians, those which are
made the signs of general ideas. See Logic and Me¬
taphysics.
General Warrant. See Warrant.
General of an Army, in the art of W^ar, he who
commands in chief. See the article W7ar, where his
office and duties are particularly explained.
General of the Artillery. See Ordnance.
General of Horse, and General of Foot, are posts
next under the general of the army, and these have
upon all occasions an absolute authority over all the
horse and foot in the army.
Adjutant General, one who attends the general,
assists in council, and carries the general’s orders to
the army. He distributes the daily orders to the ma¬
jors of brigade. He is likewise charged with the ge¬
neral detail of the duty of the army. The majors of
brigade send every morning to the adjutant general
an exact return, by battalion and company, of the
men of his brigade. In a day of battle the adjutant
general sees the infantry drawn up; after which, he
places himself by the general, to receive any orders
which may regard the corps of which he has the de¬
tail. In a siege, he orders the number of workmen
demanded, and signs the warrant for their payment.
He receives the guards of the trenches at their ren¬
dezvous, and examines their condition 5 he gives and
signs all orders for parties. He has an orderly ser-
jeant from each brigade of infantry in the line, to
carry such orders as he may have occasion to send from
the general.
Lieutenant General, is the next in command after
the general; and provided he should die or be killed,
the order is, that the oldest lieutenant general shall take
the command. This office is the first military dignity
after that of general. One part of their function is,
to assist the general with their counsel : they ought
therefore, if possible, to possess the same qualities with
the general himself $ and the more, as they often com¬
mand armies in chief.
The number of lieutenant generals has been mul¬
tiplied of late in Europe, in proportion as the armies
have become numerous. They serve either in the field,
or in sieges, according to the dates of their commissions.
In battle, the oldest commands the right wing of the
army, the second the left wing, the third the centre,
3 P * the
GEN [
the fourth the right wing of the second line, the fifth
the left wing, the sixth the centre ; and so on. In
sieges, the lieutenant generals always command the
right of the principal attack, and order what they judge
proper for the advancement of the siege during the 24
hours they are in the trenches : except the attacks,
which they are not to make without an order from the
general in chief.
Lieutenant General of the Ordnance, bee Ord¬
nance.
Lieutenant General of Artillery, is, or ought to be,
a very great mathematician, and an able engineer 5 to
know'all the powers of artillery ; to understand the at¬
tack and defence of fortified places, in all its different
branches-, how to dispose of the artillery in the day of
battle to the best advantage ; to conduct its march and
retreat 5 as also to be well acquainted with all the nu¬
merous apparatus belonging to the train, and to the la¬
boratory, &c.
Major General, the next officer to the lieutenant
general. His chief business is to receive orders from
the general, or in his absence from the lieutenant gene¬
ral of the day; which he is to distribute to the brigade
majors, with whom he is to regulate the guards, con¬
voys, detachments, &c. On him rests the whole fa¬
tigue and detail of duty of the army roll. It is the ma¬
jor general of the day who is charged with the encamp¬
ment of the army, who places himself at the head of it
when they march, who marks out the ground of the
camp to the quartermaster general, and who places the
new guards for the safety of the camp.
The day the army is to march, he dictates to the
field officers the order of the march, which he has re¬
ceived from the general, and on other days gives them
the parole.
In a fixed camp he is charged with the foraging,
with reconnoitring the ground for it, and posting the
escorts, &c.
In sieges, if there are two separate attacks, the se¬
cond belongs to him but if there is but one, he takes,
either from the right or left of the attack, that which
the lieutenant general has not chosen.
When the army is under arms, he assists the lieute¬
nant general, whose orders he executes.
If the army marches to an engagement, his post is at
the head of the guards of the army, until they are near
enough to the enemy to rejoin their different corps j af¬
ter which he retires to his own proper post: for the
major generals are disposed on the order of battle as the
lieutenant generals are ; to whom, however, they are
subordinate, for the command of their divisions. The
major-general has one aid-de-camp, paid for executing
his orders.
General is also used for a particular march, or
beat of drum j being the first which gives notice, com¬
monly in the morning early, for the infantry to be in
readiness to march.
General is likewise an appellation by which offi¬
cers in law, in the revenues, &c. are distinguished 5 as
attorney general, solicitor general, &c. receiver gene¬
ral, comptroller general, &c. See Attorney, &c.
GENERAL is also used for the chief of an order of
monks, or of all the houses and congregations establish¬
ed under the same rule. Thus we say, the general of
the Franciscans, Cistertians, &c.
]
GEN
Gc : a.
til 1
GENERALISSIMO, called also captain general, GemJ
and simply general, is an officer who commands all the sii l
military powers of a nation who gives orders to all the
other general officers j and receives no orders himself
but from the king. u
M. Balzac observes, that the cardinal de Richelieu
first coined this word, of his own absolute authority,
upon his going to command the French army in Italy.
GENERATE, in Music, is used to signify the ope¬
ration of that mechanical power in nature, which every
sound has in producing one or more different sounds.
Thus any given sound, however simple, produces along
with itself, its octave, and two other sounds extreme¬
ly sharp, viz. its twelfth above, that is to say, the oc¬
tave of its fifth 5 and the other the seventeenth above,
or, in other words, the double octave of its third
major.
Whether we suppose this procreation of sounds to
result from an aptitude in the texture and magnitude
of certain particles in the air, for conveying to our
ears vibrations that bear those proportions, one to ano¬
ther, as being determined at once by the partial and
total oscillations of any musical string j or from what¬
ever economy of nature we choose to trace it j the
power of one sound thus to produce another, when in
action, is said to generate. The same word is applied,
by Signior Tartini and his followers, to any two sounds
which, simultaneously heard, produce a third.
GENERATED, or Genited, is used, by some
mathematical winters, for whatever is produced, either
in arithmetic, by the multiplication, division, or ex¬
traction of roots; or in geometry, by the invention of
the contents, areas, and sides ; or of extreme and mean
proportionals, without arithmetical addition and sub¬
traction.
GENERATING line, or Figure, in Geometry,
is that which, by its motion of revolution, produces any
other figure, plane or solid. See Genesis.
GENERATION, in Physiology, the act of procre¬
ating and producing a being similar to the parent. See
Anatomy, N° i57.
Generation of Fishes. See Comparative Ana¬
tomy, N° 304, and Ichthyology.
Generation of Plants. See Botany.
Generation of Insects. See Comparative Ana¬
tomy, p. 312, and Entomology, p. 234.
Parts of Generation. See Anatomy, N° 157.
Generation, in Mathematics, is used for formation
or production. Thus we meet with the generation of
equations, curves, solids, &c.
Generation, in Theology. The Father is said by
some divines to have produced his Word or Son from
all eternity, by way of generation ; on which occasion
the word generation raises a peculiar idea : that proces¬
sion, which is really effected in the way of understand¬
ing, is called generation, because, in virtue thereof, the
Word becomes like to him from whom he takes this ori¬
ginal } or, as St Paul expresses it, is the figure or image
of his substance, i. e. of his being and nature. And
hence it is, they say, that the second Person in the Tri¬
nity is called the Son.
Generation is also used, though somewhat impro¬
perly, for genealogy, or the series of children issued
from the same stock. Thus the gospel of St Matthew
commences with the book of the generation of Jesus
Christ,
it ion
° E ,N C 435 ] GEN
x„e latter and more aeon,ate tran.Iatore, tlte general defection and corrnptlon „f lhe worId . tl,e
Christ, &c.
instead a?generation use the word genealogy.
iS' Generation is also used to signify a people, race
—'or nation, especially in the literal translations of the*
Scripture, where the word generally occurs wherever
the Latin has gene ratio, and the Greek ymm. Thus,
“ A wicked and perverse generation seeketli a sign,”’
&c. One generation passes away, and another
cometh,” &e.
Generation is also used in the sense of an a^e, or
the ordinary period of man’s life. Thus we say^ “ to
the third and fourth generation.” In this sense histo-
rians usually reckon a generation the space of 33 years
oi- thereabouts. See Age.
Herodotus makes three generations in a hundred
years j which computation appears from the latter au¬
thors of political arithmetic to be pretty just.
GENERATOR, in Music, signifies the principal
sound or sounds by which others are produced. Thus
the lowest C for the treble of the harpsichord, besides
its octave, will strike an attentive ear with its twelfth
above, or G in alt, and with its seventeenth above, or
E m ait. i he G, therefore, is called their generator,
the kj and E its products or harmonics. But in the
approximation of chords, for G, its octave below is sub¬
stituted, which constitutes a fifth from the generator,
or lowest C j and for E, is likewise substituted its fif¬
teenth below, which, with the above-mentioned C,
forms a third major. To the lowest notes, therefore,
exchanged for those in alt by substitution, the deno-
miaations of products or harmonics are likewise given,
whilst the G retains the name of their generator. But
still a«.coiding to the system of I’artini, two notes in
concord, which when sounded produce a third, may be
termed the concurring generators of that third. (See
Generation Harmonique, par M. Rameau ; see also that
delineation of Tartini’s system called The Power and
Irincipies of Harmony.
GENERICAL NAME, in Natural History, the word
used to signify all the species of natural bodies, which
agree in certain essential and peculiar characters, and
therefore all of the same family or kind 5 so that the
word used as the generical name equally expresses every
one of them, and some other words expressive of the
peculiar qualities or figures of each are added, in order
to denote them singly, and make up what is called the
specific name. See Botany and Natural History.
ENESIS, the first book of the Old Testament,
containing the history of the creation, and the lives of
the first patriarchs.
The book of Genesis stands at the head of the Pen¬
tateuch. Its author is held to be Moses: it contains
the relation of 2369 years, viz. from the beginning of
the world to the death of Joseph. The Jews are for¬
bidden to read the beginning of Genesis, and the be¬
ginning of Ezekiel, before 30 years of age.
The Hebrews call this book Bereschith, because it
oegins with that word, which in their language signi-
nes m principio, or “ in the heo-i'nnmn- » T!m Greeks
deluge; the restoratio,, ^11^ GTis
and peopling ot the earth ; and the history of the CcnUa.
rst patriarchs to the death of Joseph. It was easy for 1   
Moses to be satisfied of the truth of what he delivers
in this book, because it came down to him thromd,
a few bands • for from Adam to Noah there was one
man, viz. Methuselah, who lived so long as to see them
jot,!: in like manner Shem conversed with Noah and
Abraham $ Isaac with Abraham and Joseph, from
whom the records of this book might easily be convey¬
ed to Moses by Amram, who was contemporary with
Joseph.
Genesis, in Geometry, denotes the formation of a
me, plane, or solid, by the motion or flux of a point
line, or surface. See Fluxions. ’
. J ile Senesis °r formation, e. gr. of a globe or sphere,
is conceived by supposing a semicircle to revolve upon
aright line, drawn from one extreme thereof to the
other, called its axis, or axis of circumvolution : the
motion or revolution of that semicircle is the genesis-
ot the sphere, &c.
In the genesis of figures, &e. the line or surface that
moves is called the describent; and the line round
which or according to which, the revolution or motion
is made, the dingent.
GENET Gennet, or Jennet, in the manege, de-
notes a smak-sized well-proportioned Spanish ho°rse.
Lo ride a la genette, is to ride after the Spanish fa¬
shion, so short, that the spurs bear upon the horse’s
GENETHLIA, in antiquity, a solemnity kept in
memory of some person deceased.
GENETHLIACI, in Astrology, persons who erect
horoscopes or pretend to foretel what shall befal a man
by means of the stars which presided at his nativity ‘
Ihe word is formed of the Greek origin, vene¬
ration, nativity. * , > a
The ancients called them Chaldcei, and by the gene¬
ral name mathematici: accordingly, the several civil and
canon laws, which we find made against the mathema¬
ticians, only respect the genethUaci or astrologers.
Ihey were expelled Rome by a formal decree of the
senate ; and yet found so much protection from the cre¬
dulity of the people, that they remained therein un¬
molested. Hence an ancient author speaks of them
as hominum genus quod in civitate nostra semper et
vetabitur et retinebetur.
GENRT1E, in Zoology. See Viterra, Mam¬
malia Index.
GENEVA, a city of Switzerland, on the confines
of France and Savoy, situated in 6° 9' E. Long, and
46 129 N. Lat. It stands on the banks of the river
Rhone, just at the place where the latter issues from
the lake which takes its name from the city : and part
°f if p3 f-c V” aj 1Sland in the river* Ifc is handsome,
well fortified and pretty large j the streets in general
are clean and well paved, but the principal one is en¬
cumbered with a row of shops on each side between
. '“Principio, or “ in the beginning.” Tire v^-ccks
i the propagation of mankind; the rise of religion; stone', withkaaements^of CLVtr gSHert.fp^;
ridges.
r F N [ 4s6 ] GEN
, . t;nne(l those inhabitants, who possess add.tmnal advantages. Gen
ridges, and outward ornaments being made ot are very active and industrious, carrying^
iron. Some of them have arched „„PfxL „8ive commerce. ,
This city is remarkable for the number of learned Statei
* « c .1 ,1. 4-..t^^ learnt
...
borne oi tnem udv .
front. The place called Treble .s very Bgreeahlc, be-
inn planted with linden trees, and commanding a f
“T"rs from the Glaciers. The Rhone ,s quite clear
and transparent, so that the muddy water ot the An e
“s d stinguishabie from it even after they have flowed
ftr several miles together.. There are yotu bndg
over the Rhone before it joins the Arve, nnd fi
city is supplied with water by means of an hy¬
draulic'machine, which raises it
its level. The principal buildings are, x. I he mar. o
de ville, or tcwnhouse, a plain ancient edifice, wi
Hrue rooms, in which the councils assemble, and pu
ic entertainments are held ; and in one of them a week-
iv concert is held by subscription during the winter.
The ascent to the upper story is not by steps but a
paved acclivity : which, however, is s° Sentle’
horses and mules can go up to the top. 2. Ihe
church of St Peter’s, formerly the cathedral, is an an¬
cient Gothic building, with a modern portico of seven
lar^e Corinthian columns of red and white marble fiom
Roche. The only thing remarkable in the inside is
the tomb of Henry duke of Rohan. 3- The arsenal is
in good order, and supplied with arms sufficient for
12000 men. There are many ancient suits of ar¬
mour 5 and the scaling ladders, lanthorns, hatchets, &c.
used bv the Savoyards in their treacherous attempt on
the city in the year 1602, to be afterwards noticed, arc
h re preserved: The magazines contain HO cannon,
be ides mortars. 4- The hospital is a large handsome
bu ding, by which and other charities near 4000 poor
people are maintained. 5- The fortifications on the
sideP of Savoy are of the modern construction, but are
commanded by some neighbouring grounds. On the
of France7they are old fashioned, and at any rate
are rather calculated to prevent a surprise than to sus¬
tain a regular siege. There are three gates, towards
France, Savoy, and Switzerland j and the access to the
lake is guarded by a double jetty and chain. .
The territory belonging to this city contains about
seven square leagues, and is divided into nine pa¬
rishes ; the town is by far the most populous in Swit¬
zerland, but less so than it was before the French re¬
volution, the number of inhabitants being now about
92 800. It has a small district dependent on it, but
this does not contain above l6,oco. The adjacent coun¬
try is extremely beautiful, and has many magnificent
views arising from the different positions of the nume¬
rous hills and mountains with regard to the town and
lake The inhabitants were formerly distinguished in¬
to four classes, viz. citizens, burgesses, inhabitants, and
natives; and since the revolution in 1782, a fifth class
named domicilius, has been added, who annually re¬
ceive permission from the magistrates to reside in the
city. The citizens and burgesses alone, however, are
admitted to a share in the government j those called
Mitants are strangers allowed to settle in the town
with certain privileges 5 and the natives are the sons of
men it has produced. The reformed doctnnes ot rehJe™
o-ion were very early received in it, being preached
there in 1533 by William Farel and Peter Viret of
Orbe and afterwards finally established by the celebra¬
ted John Calvin. Of this reformer Voltaire observes,
that he gave his name to the religious doctrines first
broached by others, in the same manner that Americas
Vesputius gave name to the continent ot America,
which had formerly been discovered by Columbus. It
was bv the assiduity of this celebrated reformer, and
the influence that he acquired among the citizens,
that a public academy was first established in t.ie city,
where he, Theodore Beza, and some of the more emi¬
nent first reformers, read lectures with uncommon sue
cess. The intolerant spirit of Calvin is well known ;
but little of it now appears in the government ot Ce-
neva: on the contrary, it is the most tolerating of all
the estates in Switzerland, being the only one of them
which permits the public exercise of the Lutheran re-
liaion. The advantages of the academy at Geneva are
very conspicuous among the citizens at this day, even
the lower class of them being exceedingly well inform¬
ed ; so that, according to Mr Coxe, there is not a city
in Europe where learning is so generally diffused. 1
received great satisfaction (says he) in conversing even
with several tradesmen upon topics both of literature
and politics j and was astonished to find 111 this class
of men so uncommon a share of knowledge •, but the
wonder ceases when W’e are told that all of them were
educated at the public academy.” In this seminary
the industry and emulation of the student are excite
by the annual distribution of prizes to those who di¬
stinguish themselves in each class. The prizes consis
of small medals, hut are conferred with such solemnity
as cannot fail to produce a striking effect on the minds
of youth. There is also a public library to which the
citizens have access, and which undoubtedly tends
greatly to that universal diffusion of learning so re¬
markable among the inhabitants. It was founded by
Bonnivard, remarkable for his sufferings in the cause
of the liberties of his country. Having been a great
antagonist of the dukes of Savoy, against whom he as¬
serted the independence of Geneva, he had the mis¬
fortune at last to be taken prisoner, and was ^prison¬
ed for six years in a dungeon below the .evel of
lake, in the castle of Chillon, which stands on a rock m
the lake, and is connected with the land by a draw¬
bridge. In 1C36 this castle was taken from Charles II *
of Savoy by the canton of Berne, assisted by the Gene¬
vans, who furnished a frigate (their whole naval force)
to besiege it by water. Bonnivard was now taken fr0™
his dungeon, where by constant walking ac vva^
forward, his only amusement, he had worn a hollow
in the floor which consisted of solid rock. Bonn.va d
considered the hardships he had endured as ties which
endeared him to the city, and became a Finc,Pal P
moter of the reformation by the mild methods of p
suasion and instruction. He closed his bene 1 ?
the gift of his books and manuscripts, and bequeath g
his fortune towards the establishment an S“PP ,
the seminary. His works, which chiefly re a
GEN
ti t
history of Geneva, are stiil preserved with great care
and reverence. The library contains 25,000 volumes,
with many curious manuscripts, of which an account
has been published by the reverend M. Sennebier the
librarian, who has likewise distinguished himself by se¬
veral literary works. Messrs Bonnet, Saussnre, Mallet,
and De Luc, are the other most distinguished literary
geniuses of which Geneva can boast. The last is par¬
ticularly remarkable for the perfection to which he has
brought the barometer, and which is now so great,
that very little seems possible to be done by any body
[antof else. His cabinet merits the attention of naturalists,
as containing many rare and curious specimens of fos¬
sils, which serve to illustrate the theory of the glohe.
It may be divided into three parts: 1. Such as enable
the naturalist to compare the petrifactions of animals
and vegetables with the same bodies which are still
known to exist in our parts of the globe. 2. To com¬
pare these petrifactions of animals with the same bodies
which are known to exist in different countries. 3.
To consider the petrifactions of those bodies which
are no longer known to exist. The second part com¬
prehends the stones under three points of view: 1.
Those of the primitive mountains, which contain no
animal bodies; 2. Those of the secondary mountains,
which contain only marine bodies ; 3. Those which
contain terrestrial bodies. The third part contains the
lavas and other volcanic productions ; which are distin¬
guished into two classes : 1. Those which come from
volcanoes now actually burning $ 2. Those from ex¬
tinguished volcanoes.
yand In the time of Charles the Great, the city and ter-
1- ritory of Geneva made part of his empire ; and, under
Jl his successors, it became subject to the German empe¬
rors. By reason of the imbecility of these princes,
however, the bishops of Geneva acquired such authc*
rity over the inhabitants, that the emperor had no
other means of counterbalancing it than by augmenting
the privileges of the people. In these barbarous ages
also the bishops and counts had constant disputes, of
which the people took the advantage j and by siding
sometimes with one, and sometimes with the other,
they obtained an extension of their privileges from
both. The house of Savoy at length purchased the
territory, and succeeded the counts with additional
power: against them therefore the bishops and people
united in order to resist their encroachments j and, du¬
ring this period, the government was strangely com¬
plicated, by reason of the various pretensions of the
three parties. The counts of Savoy, however, had at
iast the address to dissolve the union between the bi¬
shops and citizens, by procuring the episcopal see for
their brothers, and even their illegitimate children ; by
which means their power became gradually so exten¬
sive, that towards the commencement of the 16th
century, Charles III. of Savoy (though the govern¬
ment was accounted entirely republican) obtained an
almost absolute authority over the people, and exercis¬
ed it in a most unjust and arbitrary manner. Thus vio¬
lent commotions took place j and the citizens became
divided into two parties, one of which, viz. the pa¬
triots, were styled Eiclgenossen or confederates; the
partisans of Savoy being disgraced by the appellation
0 Mamelucs or slaves. The true period of Genevan
iberty may therefore be considered
Z
[ 487 ]
gen
as commencing
with the treaty concluded with Berne and Friburg in
the year 15265 in consequence of which the duke
was in a short time deprived of his authority, the bi¬
shop driven from the city, and the reformed religion and
a republican form of government introduced. A long
war commenced with Savoy on this account 5 but the
Genevans proved an overmatch for their enemies by
their own bravery and the assistance of the inhabitants
of Berne. In 1584, the republic concluded a treaty
with Zurich and Berne, by which it is allied to the Swiss
cantons. The house of Savoy made their last attempt
against Geneva in 1602, when the city was treach¬
erously attacked in the night time during a profound
peace. Two hundred soldiers had scaled the walls,
and got into the town before the alarm was given ;
but they were repulsed by the desperate valour of a few
citizens, who perished in the encounter. A petard had
been fastened to one of the gates by the Savoyards 5
but the gunner was killed before it could be dischar¬
ged. The war occasioned by this treachery was next
year concluded by a solemn treaty, which has ever
since been observed on both sides : though the inde¬
pendence of Geneva was not formally acknowledged
by the king of Sardinia till the year 1754.
The restoration of tranquillity from without, in
consequence of the above treaty, was however soon
followed by the flames of internal discord, so com¬
mon in popular governments; so that during the
whole of the last century the history of Geneva af¬
fords little more than an account of the struggles be¬
twixt the aristocratical and popular parties. About
the beginning of the present century the power of the
grand council was become almost absolute; but in
order to restrain its authority, an edict was procured
in 1707 by the popular party, enacting, that every
five years a general council of the citizens and burgh¬
ers should be summoned to deliberate upon the af¬
fairs of the republic. In consequence of this law a ge¬
neral assembly was convened in 1712; and the very
first act of that assembly was to abolish the edict by
which they had been convened. A proceeding so ex¬
traordinary can scarcely be accounted for on the prin¬
ciples of popular fickleness and inconstancy. Rous¬
seau, in his Miscellaneous Works, ascribes it to the
artifices of the magistrates, and the equivocal terms
marked upon the billets then in use. For the question
being put, “ Whether the opinion of the councils for
abolishing the periodical assemblies should pass into a
law ?” the words approbation or rejection, put upon the
billets by which the votes were given, might be inter¬
preted either way. Thus, if the billet was chosen on
which the word approbation was written, the opinion
of the councils which rejected the assemblies was ap¬
proved ; and by the word rejection, the periodical as¬
sembly was rejected of course. Hence several of the
citizens complained that they had been deceived, and
that they never meant to reject the general assembly,
but only the opinion of the councils.
In consequence of the abolition of the general as¬
semblies, the power of the aristocratical party was
greatly augmented; till at length the inhabitants exert¬
ing themselves with uncommon spirit and perseverance,
found means to limit the power of the magistrates, and
enlarge their own rights. In 1776, as Mr Cox informs
us, the government might be considered as a mean be¬
twixt
Geneva.
GEN
[
Geneva, twixt that of the aristocratical and popular cantons of
v——v—^ Switzerland. The members of the senate, or little
4 council of 25, enjoyed in their corporate capacity se-
Sketch of vei,ai very considerable prerogatives. By them halt the
meinkT11' members of the great council were named ; the princi-
pal magistrates were supplied from their own body j
they convoked the great and general councils, delibe¬
rating previously upon every question which was to be
brought before these councils. They were vested also
with the chief executive power, the administration ot
finances, and had in a certain degree the jurisdiction
in civil and criminal causes. Most of the smaller posts
were likewise filled by them *, and they enjoyed the sole
privilege of conferring the burghersbip. These, and
other prerogatives, however, were balanced by those of
the great council and the privileges of the general coun¬
cil. The former had a right to choose the members of
the senate from their own body ; receiving appeals in
all causes above a certain value, pardoning criminals,
&c. besides which they had the important privilege of
approving or rejecting* whatever was proposed by the
senate to"be laid before the people.
The general council or assembly of the people is
composed of the citizens and burghers of the town *,
their number in general amounting to 1500, though
usually not more than 1200 were present ; the remain¬
der residing in foreign countries, or being otherwise
absent. It meets twice a-year, chooses the principal
magistrates, approves or rejects the laws and regula¬
tions proposed by the other councils, imposes taxes,
contracts alliances, declares war or peace, and nomi¬
nates half the members of the great council, &c. But
the principal check to the power of the senate arose
from the right of re-election, or the power of annually
expelling four members from the senate at the nomina¬
tion of the syndics or principal magistrates, and from
the right of representation. The syndics are four in
number, chosen annually from the senate by the gene¬
ral council; and three years elapse before the same
members can be again appointed. In choosing these
magistrates, the senate appointed from its own body
eight candidates, from whom the four syndics were
to be chosen by the general council. The latter, how¬
ever, had it in their power to reject not only the first
eight candidates, but also the whole body of senators
in succession: in which case, four members of the se¬
nate retired into the great council : and their places
were filled by an equal number from that council. With
regard to the power of representation, every citizen
or burgher has the privilege of applying to the senate
in order to procure a new regulation in this respect,
or of remonstrating against any act of the magistracy.
To these remonstrances the magistrates were obliged to
give an explicit answer ; tor if a satisfactory answer
was not given to one, a second was immediately pre¬
sented. The representation was made by a greater or
smaller number of citizens according to the importance
. of the point in question.
Account of Since 1776, however, several changes have taken
the revolu- place. /This right of re-election, which the aristocratical
party were obliged to yield to the people in 1768, soon
tion in
1782.
488 ] G E N
while the popular party had that of’ representants ; and Geij
the point in dispute was the compilation of a new code v—-vf
of laws. This measure the negatives opposed, as
supposing that it would tend to reduce their preroga¬
tives ; while, on the other hand, the representants used
their utmost endeavours to promote it, in hopes of
having their privileges augmented by this means. At
last in the month of January 1777, the negatives were
obliged to comply with the demands of their antago¬
nists ; and a committee for forming a new code of laws
was appointed by the concurrence of the little, great,
and general councils. The committee was to last for two
years, and the code to be laid before the three councils
for their joint approbation or rejection. A sketch of
the first part of the code was presented to the little and
great councils on the first of September 1779, that
they might profit by their observations before it was
presented to the general council. Great disputes a-
rose ; and at length it was carried by the negatives that
the code should be rejected and the committee dissolv-
ed. The opposite party complained of this as un¬
constitutional, and violent disputes ensued ; the issue of
which was, that the great council offered to compile
the code, and submit it to the decision of the public.
This did not give satisfaction to the popular party,
who considered it as insidious : the contentions revived
with more fury than ever, until at length the negatives
supposing, or pretending to suppose, that their coun¬
try was in danger, applied to the guarantees, Branco,
Zurich, and Berne, entreating them to protect the
laws and constitution. This was productive of no
good effect; so that the negatives found no other me¬
thod of gaining their point than by sowing dissension
among the different classes of inhabitants. The na¬
tives were discontented and jealous on acount of many
exclusive privileges enjoyed by that class named citi¬
zens : they were besides exasperated against them for
having, in 1770, banished eight of the principal na¬
tives, who pretended that the right of burghership be¬
longed to the natives as well as to the citizens, and
demanded that this right ought to be gratuitously
conferred instead of being purchased. The negatives,
in hopes of making such a considerable addition to
their party, courted the natives by all the methods
they could think of, promising by a public declaration
that they were ready to confer upon them those privi-
leges of trade and commerce which had hitherto been
confined exclusively to the citizens. The designs of the
negatives were likewise openly favoured by the court
of^France, and dispatches were even written to the
French resident at Geneva to be communicated to the
principal natives who sided with the aristocratic party.
The attorney-general, conceiving this mode of interfe¬
rence to be highly unconstitutional, presented a spirited
remonstrance; by which the French court were so much
displeased, that "they procured his deposition from bis
office; and thus their party was very considerably in¬
creased among the natives. The representants were
by no means negligent in their endeavours to conciliate
the favour of the same party, and even promised what
they had hitherto opposed in the strongest manner,
party were otmgeu 10 yiem im, ycupic m i/uu, ouuu , 0. 1 j •
proved very disagreeable, being considered by the former viz. to facilitate the acquisition ol the burgher p»
as a kind of ostracism; for which reason they catched and to bestow it as the recompense of industry ana
at every opportunity of procuring its abolition. They good behaviour. Thus two parties were lorme a-
were now distinguished by the title of negatives, mong the natives themselves; and the dissension^^
3 x
GEN
^s, coming every day worse and worse, a general insurrec
—' tion took place on the 5th of February 1781. A dis¬
pute, accompanied with violent reproaches, having
commenced betwixt two neighbouring and opposite
parties of natives, a battle would have immediately tak¬
en place, had it not been for the interposition of the
syndics on the one side, and the chiefs of the represen-
tants on the other. The tumult was beginning to sub¬
side, when a discharge of musquetry was heard from the
arsenal. Some young men who sided with the nega¬
tives, having taken possession of the arsenal, had fired
by mistake upon several natives of their own party, and
had killed one and wounded another. This was con¬
sidered by the representants as the signal for a general
insurrection, on which they instantly took up arms and
marched in three columns to the arsenal j but finding
there only a few young men who had rashly fired with¬
out orders, they permitted the rest to retire without
molestation. In the opinion of some people, however,
this affair was preconcerted, and the representants are
said to have been the first aggressors.
The representants having thus taken up arms, were
in no haste to lay them down. They took possession
of all the avenues to the city j and their committee
being summoned next morning by the natives to fulfil
their engagements with respect to the burghership,
they held several meetings with the principal negatives
on that subject, but without any success : for though
the latter readily agreed to an augmentation of the
commercial privileges of the natives, they absolutely
refused to facilitate the acquisition of the burghership.
The committee, however, embarrassed and alarmed at
the number and threats of the natives, determined to
abide by what they had promised 5 drew up an edict
permitting the natives to carry on trade, and to hold the
rank of officers in the military associations ; and con¬
ferred the burghership on more than 100 persons taken
from the natives and inhabitants, and even from the
peasants of the territory. This was approved by the
three councils ; the negatives, dreading the power of
their adversaries, who had made themselves masters of
the city, not daring to make their appearance.
Thus the popular party imagined that they had got
a complete victory j but they soon found themselves
deceived. They were prevailed upon by the deputies
from Zurich and Berne (who had been sent to conci¬
liate the differences) to lay down their arms 5 and this
was no sooner done, than the same deputies declared
the edict in favour of the natives to be null and illegal.
The senate declared themselves of the same opinion j
and maintained, that the assent of the councils had
been obtained only through fear of the representants
who were under arms, and whom none at that time
durst oppose. The representants, exasperated by this
proceeding, presented another remonstrance on the
18th of March 1782, summoning the magistrates once
more to confirm the edict j but a month afterwards
received the laconic answer, that “ government was
neither vyilling nor able to confirm it.” The natives,
now finding themselves disappointed in their favourite'
object at the very time they had such strong hopes of
obtaining it, behaved at first like frantic people; and
these transports having subsided, an universal tumult
took place. The most moderate of the popular party
endeavoured in vain to allay their fury, by dispersing
Vol. IX. Part II. ‘ +
[ 489 ]
GEN
themselves m different quarters of the city; and the
citizens, finding themselves at last obliged either to
abandon the party of the natives or to join them open¬
ly, hastily adopted the latter measure j after which as
none could now oppose them, the officers of the repre¬
sentants took possession of the town, and quelled the
insurrection. Various negotiations were carried on
with the negatives in order to prevail upon them to
ratify the edict, hut without success : on which a
few of the magistrates were confined by the popu¬
lar party along with the principal negatives 5 and
as they justly expected the interference of France on
account of what they had done, they resolved to
prolong the confinement of the prisoners, that they
might answer the purpose of hostages for their own
safety. In the mean time the body of citizens, deceiv¬
ed hy the pretences of the popular party, acted as if
their power was already established and permanent.
In consequence of this, they deposed several members
of the great and little councils, appointing in their
room an equal number of persons who were favourable
to the cause of the representants. The great council
thus new modelled, executed the edict for conferring
the burghership upon a number of the natives j and
appointed a committee of safety, composed of eleven
members, with very considerable authority. By this
committee, the public tranquillity was re-established ;
after which, the fortifications were ordered to he re¬
paired } and the people were buoyed up by the most
dangerous notions of their own prowess, and a confi¬
dence that France either durst not attack them or did
not incline to do so. In consequence of this fatal er¬
ror, they refused every offer of reconciliation which
was made them from the other party ; until at last
troops were dispatched against them hy the king of
Sardinia and the canton of Berne j and their respec¬
tive generals, Messrs de la Marmora and Lentulus,
were ordered to act in concert with the French
commander, M. de Jaucourt, who had advanced to
the frontiers with a considerable detachment. The
Genevans, however, vainly puffed up by a confi¬
dence in their own abilities, continued to repair their
fortifications with indefatigable labour; the peasants
repaired from all quarters to the city, offering to mount
guard and work at the fortifications without any pay ;
women of all ranks crowded to the walls as to a place
of amusement, encouraging the men, and even assist¬
ing them in their labour. The besiegers, however,
advanced in such force, that every person of discern¬
ment foresaw that all resistance would be vain. The
French general Jaucourt, on the 29th of June 1782,
despatched a message to the syndics ; in which he in¬
sisted on the following humiliating conditions: 1. That
no person should appear on the streets under pain of
military punishment. 2. That a certain number of
citizens, among whom were all the chiefs of the re¬
presentants, should quit the place in 24 hours. 3. That
all arms should be delivered to the three generals.
4. That the deposed magistrates should be instantly
re-established : And, lastly, That an answer should be
returned in two hours. By this message the people
were thrown into the utmost despair; and all without
exception resolved to perish rather than to accept of
terms so very disgraceful. They instantly hurried to
the ramparts with a view of putting their resolution
3Q in
Geneva.
GEN
‘Geneva.
in force *, but in the mean time the _
means to obtain from the generals a delay ot 24 hours
During this interval, not only men of all ages prepared
for the approaching danger, but even women and chi-
dren tore the pavement from the streets, carrying the
stones up to the tops of the houses, vv.th a view o
rolling them down upon the enomy 111 case they should
force° their way into the town. About 80 women
and -rills, dressed in uniforms, offered to form them-
selve^ into a company for the defence of their countiy.
The committee of safety accepted their services, and
pi ced them in a barrack secured from the cannon ot
the besiegers. The negatives were greatly alarmed at
this appearance of desperate resistance ; and some of
the most moderate among them endeavoured, but with¬
out success, to effect a reconciliation. At the hour
in which it was expected that the attack would begin,
the ramparts were filled with defenders : and though
the most zealous of the popular party had calculated
only on 3000, upwards of 5000 appeared in the pub¬
lic cause. The French general, however, justly alarm¬
ed for the prisoners, who were now in imminent dan¬
ger, a wain prolonged the period proposed for the ca-
pitulatfon. By these repeated delays the ardour ot the
defendants began to abate. The women first began to
figure to themselves the horrors of a town taken by
assault, and given up to an enraged and licentious sol¬
diery, many timid persons found means not only to
disguise their own fears, but to inspire others with
them under the pretence of prudence and caution : at
hst the committee of safety themselves, who had so
strenuously declared for hostilities, entirely changed
their mind. Being well apprized, however, that it
would be dangerous for them to propose surrendering
in the present temper ot the people, they assembled the
citizens in their respective circles, representing, that
if the city should he attacked in the night, it would
be no longer possible to convene them : for which rea¬
son they recommended to them that each circle should
nominate several deputies with full authority to decide
in their stead ; adding, that they ought rather to ap¬
point those persons who from their age and respectable
character were capable of assisting their country by
their advice, while others were defending it by their
valour. Thus a new council, composed of about 100
citizens, was formed } in which the chiefs, by various
manoeuvres, first intimidating, and then endeavouring
to persuade the members of the necessity of surrender¬
ing, at last found means to take the thoughts of the
people entirely off the defence of the city, and engage
them in a scheme of general emigration. A decla¬
ration was drawn up to be delivered to the syndics with
the keys of the city, the chiefs summoned the princi¬
pal officers from their posts, ordered the cannon ot
several batteries to be rendered unfit for service, and
at last took care of themselves by quitting the town.
The people were in the utmost despair ; and left the
town in such multitudes, that when the Sardinians
[ 490 ] GEN
vndics found 2. The abolition of that right by which the general g«U,
J . • 1 onrw* 100 in thn rrr*>Qfr omm V J
entered it in the morning, they found it almost de-
New con¬
stitution
sorted. This was followed by the restoration of the
former magistrates, a complete subjection of the po¬
pular party, and the establishment of a military go¬
vernment.
The changes which took place on this occasion were
stabhshed. ag ;
An abolition of the right of re-election.
i
z. A lie      0 . a
council nominated half the vacancies in the great conn-'—
cil. 3. The right of remonstrating was taken from
the citizens at large, and vested in 36 adjuncts, who
might be present in the great council the first Monday
of every month. They enjoyed a right of representa¬
tion and in consequence of that had a deliberative
voice j but on the whole were so insignificant, that
they were nicknamed Lcs Images, or llie shadows.
4. The introduction of the grabeau, or annual con-
firmation of the members of the senate and of the great
council, vested entirely in the latter. By this law
part of the authority both of the senate and general
council was transferred to the great council j and by
subjecting the senate to this annual revision j its power
was greatly lessened, and it was made in fact depend¬
ent upon the general councils. 5. The circles or clubs
in which it was customary to convene the citizens, and
all public assemblies whatever, were prohibited j and
so rigorously was this carried into execution, that the
society of arts was prohibited from meeting. 6.
The militia were abolished j firing at marks, even
with bows and arrows, was prohibited \ and the town,
instead of being guarded by the citizens, was now put
under the care of 1000 foreign soldiers, whose colonel
and major were both to be foreigners. These troops
were to take an oath of fidelity to the republic, and of
obedience to the great council and the committee of
war : but were under the immediate command and in¬
spection of the latter, and subject to the superior con-
troul of the former. 7. No person was permitted to
bear arms, whether citizen, native, or inhabitant. 8,
Several taxes were imposed without the consent of the
general council ; but in time to come it was provided,
that every change or augmentation of the revenue
should be submitted to that body. 9. Several privi¬
leges with regard to trade and commerce, formerly pos¬
sessed by the citizens alone, were now granted both to
citizens and inhabitants. .
It is not to be supposed that this revolution would
be agreeable to people who had such a strong sense ot
liberty, and had been accustomed to put such a value
upon it, as the Genevans. From what has been a realy
related, it might seem reasonable to conclude, that an
almost universal emigration would have taken place:
but after their resentment had time to subside, most oi
those who fled at first, thought proper to return J and,
in the opinion of Mr Coxe, not more than 6oo finally
left their country on account of the revolution m
1782. The emigrants principally settled at Brussels
and Constance, where they introduced the arts ot
printing linens and watchmaking. Soon alter tie re
volution, indeed, a memorial, signed by above 100
persons of both sexes, all of them either possessed 0
some property or versed in trade or manufactures, wa
presented to the earl of Temple, then lord heutenan
of Ireland, expressing a desire to settle in that kingdom.
The proposal met with general approbation j the In Scui
parliament voted 50,000!. towards defraying tie ex
pences of their journey, and affording them a prope b
settlement in the island. Lands were puic lase .I,j
8000I. in a convenient situation near Wateifoi \ par
of New Geneva was actually completed at the expence
of TOjOOol. j a charter was granted with very con
siderable privileges j the standard of gold was a e
GEN
,v!l< ed for the accommodation of the watch manufacturers ;
■——'and the foundation of an academy laid upon an useful
and liberal plan. Seven Genevans landed in Ireland
in the month of July 17^3 • when the nation had
expended near 30,000!. on the scheme, it was sud¬
denly abandoned. This seems principally to have been
owing to the delays necessarily occasioned in the exe¬
cution of such a complicated plan ; and in some degree
also by the high demands of the Genevan commission¬
ers, who required many privileges inconsistent with
the laws of Ireland. By these delays the Genevans,
whose character seems not to he persevei'ancetWere indu¬
ced to abandon the scheme, and return to their former
place of residence. Even the few who had already land¬
ed, though maintained at the public expence, were dis¬
contented at not finding the new town prepared for
their reception ; and as those among the proposed emi¬
grants who possessed the greatest share of property had
already withdrawn their names, the remainder did not
choose to remain in a country where they had not capital
sufficient to carry on any considerable trade or manu¬
facture. A petition was then presented by the Gene¬
van commissioners, requesting that lo,oool. of the
50,000!. voted might be appropriated to the form¬
ing a capital: but as this had been voted for other
purposes, the petition was of course rejected ; in con¬
sequence of which, the Genevans relinquished the set¬
tlement by an address, and soon after quitted the
island.
Nc evo. The people of Old Geneva, though returned to their
'utj n former pi ace of abode, were far from being inclined to
1 submit to the yoke with patience. They were obliged
to pay heavy taxes for maintaining a military force ex¬
pressly calculated to keep themselves in subjection : and
so intolerable did this appear, that in a few years every
thing seemed ready for another revolution. The suc¬
cess of "this seemed more probable than that of the for¬
mer, as France was not now in a condition to inter¬
fere as formerly. The general ferment soon rose to
such a height, that government was obliged to call in
the aid of the military to quell a tumult which hap¬
pened in the theatre. This produced only a tempo¬
rary tranquillity ; another tumult took place on the
26th of January 1789, on account of the publication
of an edict raising the price of bread a farthing per
pound. On this the people instantly rose, plundered
the bakers shops : and next day a carriage loaded with
bread and escorted by soldiers was plundered in its
way to the distribution office. The soldiers fired on
the populace, by which one man was killed and ano¬
ther wounded : hut the tumult still increasing, the
soldiers were driven away j and the body of the decea¬
sed was carried in a kind of procession before the town
house, as a monument of the violence and oppression
of the aristocratic party. The magistrates in the mean
time spent their time in deliberation, instead of taking
any effectual method of quelling the insurrection. The
people made the best use of the time afforded them by
this delay of the magistrates; they attacked and car¬
ried two of the gates, dangerously wounding the com¬
manding officer as he attempted to allay the fury of
both parties. At last the magistrates despatched against
them a considerable body of troops, whom they thought
the insurgents would not have the courage to resist *,
but in this they found themselves deceived. The
gen
people had formed a strong barricade, behind which Geneva
they played off two fire pumps filled with boilincr Wa- ~
ter and soap lyes against the extremities of two bridges
which the military had to cross before they could at¬
tack them. The commanding officer was killed and
several of his men wounded by the discharge of small
arms from windows } and the pavement was carried up
to the tops ol houses in order to be thrown down upon
the troops il they should force the barricades and pe¬
netrate into the streets. The tumult in the mean time
continued to increase, and was in danger of becoming
universal ; when the magistrates, finding it would be in£
possible to quell the insurgents without a great effusion
of blood, were reduced to the necessity of complying
with their demands. One of the principal magistrates
repaired in person to the quarter of St Gervais, pro¬
claimed an edict lor lowering the price of bread, grant¬
ed a general amnesty, and released all the insurgents
who had been taken into custody. Thus a momen¬
tary calm was produced ; but the leaders of the insur¬
rection, sensible that the magistrates were either unable
or unwilling to employ a sufficient force against them,
resolved to take advantage of the present opportunity
to procure a new change of government. A new in¬
surrection, therefore, took place on the 29th of the
month, in which the soldiers were driven from their
post, disarmed, and the gates seized by the people.
'Ihe magistrates then, convinced that all opposition
was fruitless, determined to comply with the demands
of their antagonists in their full extent; and the aris-
tocratical party suddenly changing their sentiments,
renounced in a moment that system to which they had
hitherto so obstinately adhered. On the application
of the solicitor general, therefore, for the recovery of the
ancient liberties of the people, the permission of bear¬
ing arms, re-establishment of the militia, and of their
circles or political clubs, the removal of the garrison
fiom the barracks, and the recal of the representants
who were banished in 17825 these moderate demands
were received with complacency, and even satisfaction.
The preliminaries were settled' without difficulty, and
a new edict of pacification was published under the
title o'iModifications a PEdition de 1782, and approv¬
ed by the senate, great council, and general council.
So great was the unanimity on this occasion, that the
modifications were received by a majority of 1321
against 52. The pacification was instantly followed by
marks of friendship betwixt the two parties which had
never been experienced before 5 the sons of the prin¬
cipal negatives frequented the circles of the burghers ;
the magistrates obtained the confidence of the people j
and no monument of the military force so odious to
the people will be allowed to remain. “ The barracks
of the town-house (says Mr Coxe) are already eva¬
cuated, and will be converted into a public library 5 the
new barracks, built at an enormous expence, and more
calculated for the garrison of a powerful and despotic
kingdom than for a small and free commonwealth,
will be converted into a building for the university.
The reformation of the studies, which have scarce¬
ly received any alteration since the time of Calvin,
is now in agitation. In a word, all things seem at
present to conspire for the general good 5 and it is
to be hoped that both parties, shocked at the recol¬
lection of past troubles, will continue on as friendly
-3 Q 2 terms
[ 491 ]
gen
[ 492
GEN
Geneva, terms as the jealous nature of a free constitution will
Geneva, as well as the whole of Switzerland, fell a
victim to French rapacity in 1802. 1 he following ob¬
servations, made by a traveller on the spot, attord us
some information of the consequences of this event to
Geneva, of its degraded state, and ot the manners 01
the inhabitants.
“ The population of Geneva is about 24,000 : more¬
over it contains at present between 1200 and 1400
French troops : the parties intermix but little, and have
had no disputes, although they certainly regard each
other with an eye of jealousy. The Genevans do the
French soldiers the justice to say, that they have de¬
meaned themselves in a very becoming manner during
their residence here: they acknowledge themselves to
be a conquered people, and dare not open their mouths,
except to an Englishman, against the treacherous in¬
vaders of their country, and destroyers of their liber¬
ties. ... r 1 •
“ You are too well versed in the history ot this peo¬
ple to require being told, that, notwithstanding their
present humiliated condition, Freedom is the goddess
they worship *, and that, had there been any possibility
of securing her from violation, they would gladly have
bled before her altars. However various has been their
success, in the different revolutions which have agitated
this secluded state, the Genevans have uniformly evin¬
ced a courage which awed their enemies, and a deter¬
mined bravery in defence of their rights, which in shew¬
ing that they prized them highly, gave proof that they
were worthy to enjoy them. -in
« Xhe territory of Geneva is comprehended in the De¬
partment du Leman, which department contains about
16 square leagues of land : its population is estimated at
609,000 persons. It is divided into three cantons or
hundreds, the largest of which has Geneva tor its capital,
and contains about 75,000 souls, of which I0,000 0nly
are Genevans, 20,000 are French, and the remainder
are Savoyards. The prefet, as in all the other depart¬
ments, is appointed by the First Consul, durante bene-
placito. The care of the high roads and public walks,
public finances, executive justice, military affairs, and
passports, are under his immediate direction. All mili¬
tary appointments are given to Frenchmen : one gene-
ral commands the town, and another the country. At
the first moment of the revolution all the old magis¬
trates were displaced, and since that time the civil of¬
ficers have been elected by the citizens at large, conse¬
quently some are Frenchmen, and some Genevans : the
present mayor is one of the latter: he is a gentleman of
great respectability, and is much esteemed by both par¬
ties. Whenever a new code of laws shall be establish¬
ed in France, its operations will be extended over the
territory of Geneva; but at present the people here re¬
tain their old laws with some trifling alterations only,
rather the form than the substance : thus, the guillotine
is now substituted for the gallows, and the punishments
in general, without varying the degree, are inflicted ac¬
cording to the French manner.
“ In their treaty with France, the Genevans stipula¬
ted, that their hospital should not be obliged to receive
French soldiers : this hospital was founded in the early
part of the last century, by some of the richest citizens,
and is so well supported by legacies, and by annual sub¬
scriptions, that the fund enables the directors to expend Ci
two thousand louis a year. In contempt of this treaty, —
Bonaparte has insisted on the admission of French sol¬
diers, for whose accommodation, however, he promised
to pay a certain sum per diem : in contempt of his pro¬
mise, again, he has withheld the payment! An hospi¬
tal, however, is now preparing at Carouge, a village
in Savoy, between Geneva and Grange Colonge, for
Frenchmen, to which, it is expected, the soldiers will
be removed in May or June. Here is also a general
hospital, once the nunnery of St Clair 5 it was founded,
together with many other useful institutions, by that ce¬
lebrated reformer, John Calvin, who fled from the per¬
secution of Francis I. and found an asylum in Geneva.
The revenue arising from the estates of this hospital has,
till within these last few years, been commensurate with
its expences : but, for some time back, it has been
found necessary to collect almost an additional fourth,
in order to supply its disbursements : twice in the year
the treasurer goes round to every house, and solicits the
charitable contribution ot its inmates.
“ Prior to the last revolution, I learn, that 600,000
French livres discharged all the public expences: with
this very trifling sum were paid tire salaries of the ma¬
gistrates, of the master of the town, of the master of
the country, the expences of the academy, of repair¬
ing the roads, of cleaning and lighting the town ; in
short, these 600,000 livres were sufficient to defray all
the ordinary expences of the government. Since that
too memorable event, the citizens of Geneva have been
assessed to the amount of 1,500,000 livres, the salaries
of the inferior magistrates are in arrears, the roads are
not kept in good repair, the town is very dimly lighted,
and the streets, a few of the principal ones excepted,
are left with all their dirty honours thick upon them !
The inhabitants go so far as to assert, that, in conse¬
quence of the neglect which the public drains have suf¬
fered, they have been affected with fevers and otbes
illnesses to which they had hitherto been strangers.
“ I understand, that the revenue of Geneva, since it
has been annexed to the republic of France, arises
chiefly from the following sources.—An excise duty is
laid on all provisions (wheat excepted), on wine and
merchandise of every description, which is brought in¬
to Geneva : the annual produce of this tax is about
120,000 French livres ; a land tax ; a tax on doors and
windows; a tax on the sale ol estates j a heavy tax on
the collateral inheritance of an estate—where the inhe¬
ritance is lineal and immediate, the tax is moderate.
To these taxes or contributions, as they are called, must
be added la contribution mobiliere, which is a small
tax on personal property, and produces annually about
75,000 livres. The collectors of these taxes are ap*
pointed by the First Consul, and are paid very highly
for their trouble : the prelet, and all the principal pub¬
lic officers, are very regularly paid, but those in a sub¬
ordinate situation seldom get above one-third of their
stipends. . # ,
“ Divorces seem to be obtained here with too much
facility. But, in the first place, as to marriages, they
must be celebrated, according to the. French law, be¬
fore the municipality, at the maison de ville. Mar¬
riage in France, you know, is merely a civil ceremony,
the parties being obliged to swear before an appointed
magistrate, that they are of age, and that they have
consented
>■ 1,
*. M.
H ‘So:.
GEN
consented to become man and wife.     ,
however, do not consider this ceremony as sufficient:
but, as our Gretna Green couples, on their return to
Britain, think it necessary, after the fervour of passion
is abated, and the mercury is fallen, in the animal ther¬
mometer, something lower than 6/ood heat, to have the
holy rites performed with the solemnity prescribed by
law ; so the Genevans, in addition to the civil ceremo¬
ny prescribed by the laws of the republic of France,
voluntarily conform to the religious ordinance of their
own church. If a woman leaves her husband, and re¬
fuses to return to his habitation, after being summoned
by him for that purpose, he can repudiate her for dis¬
obedience*.” The inhabitants, though obliged to sub¬
mit to superior force, were always averse to the French
yoke *, and when the French garrison capitulated to
the Austrian general Bubna, in December 1813, the
restoration of the republic was instantly decreed. On
the 12th September 18x4, Geneva was admitted a
member of the Swiss confederation, and a new consti¬
tution was framed, in which it was declared, that “ no
patricians or privileged classes are acknowledged by
the state, but that all the Genevese are equal before
the law.” Public affairs are managed by the great
council of 250 members, and by the smaller council of
28, the latter being the executive. The territory of
Geneva, which was originally very small, was augment¬
ed by late treaties, and now contains 120 square miles,
and 25,000 inhabitants.
Geneva Lake. This lake is in the shape of a
crescent; along the concave side of which Mr Coxe
travelled 54 miles. Switzerland forms the hollow, and
Savoy the convex part; the greatest breadth being
about T 2 miles. The country on the side of Savoy is
full of high and craggy mountains ; but from Geneva
to the environs of Lausanne it slopes to the margin of
the lake, and is very rich and fertile. The banks rise
considerably in the neighbourhood of Lausanne, and
form a most beautiful terrace, with a rapid descent a
few miles beyond the town. A plain begins in the
neighbourhood of Vevay, which continues for a great
way beyond the end of the lake, but contracting to¬
wards the water by the approach of the mountains.
The lake itself appears at a distance of a beautiful blue
colour, and the water is very clear and transparent.
Near Geneva the coast of the lake abounds with peb¬
bles; between that city and Lausanne it is sandy 5
from thence to Chilon it is bounded by hard calca¬
reous rocks; and the extremity of the shores is a marsh
formed by mud collected from the river Rhone. The
greatest depth of this lake found by M. de Luc is 160
fathoms. Here the birds called tippet grebes make their
appearance in December, and retire in February to
other places where they breed. They make floating
nests of reeds; but as the lake of Geneva affords none
of these, they are obliged to migrate to other places
where they grow. Their skins are much esteemed,
and sell for 12s. or 14s. each. The lake of Geneva,
like all others situated between mountains, is subject to
sudden storms.
Geneva, or Gin, among distillers, an ordinary malt
spirit, distilled a second time, with the addition of some
juniper berries.
Originally, the berries were added to the malt in the
grinding; so that the spirit thus obtained was flavour-
[ 493 3 ' GEN
The Genevans, ed with the berries from the first, and exceeded all that
could be made by any other method. At present, they
leave out the berries entirely, and give their spirits a
flavour by distilling them with a proper quantity of oil
of turpentine ; which though it nearly resembles the
flavour of juniper berries, has none of their valuable
virtues.
GENEVIEVE, fathers or religious of; the name
of a congregation of regular canons of the order of St
Augustine, established in France.
The congregation of St Genevieve is a reform of
the Augustine canons. It was begun by St Charles
Faure, in the abbey of St Vincent de Senlis, of which
he was a member, in the year 1618.
In the year 1634, the abbey was made elective; and
a general chapter, composed of the superiors of 15
houses who had now received the reform, chose F.
Faure coadjutor of the abbey of St Genevieve, and
general of the whole congregation. Such were its be¬
ginnings.
It has since increased very much, and it now consists
of above a hundred monasteries ; in some whereof the
religious are employed in the administration of the
parishes and hospitals: and in others, in the celebra¬
tion of divine service, and the instruction of ecclesiastics
in seminaries for the purpose.
The congregation takes its name from the abbey of
St Genevieve, which is the chief of the order, and
whose abbot is the general thereof. The abbey itself
took its name from St Genevieve, the patroness of the
city of Paris, who died in the year 512. Five years
after her death, Clovis erected the church of St Ge¬
nevieve, under the name and invocation of St Peter,
where her relicks are still, or were till lately preserved,
her shrine visited, and her image carried with great
processions and ceremonies upon extraordinary occa¬
sions, as when some great favour is to be entreated of
heaven.
GENGIS KHAN, the renowned sovereign of the
Moguls, a barbarous and bloody conqueror. See
Jenghiz Khan, and (History of the) Moguls.
GENIAL, an epithet given by the Pagans to cer¬
tain gods who were supposed to preside over genera¬
tion.
The genial gods, says Festus, were earth, air, fire,
and water. The twelve signs, together with the sun
and moon, were sometimes also ranked in the number.
GENII, a sort of intermediate beings, by the Ma¬
hometans believed to exist, between men and angels.
They are of a grosser fabric than the latter, but much
more active and powerful than the former. Some of
them are good, others bad, and they are capable of
future salvation or damnation like men. The orientals
pretend that these genii inhabited the world many
thousand years before the creation of Adam, under
the reigns of several princes, who all bore the common
name of Solomon; that falling at length into an al¬
most general corruption, Eblis was sent to drive them
into a remote part of the earth, there to be confined ;
and that some ol that generation still remaining were by
Tahmurath, one of the ancient kings of Persia, forced
to retreat into the famous mountain of KaJ"; of whose
successions and wars they have many fabulous and ro¬
mantic stories. They also made several ranks and de¬
grees among this kind of beings (if they are not rather
different
Geneva
Genii.
GEN [ 45
(Jenii aifferent species) ; some being absolutely called Jin;
V 1] some Peri, or fairies : some Div, or giants j and others
Genius. Tacwins, or fates.
—' GENIOGLOSSI, in Anatomy. See Anatomy,
Table of the Muscles.
GENIOHYOIDiEUS, in Anatomy. Ibid. _
GENIOSTOMA, a genus of plants belonging to
the pentandria class. See Botany Index. .
GENIPPA, a genus of plants belonging to tbe
pentandria class, and in tbe natural method ranking
under tbe 30th order, ContorUe. See Botany Index.
GENISTA, Broom, or Dyers Weed, a genus of
plants belonging to the diadelphia class ; and in the
natural method ranking under the 3 2d order, Papihona-
cece. See Botany Index.
GENITAL, an appellation given to whatever be¬
longs to tbe parts of generation. See Anatomy,
N° 107, 108.
GENITES, among the Hebrews, those descend¬
ed from Abraham, without any mixture of foreign
blood.
The Greeks distinguished by tbe name ol gemtes
such of the Jews as were issued from parents, who, dur¬
ing the Babylonish captivity, had not allied with any
gentile family.
GENITIVE, in Grammar, the second case of the
declension of nouns. The relation of one thing consi¬
dered as belonging in some manner to another, has oc¬
casioned a peculiar termination of nouns called the gc*>
nitive case j but in the vulgar tongues they make use
of a sign to express the relation of this case. In Eng¬
lish they prefix the particle of, in French de or du, &c.
Though in strictness there are no cases in either of
these languages $ insomuch as they do not express, the
different relations of things by different terminations,
but bv additional prepositions, which is otherwise in
the Latin. ... ,
GENIUS, a good or evil spirit or daemon, whom
the ancients supposed set over each person, to direct
his birth, accompany him in life, and to be his guard.
See Daemon.
Among the Romans, Festus observes, the name ge¬
nius was given to the god who had the power of do¬
ing all things, deum qui vim obtineret rerum omnium
gerendarum; which Vossius, de Idol, rather chooses to
read genendarum, who has the power of producing all
things ; by reason Censorinus frequently uses gerere for
gignere.
Accordingly St Augustin, de Civitate Dei, relates,
from Varro, that the Genius was a god who had the
power of generating all things j and presided over them
when produced.
Festus adds, that Aufustius spake of the genius as
the Son of God, and the Father of men, who gave
them life •, others, however, represented the genius as
the peculiar or tutelary god of each place j and it is
certain, the last is the most usual meaning of the word.
The ancients had their genii of nations, of cities, of
provinces, &c. Nothing is more common than the
following inscription on medals, genius fopuli rom.
« the genius of the Roman people or GENlo POP.
ROM. “ to the genius of the Roman people. In this
sense genius and lar were the same thing 5 as, in effect,
Censorinus and Apulius affirm they were. See Lares
and Penates.
^ ] GEN
The Platonists, and other eastern philosophers, sup- Ge, J
posed the genii to inhabit the vast region or extent of; ^
air between earth and heaven. They were a sort of
intermediate powers, who did the office of mediators
between gods and men. They were tbe interpreters
and agents of the gods 5 communicated the wills of
the deities to men •, and the prayers and vows of men
to the gods. As it was unbecoming the majesty of the
gods to enter into such trifling concerns, this became
the lot of the genii, whose nature was a mean between
the two ; who derived immortality from tbe one, and
passions from the other *, and who had a body framed
of an aerial matter. Most of the philosophers, how¬
ever, held, that the genu of particular men were bom
with them, and died 5 and Plutarch attributes the
ceasing of oracles partly to the death of the genii.—
See Oracle.
The heathens, who considered the genii as the guar- |
dians of particular persons, believed that they rejoiced
and were afflicted at all the good and ill fortune that
befel their wards. They never, or very rarely, ap-
peared to them j and then only in favour of some per¬
son of extraordinary virtue or dignity. They likewise
held a great difference between the genii of different
men ; and that some were much more powerful than
others : on which principle it was, that a wizzard in
Appian bids Antony keep at a distance from Octavius, j
by reason Antony’s genius was inferior to and stood in
awe of that of Octavius. There were also evil genii,
wbo took a pleasure in persecuting men, and bringing
them evil tidings 1 such was that mentioned by Plu¬
tarch which appeared to Brutus the night before the
battle of Philippi. These were also called larva and
lemures. See LARViE and Lemures.
Genius, in matters of literature, &c. a natural ta¬
lent or disposition to do one thing more than another;
or the aptitude a man has received from nature to per¬
form well and easily that which others can do but in¬
differently and with a great deal of pains.
To know the bent of nature is tbe most important
concern. Men come into the world with a genius de¬
termined not only to a certain art, but to certain parts
of that art, in which alone they are capable of success.
If they quit their sphere, they fall even below medio<
crity in their profession. Art and industry add much
to natural endowments, but cannot supply them where
they are wanting. Every thing depends on genius.
A painter often pleases without observing rules ; whilst
another displeases though he observes them, because he
has not the happiness of being born with a genius for
painting.
A man born with a genius for commanding an army,
and capable of becoming a great general by the ie p
of experience, is one whose organical conformation is
such, that his valour is no obstruction to his presence
of mind, and his presence of mind makes no abate¬
ment of his valour. Such a disposition of mind cannot
be acquired by art: it can be possessed only by a per¬
son who has brought it with him into the world. a
has been said of these two arts may be equally applied
to all other professions. The administration of grea
concerns, the art of putting people to those emp oy-
ments for which they are naturally formed, tbe stu y 0
physic, and even gaming itself, all require a genius-
Nature has thought fit to make a distribution 0
GEN [4
talents among men, in order to render them necessary
,10a. to one another ; the wants of men being the very first
^ link of society : she has therefore pitched upon parti¬
cular persons, to give them aptitude to perform rightly
some things which she has rendered impossible to
others ; and the latter have a greater facility granted
them for other things, which facility has been refused
to the former. Nature indeed has made an unequal
distribution of her blessings among her children ; yet
she has disinherited none ; and a man divested of all
kinds of abilities, is as great a phenomenon as an uni¬
versal genius.
Froai the diversity of genius the difference of incli¬
nation arises in men, whom nature has had the precau¬
tion of leading to the employments for which she de¬
signs them, with more or less impetuosity in propor¬
tion to the greater or lesser number of obstacles they
have to surmount in order to render themselves ca¬
pable of answering this vocation. Thus the inclina¬
tions of men are so very different, because they follow
the same mover, that is, the impulse of their genius.
This, as with the painter, is what renders one poet
pleasing, even when he trespasses against rules ; while
others are disagreeable, notwithstanding their strict
regularity.
The genius of these arts, according to the abbe du
Bos, consists in a happy arrangement of the organs of
the brain ; in a just conformation of each of these or¬
gans j as also in the quality of the blood, which dis¬
poses it to ferment, during exercise, so as to furnish
plenty of spirits to the springs employed in the func¬
tions of the imagination. Here he imagines that the
composer’s blood is heated; for that painters and poets
cannot invent in cool blood ; nay, that it is evident
they must be rapt into a kind of enthusiasm when
they produce their ideas. Aristotle mentions a poet
who never wrote so well as when his poetic fury hur¬
ried him into a kind of frenzy. The admirable pic¬
tures we have in Tasso of Armida and Clorinda were
drawn at the expence of a disposition he had to real
madness, into which he fell before he died. “ Do you
imagine, (says Cicero), that Pacuvius wrote in cold
blood ? No, it was impossible. He must have been in¬
spired with a kind of fury, to be able to write such ad¬
mirable verses.”
GENOA, a city of Italy, and formerly capital of
a republic of the same name, situated in E. Long. 8.
36. N. Lat. 44. 25 —By the Latin authors it is very
frequently, though corruptly called Janua ; and its pre¬
sent territories made part of the ancient Liguria. The
era of its foundation is not known. In the time of the
second Punic war it was a celebrated emporium ; and
having declared for the Homans, was plundered and
burnt by Mago the Carthaginian. It was afterwards
rebuilt by the Romans ; and with the rest of Italy con¬
tinued under their dominion till the decline of the
western empire in 476. Soon after, it fell under the
power of Theodoric the Ostrogoth ; who having de¬
feated the usurper Odoacer, became king of Italy.
This happened in the year 498 ; and in a short time,
the Goths being almost entirely subdued by Belisarius
the emperor Justinian’s general, Genoa was reannexed
to the Roman empire. In 638, it was plundered and
burnt by the Lombards, whose king Protharis erected
it into a provincial dukedom.
5 ] GEN
The Lombards continued masters of Genoa till the Genoa,
year 774, when they were conquered by Charles the v—1
Great, son to Pepin king of France. He reduced
Liguria to the ancient bounds settled by Augustus,
and erected it into a marquisate : appointing bis rela¬
tion Audemarus the first count or margrave. Genoa
at this time being distinguished for its wealth and po-
pulousness, began to give its name to the whole coast;
and continued under the dominion of these counts for
about 100 years, till the race of the Pepins became en¬
tirely extinct in Italy, and the empire was transferred
to the German princes.—In the year 935 or 936,
while the Genoese forces were absent on some expedi¬
tion, the Saracens surprised the city, which they plun¬
dered and burnt, putting to death a great number of
the inhabitants, and carrying others into captivity.
Having embarked their captives, together with an im¬
mense booty, they set sail for Africa ; but the Ge¬
noese immediately returning, pursued the invaders;
and having entirely defeated them, recovered all the
captives and booty, and took a great many of the ene¬
my’s ships.
About the year 950, the Franks having lost all au¬
thority in Italy, the Genoese began to form themselves
into a republic, and to be governed by their own ma¬
gistrates, who were freely elected, and took the name
of Consuls. In order to support their independence,
they applied themselves with great assiduity to com¬
merce and navigation ; and being apprehensive that
some of the German emperors, who frequently entered
Italy as invaders, might renew their pretensions to their
state, they consented to acknowledge Berengarius HI.
uuke of Friuli, who had been elected emperor by a
party of Italian nobles. Berengarius, who had much
ado to maintain himself in his new dignity, endeavour¬
ed by his concessions to enlarge the number of his
friends and adherents; and accordingly made no diffi¬
culty to confirm the new republic in all its rights and
privileges. After this the Genoese began to extend
their commerce from Spain to Syria, and from Egypt
to Constantinople : their vessels, according to the cu¬
stom of these times, being fitted for fighting as well as
merchandise, tlaving thus acquired great reputation,
they were invited in 1017, by the Pisans, who had
likewise formed themselves into a republic, to join with
them in an expedition against Sardinia, which had been
conquered by the Moors. In this expedition they were
successful; the island was reduced; but from this time
an enmity commenced between the two republics, which
did not end but with the ruin of the Pisans.
The first war with Pisa commenced about 30 years
after tbe Sardinian expedition, and lasted 18 years;
when the two contending parties having concluded
a treaty of peace, jointly sent their forces against the
Moors in Africa, of whom they are said to have killed
100,000. The Genoese were very active in the time
of the crusades, and had a principal share in the tak¬
ing of Jerusalem. They’also waged considerable wars
with tbe Moors in Spain, of whom they generally got
the better. They also prevailed against the neighbour¬
ing states ; and, in 1220, had enlarged their territories
beyond the skirts of tbe Apennines, so that the rest
of Italy looked upon them with a jealous eye ; but in
1311 tbe factions which had for a long time reigned
in the city, notwithstanding all its wealth and power,
induced
GEN
induced the inhabitants so submit themselves for 20
years to the dominion of Henry VII. emperor of Ger¬
many. That emperor, however, died in August 13125
and the vicar he had left soon after went to Pisa, up¬
on which the dissensions in Genoa revived with greater
fury than ever. In 1317, a quarrel happened between
the" families of Spinola and Doria; which came to
such a height, that both parties fought in the streets
for 24 days without intermission, raised battering en¬
gines against each other’s houses, and filled the city
with blood. At last the Spinolae quitted the city, and
retired to their territories in the Apennine mountains.
The civil war continued till the year 1331 ; when, by
the mediation of the king of Naples, it was concluded,
that all exiles should return to the city 5 that the re¬
public should be governed by the king’s vicar 5 and
all the offices of the state be equally divided between
the Guelfs and the Gibellines, the two contending
parties.
By this ruinous war, the coast of Genoa, formerly
adorned with palaces and vineyards, was now reduced
to the appearance of a barren waste. So great was
the general desolation, that according to Petrarch,
the spectators who sailed along were struck with asto¬
nishment and horror. Villani, a cotemporary author,
relates, that it was supposed by the learned, that
greater exploits had not been performed at the siege of
Troy ; and that the losses each party had sustained
would have been sufficient to have purchased a king¬
dom, the Genoese republic being in his time the
richest and most powerful state in Christendom. The
annalist Stella informs us, that, before the war, the
most extravagant profusion and luxury prevailed among
the Genoese: but that, towards the end, many noble
families were reduced to indigence and poverty } so
that about 100 years after, it became fashionable for
the nobles to live in a plain manner, without any show
or magnificence.
In 1336, both parties, suspending their mutual ani¬
mosities, sent two fleets of 20 galleys each into the
German ocean, to the assistance of the king of France,
who was engaged in a war with Edward III. king of
England. This naval expedition proved the cause of
a most remarkable revolution in the Genoese govern¬
ment. The sailors of the fleet, thinking themselves
injured by their officers, whom they accused of de¬
frauding them of their pay, proceeded to an open mu-
tiny 5 and having expelled the admiral, and other com¬
manders, seized the galleys. The king of Fi’ance be¬
ing chosen arbitrator, decided in favour of the officers,
and imprisoned 16 of the chiefs of the mutineers. Up¬
on this several of the sailors left the fleet, and return¬
ed to Genoa 5 where they went round the coasts, re¬
peating their mutinous complaints, which were great¬
ly hearkened to, upon a false report that the mutineers
who had been imprisoned were broke upon the wheel.
The factious spirit increased: and at last the Genoese
insisted in a tumultuous manner for having an abbot of
their own choosing, and 20 of the people with the con¬
sent of the captains of the republic assembled for that
purpose. While the mob were impatiently expecting
their decision, a mechanic, generally accounted a fool,
mounted a wooden bench, and called out that one
Simon Bucanigree should be chosen abbot. This be-
G E N
ing instantly echoed by the populace, he was first de- q
dared abbot, then lord, and at last duke of Genoa.
This new expedient did not at all answer the pur¬
pose. The dissensions continued as violent as ever,
notlnvithstanding the power of the new magistrates;
and by these perpetual divisions the republic was at
last so much weakened, that in 1390 the king of France
was declared lord of Genoa. Under the French go¬
vernment, however, they soon became exceedingly
impatient; and, in 1422, the duke of Milan obtained
the sovereignty. With this situation they were equally
displeased, and therefore revolted in 1436. Twenty-
two years after, finding themselves pressed by a power¬
ful fleet and army sent by Alpbonso king of Naples,
they again conferred the sovereignty of their state,
upon the king of France. In 1460, they revolted
from the French ; and, four years after, put themselves
again under the protection of the duke of Milan : from
whom they revolted in 1478. He was again declared
sovereign of the republic in 1488; and, 11 years after,
the city and territories of Genoa were conquered by
Louis XII. of France.
The almost unparalleled fickleness of the Genoese
disposition was not to be corrected by this misfortune.
They revolted in 1506; but next year were again sub¬
dued bv Louis. Six years after, they again revolted:
and in 1516, the city was taken and plundered by the
Spaniards. In 1528, Andrew Doria, a Genoese ad¬
miral in the service of the French, undertook to res¬
cue his country from the dominion of foreign princes,
and restore it to its liberty. Knowing well the fickle
disposition of his countrymen, he took all occasions of
exciting discontents among them against the govern¬
ment. He persuaded them, that the French (who had
again obtained the sovereignty) had left them only a
shadow of liberty, while they pretended to protect
them from their enemies. To the nobility he repre¬
sented the disgrace of suffering the government to be
vested in the hands of foreigners less worthy of autho¬
rity than themselves. Thus he soon formed a strong
faction, and formed his plan; for the execution of
which he took the most proper time, namely, when
almost three-fourths of the French garrison had been
carried olf by the plague. He advanced with 500
men; and his friends having opened the gates of the
city to him, he seized the principal posts, and thus be¬
came master of it without drawing his sword. The
garrison retired to the forts, where they soon after
capitulated, and being driven out of the city, Doria
re-established the ancient form of government. See
Doria.
The republic hath since continued to preserve her
liberty, though greatly fallen from her ancient splen¬
dour, and now' become a very inconsiderable state. In
1684, the Genoese had the misfortune to fall under
the resentment of Louis XIV. at which time the city
was almost destroyed by a formidable bombardment.
In the year 1688, it was bombarded by Admiral Byng,
and forced to capitulate ; but there were at that time
no vews of making a permanent conquest of the city.
In 1730, the island of Corsica revolted from the Ge¬
noese, and could never afterwards be reduced by them ;
for which reason it was sold to the French, who in the
year 1770 totally reduced it.
t 496 ]
The
GEN
!<*?
The Genoese territories extend along that part of
the Mediterranean sea, commoniy^called the Gulf of
Genoa, about 152 miles; but their breadth is very un¬
equal, being from eight to about 20 miles. Where
they are not bounded by the sea, the following states
and countries, taking them from west to east, are their
boundaries, viz. Piedmont, Montferrat, Milan, Placen-
l( Paima, the dukedom of luscany, and the repub¬
lic of Lucca. This tract, though a great part of it
is mountainous, and some of that barren enough, yet
produces plenty of excellent fruit, good pasture, wood,
garden stutf, and mulberry trees, with some wine and
oil, but little corn. What they want of the last, they
have either from Lombardy, Sicily, or Naples.
Genoa stands on the coast of the IVJediterranean sea
at the bottom of a little gulf, partly on the flat, and
partly on the declivity, of a pleasant hill; in consequence
of which, it appears to great advantage from the sea.
It is defended on the land side by a double wall, which
in circumference is about ten Italian miles. Two of
the streets consist entirely of a double straight row of
magnificent palaces. The others, though clean and
well paved, are crooked and narrow. T he palaces of
the nobility are almost all of marble, and many of them
are painted on the outside. That there should be such
a profusion of marble here, is not to be wondered at,
as the neighbouring hills abound with it. The city
contains a vast number of palaces, churches, and con¬
vents, and several hospitals. Ihe palace where the
doge resides, and where the great and little council,
Biid the two colleges of the procurator! and governa-
tori assemble, is a large stone building in the centre of
the city. It contains some fins paintings in fresco ;
two statues of Andrew and John Doria in white mar¬
ble ; and an arsenal, in which are said to be arms for
thirty-four thousand men, with a shield, containing
one hundred and twenty pistol barrels, and thirty three
coats ol mail, which, it is pretended, were worn by
as many Genoese heroines in a croisade. Of the
churches, the finest are those of the Annunciation, St
Mary Carignan, St Dominic, and St Martha. In the
cathedral is a dish made of a single emerald. All the
inhabitants here, except the principal ladies, who are
carried in chairs, walk on foot, on account of the nar¬
rowness or steepness of the streets. The fortifications
ot the city, towards the sea, are remarkably strong.
Ihere are two fine stone bridges over the rivers Bon-
zerva and Bisagno, the first whereof washes the west
and the other the east side of the city, within which
tliere is also a surprising stone bridge joining two bills.
,Ule llarlj°ur, though large, is far from being safe;
but no care or expence has been spared to render it as
fate and commodious as possible. The wind to which it
is most exposed, is that called Labeccio,or the south-west,
ilie place where the republic’s galleys lie, is called the
arsena, where are a great number of Turkish slaves.
Vn a rock, on the west side of the harbour, is the fanal
°r lighthouse, .a high tower on the top of which is a
ianthorn, contain,ng thirty-six lamps. The population
Genoa rs estimated at 150,000, and the trade is
iiefiy in velvets, damasks, plush, and oilier silks, bro-
cades, bice gloves, sweetmeats, fruits, oil, Parmesan
iSeVanC i10VIeS’ atul me^‘c'na* (hugs from the Le¬
ant; but the badness of the harbour, and the high
pnce of commodities, greatly checks the commerce. In
vol. 1a. Part II.
t 497 ]
gen
1751, Genoa was declared a free port for ten year,
under certain restrictions: in that called Porto Franco
any merchant may have a warehouse, and import or ex-
poit goods tiuty free; hut such as are disposed of in the
city, °r on the continent, are taxed pretty high Th«
nobility are allowed to trade in the wholesale wav • to
carry on velvet, silk, and cloth manufactures; and to
have shares ,,, merchant ships: and some of them, a.
the I alavicim, are actually the greatest merchants in
(jenoa. Another very profitable article of trade carried
on by them ,s banking, and dealing in bills of ex¬
change. A new academy of painting, sculpture, civil
and military architecture, was instituted here in 170
One may walk [l,e streets of Genoa in the nlnltt with
the gieatest safety, which is more than can be said of
many cities in Italy. Excessive splendour and luxury
are, m several respects, restrained by salutary law/.
No beggars are permitted to ask alms in Genoa, and
the inns are better than those at Turin. When a sin
gle person ,s buried, a kind of garland of all sorts of
ai tificial flowers is placed on the coffin. The Genoese
in general are esteemed crafty, industrious, and inured
to hard labour above the other Italians.
Amidst the political convulsions which agitated En-
rope, in consequence of the unexampled French revolu¬
tion, it was scarcely to be expected that Genoa would
escape the shock._ Accordingly in the year 1798, by
toe force and mtr.gues of the French republicans it,
political constitution was totally subverted, and changed
into what was afterwards denominated the Ligurian Re~
public, which was to he governed in a manner similar to
that of their own, and the country also was divided into
departments. As the preceding campaign had termi¬
nated in favour of the combined powers, and left them
m the possession of every important place in Italy, this
only excepted, the capture of it became an object of the
utmost consequence to the contending parties. To re¬
gain it was the highest ambition of"the house ofAns-
tna while the retaining of it was matter of solicitude to
the Irench republic. The reason is obvious. The con¬
quest of ,t restored to the emperor of Germany the
possession of all Italy, gave him the means of resuming
his former positions in the Maritime Alps, and rein¬
forcing bis former position on the Rhine. To the
Trench it was a place of the utmost consequence, be¬
cause while they were enabled to retain it in their’own
bands, they could easily favour the operations of their
army in Switzerland, or their entrance into Italy bv
the dehles of Piedmont. ^ ^
As the allies were, fully determined on its conquest
for the reasons already assigned, as well as for others of
an inferior nature and magnitude, it is but candid to ad¬
mit that the general by whom it was defended had in¬
numerable difficulties to struggle with, and obstacles to
surmount. When Massena succeeded Championet, the
army was reduced to the most melancholy situation.
Confined during the winter season to the bleak summit*
of the Apennines, it was reduced in numbers more than
one half, and a constant prey to famine and disease.
Io add to the difficulties which everywhere presented
themselves to Massena, the higher classes of the Genoese
looked upon the French only as the destroyers of their
rank, commerce, and political importance ; in conse¬
quence of which they secretly aided every measure by
which they might he driven from the country. Instead
3 R of
Gen*?.
GEN
[ 498 ]
GEN
cf 6c 000 men which he was promised, Massena had no
more than 20,000 after all his unwearied exertions and
with these he had to defend an extent of country from
Mount Cenis to the frontiers of Tuscany. He wisely
dismissed all the former generals, independent ot their
merit, because the soldiers associated with them the idea
of former misery and disgrace. In addition to the su¬
perior strength of the Austrian army, Massena found a
formidable insurrection raised against him in the eastern
territory of the Genoese republic. rlhe passage by sea
was obstructed by the British fleet, and his expected
succours from Marseilles only reached him in part. As
tie could not meet the army in the field by which he
was blockaded, his only alternative was to remain in
Genoa, every moment in dread of perishing by iamine,
if not speedily relieved. After enduring great hard¬
ships, humanity for the starving inhabitants induced
him to surrender. .
The victory of Marengo however restored it again to
the French ; and after being indulged with a nominal
independence for some time, it was incorporated with
France in 1805. When Bonaparte sustained his great
reverses in 1814, Genoa surrendered to a British force,
under a promise of independence, which promise was
however broken, and the city with its territory was an¬
nexed to Sardinia. When the insurrection took place
in this kingdom in March 1821, Genoa gladly seizetl
the opportunity to throw off the foreign yoke. jjuI the
failure of the revolution in Piedmont led to the sup¬
pression of the independence of Genoa.
GENSING. See Panax, Botany Index.
GENTIANA, Gentian, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the pentandria class; and in the natural method
ranking under the 20th order, Rotacea?. See Botany
GENTILE, in matters of religion, a Pagan, or
worshipper of false gods.
The origin of this word is deduced from the Jews,
who called all those who were not of their name
eojim, i. e. gentes, which in the Greek translations of
the Old Testament is rendered r* efb* 5 in which sense
it frequently occurs in the New Testament j as in
Matth. vi. 32. “ All these things the nations or
Gentiles seek.” Whence the Latin church also used
gentes in the same sense as our Gentiles, especially in the
New Testament. But the word gentes soon got another
signification, and no longer meant all such as were not
Jews; but those only who were neither Jews nor Chri¬
stians, but followed the superstitions of the Greeks and
Homans, &c. In this sense it continued among the
Christian writers, till their manner of speech, together
with their religion, was publicly and by authority re¬
ceived in the empire ; when gentiles, from gentes, came
into use : and then both words had two significations,
viz. in treatises or laws concerning religion, they sig¬
nified Pagans, neither Jews nor Christians *, and in
civil affairs, they were used for all such as were not
Romans,
Gentile, in the Roman law and history, a name
which sometimes expresses what the Romans otherwise
called barbarians, whether they were allies of Rome
or not: but this word was used in a more particular
sense for all strangers and foreigners not subject to the
Roman empire.
GENTILESCHI, Horatio, an Italian painter,
was born at Pisa 101563. After having made him-
d
self famous at Florence, Home, Genoa, and other parts Geni]
of Italy, he removed to Savoy } from whence he went
i i  t L r I .navtoo T I
T
to France, and at last, upon the invitation ot Charles I.Gen!iJSI
came over to England. He was well received by' I-
that king, who appointed him lodgings in his court,
together with a considerable salary} and emplojed
him in his palace at Greenwich, and other public
places. The most remarkable of his performances in
England, were the ceilings of Greenwich, and York
house. He did also a Madona, a Magdalen, and Lot
with his two daughters, for King Charles j all which
he performed admirably well. After the death of the
kino- when his collection was exposed to sale, nine
pictures of Gentileschi were sold for 600I. and are
now said to be the ornaments of the hall in Marlbo¬
rough house. His most esteemed piece abroad was
the^portico of Cardinal Bentivoglio’s palace at Lome.
He made several attempts in face painting, but with
little success ; his talent lying altogether in histories,
with figures as big as the life. He was much in favour
with the duke of Buckingham, and many others of
the nobility. After 12 years continuance in England,
he died here at 84 years of age, and was buried in the
queen’s chapel at Somerset-house. His print is a-
mong the heads of Vandyke, he having been drawn
by that great master. He left behind him a daughter,
Artemisia Gentileschi, who was but little inferior to
her father in history painting, and excelled him in por-
^GENTILIS, Albericus, professor of civil law at
Oxford ; an Italian by birth. He had quitted Italy
with his father, on account of religion. He wrote se-
veral works j three books, in particular, De jure belh,
which have not been unserviceable to Grotius. lie
died at London in 1608.
Gentilis, Scipio, brother to the former, and as ce¬
lebrated a civilian as he, forsook his native country
that he might openly profess the Protestant religion.
He was counsellor of the city of Nuremberg, and pro¬
fessor of law with uncommon reputation, lie was a
great humanist j and in his lectures, as well as books,
mixed the flowers of polite learning with the thorns ot
the law. He died in 1616.
GENTLEMAN. Under this denomination are
comprehended all above the rank of yeomen , "hereby*, c
noblemen are truly called gentlemen.
A gentleman is usually defined to be one, wh #
without any title, bears a coat of arms, or whose an¬
cestors have been freemen: and by the coat tha
gentleman giveth, he is known to be, or not to be, d -
scended from those of his name that lived many hun¬
dred years since. _ ... ..
The word is formed of the French gentilhomme^, 0
rather otgentil, “ fine, fashionable, or becoming j an
the SaxoiTman, q. d. honestus, or honesto loco
The same signification has the Italian gentilhuomo, ana
the Spanish /n’c/a/go, or hijo dalgo, that is, the son c
somebody, or a person of note. If 8° fV m
back, we shall find gentleman originally derived I)ore
the Latin gentilis homo; which was used among
Romans for a race of noble persons of the same naro ,
born of free or ingenuous parents, and whose ante
tors had never been slaves or put to deat 1 y
Thus Cicero in his Topics, “ Gentiles sunt, qininte1
eodem sunt nomine, ah ingenms orvundi, quo?um.*^7,
rum nemo servitutern servivit, <ju% copite non sun ^
gen [ 499 ] GEN
LLian,nuti” &c.—Some bold that it was formed from gentile,
gj os. i. e. pagan; and that the ancient Franks, who conquered
ff—' Gaul, which was then converted to Christianity, were
called gentiles by the natives, as being yet heathens.—.
Others relate, that towards the declension of the Ro¬
man empire, as recorded by Ammianus Marcellinus,
there were two companies of brave soldiers, the one
called gentiles, and the other scutarii; and that it
was hence we derive the names gentleman and esquire.
See Esquire.—This sentiment is confirmed by Pas-
quire, who supposes the appellation gentiles and ecuyers
to have been transmitted to us from the Roman sol¬
diery ; it being to the gentiles and scutarii, who were
the bravest of the soldiery, that the principal benefices
and portions of land were assigned. See Benefice.
—The Gauls observing, that during the empire of the
Romans, the scutarii and gentiles had the best tene¬
ments or appointments of all the soldiers on the fron¬
tiers of the provinces, became insensibly accustomed to
apply the same names, gentilhommes and ecuyers, to
such as they found their kings gave the best provisions
or appointments to.
Gentleman- Usher o f the Black Rod. See Rod.
Gentlemen of the Chapel; officers whose duty and
attendance is in the royal chapel, being in number 32.
Twelve of them are priests ; the other 20, commonly
called clerks of the chapel, assist in the performance of
divine service. One of the first 12 is chosen for con¬
fessor of the household ; whose office is to read prayers
every morning to the household servants, to visit the
sick, examine and prepare communicants, and admi¬
nister the sacrament. One of 20 clerks, well versed in
music, is chosen first organist, who is master of the
children, to instruct them in music, and whatever else
is necessary for the service of the chapel ; a second is
likewise an organist; a third, a lutanist; and a fourth
a violist. . There are likewise three vergers, so called
from the silver rods they carry in their hands ; being
a serjeant, a yeoman, and groom of the vestry ; the
first attends the dean and subdean, and finds surplices
and other necessaries for the chapel; the second has
the whole care of the chapel, keeps the pews, and seats
of the nobility and gentry ; the groom has his attend¬
ance within the chapel door, and looks after it.
GENTOOS, in modern history, according to the
1 common acceptation of the term, denote the professors
of the religion of the bramins or brachmans, who in¬
habit the country called Hindostan, in the East Indies,
from the word stan, a “ region,” and hind or hindoo ;
which Ferishtah, as we learn from Colonel Dow’s trans¬
lation of his history, supposes to have been a son of
Ham the son of Noah. It is observed, however, that
Hindoo is not the name by which the inhabitants ori¬
ginally styled themselves ; but according to the idiom
of the Shanscrit which they use, jumbodeep from jum~
boo, a “ jackall,” an animal common in their coun¬
try ; and deep, a large portion of land surrounded by
the sea; or bhertekhunt, from khunt, i. e. “ a conti¬
nent,” and bherrhut, the name of one of the first In¬
dian rajahs. It is also to be observed,- that they have
assumed the name of Hindoos only since the era of the
Tartar government, to distinguish themselves from
their conquerors the Mussulmans. The term Gentoo or
Gent, in the Shanscrit dialect, denotes animal \n gene¬
ral, and in its more confined sense mankind, and is ne¬
ver appropriated particularly to such as follow the doc¬
trines of Brama. These are divided into four great
tribes, each of which has its own separate appellation;
but they have no common or collective term that com¬
prehends the whole nation uuder the idea affixed by
the Europeans to the word Gentoo. Mr Halhed, in
the preface to his translation of the Code of Gentoo
Laws, conjectures that the Portuguese, on their first
arrival in India, hearing the word frequently in the
mouths of the natives, as applied to mankind in gene¬
ral, might adopt it for the domestic appellation of the
Indians themselves, or perhaps their bigotry might
force from the word Gentoo a fanciful allusion to gen¬
tile or Pagan. The Hindoos, or Gentoos, vie with
the Chinese as to the antiquity of their nation. They
reckon the duration ol the world by four jogues, or
distinct ages ; the first the Suttee jogue, or age of
purity, which is said to have lasted about 3,200,000
years ; during which the life of man was 100,000
years, and his stature 21 cubits: the second, the Tir-
tah jogue, or the age in which one-third of mankind
were reprobate ; which consisted of 2,400,000 years,
when men lived to the age of 10,000 years: the third,
the Dwaper jogue, in which half of the human race
became depraved, which endured to 600,000 years,
when men’s lives were reduced to 1000 years : and
fourthly, the Collee jogue, in which all mankind were
corrupted, or rather diminished, which the word collee
imports. This is the present era, which they suppose
will subsist for 400,000 years, of which near 5000 are
already past; and man’s life in this period is limited to
100 years. It is supposed by many authors, that most
of the Gentoo shasters, or scriptures, were composed
about the beginning of the Collee jogue : but an ob¬
jection occurs against this supposition, viz. that the
shasters take no notice of the deluge; to which the
bramins reply, that all their scriptures were written
before the time of Noah, and the deluge never extend¬
ed to Hindostan. Nevertheless, it appears from the
shasters themselves, that they claim a much higher
antiquity than this; instances of which are recited bv
Mr Halhed. J
The doctrine of transmigration is one of the distin¬
guishing tenets of the Gentoos. With regard to this
subject, it is their opinion, according to Mr Holwell,
that those souls which have attained to a certain de¬
gree of purity, either by the innocence of their man¬
ners or the severity of their mortifications, are removed
to regions of happiness proportioned to their respec¬
tive merits : but that those who cannot so far surmount
the prevalence of bad example, and the powerful de¬
generacy of the times, as to deserve such a promotion,
are condemned to undergo continual punishment in the
animation of successive animal forms, until, at the sta¬
ted period, another renovation of the four jogues shall
commence, upon the dissolution of the present. They
imagine six different spheres above this earth ; the
highest of which, called suttee, is the residence of Br»-
ma, and his particular favourites. This sphere is also
the habitation of those men who never uttered a false¬
hood, and of those women who have voluntarily burn¬
ed themselves with their husbands ; the propriety of
which practice is expressly enjoined in the code of the
Gentoo laws. This code, printed by the East India
Company in 1776, is a very curious collection of Hin-
3 ft 2 dew.
GEN
f>Ato9s, doo jurispruilence, whicli was selected by the most ex-
Gcmi- perieuced pundits or lawyers from curious originals in
fiexioa. tj,e Shanscrit language, who were employed for this
v purpose from May 1773 to February 1775 i afterwards
translated into the Persian idiom, and then into the
English language by Mr Halhed.
The several institutes contained in this collection are
interwoven with the religion ot the Oentoos, and re¬
vered as of the highest authority. The curious reader
will discover an astonishing similarity between the in¬
stitutes of this code and many of the ordinances ot
the Jewish law : between the character ot the bramins
or priests, and the Levites; and between the ceremo¬
ny of the scape goat under the Mosaic dispensation,
and a Gentoo ceremony called the ashummed jug, in
which a horse answers the purpose of the goat. Many
obsolete customs and usages alluded to in many parts
of the Old Testament, may also receive illustrations
from the institutes of this code. It appears from the
code, that the bramins, who are the priests and legisla¬
tors of the country, have resigned all the secular and
executive power into the hands of another cast or tribe j
and no bramin has been properly capable ot the magi¬
stracy since the time of the suttee jogue. The only pri¬
vilege of importance which they have appropriated to
themselves, is an exemption from all capital punish¬
ment : they may be degraded, branded, imprisoned for
life, or sent into perpetual exile ; hut it is everywhere
expressly ordained, that a hi'amin shall not be put to
death on any account whatsover.
We have already observed, that the Hindoos are di¬
vided into four great and original tribes, which accord¬
ing to the Gentoo theology proceeded from the four
different members of Brama, the supposed immediate
agent of the creation under the spirit of the Almighty.
These tribes are the Bramins, which proceeded from his
mouth, and whose office is to pray, read, and instruct;
the Chehteree, which proceed from his arms, whose
office is to draw the bow, to fight, and to govern *, the
Bice, proceeding from the belly or thighs, who are to
provide the necessaries of life by agriculture and traffic ;
and the Soonder, from the feet, which are ordained to
labour, serve, and travel.
Few Christians, says the translator of the Gentoo
code, have expressed themselves with a more becoming
reverence of the grand and impartial designs of Provi¬
dence, in all his works, or with a more extensive cha¬
rity towards all their fellow creatures of every profes¬
sion, than the Gentoos. It is indeed an article of faith
among the Bramins, that God’s all merciful power
would not have permitted such a number of different
religions, if he bad not found a pleasure in beholding
their varieties.
GENUFLEXION, (of genu, “ knee,” and Jlecto,
*' I bend,”) the act of bowing or bending the knee ;
or rather of kneeling down.
The Jesuit Rosweyd, in his Onomasticon, shows, that
jrennfluxion, or kneeling, has been a very ancient custom
in the church, and even under the Old Testament dis¬
pensation *, and that this practice was observed through-
ont all the year, excepting on Sundays, and during the
time from Easter to Whitsuntide, when kneeling was
forbidden by the council of Nice.
Others have shown, that the custom of not kneeling
cu Sunday bad obtained from the time of the apostles,
GEN
as appears from St Trencens, and TortuMian 5 and the fG?f
Ethiopia church, scrupulously attached to the ancient —VL
ceremonies, still retain that of not kneeling at divine
service. The Russians esteem it an indecent posture to
worship God on the knees. Add, that the Jews usualiy
prayed standing. Rosweyd gives the- reasons of the pro¬
hibition of genuflexion on Sundays, &c. from St Basil,
Anastasius, St Justin, &c.
Baronius is of opinion, that genuflexion was not esta¬
blished in the year of Christ 58, from that passage in
Acts xx. 36. where St Paul is expressly mentioned to
kneel down at prayer ; but Saurin shows, that nothing
can be thence concluded. The same author remarks,
also, that the primitive Christians carried the practic#
of genuflexion so far, that some of them had worn ca¬
vities in the floor where they prayed : and St Jerome
relates of St James, that he had contracted a hardnes*
on his knees equal to that of camels.
GENUS, among metaphysicians and logicians, de¬
notes a number of beings which agree in certain ge¬
neral properties common to them all: so that a ge¬
nus is nothing else but an abstract idea, expressed by
some general name or term. See Logic and Meta¬
physics.
Genus, is also used for a character or manner appli¬
cable to every thing of a certain nature or condition:
in which sense it serves to make capital,divisions hi
divers sciences, as medicine, natural history, &c.
Genus, in Rhetoric. Authors distinguish the art of
rhetoric, as also orations or discourses produced there¬
by, into three genera or kinds, demonstrative, delibera¬
tive, and judiciary. To the demonstrative kind belong
panegyrics, genethliacons, epithalamiums, funeral ha¬
rangues, &c. To the deliberative belong persuasions,
dissuasions, commendations, &c. To the judiciary kind
belong defences and accusations.
Genus, in Medicine. See Medicine, under the
Nosology.
Genus, in Natural History, a subdivision of any class
or order of natural beings, whether of the animal, ve¬
getable, or mineral kingdoms, which agree in certain
common characters. See Natural History.
Genus, in Music, by the ancients called genus me¬
lodic?, is a certain manner of dividing and subdividing
the principles of melody j that is, the consonant and
dissonant intervals, into their concinnous parts.
The moderns considering the octave as the most
perfect of intervals, and that whereon all the concords
depend, in the present theory of music, the division of
that interval is considered as containing the true division
of the whole scale.
But the ancients went to work somewhat different¬
ly: the diatessaron, or fourth, was the least interval
which they admitted as concord 5 and therefore they
sought first how that might be most conveniently di¬
vided 5 from whence they constituted the diapente and
diapason.
The diatessaron being thus, as it were, the root and
foundation of the scale, what they called the genera,
or kinds, arose- from its various divisions j and hence
they defined the genus modulandt to be the manner of
dividing the tetrachord and disposing its lour sounds a*
to succession.
The genera of music were three, the enharmonic,
chromatic, and diatonic. The two first were variously
subdivided j
[ 500 1
II
Troy.
CEO
subdivided j and even the last, though that is common
ly reckoned to be without any species, yet different au¬
thors have proposed different divisions under that name,
without giving any particular names to the species as
was done to the other two.
For the characters, &c. of these several genera, see
Enharmonic, Chromatic, and Diatonic.
GEOCENTRIC, in Astronomy, is applied to a pla¬
net, or its orbit, to denote it concentric with the earth,
eras having the earth for its centre, or the same centre
witli the earth.
GEOFFRiEA, a genus of plants belonging to the
diadelphia class, and in the natural method ranking
under the 33d order, Papilionacece. See Botany and
Ma TERIA MEDICA Index.
GEOF IRE Y of Monmouth, bishop of St A-
saph, called by our ancient biographers Gallofridus
Monumentensis. Leland conjectures that he was educa¬
ted in a Benedictine convent at Monmouth, where he
was born ; and that he became a monk of that order.
Bale, and after him Pits, call him archdeacon of Mon¬
mouth j and it is generally asserted that he was made
bishop of St Asaph in the year 1151 or 1152, in the
reign of King Stephen. His history was probably fi¬
nished after the year 1138. It contains a fabulous ac¬
count of British kings, from the Trojan Brutus to
the reign of Cadwallader in the year 690. But Geof¬
frey, whatever censure he may deserve for his credu¬
lity, was not the inventor of the stories he relates. It
is a translation from a manuscript written in the Bri¬
tish language, and brought to England from Armo¬
rica by his friend Gualter, archdeacon of Oxford.
But the achievements of King Arthur, Merlin’s pro¬
phecies, many speeches and letters, were chiefly his
own addition. In excuse for this historian, Mr Whar¬
ton judiciously observes, that fabulous histories were
then the fashion, and popular traditions a recommenda¬
tion to his book.
GEOFFROY, Stephen-Fhancis, a physician emi¬
nent for bis chemical and botanical knowledge, was
born at Paris in the year 1672, where his father kept
an apothecary’s shop, and had been several times in the
magistracy. He received a liberal education y and,
[ sci ]
GEO
while prosecuting the study of medicine, he had con- Ccoffror,
feiences at his father’s house with Cassini, du Verney, GeogTHpiw-
Homberg, and other men of distinguished eminence! caI-
At Montpellier lie attended the lectures of the most able
professors of physic, and afterwards visited the south
of France, carefully viewing every object deserving of
his attention. He accompanied count de Tallard to
England in 1698, where he became acquainted with
the chief men of science, and was made a member of
the Royal Society. He next went into Holland, and
in 1700 he attended the abbe de Eouvois in a tour to
Italy.. He was, on bis return, made bachelor of medi¬
cine in 17°2, and, in two years after, he was created
M. D. One of his theses was on the question, “ An
hominisprimordia vermis?” which was translated into
I rench for the sake of some ladies of exalted rank, by
whom it was deemed interesting.
Geoffrey did not hastily commence the practice of
medicine, continuing the prosecution of his studies in re¬
tirement for some years. He never appeared anxious to
push himself forward, although his knowledge made
him be often consulted by several gentlemen of the fa¬
culty. Ha was so concerned for the recovery of his
patients, that it gave him an air of melancholy, which
at fiist alarmed them, till they became acquainted with
the cause. He was, in I7°9* made professor of physic
by the king to the^ Royal College, vacant by the death
of the celebrated Tournefort. He began with lectures
on materia medica ; and in 1712, M. Fagon resigned
to him the chemical chair: on both which topics Geof¬
frey lectured with unwearied assiduity. Pie was twicn
chosen to the office of dean by the faculty of Paris, and
he filled a place in the Royal Academy of Sciences,
from the year 1699. His health at last yielded to his
toils, and he died in January, 1731. Pie is known to
the chemical world by his table of affinities, far supe¬
rior to any which had appeared before his time. Hi*
greatest w'ork was his History of the Materia Medica,
which, in an unfinished state, was published after his
death in the year 1741, in 3 vols. 8vo.
.GEOGRAPHICAL MILE, the same with the sea
mile j being one minute, or the 60th part of a degrea
of a great circle on the earth’s surface.
GEOGRAPHY.
INTRODUCTION.
n,
GEOGRAPHY is that part of knowledge which
describes the surface of the earth ; its divisions,
extent, and boundaries $ the relative position of the se¬
veral countries and places on the globe, and the man¬
ners, customs, and political relations of their inhabi¬
tants. Ihe word is Greek, yiay^rntpix from yjj or yix,
terra, H the earth,” and y^xtyu, scribo, “ I write.” As
every thing that immediately contributes to the ascer¬
taining of the situation and limits of countries and places
on the surface of the earth, is within the province of
geography, this science includes the description and use
of globes, maps, and charts, with the methods of con-
etructing them.
This science has been divided into Geography pro- , . * ,
periy so called, or a description of the Zands of thefe
globe, and Hydrography, or a description of the wa-k ^ y ''
ters 5 but this division is of little consequence, and is
now seldom employed. Geography has also been di¬
vided into general and particular, terms which are va¬
riously understood by different writers on the subject.
By Varenius, one of the oldest and best modern writers
on general geography, general or universal geography is
used to denote that part of the subject which considers
the earth in general, and explains its affections as a ter¬
restrial globe, without attending to its arbitrary division
into different regions ; and by particular or special geo¬
graphy, this writer understands the description of the
particular regions of the earth : and he divides this lat¬
ter into two parts > chorography, describing some con¬
siderable
?
502
In trod tic
G E O G
tton
siderable parts of the earth, as of the quarters, and to-
pon-raphiu describing a particular province or district.
-“-y—— Geography maybe conveniently divided \nio descrip¬
tive geography, or that part of the science which de¬
scribes the form, limits, extent, and variety of surface
of different countries, with the manners and customs o
their inhabitants ; and physical geography, or that part
which teaches how to determine the situations of difter-
ent places in the globe, and to lay dovvn and delineate
their positions for the information of others. Descrip¬
tive geography is the more popular and entertaining
part of the subject. It is usually divided into ancient
or classical geography, geography of the middle ages,
and modern geography. The brst branch of the Sub¬
ject considers the state of the earth so far as it was
known or discovered at different periods previous to
the sixth century of the Christian era. The geography
of the middle ages extends from the sixth to the tit-
teenth century, and modern geography from the fif¬
teenth century to the present time. One of the most
useful subdivisions of descriptive geography is that em¬
ployed by Mr Pinkerton, who considers the geography
of the several countries which he describes under four
different heads, i. Historical or progressive geography ;
in which he treats of the names, extent, original popu¬
lation, progressive geographical improvements, histori¬
cal epochs and antiquities of the countries. 2. Political
geography ; under which he describes the religion and
ecclesiastic institutions, government, laws, population,
colonies, military force, revenue, and political relations.
2. Civil geography, comprehendig manners and cus¬
toms, language, literature, and the arts, education,
cities and towns, principal edifices, roads, manufactures
and commerce. And, 4. Natural geography, compre¬
hending an account of the climate and seasons, face of
the country, its soil, and state of agriculture, its rivers,
lakes, mountains, and forests, and an enumeration of the
natural productions and natural curiosities, which are
* Vid Pm- usually found within each district *. Descriptive geo-
kerton’s graphy is sometimes styled political geography, while
Geography, physical or general geography is called natural geo-
vvL i. p. 3. graphy.
Among the other departments of this study we may
mention sacred geography, or that which illustrates the
sacred writings •, and ecclesiastic geography, which de¬
scribes the division of a country according to its church
government, as into archbishoprics, bishoprics, &c.
Many writers of treatises or systems of geography
give a detailed account of the historical events and com¬
mercial concerns of the several countries which they de-
cribe •, but we consider this as unnecessary in a pure
geographical work, as these departments belong rather
to History and Political Economy.
Some systematic writers on geography considering the
term in a very comprehensive view, as including a de¬
scription of the internal structure of the earth, as well
as of its surface, have thought it necessary to enter into
discussions respecting the original formation of the earth,
and the minerals of which it is composed. How far
they are right in this we shall not pretend to determine.
In this work, these subjects will be treated of under
the articles GEOLOGY and MINERALOGY.
Another subject relative to the affections of the earth,
respects the physical and chemical changes that take
place in its atmosphere. These properly belong to the
R A P H Y.
science of Meteorology, and will be found under intro^
that article. . *'0I|
We propose in this article to offer only an introduc-  v-
tory outline of descriptive geography, as the several 3
quarters of the globe, and their subdivisions into em-this J
pires, kingdoms, and states, are described as particu-sou.
larly as is compatible with the limits of tnis woik, un¬
der the several articles to which they belong in the ge¬
neral alphabet. , • ,
Our attention will be chiefly directed to physical
geography, especially that part of it which describes
the construction and use of globes, maps, and charts.
Physical geography is properly a branch of mixed 0fP*>'
mathematics, and its principles depend on geometry,geogrh
and its kindred sciences, trigonometry and perspective.
It is intimately connected with astronomy, and as these
two sciences mutually illustrate each other, they are
commonly taught at the same time. T.he physical
changes that take place on the earth, as far as it is con¬
sidered in its general character of an individual of the
solar system, have been already explained under Astro¬
nomy ; and we shall have little here to add respecting
them, except as they are modifled by the situation of
the observer on different parts of the earth s surface.
The principles and practice of physical geography,
though strictly dependent on pure mathematics, may
be, for the most part, explained in a popular way, so as
to be understood by the generality ot readers. This
popular view of the subject W'e shall attempt in the pre¬
sent article, throwing every thing that is purely ma¬
thematical into the form of notes. It must be evicent,
however, that a reader who is conversant with mathe¬
matics will study physical geography to more advan¬
tageand for this purpose, it will be sufficient to pos¬
sess a moderate acquaintance with arithmetic, the ele¬
ments of geometry, plane trigonometry, spherics, and
perspective. M
It is scarcely necessary to enlarge on the importance Impori *
r '  1. — T*. tlmco cnpnrPS. the®*
or utility of geography. It is one of those sciences, theofgeo,
knowledge of which is almost constantly required.* •
Without an acquaintance with the geography of the
countries that are the scenes of the actions which he re¬
lates, the historian must either be extremely concise, or
his narration must be obscure and unintelligible. Geo¬
graphy affords the best illustration of history, an(*|8
equally necessary to the historian and his reader, lo
the traveller, under which denomination we may class
the soldier, the sailor, the merchant, as well as those
who travel for pleasure or curiosity, a previous know¬
ledge of the countries, through which he is to pass, is
always useful, and often indispensable. To the politi¬
cian a comprehensive knowledge of geography is ol the
highest importance. If he is ignorant of the extent,
form, boundaries, appearances, climates, &c. of the
country with which he is at war, he will plan his hostile
expeditions without effect, and will send his invading
armies only to perish among the defiles of the enemy,
or to meet a more inglorious and deplorable fate Ironi
the diseases of the climate.
Even, if we consider geography as a study 01 mere
amusement and curiosity, it forms one of the most ra¬
tional and interesting studies in which we can engage*
Nothing can be more gratifying to the observer 0
mankind than to survey the manners and customs or va-
J rious
p':t I.
tory.
a
GEOGRAPHY.
rious nations, and to compare the relative state of civi¬
lization and improvement in countries widelv remote
from each other. The student of geography can sit in
his closet, and accompany the adventurous traveller in
bis toilsome journey, through
■  antres vast, and deserts wild,
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills, whose heads touch
heav’n!”
trace his progress over the boundless ocean, and draw
from his narration a delightful fund of instruction and
amusement, free (except in imagination) from those pe¬
rils and hardships, which the writer had undergone.
At the end of this article, we shall offer a few re¬
marks on the best method of teaching and learning
geography. We must now take a brief view of the
origin and progress of the science.
5^3
Ilbiory.
PART I. HISTORY AND PRESENT STATE OE GEOGRAPHY.
ji >rypf AN historical account of geography would be ex-
f rapty* tremely interesting, as it would include, not only the
progressive improvements of the science, considered as
a branch of mixed mathematics, but an account of the
successive discoveries of different parts of the earth that
have been made by the more civilized communities.
Such an account in detail, however, cannot be expected
here ; and we shall coniine ourselves principally to a
cursory view of the geographical discoveries of ancient
and modern nations, reserving the progressive improve¬
ments of physical geography for those parts of the arti¬
cle to which they properly belong; as they would nei¬
ther be so interesting nor so intelligible to a general
reader, before he has been made acquainted with the
? principles of the science.
0?*. As soon as mankind had formed themselves into so¬
cieties, and begun to establish connexions with their
neighbours, they would find it necessary to inform them¬
selves of the position of the countries which bordered on
their own $ and very soon their curiosity would lead
them to desire to form an acquaintance with the extent
of the country in which they lived, and with many
particulars respecting those which were remote from
them. Thus, we see that scarcely had the sciences ari¬
sen among the Greeks, before their philosophers began
to occupy themselves in geographical pursuits. We are
told that Anaximander exhibited to his countrymen a
plan of Greece and the neighbouring countries, and in
this he was imitated by his countryman Hecateus of
Miletus. Of the nature of these ancient plans or maps,
and their progressive improvements, we shall speak
more at large hereafter.
Di redes Commerce, and the taste for adventures, which usual-
■>ft Phoe-ly accompanies it, were doubtless amongthe first causes
"l8 *• of geographical researches ; but the Phoenicians are the
earliest commercial people of whose discoveries we have
any correct accounts. This people seem first to have
investigated the coasts on the Mediterranean ; and their
navigators, extending their voyages beyond this sea,
through the narrow channel which is now called the
Straits of Gibraltar, entered the Atlantic ocean, and
planted colonies in Iberia, a part of Spain, in the coun¬
try of Tharshish, which is probably the modern Anda¬
lusia, and upon the western shores of Africa.
The learned Bocbart, led by the analogy between
the Phoenician tongue, and the oriental languages, has
followed the tracks of the Phoenicians, both along the
shores of the Mediterranean, and those of the Atlantic.
These analogies are not always sure guides; but we can
scarcely doubt that the city of Cadiz was a Phoenician
colony, and it is not likely that this was the only one
formed by that enterprising people. ^
In the time of Solomon, Phoenician ships, employed Situation of
by him, set sail from a port in the Red sea, called Ophir-
Azion-Gaber, and passing from that sea through the
straits of Babelmandel, carried on their commerce in
the Indian ocean. The country of Ophir, to which
they sailed, must have been at a considerable distance
from the Red sea, as we are told that a voyage thither
required three years. “ The king (says the author of
the first book of Kings) had a navy of Tharshish, with
the navy of Hiram. Once in three years came the navy
of Tharshish, bringing gold and silver, ivory, and apes
and peacocks.” Some have placed Ophir upon the coast
of Africa, where the modern Sofala is situated : Others
suppose it tvas a port in the island of Ceylon, or in the
island of Sumatra, in which latter island there is still a
place called Ophir. The gold dust and ivory brought
from thence, seem to shew that it was an African port.
(See Ophir). M. Montucla supposes that the Phceni-
cians must even at this period have sailed round de
continent of Africa, and that Ophir was some place on
the Gold Coast (a). ^ ^
The Carthaginians, a Phoenician colony, imitated Cartbagi-
their predecessors. We know that they sailed into thenians»
Atlantic ocean, as far as the coast of Cornwall in Eng¬
land, whence they procured large quantities of tin. The
same people made several attempts towards a complete
survey of the western coast of Africa. Of these we
have an account only of one expedition, that of Hanno,
of which we have already given an account under the
article Africa.
The Carthaginian navigators, if we may believe the
recital of Diodorus Siculus, (lib. xv.) discovered a coun¬
try situated in the Atlantic ocean, which furnished all
the necessaries and conveniences of life. Some pretend
that this country was America, but it is much more
probable that it was some one of the Cape de Verd
islands.
(a) Ihe most celebrated writers who have supported the opinion, that Ophir was a port in Africa, are Mon¬
tesquieu, Bruce, and d’Anvdle. Dr Prideaux and M. Gosselin again contend, that Ophir was a port in Arabia
Felix, and the same with Sabea or Sheba; and their opinions have lately been ably supported by Dr Vincent,
See Vincent's Feriplus of the Erythrean Sea, Part IE
C4rem»na-
•i *
Voyage of
Salaspes.
GEO
islands. The Carthaginian senate, fearful that the re¬
lation of the sailors who had discovered such a coun¬
try, might be the means of producing frequent emigra¬
tions, are said to have used every endeavour to stifle the
memory of this expedition.
History speaks of several voyages undertaken by or-
vigation of jer 0f tj]e kjngg 0f Egypt and of Persia, for the pur-
A,UCH’ pose of ascertaining the extent of Africa ; and Hero¬
dotus relates that Pharaoh Necho, king of Egypt, em¬
ployed some Phoenician navigators to sail along the
coast of Africa, for the purpose of taking a more exact
survey of it. See Africa.
M. Gosselin, who has considered the geography of
the ancients in a very learned dissertation, maintains,
that the different passages of ancient writers, who have
always declared that the Phoenicians and the Greeks
circumnavigated Africa, are not sufficient to prove the
certainty of such a voyage. The passage in Herodotus
has been discussed by him at considerable length, and he
seems to have proved his relation to be nothing more
than a romance, founded on the historical knowledge
of the Egyptians. M. Gosselin, however, admits,
that many ancient voyages took place from those coun¬
tries in which geography had arrived at some perfec¬
tion ; and there are numerous arguments, proving that
all the shores of the old continent had been sailed
round. See Bailly's History of Astronomy, p. 307.
edit. 1755.
Xerxes king of Persia, according to Herodotus, gave
a similar commission about the year before Christ 480,
to one of his satraps named Sataspes, who had been
condemned to die. Sataspes entered the Atlantic
ocean through the straits of Gibraltar, and bending his
course towards the south, he coasted the continent of
Africa, till he doubled a cape which was called Syloco,
and which Riccioli considers as the same with the Cape
of Good Hope. He is said to have continued his course
to the south for some time, and then to have returned
home, assigning as a reason for not proceeding farther,
that he had encountered a sea so full of herbage, that
his passage had been completely obstructed. This rea¬
son appeared so ridiculous to Xerxes, that he ordered
Sataspes to be crucified ; but in this sentence he appears
to have been rather too precipitate, as it is certain that
in some latitudes there grows such a quantity of sea
weed, that a vessel can scarcely make way through it;
as in that part of the sea which lies between the Cape
de Verd islands, the Canaries, and the coast of Africa,
and is called by the Portuguese the sea of Saragossa.
This shews that the relation of Sataspes may have been
correct, as he might think it dangerous to attempt pro¬
ceeding where he found himself so much entangled.
Herodotus has commemorated another marine expe¬
dition, undertaken by Scylax, by order of Darius the
son of Hystaspes, and which probably took place about
the year 422 B. C. Scylax embarked upon the river
Indus, the course of which he followed to its mouth,
from whence he sailed in the course of 30 months, ei¬
ther into the Arabian gulf, or the Red sea. This Scy¬
lax must not be confounded with a navigator of the
same name, who, at a later period, made a voyage of
I4 investigation round the Red >ea.
Geography The conquests of Alexander the Great, if they add-
improved ed little to the happiness of mankind, had at least the
by A’.exaa- advantage of throwing considerable light on the state of
Expedition
of Scylax.
G R A P H Y. Parf,
geography at that time, as they afforded to the Greeks jjj5t
a more perfect knowledge of the river Indus, and of
many parts of that vast country which derives its name
from that river. Alexander does not seem to have pe¬
netrated to the Ganges, though his expedition led the
way to the knowledge of that river j for soon after he
went as far as Palibothra, a town situated on the river
Indus, at its confluence with another river coming from
the west. The followers of Alexander went down the
Indus, as far as its opening into the Indian ocean,
where they witnessed for the first time the phenomenon
of the flux and reflux of the sea,—a phenomenon which
excited in them great astonishment and terror. It was
after this that Alexander detached, about the year 327
before Christ, two of his captains, Nearchus and One-
sicritus, to investigate the coast of the Indian sea.
Nearchus was ordered to return by the Red sea, and
this he effected. Some fragments of his voyage have
come down to us, and upon these has been formed an
excellent work by Dr Vincent, entitled the “ Periplus
of the Erythrean Sea.” This learned and valuable
xvork is just completed by the publication of the Second
Part, and affords much additional illustration of the
geographical information and commercial enterprises of
the ancients.
Gnesicritus sailed to the east, and if we may helieva
the account that is left of his voyage, he gave us the
first exact information respecting the island of Ceylon.
The measure given by Onesicritus, of the extent of the
island which he investigated, viz. 7000 stadia, does not
correspond to Ceylon, whether we consider the length
or circumference of the island, (see Ceylon) ; and if
we take it as the measure of the length, it more nearly
corresponds to that of Sumatra. The relations of Near¬
chus and Onesicritus were extant in the time of Stra¬
bo, by whom the latter is said to exceed, in point of ex¬
aggeration, all the other historians of Alexander’s ex¬
pedition. At the same time, it must be acknowledged
that there are many things related by Onesicritus, as
quoted by Strabo, which sufficiently agree with what
we know of India, and the productions of that coun¬
try : for he speaks of the sugar cane, the cotton plant,
the bamboo, &c. ,,
The kings of Egypt who succeeded Alexander, tookftyPtoll
considerable interest in the progress of geography. ThePhilad*
second of these kings, Ptolemy Philadelphus, about theph**'
year 280 before Christ, sent into India two ambassadors,
Megasthenes and Daimarhus, accompanied by the ma¬
thematician Dionysius. Megasthenes was sent to the
king of Palibothra on the hanks of the Ganges, and
Daimachus to another Indian potentate. No account
remains of the proceedings of Dionysius and Daima¬
chus, hut Megasthenes left an account oi his journey,
which is frequently quoted by Strabo, by whom it is
considered as a mixture of real adventures and impro¬
bable exaggerations. These quotations of Strabo are
certainly all that remain of the relation of Megasthenes;
for the work published under the name of Megasthenes
is a literary imposture, similar to the works of Be’osus,
Manetho, and Ctesius.
In the reign of Ptolemy Lathyrus, about 115 years l<:
before Christ, other expeditions were undertaken, for
the purpose of sailing round the continent of Africa.
Eudoxus and Cysicus having incurred the displeasur*
of Ptolemy, were sent on this voyage of discovery.
They
tl.
ory.
vjke of
Py is.
jiiei
They passed through the straits of Gibraltar, and cir-
„ cumnavigating Africa, returned by the Red sea. Last¬
ly, in the reign of Ptolemy, surnamed Alexander, about
po years before Christ, Agatarchides, who had been
the king’s governor, was sent to take a complete survey
of the Red sea, and wrote an account of his voyage, of
which, however, there remain only a few extracts that
are preserved by Photius, in his Bibliotheca, a work of
the ninth century.
The extension of commerce seems always to have
been one of the principal objects of these voyages of
discovery. It is not surprising, therefore, that the in¬
habitants of Marseilles, which was earlv celebrated as
a commercial city, appear among the ancient naviga¬
tors who laboured to extend geographical knowledge.
Two voyagers, Pythias and Euthymenes, undertook an
expedition about 320 years before the Christian eera.
Euthymenes entered the Atlantic through the straits
of Gibraltar, and turned towards the south, for the pur¬
pose of taking a survey of the coast of Africa. This
is all that we know of his route ; but Pythias steered
northward, and after reconnoitring the coasts of Spain
and Gaul, sailed round the island of Albion, and stretch¬
ing still farther to the north, discovered an island which
is believed to be the modern Iceland, or the Thule of
the ancients, terrarum ultima Thule. Perhaps, how-
this was only one of the Ferro islands. Strabo,
GEOGRAPHY-
who appears to have been prejudiced against Pythias,
treats his relation as fabulous, founding his opinion
principally on the number of incredible circumstances
that occur in his narration. Taking these circum¬
stances, however, not according to their literal mean¬
ing, but in a figurative sense, they represent pretty w^ell
the state of the sea and sky in these countries which are
so little favoured by nature. Pythias certainly seems
to have been one of the first Greek navigators who en¬
tered the Baltic.
We have thus traced the progress of geographical
discoveries to very nearly the period which we assigned
as the limit of ancient geography; and shall now notice
very briefly some of the principal scientific geographers
of antiquity, whose names or writings have descended
to posterity, and shall afterwards give a summary sketch
of the knowledge which the ancients seem to have pos¬
sessed of the habitable globe.
As geography is a branch of knowledge intimately
connected with geometry and astronomy, it became an
object of consideration with many of the ancient geo¬
meters and astronomers. We have already mentioned
the names of Anaximander of Miletus, and his coun¬
tryman Hecateus. Strabo also notices Democritus,
Eudoxus of Cnidos, and Parmenides, to the last of
whom he attributes the division of the earth into zones.
These were followed by Eratosthenes, who lived about
240 years before the Christian aera, and Hipparchus,
who flourished about 80 years afterwards j Polybius,
Geminus, and Possidonius. Eratosthenes wrote three
books on geography, of which Strabo criticises some
passages, though he frequently defends him against Hip-
parchus, who often affects an opposite opinion. Poly¬
bius wrote on geography as well as history, and, as well
as Geminus and Possidonius, is frequently quoted by
Strabo. Polybius and Gerainus argue with considerable
acuteness for the possibility of the torrid zone being in¬
habited, a circumstance which was generally disbelieved
Vol. IX. Part II. ' f
y the ancients ; and they even adduce arguments which
are very plausible, to prove that the climate of the coun¬
tries under the equator is more temperate than that of
those which are situated near the tropics.
. niust not here omit a geographer and mathema¬
tician who lived about the time of Alexander the Great.
This was Dicearchus of Messina, the disciple of Tliecn
phrastus, who wrote a description of Greece in iambic
verses, of which some fragments yet remain. What ren¬
ders this work most remarkable is, that it contains the
hmght of several mountains measured geometrically by
Dicearchus. Thus, for instance, the height of Mount
Cylene is stated at 15 stadia, and that of Satabyce at
about 14. Taking the stadium at 94I toises, we have
foi tne latter of these heights, at most 1400 toises,
whereas many of the ancients assigned 300, 400, or even
500 stadia, as the height of some of their mountains.
With Dicearchus we may mention another geometer
noticed by Plutarch in his life of Paulus Emilias j viz.
Xenagoras, a disciple of Aristotle, who also employed
himself m measuring mountains, and has assigned only
15 stadia, which is equal to about 1417 toises, as the
height of Mount Olympus. In some of the later pe¬
riods previous to the Christian tera, we find the names
of several geographers, as Artemidorus of Ephesus,
who wrote a geographical work in eleven hocks, of
which nothing remains ; Scymnus of Chio, author of a
description of the earth in iambic verses, which remains
in a very mutilated state ; Isidorus of Charax, who left
a description of the Parthian empire, and Scylax of
Caryades, author of a voyage round the Mediterranean
sea, which is still extant.
The works of all these geographers, however, are Strabo,
trifling when compared with the geography of Strabo,
a work in^ 16 books, which has come down to us en¬
tile. This is one of the most valuable works of anti¬
quity, both from the spirit of discussion which runs
thiough it, and the number of curious observations
which the author has collected of different geographers
anu navigators who preceded him; and of whose works
nothing remains except these extracts. Strabo lived in
the reigns of Augustus and Tiberius, and was nearly
cotemporary with Pomponius Mela. This latter geo-PoJ^ius
grapher wrote a work de situ or bis, which is little more Mela,
than a bare summary, though it is valuable, as it gives
us a sketch of what was know7n in his time respecting
toe state 01 the habitable globe. Pomponius IMela was
followed by Julius Solenus, who has also treated of geo¬
graphy in his Polyhistor, a compilation which is suffi¬
ciently valuable from the number of curious observa¬
tions which are there collected.
Of all the ancient geographers, posterity is most in- ptoifmy.
debted to Ptolemy, who produced a work much more
scientific than had ever before been written on this sci¬
ence •, a geography in eight books, which must ever be
considered as one of the principal monuments of the la¬
bours of its author. In this work there appear, for
the first time, an application of geometrical principles
to the construction cf maps; the different projections of
the sphere, and a distribution of the several places on
the earth, according to their latitudes and longitudes.
This work must have been the result of a great many
relations both historical and geographical, that had been
collected by Ptolemy. It has passed through numerous
editions.
3S
Some
5o6
G E O G R
History.
2 ■>
Hudson's
collection.
Some time after Ptolemy, lived Dionysius the Ah i-
can, commonly called the Penegctic, from the title of
a work that he composed in verse, containing a descrip¬
tion of the world, which may be considered as one ot
the most correct systems of ancient geography, and was
by Pliny proposed to himself as a pattern. Ibis wen v
was afterwards translated into Latin verses by Priscian,
and by Avienus, the latter of whom also wrote a de¬
scription of tbe maritime coasts in iambic verses, oi
which there remain about 700. Among the latest geo¬
graphers of this period are reckoned Marcianos and
Agathemares, of whom little is known, except that the
latter was author of two hooks on geography.
The scattered works of most of these authors being
difficult to procure, were collected by Hudson into one
work, and published by him in four volumes octavo, in
the years 1698, 3702, and 1712, under the Ule of
Geographic veteris scriptores Greciceminores, together
witlfa Latin translation, and notes and dissertations on
each by Dodwell. In this work we find the remains
of Hanno, Scylax, Nearchus, Agatarchides, Arrian,
Alarcianus, Dicearcbus, Isidore of Charax, Scymnus,
Agathemares, Dionysius the Periegetic, Artemidorus,
Dionysius of Bisance^ Avienus, Priscian, and some fi ag-
ments of Strabo, of Plutarch, of Ptolemy, ot Albulfeda,
and of Ulug Beg. This is a most valuable collection,
and as it had become extremely scarce, was a few years
ago reprinted at Leipsic.
' The above is a hasty sketch of the names and cha¬
racters of most of the geographical writers within the
period which we have assigned to the ancient history of
the science. We shall have occasion to make some fur¬
ther observations on the more eminent of these geogra¬
phers in a future part of this article.
€?eo mphi- With respect to the knowledge of the globe that was
caTkiiow-" possessed by the ancients, there have been various, opi-
ledge of the nions 5 some have considered them as very extensively
acquainted with almost every part of it, not excepting
some portion of America 5 while others have confined
their geographical knowledge within vei’y narrow li¬
mits. The following observations are chiefly drawn
from M. Montucla, an eminent judge in. every, thing
that relates to the history of the mathematical sciences.
As to the knowledge which the ancients possessed of
the habitable globe, it is certain that they were well
acquainted with Europe, or at least all that part of it
which had been made subject to the Homan empire, as
far as the banks of the Rhine and the Danube. They
were tolerably well acquainted with Germany and Sar-
matia. They had some knowledge of the Baltic sea, as
a fleet had been sent by Augustus, which sailed as far
as the peninsula then called the Cumbrian Chersonesns,
the modern Jutland. The Baltic was at that time ce¬
lebrated for the production of ambergrise. They had
acquired a knowledge of the island of Britain, from the
expeditions of Julius Caesar and Claudius; but the
northern parts of this island, and the whole of Ireland,
were to them nations of rude, uncivilized savages. The
boundary of their knowledge of Europe to the north,
was the Thule of Pythias, or Iceland ; at least if it is
certain, as is the general opinion, that this island is the
ultima Thule.
With respect to Asia, they seem to have survey¬
ed the country as far towards the east as the river
Ganges; and the immense extent of country compre-
3
ancients.
45
Europe
Asia.
A P H Y. Pari*
bended between the Indus and the Ganges, was called Hist >,
by them India on this side the Ganges. Further on to-1
wards the north of China, in the neighbourhood of the
mountains where these rivers derive their source, they
placed several nations of people, of whom they related
the most ridiculous fables. Beyond these, still more
towards the east, they placed the Seres, and upon the
coast of the gulf, which is now the bay of Cochin Chi¬
na, called by Ptolemy the Great Bay, were situated the
Singe, so called by Ptolemy, though they are not men¬
tioned by Strabo, Pompomus IMela, or Solinus. Jhe
Seres were probably the inhabitants of the 1101 thorn
parts of China, and the Sinee, those of the. southern parts
of China, who very early occupied Cochin China, Ton-
quin, &c. countries which in the sequel they have en¬
tirely subjugated. They maintained a commerce by land
with the Seres, and their route is pointed, oat in one of
Ptolemy’s maps. Beyond the Seres, according to Stra- j
bo and Pomponius Mela, lay between, the Oriental 1
sea, though Ptolemy, for want of certain intelligence
respecting that part of Asia, considers the point as un¬
decided, and places there several unknown countries.
The ancients carried this extremity of Asia much far¬
ther to the east than it is found to extend by modern
geographers; for, according to them, the Seres and the
Sin re were situated about the longitude of 180 , while
the meridian of Pekin, or about the middle of the Chi¬
nese empire, reaches no farther than to 134 > reckoning
the longitude from the most distant ot the Canary
islands, as was done by Ptolemy. To the north of. the
Indus the ancient geographers placed the Scythians,
and Hyperboreans (the Jartars and Samoiedes of more
modern date) and some other nations to an indennite
extent, who were supposed to form on that side an in¬
surmountable barrier, having behind them an ocean of
ice, which was believed to communicate with the Cas¬
pian sea, though this was at least at the distance of 450
leagues.
The boundary of Asia, assigned by the ancients to
the south, was the Indian ocean, and they were ac¬
quainted with its communication with the Red ssa, by
means of a strait, the figure of which is very ill ex¬
pressed in their maps. This is also the case with the
Persian gulf, with which they were acquainted, but
which in the ancient maps has nearly the form of a
rhombus, one side of which, towards the mouths of the
Indus, was pretty, well known to them, but the side
next the mouths of the Ganges is very inaccurately de¬
lineated, being continued nearly in a straight line. It
is even probable that the island which Ptolemy calls
Taprobana, was only the peninsula of India very much
disfigured in the delineation. 5
The situation of this island of Taprobana, so cete-situat
hrated among the ancients, is a problem in geography of W1
that is yet unsolved. It is commonly supposed to
the modern island of Ceylon ; but the dimensions of it
as laid down by ancient geographers, render this sup¬
position doubtful, and there are some w!>o rather be¬
lieve it to be the modern Sumatra. The. ancients ha
also some obscure knowledge of the peninsula of i a*
lacca, which they called the Golden Chersonesus; an
they seem to have examined the gulf formed by t at
land, which is norv the gulf of Cochin China, or com¬
monly called the gulf of Tonkin. It is somewhat ex¬
traordinary that they do not seem to have been ac¬
quainted
11.
Afi ■
quainted with Java, Borneo, and that numerous group
of islands which form, in that quarter, the greatest Ar¬
chipelago in world. It is equally singular that the
Maldives had escaped the observation of these naviga¬
tors. This seems to prove that they never ventured out
into the open sea, but kept close along the shore. Pto¬
lemy indeed says, that his island of Taprobana was sur¬
rounded with many hundreds of smaller islands, to some
of which he gives names; but all this is involved in
impenetrable obscurity.
Of Africa, the ancients knew only those parts which
lay along the coast, and to a very small distance in¬
land, if we except Egypt, with which they were well
acquainted, at least as far as the cataracts of the Nile,
and a little beyond them, as far as the island of Meroe,
towards the 20th degree of north latitude. Their
knowledge of the coasts of Africa on the side of the Red
sea, extended no farther than the shores of that sea, ex¬
cept that part which was dependent on Egypt; the in¬
terior of the country being inhabited by ferocious and
untractable people. They were still less acquainted
with the countries which lay beyond the strait, and
Ptolemy appears to have given no credit to the navi¬
gators who were said to have sailed round that part of
the world, for he has left the continent of Africa im¬
perfect towards the south. Strabo and Pomponius Mela
were, however, decidedly of opinion that Africa was a
peninsula, and that it was joined to the rest of the con¬
tinent only by that narrow neck of land which is now
called the isthmus of Suez. The ancients seem to have
had no knowledge of that large and beautiful island of
Madagascar, unless we suppose that Ptolemy had some
imperfect acquaintance with it, under the name of the
island Menuthius. The coast of Africa upon the Medi¬
terranean sea, was once covered with towns, dependent
on the Roman empire, flourishing and polished, while
it presents at present nothing but a nest of pirates,
whom the jealousy of the great commercial nations sup¬
ports, to the disgrace and prejudice of civilized states.
Proceeding from the straits of Gadez or Gibraltar, they
had become acquainted with the coast as far as a cape
which they called Hesperion-Keras, probably the mo¬
dern Cape de Verd, or the cape that lies a little to the
west of it, though in the maps of Ptolemy it is thrown
a little back inland. The Fortunate islands, or the
Hesperides, at present the Canaries, better known by
fame than in reality, seem to have been the boundaries
of ancient geography to the west, as the Seres and Si-
nte were to the east. It appears, however, that the
Cape de Verd islands were not entirely unknown to the
ancients, and they are probably the same with what
were then called the Gorgades or Gorgones, which
were supposed to be two days sail to the west of He-
sperion-Keras.
“ There is little doubt (says Mr Patteson) concern¬
ing the names by which most of the principal countries
of Europe were known to the ancients; nor is there
any difficulty in disposing the chief nations, which an¬
cient writers have enumerated in the south-west part of
Asia or on the African coast of the Mediterranean ; but
with the north and north-east parts of Europe, about
two-thirds of Asia towards the same quarters, and nearly
the same proportion of Africa towards the south, they
appear to have been wholly unacquainted. Of America
they did not even suspect the existence; and if it ever
GEOGRAPHY.
5° 7
Ilbturv.
happened, as some writers have imagined, that Phce-
n.cian merchants ships were driven by storms across the ' 
Atlantic to the American shores, it does not appear
that any of them returned from thence to report the
discovery.
“ I he names of provinces, subdivisions, and petty
tribes, mentioned by ancient authors, in those countries
which were the chief scenes of Roman, Grecian, or
Israelitish transactions, are almost as numerous as in a
modern map of the same countries; and the situations of
many of them can be very nearly assigned : but the li¬
mits of each, or indeed of the states or nations to which
they belonged, can, in very few instances, be precisely
fixed. I bus the southern boundaries of the Sarmatte
in Europe, cannot be ascertained within a degree at the
neaiest ; and in France, neither the limits of the peo¬
ple called the Belgse, Celtae, and Aquitani; nor those
ot the Roman divisions, viz. Belgica, Lugdunensis,
Aqmtania, Narbonensis, and the Province, can be laid
down, in many places, but by a hardy conjecture. The
same observation_ may be justly applied to the Tarra-
conensis, Lusitania, and Betica of Spain; to the Cauci,
Catti, Suevi, &c, of Germany; and, above all, to the
Britannia prima et secunda, and other divisions of the * PtUleson’s
Roman government in Britain: of which not only the^fls’Part
limits, but the situations are still in disnute* ” I- PaSe 27-
limits, but the situations are still in dispute
During the middle ages geography, as well as most Geography
other arts and sciences, seems rather to have gone back- of the mid-
wards than advanced. The weakness of the Roman die ag«s-
emperors, the relaxation of military discipline, the
boundless passion for luxury and pleasure, and the con¬
tinual incursions of the barbarous nations, while they
contributed to hasten die fall of the western empire,
also accelerated the ruin ot the arts. It seems as if
these destructive hordes of barbarians, the Goths, the
Iluns, and the Vandals, had enveloped the whole world
in one profound and universal ignorance. This dark¬
ness, which overspread the whole of Europe, did not per-
mit geography to make any advances for a very con¬
siderable time. There were indeed some navigators
who investigated countries that were still little known,
but they were so ignorant, that they afford us very little
new light. There was one named Cosmas, who made
a voyage to India, which procured him the name of
Indo-Pleustes, and who gave an account of his voyage
under the title of Sacred Geography. This man was so
egregiously ignorant, as to believe that he had disco¬
vered that the earth was a plane, and that the diversity
of toe seasons, and the inequality of the days and
nights, were owing to a very high mountain situated
to the north, behind which the sun set to a greater or
less depth.
The voyages of the Arabians to the East IndiesDisc03v2enes
(see the history of Commerce), contributed to throw of the Anu
farther light on that extensive part of the globe. Con-bians.
querors of the countries on the Red sea, and enthusias¬
tic propagators of their religion, they carried their
arms as far as the extremity of India, We see them in
the 9th century extending to China; and Renaudot has
published two of their narrations, in which we can trace,
with tolerable accuracy, the places visited by their au¬
thors. The island of Serendib, so celebrated in their
tales, is certainly the modern Ceylon; for dib or dit, in
the Malay language, signifies island, so that Serendib,
signifies the island of Seren or Selan. Farther, these
3^3 relations
5°3
History, relations tlo not give us as favourable an iilea of the
'——v——^ Chinese as tve derive from their own history ; on the
contrary, if we may believe these Arabian travellers,
this people were, even at that time, in a state not very
,, civilized. . , r , .
Modern We are now arrived at the modern period cl our lu-
discoveries, story, during which the most important discoveries have
been made,1ind our knowledge of the habitable globe
more than doubled. The discoveries and improvements
during this period are so numerous, that it will be im¬
possible to give here any thing more than a chronologi¬
cal view of the most remarkable, referring for a detail¬
ed account of them to the geographical and historical
articles in this work. .
The taste for voyages of discovery began in Turope
soon after the revival of literature in the 15th centuiy,
just before the commencement of which, namely, in the
reign of Henry III. king of Spain, about the year 1395,
the3Canary islands were more fully surveyed than at
any former period.
141^. Prince Henry III. son of John king oi l or-
tugal, sailed round the coast of Africa.
'1417. The Canary islands were subdued by Bethan-
court, nephew of the admiral of France.
1420. The island of Madeira was examined by John
Gonsalvo and Tristan Vaz, two Portuguese. _
1446. Cape de Verd was discovered by Dennis 1 er-
nandez. ,
1487. The Cape of Good Hope was discovered
by Barthelemi Diaz. The discovery of this cape led
the way to that of the new world. This great event,
which gave a new flight to the genius of mankind, is
one of the most important in the history of geography.
A particular account of this discovery will be found
under the article America. The following are the
dates of the principal geographical discoveries which
have taken place between that of Columbus, and the
voyages of our celebrated navigator Cook.
140,6. Florida, by Sebastian Gabot, an Englishman.
1498. The Indies, by Vasco di Gama.
1499. The river of Amazons, by Yanez Pinion.
1500. Brazil, by Alvarez Cabral, a Portuguese.
1504. Newfoundland, by some Normans.
1518. Mexico, by Ferdinand Cortes.
1319. The straits of Magellan, South sea, and Phi¬
lippine islands, by Ferdinand Magellan.
1525. Canada, by Jean Verrazan, a Florentine, sent
by Francis I. of France.—Peru, by F. Pizarro of Spain.
1527. New Guinea, by Alvaro de Salvedra.
1534. Chili, by Diego Almagro.
1335. California, by Ferdinand Cortes.
1367. The islands of Solomon, by Alvaro de Men¬
doza.
1618. New Holland, by Zechaen.
1642. Van Diemen’s land, by Abel Jansen Tasman.
1643. Brower’s land.
1634. New Zealand.
1678. Louisiana, by Itobert Cavelier de Lasalle,
governor of Frontiniac.
1700. New Britain, by Dampier, an Englishman.
I739* CaPe Circumcision, contested between the
French and English. Said by Montucla to be disco¬
vered by two French vessels.
1767. The island of Taiti, by Wallis, an English-
man.
Pari,
1778. The Sandwich islands, by Cook. 1
Within this period there are reckoned 23 voyages 4
round the world, viz. those of Magellan, Drake, Ca- 3-!^
vendish, Noort, Spilburg, Lemaire, L’Hermite, Cle-^^'l
pington, Carreri, Shelvack, Dampier, Cowley, Woodes,.^* 1
Rogers, Le Gentil, Anson, Wallis, Roggewein, Bou-worid. I
gaiuville, Sarville, Dixon, three voyages of Cook, La
Peyrouse, Marcband, Vancouver, and Pages.
Within these few years, very considerable light has -J I
been thrown on the state of our geographical know¬
ledge, by several valuable voyages and travels that
have lately appeared. The discoveries that have been
successively made in the great South sea, and in other
parts of the world, especially the extensive island of
New Holland, are now so fully established, as to add
considerably to the certainty of our geographical know¬
ledge j and "the voyages of Cook, La Peyrouse, and Van¬
couver, have afforded us more exact surveys of, the
coasts of these countries, than we could, some years ago,
have dared to hope for. The accounts of the late em¬
bassies to China, Tibet and Ava, afford many authentic
materials for a modern system of geography, the place
of which must have been supplied by more remote and
doubtful information. From the latter of these accounts
we are become familiarly acquainted with an empire
(that of the Birmans), which a short time ago was
scarcely known (see Asia, 81—152)* Our know¬
ledge of Hindostan and the neighbouring countries has
been greatly extended by the researches of the Asiatic
Society, and some other late works 5 while our ac¬
quaintance with the interior of Africa has been render¬
ed less imperfect by the exertions of the African So¬
ciety, and by the travels of Park, Brown, and Bar-
row" j and the northern boundaries of America, even
as far as the sea which appeal’s to surround the north¬
ern extremity of that vast continent, have been more
fully disclosed by the journeys of Hearne and Mac¬
kenzie.
The late voyage of Turnbull, however insignificant it
may be in other respects, has at least the merit of en¬
larging our knowledge of the manners and political
transactions of the South sea islanders, and of intro¬
ducing to our acquaintance, in the person of Jamaha-
ma, the chief of Qwhyhee, a sovereign, who, in am¬
bition and desire of improvement, bids fair to vie with
Peter the Great, and to transform a nation of savages,
to a civilized people. _ 36| i
With all the advantages which geography has lately Pics«n •
received, the science is still far from being perfect; andfc*M
the exclamation which D’Anville is said to have madekeo*
in his old age, “ Ah ! mes amis, il y a bien d’erreurs
dans la geographie”—/ my friends, there area great
many errors in geography, may still be applied with
considerable justice. Many points in the science have
been but very lately ascertained. Thus, the extent
of the Mediterranean sea was almost unknown at the
beginning of the 17th century, although it is now al¬
most as exactly ascertained as that of any country in
Europe. In a book published by Gemma Frisius, de or-
bis divisione, in 1530, vvefind the difference of longitude
between Cairo in Egypt and Toledo in Spain stated
at 330 instead of 33°, and other measures of extent are
proportionally erroneous. Not many years ago there
was an uncertainty with respect to the extremity of the
Black sea and the Caspian, to the amount of 3° 01 4 j
GEOGRAPHY.
3
I. G E O G
nnd so lately as the year 1769, the longitude of
Lj Gibraltar and of Cadiz was not known within half a
degree.
Many parts of the geography of Europe are still
very defective ; Spain and Portugal have been but im¬
perfectly explored, and European Turkey is still less
known. It may appear extraordinary that we have yet
no correct chart of the British channel, though we are
assured by Major Rtnnel that this is the case 5 and it
has been proved by the trigonometrical surveys of Bri¬
tain that have yet been published, that there are many
gross errors in our best county maps. We have had oc¬
casion to remark that geography has sometimes been
retrogressive, and there cannot be a greater proof of
the truth of the observation, than that in a map of the
Shetland islands, published not long ago, by Preston,
they are represented as too large by one third, both in
length and breadth, and their relative positions are
very inaccurate, though in the maps of the same islands
published before the year 1750, they are laid down
with much greater accuracy, as appears from sur¬
veys made by order of the late king of France, and
from the maps published by Captain Donelly, and at
Copenhagen, in the year 1787.
In Asia we are imperfectly acquainted with Thibet,
and some other central regions; and even Persia, Ara¬
bia, and Asiatic Turkey, are but little known. Of
Australasia, or New Holland, and New Guinea, almost
nothing is known except the coasts, and a great part of
them towards the south has been but imperfectly ex¬
plored. Of Polynesia, or the numerous islands in
the South Pacific ocean, we ai’e also very ignorant;
and in the Pacific ocean, particularly towards the
south pole, many discoveries probably remain to be
made.
Our ignorance of the central parts of Africa is no¬
torious, and the improvement of our geographical
knowledge in that quarter has, for some years, been a
favourite object. It may admit of doubt, however,
whether this object will be speedily attained, as the
obstacles to investigation in those inhospitable tracts,
seem nearly insurmountable by human prudence and
courage. Even the shores of Africa have not been
completely surveyed, especially those towards the south
and east.
America has of late been much more fully explored
than at any former period : but still the western parts
of North America, and the central and southern regions
of South America are very little known ; and the Spa¬
nish settlements towards the north are scarcely known,
except to their own inhabitants.
The science of geography will probably be never
perfectly understood, as, beside the numerous obstacles
which oppose the progress of the traveller, it is scarcely
possible that exact trigonometrical surveys of every
place- and country, the only certain method of ascer¬
taining their exact situations and relative positions,
can be made.
Political geography must ever remain the most un¬
certain part of the science. New changes are perpetu¬
ally taking place in the relations of neighbouring states,
according as ambition, tyranny, or commercial conveni¬
ence dictates. Territory is transferred, by cession or by
conquest, from one nation to another. Whoever will
compare the relations of the European states, as they
R A P H Y. 509
appear in the present maps, and in those published half iiisiorj.
a centiuy ago, will scarcely recognise the countries to >
t.'c the same. I he great divisions indeed remain as be¬
fore, but the boundaries of most of them are entirely
changed. A number of independent states, and in one
instance, a large kingdom, have been swallowed up by
tne unjii'tihable ambition ol their more powerful neigh¬
bours, and their names may he blotted from the map
of Europe. The republics of Holland, of Switzer¬
land, of Venice, are no more : the kingdoms of Po¬
land and Sardinia have ceased to exist; the successor
of St Peter, who once gave laws to princes, and governed
Europe with unbounded sway, is now a wretched exile,
and his dominions are doomed to increase the already
overgrown power of despotic upstarts. Whether the
present generation of emperors and kings, erected by
the mighty Napoleon, will remain as long as did the
states on whose ruins they have been raised, or are ra¬
ther ephemeral productions, doomed to perish at the set¬
ting of that sun which now gives them life and vigour,
is a question which future experience alone can deter¬
mine.
The limits prescribed to this article do not permit us-
to enter on a critical examination, or even a charac¬
teristic sketch of the geographical works that have
appeared in the modern period of the history of the
science ; and a bare enumeration of names would be
equally tiresome and uninteresting. Some of the best
modern works will be mentioned in the sequel; at pre¬
sent we shall conclude this Part in the words of an able
judge of the present state of the science.
“ The Spaniards and Italians (says Mr Pinkerton)
have been dormant in this science; the French works
of La Croix and others are too brief; while the Ger¬
man compilations of Busching, Fabri, Ebeling, &c.
are of a most tremendous prolixity, arranged in the
most tasteless manner, and exceeding in dry names, and
trifling details, even the minuteness of our gazetteers,
A description of Europe in 14 quarto volumes, may
well he contrasted with Strabo’s description of the
world in one volume: and geography seems to be that
branch of science, in which the ancients have establish¬
ed a more classical x*eputation than the moderns. Every
great literary monument may he said to be erected by
compilation, from the time of Herodotus to that of
Gibbon, and from the age of Homer to that of Shake¬
speare ; but in the use of the materials there is a wide
difterence between Strabo, Arrian, Ptolemy, Pausanias,
Mela, Pliny, and other celebrated ancient names, and
modern general geographers; all of whom, except
d’Anville, seem under-graduates in literature, without
the distinguished talents or reputation, which have ac¬
companied almost every other literary exertion. Yet
it may safely be affirmed, that a production of real
Yalue in universal geography requires a wider extent
of various knowledge than any other literary depart¬
ment, as embracing topics of the most multifarious
description. There is, however, one name, that of
d’Anville, peculiarly and justly eminent in this science ;
but his reputation is chiefly derived from his maps,
and from his illustrations of various parts of ancient,
geography. In special departments Gosselin, and other
foreigners, have also been recently distinguished ; nor * rin!tsr.
is it necessary to remind the reader of the great merit ton's Geo-
of Rennel and Vincent in our own country graphy,Y>.%*
PART
geography.
510
Principles
and
Practice.
PART II. PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE OE GEOGRAPHY.
Par'I, j
Priniei ^
Prp.cU
. C; Chap. I. Of the Surface and General Divisions of
the Earth.
IT has been supposed, by the less enlightened part
of mankind in all ages, that the surface of the earth is
nearly a plane, bounded on all sides by the sky. It
was shewn, however, in the article Astronomy,
(N° 269—272.) that the earth is ot a spherical figure,
and an account was there given of the manner in which
the true form of it was determined. Independently of
the considerations there detailed, the spherical figure of
the earth may he inferred, in a popular view, from the
following facts.
f I. When we stand on the sea-shore while the sea is
UiTspheri- perfectly calm, we easily perceive that the surface of the
cal form of water is not quite plain, but convex or rounded ; and
the earth, if we are on one side of a broad river or arm of the sea,
as the frith of Forth, and, with our eyes near the water,
look towards the opposite coast, we shall plainly see the
water elevated between our eyes and the opposite shore,
so as to prevent our seeing the land near the edge of
the water.
2. When we observe a ship leaving the shore, and
going out to sea, we first lose sight of the hidl, then of
the sails and lower rigging, and lastly of the upper part
of the masts. Again, when a ship is approaching the
shore, the first part of her that is seen from the land is
the topmast, then the sails and rigging appear, and last-
ly the hull comes gradually into view. These appear¬
ances can arise only from the ship’s sailing on a convex
surface j as, if the surface of the sea was plain, a ship on
its first appearance would be visible, though very small,
in all its parts at the same time, or rather the hull
would first appear, as being most distinguishable $ and,
in going out of sight, it would in the same manner dis¬
appear at once, or the hull would he the last part of
which we should lose sight.
3. Many navigators sent on voyages of discovery,
have, by keeping the same course, at length arrived at
the port from which they set out, having literally sail¬
ed round the globe. This could not happen if the sea
were a plain.
4. When we travel to a considerable distance, in a
direction due north or due south, a number of new stars
successively appear in the heavens, in the quarter to
which we are travelling ; while many of those in the
opposite quarter gradually and successively disappear,
and are seen no more till we return in a contrary direc¬
tion.
5. In an eclipse of the moon, which has been shown
(Astronomy, N° 199.) to be owing to the obscuration
of the moon’s surface by the shadow of the earth, the
boundary of the obscured part of the moon is always
circular. Now, it is evident that no body, which is
not spherical, can, in all situations, cast a circular sha-
40 dw
Magnitude The diameter of the earth is generally computed
of the at 7958 miles, though Mr Vince makes it 7930,
earth. nearer the medium derived from a comparison of the
polar with the equatorial axis. Taking this last, there¬
fore, as the mean diameter, the circumference will be
= 24,9x2 miles, and consequently the extent of the su-
perfices will be = 197,552,160 miles, of which it is
computed that at least two-thirds are covered with wa¬
ter.
In the above computation no account is taken of the
mountains and other eminences on the surface of the
globe ; for, although these are of considerable conse¬
quence in a geographical point of view, as they consti¬
tute the most natural and remarkable boundaries of
countries, and by their influence on the soil and climate
of the different regions, contribute in a great degree
to form those shades of distinction which diversify the
inhabitants of the several quarters of the earth, they are,
however, too trifling when compared with the diame¬
ter of so great a body, to make any sensible error in the
calculation. 4 I
The surface of the earth is exceedingly diversified,bi™
almost everywhere rising into hills and mountains, or^e|
sinking into valleys ; and plains of any great extent are
extremely rare. Among the most extensive plains, are
the sandy deserts of Arabia and Africa, the internal
part of European Russia, and a tract of considerable ex¬
tent in the late kingdom of Poland, now called Prussian
Poland. But the most remarkable extent of level
ground, is the vast platform of Tibet in Asia, which
forms an immense table, supported by mountains run-
ning in every direction, and is the most elevated tract
of level country on the globe. The chief elevations or
mountains that occur, with their elevation, &c. will be 4,
mentioned under Geology. The greatest concavities Ocean
of the globe are those which are occupied by the wa¬
ters of the sea, and of these by far the largest forms the
bed of the Pacific ocean, which stretching from the
eastern shores of New Holland to the western coast of
America, covers nearly half the globe. The concavity
next in size and importance, is that which forms the
bed of the Atlantic ocean, extending between the new
and the old worlds j and a third concavity is filled by
the Indian ocean. Smaller collections of water, though
still large enough to receive the name of oceans, fill up
the remaining concavities, and take the names of Arc¬
tic and Antarctic oceans. 4 |
Smaller collections of water that communicate freelySeas-
with the oceans, are called seas, (vid. A j fig. I.), and of pi <
these the principal are the Mediterranean, the Baltic CC1 “
the Black sea, and the White sea. These seas some¬
times take their names from the country near which
they flow 5 as the Irish sea and the German ocean.
Some large bodies of water which appear to have no
immediate connexion with the great body of waters,
being everywhere surrounded by land, are yet callec.
seas ; as the Caspian sea.
A part of the sea running up within the land, so asBay»
to form a hollow, if it be large, is called 9. bay orgu-^
gulf; as the bay of Biscay, gulf of Mexico: if small,
a creek, road, or haven. _
When two large bodies of water communicate by a tra
narrow pass between two adjacent lands, this pass is
PI I
Cw
Lak
PJj II. _ G E O G
fellies called a strait> or straits (C, fig. I.) as the straits of Gib-
ffi| raltar, the straits of Dover, of Babelmamlel, &c. The
water usually flows through a strait with considerable
force and velocity, forming what is called a current,
and frequently this current always flows in the same di¬
rection. Thus, in the straits of Gibraltar there is a
constant current from the Atlantic into the Mediter¬
ranean, though the surface of the latter never seems to
be elevated beyond its usual level. There is always a
current round Cape Finisterre and Cape Ortega!, set¬
ting into the bay of Biscay, and it has been discovered
by Major Rennel, that this current is continued in a
direction N. W. by W. from the coast of France to
the westward of Ireland and the Scilly islands. Hence
he draws this useful practical instruction for naviga¬
tors who are entering the English channel from the At¬
lantic, viz. that they should keep no higher latitude
than 48° 45', lest they should be carried by the cur¬
rent upon the rocks of Scilly. For want of tins neces¬
sary precaution, it is said that many ships have been
lost on these rocks.
A body of fresh water, entirely surrounded by land,
is called a lake, loch, or lough (as D, fig. 1.), with the
exception of the sea above mentioned ; as the lake of
Geneva, Lake Ontario, Lake Champlain, Loch Lo¬
mond &c.
This term, or its synonimes, loch or lough, is some¬
times applied to what is properly a gulf or inlet of the
sea, as Loch Fyne in Scotland, and Lough Swilly in
Ireland.
A considerable stream of water rising inland, and
running towards the sea, is called a river; a smaller
stream of the same kind is called a rivulet or brook.
Vid. E, fig. I.
att. The great extent of land which forms the rest of
the globe, is divided into innumerable bodies, some of
which are very large, but the majority extremely small.
There are three very extensive tracts of country, which
may all be denominated continents, though only two
of them have hitherto been distinguished by that appel¬
lation. The most considerable of these continents is
what has been called the old ivorld, comprising Europe,
Asia, and Africa. The second comprehends North
and South America, or what has been denominated the
neiv world, and is little inferior in extent to the for¬
mer. The third great division forms the country called
New Holland.
A body of land entirely surrounded by water is called
an island, (vid. a, fig. 1.) as Britain, Ireland, Jamaica,
Madagascar, &c. According to the strict meaning of this
definition, the large divisions just mentioned are islands j
for it is almost certainly ascertained, that the continent
of North America is everywhere bounded by the sea,
and it has long ceased to be doubtful that New Holland
is in the same circumstances, and it is generally called
the largest island in the world. But perhaps it would
be better to confine the term to those numberless smaller
islands that appear above the surface of the waters.
When a number of smaller islands are situated near each
other, the whole assemblage is commonly called a group
of islands, as b, b. The large assemblages of islands
that have been discovered in the South Pacific ocean,
have lately been comprehended under the name of
Polynesia, constituting a sixth division of the whole
earth j the other five being Europe, Asia, Africa,
Hive
Cont
Waui
Principles
and
Practice.
S*
Peninsula.
52
Isthmus.
53
Promontory
and Cape.
B A P H Y.
America, and the islands of New Holland and New
Guinea, under the name of Australasia.
A body of land that is almost entirely surrounded by
water is called a peninsula, as c, fig. 1.; as the penin¬
sula cf Malacca, the Morea, or Grecian Peloponnesus,
&c. Indeed the continent of Africa may be considered
as a vast peninsula, being united to Asia only by the
small isthmus of Suez.
The narrow neck of land which joins a peninsula to
the main land, or which connects two tracts of country
together, is called an isthmus, as d. The most remark¬
able isthmuses are the isthmus of Darien, connecting
the continents of North and South America, and the
isthmus of Suez, joining Africa to Asia.
A narrow tract of land stretching far out into the
sea, being united to the main land by an isthmus, is
called a promontory, and its extremity next the sea, is
called a cape, as ef, fig. 1. The most remarkable
capes are tlie Cape of Good Hope, at the southern ex¬
tremity of Africa ; Cape Horn at the southern extre¬
mity of South America j the North Cape at the north¬
ern extremity of Europe ; and Cape Talmara, at the
northern extremity of Asia,
It may assist the memory of the young geographer,
to compare together the above divisions of land and
water. We may remark that the large bodies of land,
called continents, correspond to the extensive tracts of
water called oceans } that islands are analogous to lakes ;
peninsulas to seas or gulfs $ isthmuses to straits; pro¬
montories to creeks, &c.
The inhabited parts of the earth are calculated to
occupy a space of 38,990,569 square miles, of which
the four quarters into which the globe is usually divid¬
ed are supposed to have the following proportions ;—
Europe, 4,456,065
Asia, 10,768,823
Africa, 9,654,807
America, 14,110,874
The whole .population of the earth has been comput¬
ed at 700,500,000 souls j and of these
Asia is supposed to contain 500,000,000
Europe, 150,000,000
Africa, 30,000,000
America, 20,000,000
and Australasia and Polynesia, &c. 500,000
Hence the proportional number of inhabitants to
every square mile in each quarter is as follows :—
In Asia 46
Europe 34
Africa 3
America 3 to every two square miles.
Chap. II. Of the Construction and Use of the Globes.
Sect. I. Description and Use of the Terrestrial Globes.
For the purpose of representing more accurately the jqall^e 0f
globe which we inhabit, geographers have long had re-t]ie ni0bes,
course to spherical balls, on the face of which are
drawn the various divisions of the earth, and which are
fitted up with such an apparatus, as enables us to illus¬
trate and explain the phenomena produced by the mo¬
tions
5*2
GEOGRAPHY.
Pafflj
Pmicii)les tlons of the earth, and the different situations of its
and various inhabitants. The bali thus prepared, is called
Practice. an artificial globe, and what we have described is pro-
v perly the terrestrial globe, so called to distinguish it horn
another of a similar form, and furnished in a similar
manner, but the surface of which represents the various
assemblages of stars or constellations that appear in
the heavens, and therefore this is called the celestial
. ^ globs.
circle's on In order to ascertain the relative positions of places
the- globes, and countries on the earth, certain circles are supposed
to be drawn on its surface, analogous to those which
were mentioned in Astronomy, as supposed to be
drawn in the heavens. As these circles are really re¬
presented on the artificial globes, it will be proper here
to consider a little more particularly their nature and
U3CS.
Axis and As the earth turns about on an imaginary axis, once
poles, j;n 24 hours, the artificial globe is furnished with a real
axis, formed by a wire passing through the centre, and
on which the globe revolves. The two extremities of
this axis are its poles, the one being called the north,
and the other the south pole.
Equator or A great circle drawn on the globe, at an equal distance
equinoctial,from both poles, is the equator or equinoctial line, and
represents on the globe a similar circle, supposed to be
drawn round the earth, and distinguished by the same
name. By sailors this is commonly called the line,
and when they pass over that part of the water, where
it is imagined to be drawn, they often make use of va¬
rious superstitious ceremonies. The two parts of the
globe into which it is divided by the equator, are called
the northern and southern hemispheres.
The equinoctial line on the earth passes through the
middle of Africa, in the almost unknown territories of
Macoco, and Monemugi, traverses the Indian ocean,
passes through the islands of Sumatra and Borneo, and
the immense expanse of the Pacific ocean 5 then extends
over the province of Quito in South America, to the
mouth of the river Amazons.
As every circle is supposed to be divided into 3^0°»
r,g so the equator is thus divided on the artificial globe.
i teridians. Through every 150 of the equator there is drawn on
the globe a great circle passing through the poles.
These circles are called meridians, because when the
sun in his apparent course from east to wTest reaches
the corresponding circle in the heavens, it is noon on
that part of the earth over which the meridian is sup¬
posed to pass. Properly speaking, every place on the
earth has its own meridian, though to prevent confu¬
sion, these circles are drawn on the artificial globe,
only through every 150 of the equator. To supply the Pri
place of the other meridians, the globe is hung in a
strong brazen circle, which is called the broken meri- PratL
dian, or sometimes only the meridian. The brazen'—
meridian, like the equator, is divided into 360°, butBl,ay
these are marked by nineties on each quadrant, being,^1
on one half of the meridian numbered from the equa¬
tor to the poles, and on the other half from the poles
to the equator. On the opposite side of the brazen
meridian there are two concentric spaces, which are
divided into degrees corresponding to the months and
days of each month, the degrees being marked on con¬
centric spaces from the north pole to about 2&° both
ways. The use of these divisions will appear here¬
after (b). . _ J
Through every tenth degree of the meridians, there Pan: I
are drawn on the globe circles parallel to the equator,ofhi
which, for a reason that will appear presently, are called
parallels of latitude.
Before we proceed in describing the other circles,
&c. of the artificial globe, wer shall here make a few
remarks on the uses of the equator, the meridians and
parallels (c). _ £
The equator serves to measure the distance of one of lat e
place from another, either to the eastward or westward, and k.
and this distance is called the longitude of the place.tluh>
The meridians serve in like manner to measure the dis¬
tance of one place from another in a direct line north
or south of the equator, and the distance of the place
thus measured is called its latitude.
The longitude and latitude of places may be illustrat¬
ed in the following manner. Let PEP'Q (fig. 3.) repre¬
sent the earth or the globe, (supposed to be transverse)
whose axis is PCP', the north pole being P, and the
south pole P ; and let EAQR represent a circle pas¬
sing through the centre C, in a direction perpendicular
to the axis PP'. This circle corresponds to the equa¬
tor, and it divides the earth of the globe into two hemi¬
spheres, EPQ being the northern, and EP'Q the
southern hemisphere. Let G, I, K., represent the situa¬
tions of three places on the surface of the globe,
through which let the great circles PKP', PIP', and
PGP', be drawn, intersecting the equator EQ, in
n, m, a, respectively. The circles are the meridians of
the places K, I, G. As every circle is supposed to be
divided into 360°, there must be 90° from each pole to
the equator. Hence the latitude of the place K is
measured by the degrees of the arc intercepted between
K and n, and the latitudes of G and I are measured by
the degrefes of the arcs intercepted between G and a,
and I and m respectively. These latitudes will be called
north
(b) The meridians are properly only semicircles, reaching from pole to pole, and of these there are twenty-
four.
(c) In Geography, as in other sciences, there are two methods of conveying instruction. One is, to lay down
the principles of the science first, and afterwards applv these to the practice of it j the other method is, to combine
the principles and practice in one view. The former is usually considered as the more scientific, but we are inclin¬
ed to think that the latter is often to be preferred, as being less dry and tedious, especially to a general reader.
We have here, therefore, chosen to explain the nature of latitude and longitude, and the problems respecting them,
before completing the description of the globe. We shall proceed in the same manner’, uniting, as far as possi¬
ble, the principles and practice in one view. Making, therefore, the terrestrial globe our text book, we shall
thence explain the principles of geography, rather than detail these in a separate section, and afterwards illus¬
trate them by the globe.
f t II.
Maples north latitudes, because the places lie in the northern
! ad hemisphere. Let there be two other places, WV, in
f tice- the southern hemisphere ; the latitude of W will be
u' '’"“measured by the degrees of the arc intercepted between
W and a; and the latitude of V by the arc intercepted
between V and m; and these will be called south la¬
titudes. Further, let the circle c, e, d, v, G, be drawn
parallel to the equator ; this circle is called a parallel
of latitude, and as it does not pass through the centre,
it is evidently less than the equator, or it is a small
circle. Now, all the arcs, such as R, e, a, G, &c. in¬
tercepted between the parallel and the equator, must be
equal, since the circle is parallel to the equator ; and
hence every point in this parallel, or every place on the
earth through which it is supposed to pass, has the same
latitude.
Latitude is the same all over the earth, being con¬
stantly measured from the equator to the poles.
The longitude of a place is measured by the degrees
of an arc of the equator, intercepted between some par¬
ticular meridian, and the meridian passing through the
place. Thus, suppose G to represent the particular
meridian, and ni to represent the place whose longitude
is required ; the longitude of m is measured by the
arc ma of the equator, intercepted between o, the
point where the meridian of G meets the equator, and
m the point of the equator where it is cut by the me¬
ridian of the place m. The particular meridian from
which we begin to reckon the degrees of longitude is
■called the prime or first meridian, and it is different in
different countries.
The method of estimating the distances of places by
longitudes and latitudes, is of considerable antiquity,
and was employed by Eratosthenes, who first introduced
a regular parallel of latitude, which began at the straits
of Gibraltar, passed eastwards through the island of
Rhodes to the mountains of India ; all the intermedi¬
ate places through which it passed being carefully not¬
ed. Soon after drawing this parallel through Rhodes,
which was long considered with a degree of preference,
Eratosthenes undertook to trace a meridian, passing
through Rhodes and Alexandria, as far as Syene and
Meroe. Pythias of Marseilles, according to Strabo,
considering the island of Thule as the most western
point of the then known world, began to count the
longitude from thence, while Marianus of Tyre placed
their first meridian at the Fortunate islands, or the Ca¬
naries; but they did not determine which was the
westermost of these islands, and consequently which
ought to serve as a first meridian. Among the Ara¬
bians, Alfragan, Albategnus, Nassir Eddin, and Ulug
Beg, also reckoned from the Fortunate islands ; but A-
bulfeda began to reckon his longitude from a meridian
10° to the eastward of that of Ptolemy, probably be¬
cause it passed through the western extremity of Africa,
where, according to him, were situated the pillars of
Hercules; or because it passed through Cadiz, which
was at that time rendered famous by the conquests of
the Moors in Spain.
When the Azores were discovered by the Portuguese
in 1448, some geographers made use of the island of
Tercera as the first meridian. Other geographers,
at Bleau, father and son, placed the first meridian at
the Peak of Teneriffe, a mountain so far elevated above
the sea, that it may be easily known by navigators $
Vol. IX, Part II. .j.
geography. 5,3
while others have made the island of St Philip, one of Prineipic.
and
Practice.
the Cape de Verds, the first meridian, because they con¬
ceived this to be the place where the magnetic needle
had no variation. For a long time it was customary to ^
reckon the longitude in most countries from the isle of
I erro, one of the Canary isles j but it is now customary
for each nation to reckon the longitude, either from
the metropolis of the country, or from the national ob¬
servatory situated near it. Thus in France, Paris is the
first meridian, and in Great Britain, the Royal Obser¬
vatory ol Greenwich. As in several good maps, the
isle of I erro is still used as a first meridian, it may be
proper to remark, that the observatory at Greenwich
lies 17° 45^ to the east of Ferro. Hence it is very Method of
easy to reduce the longitude of Ferro to that of Green-reducinsf
wich ; for if the longitude required be east, we have,ongitude®
only to subtract 1 f 45' from the longitude of Ferro,
and the remainder is the longitude east from London ;
on the other hand, if the place be west from Ferro, we
obtain the longitude west from London by adding to
that of Ferro 17° 45'. If the place lies between Ferro
and London, its longitude from London will be obtain¬
ed by subtracting its longitude east from Ferro from
I7° 45,‘ H *s evident that by the reverse of this me¬
thod, we may reduce the longitude from London to
that of Ferro.
In the diagram referred to above, if G represent the
observatory of Greenwich, a will be the point from
which we begin to reckon the degrees of longitude,
and all places situated to the east of a, such as R, m,
will have east longitude, while those situated to the
west, as n, will have west longitude. In reckoning the
longitude, we sometimes number the degrees only as
far as 180 , but at other times they are numbered all
round the equator from the point a ; for instance 180°,
till we come to a again ; hence reckoning in the di¬
rection a, R, 111, we should say that every place was in
so many degrees east longitude, while if we reckon in
the direction n, E, we should say that all the places
bad so many degrees west longitude all round the equa¬
tor. To accommodate the globes to both these modes
of reckoning the longitude, the equator is usually di¬
vided both ways, in a continued series from o at the
first meridian to 360°.
It is evident, that as the parallels of latitude become
smaller as they approach the poles, the arcs of these
paiallels intercepted between the same two meridians
will be also smaller as we proceed from the equator to
the poles, though in fact they consist of the same abso¬
lute number of degrees. Hence it will be easy to see
that a degree of longitude must be smaller towards the
poles than at the equator, and must become gradually
smaller and smaller till we arrive at the poles, where it
will be equal to nothing. Ihus the arc G v, contains
the same number of degrees as the arc a, m, though
the former arc is much smaller than the latter. As a
degree of longitude is therefore different at every de¬
gree of latitude, it becomes necessary to ascertain the
relative proportion between the two ; and for this pur¬
pose the following table has been constructed, which
shews the absolute measure of a degree of longitude in
geographical miles and parts of a mile for every degree
of latitude, taking the degree of longitude at the equa¬
tor, equal to 60 geographical miles.
3T
Table
GEOGRAPHY.
514
Principles
and
Practice,-
Pfist! 1(
a«jfl
Table I. Shewing the length of a degree of longitude for every degree of latitude, in geographical miles, ^ ^
following
Table II. Skewing the length,of a degree of longitude for every degree of latitude, in English statute 7niles,
l>at
O
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
Kiik- miles
69.2OOO
69.1896
69.1578
69.1052
69.0312
68.9363
68.8208
68.6845
68.5267
68.3481
68.1489
67.9288
67.6880
67.4264
67.1448
66.8424
Lat
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
3°
31
Eng. miles.
66.5192
66.1760
65.8134
65.4300
65.0265
64.6037
64.1609
63.6986
63.2177
62.7167
62.1963
61.6579
61.1001
60.5237
59*9293
59.3x62
Lat.
32
33
34
35
S6
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
Kng. miles.
58.6851
C8.0360
57-3696
56.6852
55-9842
55-2659
54-5303
53-7788
C 2.0100
52.2259
5r,4253
co.6094
49-7783
48-93I3
48.0705
47.1944
Lat. Eng. miles.
48
49
5°
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
46.3038
45-3994
44.4811
43-5489
42.6037
4t-6453
40.6751
39.6917
38-6959
37.6891
36.6705
35.6408
34.6000
33-5489
32-4873
3I-4l61
Lat-
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
Eng. miles
3°-3352
29-2453
28.1464
27.0385
26.9230
24.7992
23.6678
22.5294
21.3842
20.2320
19.0743
17.9103
16.7409
15-5665
14.3874
13.2041
Lat.
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
Eng. miles.
12.0166
IO.825O
9.6306
8-4334
7-2335
6.0315
4.8274
3.6219
2.4x51
1.2075
0.0000
63
Method of
reducing
degr&es to
mile", and
w. v.
Hence it appears that the degrees of latitude are all
equal, and that a degree of longitude at the equator is
equal to a degree of latitude, as each is of a
great circle. In the second of the above tables, a de¬
gree of longitude at the equator is estimated at 69.2
English miles, or about 69!. The length of a degree
in miles is usually estimated at 69^, but this is too
much. Hence, to reduce degrees of latitude, and those
of longitude near the equator, to English miles, it is
necessary to multiply them by 69.2, or, if great accu¬
racy is not required, by 70.
64
Problems
on latitude
and len»i*
t«de.
Problem I. To find the latitude and longitude of a
given place.
Bring the place below the graduated edge of the
brazen meridian, and the degree of the meridian that
lies immediately over the place is its latitude. Observe
where the meridian cuts the equator, and that degree
will be the longitude of the place.
Example. To find the latitude and longitude of
Edinburgh.—Bringing Edinburgh below the meridian,
we find over it nearly the 56th degree of north latitude
(55° 58/)> and the point where the meridian cuts the
equator is nearly 3^ (30 12' W. Long.) degrees west
from London,
N. B. The longitude and latitude of places cannot
be ascertained exactly by the globes, as these are not
calculated to show the fractional parts of a degree ; but
they may be found with sufficient correctness for ordi¬
nary purposes.
Corollary i. The difference of latitude and lon¬
gitude
t II.
G E O G
jit! in
ti»
iiplcs between tw'o places is found by subtracting the
[id less from the greater, if they lie the same way, i. e. north
we. or south, east or west; or by adding the two together, if
they lie in a different direction.
Cor. 2. Those places that have the same latitude
with any given place are found, by bringing the
given place to the meridian, and observing what places
pass under the same degree, while the globe is turned
round.
Cor. 3. Those places which have the same longitude
with a given place, are found by bringing the place to
the meridian, and observing what other places lie under
the graduated edge, while the globe is at rest.
Problem II. T/ie latitude and longitude of a place
being given, to find the place itself on the globe.
Turn the globe till the given longitude conies under
the brazen meridian ; then mark the given latitude on
the meridian, and immediately below it is the place
required.
Example. What place is situated in 48° 23' N. Lat.
and 40 29' E. Long, from Greenwich ? Ans. Brest in
France.
iw !»- As the sun, in his apparent motion round the earth,
tio: Ion-measures a great circle in about 24 hours, or in one
hour passes over ^th of such circle, or 15°$ it is evi¬
dent that all places which lie 1 j° west of any meridian,
must have noon or any other time of the day, an hour
later than those situated under that meridian j and
that all places which lie 13° east of any meridian,
must have the same times of the day an hour sooner.
Hence, because the meridians drawn on the globe make
a difference of an hour each in the time of places, they
are sometimes called hour-circles ; and the longitude
of places is sometimes reckoned in time as well as in
degrees.
Degrees of longitude are reduced to hours and mi¬
nutes, and v. v. by allowing an hour for every 150, and
four minutes for every degree.
• Though the meridians on the globe are sometimes
called horary circles, this name is generally confined to
a small brass circle, which is adapted to one or each pole,
and graduated into twice twelve hours ; so that an in¬
dex fixed to the axis, or the meridian, points out the se¬
veral hours of day and night as the globe revolves.
In globes of the old construction the hour circles are
fixed on the outside of the meridian, but this prevents
the meridian from being moved quite round, which is
required in some problems.
Mr Joseph Harris, formerly assay-master of the mint,
contrived an ingenious method of remedying this incon¬
venience. He placed two horary circles between the
meridian and the globe, one at each pole, and they were
fixed tightly between two brass rollers, placed about the
axis, so that when the globe was turned, they were
carried round with it, while the edge of the brazen
meridian served as an index to cut the horary divisions.
A globe, thus furnished, serves universally and readily
for performing problems in both northern and southern
latitudes ; and also in places near the equator; whereas,
>n globes of the old construction, the axis and horary
circle prevent the brazen meridian from being moved
quite round iu the horizon.
R a p h y. 5Ij
I he construction of the hour circles was rendered Principles
somewhat more simple by Mr G. Wright of London. ai'd
In his globes, there are engraved two hour circles, one Practice-
at each pole, on the map of the globe, each circle being
divided into a double set of 12 hours, as in the usual
hour circles ; but here the hours are numbered both to
the right and left. (See fig. 4.). The hour hand, or
index, is placed below the brazen meridian, in such a
way that it may be moved at pleasure to any required
part of the circle, and remain there sufficiently steady
during the revolution of the globe on its axis, being
entirely independent of the pole. In this manner
the motion ot the globe round its axis, carrying the
hour circle, the time is pointed out by the stationary
index.
In the globes constructed by the late Mr George
Adams, the equator is made to answer the purpose of
an hour circle, by means of a semicircular wire placed
in its plane, (see Q F, fig. 5.) and carrying two indices
1’, one on the eastern, the other on the western, side of
the brazen meridian. The method of using these in¬
dices will be shewn presently. In these globes the
equator is also marked with twice 12 hours, which in¬
crease from east to west, the hours to the west of the
first 12 being alternoon hours.
Problem III. The hoar at any place being given, to Preble ns
find what hour it is at any other place. relating to
liwe.
a, By the ordinary globes.
Bring the place at which the hour is given to the
meridian, and set the index of the hour cii’de to the
given hour. Then turn the globe till the other place
comes under the meridian, and the index will now point
to the hour required.
N. B. Where there is no index, the edge of the me¬
ridian will in both cases point out the hour.
b, By Adams’s globes.
The steps are here the reverse of the former. Bring
the place at which the time is required to the bra¬
zen meridian, and set the index to the given hour.
Then turn the globe till the other place comes below
the meridian, and the index will shew the time re¬
quired.
N. B. In the ordinary globes, where the hour circle
is usually marked with two sets of figures, it is proper,
in performing this problem, to make use of that set
which increases towards the right hand, observing that
whichever XII. is fixed on for noon, the hours to the
right or east of this are hours P. M. and those to the
left or west are hours A. M. On Adams’s globes the
contrary of this takes place, from the hours being
marked on the equator. They increase from east to
west, and, of course, those to the east of XII. ar«
morning hours, and those to the west of it afternoon
hours.
Example 1. When it is noon at London, what hour
is it in the Society isles ? Ans. Two A. M.
Ex. 2. When it is 3 P. M. at Edinburgh, what
hour is it at Delhi in Hindoostan ? Ans. Thirty minutes
past eight P. M,
3 T 2
Problem
5»6
Principles
and
Practice.
63
Antceci.
69.
Periocci.
70
Antipodes
G E O G It
Problem IV. Having the hour at any place giveny to
find all those places where it is noon.
a, By the ordinary globes.
Bring the given place to the meridian, and set the
index to the given hour. then turn the globe till the
index point to 12 at noon, and the places then under
the meridian are those required.
b, By Adams’s globes.
Bring the given place to the meridian, and set the
index to 12 at noon. Then turn the globe till the in¬
dex shall point to the given hour j and all the places
then under the meridian have noon at that time.
Ev. 1. It is now 30 min. past 10 A. M. at Edin¬
burgh j In what places is it noon ? Ans. Near Stock¬
holm } at Dantzic, Breslaw, Presburg, Vienna, Posega,
Ragusa, Tarento, and the Cape of Good Hope. _ _
E.v. It is now midnight at London ; Where is it
noon ? Ans. In the north-east parts of Asia, in the
middle of Pox isles ; at the Friendly isles (nearly), and
at the east cape of New Zealand.
Prom the different situation of places with respect to
latitude and longitude, the inhabitants of these places
received from the ancients denominations that are still
retained. # . .
Thus, those places which have the same longitude,
or are situated under the same meridian, but are in op¬
posite latitudes, the one lying as many degrees to the
north of the equator as the other lies to the south of it,
are said to be aNTOECI to each other. From this defi¬
nition it is evident, that those places situated under the
equator have no antccci.
The appearances arising from the changes of the
heavenly bodies are different in the opposite places.
Thus, 1. The days of the one are equal to the nights of
the other, and vice versa ; but they have noon, mid¬
night, and all the other hours at the same time.
2. They have contrary seasons at the same time : when
it is summer at one place it is winter at the other, and
so of spring and autumn. 3‘ The stars that never set
at one place, never rise at the other, and vice versa.
Again, those places that have the same latitude, or
are under the same parallel, but are in opposite longi¬
tudes, i. e. lie under opposite arcs of the same meridion¬
al circle, or 1800 from each other, are said to be PERI-
OECi to each other. Those places which may be situ¬
ated at the poles, have evidently no periwci.
The celestial appearances to the perioeci are as follow.
1. The length of the day or night is the same to both
places j but the hours, though distinguished by the
same numbers, are contrary ; noon at the one being
midnight at the other; and any hour in the forenoon at
the one being the same of the afternoon to the other.
2. Both places have the same seasons of the year at the
same time. 3. The same stars that never rise, or set to
one place, also never rise or set to the other. 4. The
heavenly bodies rise in the same point of the horizon at
both places, and continue for the same interval above
or below it.
Lastly, Those places which are situated directly op¬
posite to each other, by a distance equal to the diame¬
ter of the earth, are said to be ANTIPODES to each
other. If we conceive a line through the centre of the
A P H Y. Parti,
earth, and terminated in two points of its surface, these Priucin
extreme points are antipodes to each other. I bus, the aiu!
city of Lima in Peru is nearly the antipodes to Siam ,
in the East Indies ; and Pekin in China has for its^ H4
antipodes Buenos Ayres in South America. These
places are always in opposite longitudes, and (except
under the equator) in opposite latitudes.
The celestial appearances to the antipodes are these.
I. The hours are contrary, as to the periosci. 2. The
days of the one are of the same length with the nights
of the other; hence the longest day to one is the short¬
est to the other, and vice versa. 3. They have con¬
trary seasons at the same time. 4* -Those stars which,
at one place are always above the horizon, are, to the
other, always below it. 5. When the heavenly bodies
are rising at one place, they are setting at its antipodes,
and vice versa. For various opinions respecting the
antipodes, see the article Antipodes.
The antipodes of any places are the perioeci to the
antceci of that place ; and the antoeci to their periceci.
This will account for the method presently described of
finding the antipodes on the globe.
7'
Problem V. To find the antoeci to any given place. Problem!
Bring the given place to the meridian, and thus as¬
certain its latitude. Then count from the equator to¬
wards the opposite pole as many degrees as are equal
to the latitude of the place ; and the point where this
reckoning ends is the place required.
Ex. I. Where are the antoeci to the Cape of Good
Hope ? Ans. At Malta nearly.
Ex. 2. What people are the antocci to the inhabitants
of Quebec in North America ? Ans. The inhabitants
of Patagonia in South America.
Problem VI. To find the perioeci of any given place.
Bring the given place to the brazen meridian, and
set the horary index to the. upper XII. Then turn the
globe till the index point to the lower XII. The place
which is then below the meridian in the same latitude
with that of the given place, is the situation required.
Ex. I. Where are situated the perioeci of Newcastle
upon Tyne ? Ans. In the Aleouski or Pox islands.
Ex. 2. Required the perioeci to California in North
America. Ans. Near the mouth of the river Indus.
Problem VII. To find the antipodes to any given
place.
Find the antoeci of the given place (by Problem V.)
and then find the perioeci of the latter (by Problem VI.).
This last is the place required.
Ex. 1. It is required to find the antipodes of Lon¬
don. Ans. The latitude of London is 510 31' N. the
antceci to this, or 510 31' S. on the prime meridian, is
in the south Atlantic ocean ; the perioeci to this is in
1800 W. Long, and 510 31' S. Lat. a little to the south
of the islands of New Zealand. The inhabitants of the
southern island of New Zealand are therefore the near¬
est antipodes to London.
Several other circles besides those which we have
mentioned are described on the artificial globe, and are
supposed to be drawn on the earth. These we shall
now proceed to describe, and explain their geographi-
cal uses. T|,e
h'
GEOGRAPHY.
ip-
Troj •
w|eg The Ecliptic (Astronomy, N° 43.) is a great circle
rjy drawn on the globe, crossing the equator obliquely in
Pra se* two points, called the equinoctial points. (Astronomy,
N° 44*)* I bis circle extends on each side of the equa¬
tor to the latitude of 230 28', and is divided into 12
great parts corresponding to the 12 signs of the zodiac
(see Astronomy, N° 52.), and marked with their cha¬
racters, and each sign is subdivided into 30 degrees.
The ecliptic has also its poles, which are two points
that are distant 90° every way from the circle on each
side. As the ecliptic declines from the equator 230
28', its poles are consequently distant from those of the
equator, or of the globe, by the same measure. This
circle properly belongs to the celestial globe, but as it
is extremely useful in performing many geographical
problems, it is always drawn on both globes, and re¬
quires to be noticed here, since it determines the po¬
sition of several of the circles which we are about to
mention.
Through those two points of the ecliptic, where it
is at the greatest distance from the equator, there are
drawn on the globes two circles parallel to the equator,
called tropics. That in the northern hemisphere is
called the Tropic of Cancer, as it passes through the
sign Cancer ; and, for a similar reason, that which is in
the southern hemisphere is called the Tropic of Capri¬
corn. The two points through which they are drawn
are called solstitial points. The imaginary line which
corresponds to the tropic of Cancer on the earth passes
from near Mount Atlas on the western coast of Africa,
past Syene in Ethiopia: thence, over the lied sea, it
passes to Mount Sinai, by Mecca the city of Mahomet,
across Arabia Felix to the extremity of Persia, the East
Indies, China, over the Pacific ocean to Mexico, and
the island of Cuba. The tropic of Capricorn takes a
much less interesting course, passing through the country
of the Hottentots, across Brazil, to Paraguay and Peru.
If the poles of the ecliptic be supposed to revolve
about the poles of the earth, they will describe two
circles parallel to the equator, and 230 28'distant from
it. Two such circles are drawn on the globes, and are
called Polar Circles, that in the north being called
the Arctic Polar Circle, or merely the Arctic Circle,
while that in the south is called the Antarctic Polar
Circle, or Antarctic Circle.
Both the tropics and the polar circles are marked on
the globes by dotted lines, to distinguish them from the
other parallels.
The meridional circles that passthrough the equinoc¬
tial and solstitial points are called Colures; the former
being called the Equinoctial and the latter the Solsti¬
tial Colure.
For an account of the variety of day and night in
different parts of the globe, see Astronomy, Part II.
ch. i. sect. 2.
By means of the tropics and polar circles, the earth
is supposed to be divided into five spaces, to which the
ancients gave the name of Zones, or Pelts. Thus the
space included between the two tropics was called the
Torrid Zone, because it was supposed to be so much
heated ov roasted by the vertical sun, which there pre¬
vails, as to be uninhabitable. The ancient terms are
still occasionally used, but the countries between the
517
Polai
(let.
Cohie
tropics are now more commonly called the Intratropi- Principles
cal Regions. The two spaces included between each and
tropic and its corresponding polar circle were called Practice.
Temperate Zones, and were distinguished according to
their position into Northern and Southern Temperate
Zones. Lastly, The spaces between the polar circles
and the poles were called the northern and southern
1 rigid Zones, and were supposed uninhabitable from ex¬
cessive cold. These last are usually denominated the
Polar Regions. ^
The countries lying between the tropics are the Countrie*
greater part of Africa, the southern parts of A rabia, between
the eastern and western peninsulas of India j all thosetlle troPics
clusters of islands lying between the southern continent
of Asia and New Holland, called the Sunda, Molucca,
Philippine, Pelew, Ladrone, and Carolina islands; the
northern half of New Holland, New Guinea, New
Britain ; most ©f the groups of islands in the Pacific
ocean, as the New Hebrides, New Caledonia, the
Friendly and Society isles, the Sandwich and Navigators
isles; the West India islands ; the greater part of South
America; the Cape de Verd islands, and those of St
Helena, Ascension, St Matthew, and St Thomas. See
the map of the world in Plate CCXXXVI. or the plain
chart in Plate CCXXXVII.
All places situated between the tropics have the sun
vertical twice in the year, at noon ; but the time of the
year when this happens is different in the different lati¬
tudes; at the equator, the sun is vertical when he is in
the equinoctial points, or when he has no declination.
The inhabitants of the other intratropical regions have
the sun vertical when his declination is equal to their
latitude, and on the same side of the equator. Thus,
the inhabitants of New Caledonia, about 20° S. Lat.
have the sun vertical when his declination is 20° S.
To illustrate this, it will be sufficient to observe that,
as the ecliptic is that circle in the heavens in which the
sun is supposed to move, the sun’s rays are perpendicu¬
lar successively to every point of the earth which lies be¬
low that point of the ecliptic in which the siin happens
to be, and he will therefore be vertical to all the places
through which the ecliptic (continued to the earth)
passes successively.
The inhabitants of the torrid zone have their shadows Amphiscii.
at noon day sometimes to the south, i. e. when the sun’s
declination is north, and sometimes to the north, i. e.
when the sun’s declination is south. They were there¬
fore called by the ancients Amphiscii, from up.tpi, about,
and <rx.ix, shadow. See Amphiscii and Ascii.
In the north temperate zone are situated the whole of Countries
Europe except Lapland ; Barbary, and part of Egypt, in the teni-
in Africa; nearly the whole continent of Asia ; a great Peratezonc'
part of North America; the Azores, and the Canary
and Madeira islands.
In the south temperate zone lie the southern part of
Africa, the southern half of New Holland, New Zea¬
land, and the southern part of South America.
In the temperate zones the sun is never vertical, and
the length of the days and nights differs much more
than in the torrid zone. Sq
The inhabitants of these regions have their shadows Heteroseii.
at noon always in the same direction ; those in the
north temperate zone having them directed to the
north,
$1%
Principles
and
Practice.
31
Countries
in the fri¬
gid zones.
S?
Femcii.
83
Climates.
G E O G R
nortli, and tliose in the southern zone, tovyards the
south. They were hence called by the ancients He-
teroscii. See Heteroscii.
The countries that are situated in the northern frigid
zone, are Jjapland, Spitzbergen, Nova Zembla, the
northern parts of Asia and America, and part of Green-
land. ...
No land has yet been discovered within the south po¬
lar circle, though it was long supposed that a large con¬
tinent was situated there, which was called Terra Au¬
stralis Incognita. Our celebrated navigator Cook
made many attempts to penetrate the icy fields which
abound in these seas, in search of this imaginary con¬
tinent, but without success, be having penetrated no
farther than 7 2°. See Cook’s Discoveries, N° 49.
and 71.
Within the polar circles the sun does not always rise
or set every 24 hours as in the other zones \ but for a
certain number of days in summer he never sets, and
for a certain number of days in winter he never rises;
the number of days during which the sun is present or
absent increasing from the polar circles to the poles, so
that at the poles he never sets for six months, nor rises
during a like period.
W hen the sun continues above the horizon more than
24 hours, the inhabitants of the polar regions have their
shadows cast all around them ; and hence they have
been called Periscu. See Periscii.
The ancients did not employ regular parallels of la¬
titude, but they divided the spaces between the equator
and the poles into small zones corresponding to the
length of the longest day in each division. To these
subdivisions they gave the name of climates, the situa¬
tion and extent of which they determined in the follow¬
ing manner. As the day at the equator is exactly 12
hours throughout the year, but the longest day in¬
creases as we approach the poles, the ancients made the
first climate to end at that latitude where the longest
day was 12^ hours, which by observation they found to
be in the latitude of 3° 25'. The second climate ex¬
tended to latitude 160 25', where the longest day is 13
hours, and thus a new climate extended, so as to divide
the whole tract between the equator and the poles into
24 climates, in each of which the longest day was long¬
er by half an hour than in that nearer the equator.
The space between the polar circles and the poles they
divided into six climates, in each of which the length
of the longest day increased by a month, till at the
poles it was six months long. Hence, the 24 climates
between the equator and the polar circles are called
Hour Climates ; and the six between the polar circles
and the poles are called Month Climates. For further
particulars respecting this ancient division of the globe,
and a table of the climates by Ricciolus, see Climate.
As the table given under that article is calculated on¬
ly for the middle of each climate, and neither mentions
the breadth of each, nor is extended to all the climates,
we shall here subjoin one in which are given the lati¬
tude at which each climate terminates, its breadth in
degrees, and the length of the longest day at the pa¬
rallel terminating each.
a p h y.
Hour Climates.
Climates.
Latitude.
8° 25'
16 25
23 5°
3° 25
36 28
41 22
45 29
49 1
52
54 27
56 37
58 29
59 38
61 18
62 25
63 22
64 6
64 49
6 c 21
65 45
66 6
66 20
66 28
66 31
Breadth
Longest Days
8° 25'
8
25
3°
8
54
7
32
57
29
10
58
29
20
7
52
44
43
32
26
J9
14
8
3
ih
3°r
12
J3
J3 3°
M
14 3°
15
l5 3°
16
16 30
17
17 30
18
18 30
*9
19 30
20
20 30
21
21 30
22
22 30
23
23 3°
24
Month Climates.
Climates.
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
Latitude.
67° 21'
69 48
73 37
78 30
84 5
90
Breadth.
50'
27
49
8
35
55
Longest Day.
1 month.
2
3
4
5
Pail 1]
Prii,
Pm
5Jiee»'
■"
T»f. jf
clim
As the division of the globe into climates, though a
now almost disused, is of service in shewing the length the 1
of the longest day in different countries, we shall here*™
enumerate the principal places in each northern cli- u
mate, these being best known and most interesting.
I. The Gold and Silver Coasts in Africa ; Malacca
in the East Indies j and Cayenne and Surinam in Sooth
America.
II. Abyssinia in Africa; Siam, Madras, and Pondi¬
cherry, in the East Indies ; the isthmus of Darien;
Tobago, the Grenades, St Vincent, and Baihadoes, in
the West Indies.
III. Mecca in Arabia ; Bombay, part of Bengal, in
the East Indies ; Canton in China; Mexico and the
bay of Campeachy, in North America ; and Jamaica,
Hispaniola, St Christopher’s, Antigua, Martinique, and
Guadaloupe, in the West Indies.
rv.
IT.
flies TV. IvgyjH and the Canaries in Africa j Delhi, the
capital of the Mogul empire, in Asia ; most of the gulf
rP- of Mexico, and East Florida, in North Amei’ica ; and
the Havannah in the West Indies.
V. Gibraltar •, part of the Mediterranean sea ; the
Barbary coast in Africa 5 Jerusalem, Ispahan, capital
of Persia, and Nankin, in China, in Asia ; and Cali¬
fornia, New Mexico, West Florida, Georgia, and the
Cavolinas in North America.
VI. In Europe, Lisbon, Madrid, the islands of Mi¬
norca and Sardinia, and part of Greece or the Morea;
in Asia, Asia Minor, part of the Caspian sea, Samar-
cand, Pekin, Corea, and Japan j. and in North America,
Maryland, Philadelphia, and Williamsburgh in Virgi¬
nia.
VII. In Europe, the northern provinces of Spain,
the southern provinces of France, Turin, Genoa, Home,
and Constantinople j in Asia, the rest of the Caspian,
and part of Tartary j and in North America, Boston
and New York.
VIII. Paris and Vienna, in Europe ; and New Scot¬
land, Neivfoundland, and Canada, in North America.
IX. London, Flanders, Prague, Dresden, Cracow, in
Europe j the southern provinces of Russia, and the mid¬
dle of Tartary in Asia ; and the northern part of New¬
foundland, in America.
X. Dublin, York, Holland, Hanover, Warsaw j the
west of Tartary, Labrador, and New South Wales, in
North America.
XI. Newcastle, Edinburgh, Copenhagen, and Mos¬
cow.
XH. Southern part of Sweden ; and Tobolsk in Si¬
beria.
XIII. Stockholm ; and the Orkney isles.
XIV. Bergen in Norway, and St Petersburg!!.
XV. Hudson’s Straits in North America.
XVI. Most of Siberia j and the southern parts of
Greenland.
XVII. Drontheim in Norway.
XVIII. Part of Finland in the Russian empire.
XIX. Archangel on the White sea.
XX. Iceland.
XXI. Northern parts of Russia in Europe, and Si¬
beria in Asia.
XXII. New North Wales, in North America.
XXIII. Davis’s Straits, in North America.
XXIV. Samoieda in Asia.
XXV. Northern parts of Lapland.
XXVI. West Greenland.
XXVII. Southern part of Nova Zembla.
XXVIII. Northern part of Nova Zembla.
XXIX. Spitzbergen.
XXX. Unknown.
The only parts of the terrestrial globe that we have
yet to describe and illustrate are the Quadrant of Alti-
lude, and the Wooden Horizon; and these it is necessary
GEOGRAPHY. 5,9
to explain, before we proceed to consider the remain- Principle*
ing problems performed with this globe. t>nd'
The Quadrant of Altitude is a thin flexible slip of I>ractice.
brass, graduated into 90°, and made to fix on any part ’ X '
of the brazen meridian by means of a nut and screw.Qnfldrant
Round this nut it moves on a pivot, and by its flexibE of altiudf.
hty may be applied close to tbe surface of the globe,
ihe quadrant of altitude is used to measure tbe di¬
stances of places from each other on the terrestrial
globe, and to ascertain the altitudes of the sun, stars,
&c. on the celestial globe.
To measure the distance bet ween t wo places on the
globe, nothing more is required than to stretch the gra¬
duated edge of the quadrant between them, and mark
the number of degrees intercepted. These reduced to
geographical, or to English miles (by N° 63.) give the
absolute distance between the places. It is most con-
venient to bring one of the places to the zenith, which
may he done by rectifying the globe for the latitude
of that place as immediately to be explained, and then
to stretch the quadrant to the other place, the distance
marked, subtracted from 90°, gives the true distance in
degrees. It the distance required be greater than 90°,
it is proper to rectify the globe for the antipodes of the
given places, and add the distance observed to 90° : the
sum is the distance required.
It has been very generally stated that the bearing of
one of the places from the other may be found by ob¬
serving, on the wooden horizon, in what point of the com¬
pass the quadrant of altitude, thus fixed in the zenith,
cuts the horizon. This is considered by Mr Patteson as
a mistake : “ ior (says he) supposing one of the places
to lie due east of the other, they are in the same paral¬
lel of latitude, and consequently it is impossible that
the prime vertical of either of them (that is, a circle
cutting the east and wests points of the horizon), should
pass through the other, unless they both lay under the
equator. A line shewing the bearings of places is call¬
ed a rhumb line. The lines of north and south on the
globe, being meridians, and those of east and west be¬
ing parallels of latitude, are consequently circles; but
all the remaining rhumbs are a kind of spiral lines.”
The globes are supported by. a wooden frame ending \y0odtrt
above in a broad flat margin, on which is pasted a pa- hoiiaoii.
per marked with several graduated circles. This broad
margin is called the wooden horizon, and represents the
rational horizon of the earth, or the limit between the
visible and the invisible hemispheres. On the paper
with which the wooden horizon is covered, are drawn
four concentric, circles. The innermost of these is
divided into 360 degrees, divided into four quadrants.
The second circle is marked with the points of the com¬
pass, i. e. the four cardinal points, east, west, north, and
south (d), each being subdivided into eight parts or
rhumbs, (see Compass). The circle next to that just
mentioned contains the twelve signs of the zodiac,
distinguished by their proper names and characters ;
and
(d) The cardinal points of the compass are thus determined. The two points in which the meridian of any
p ace when produced so as to pass through the nearest pole, cuts the horizon, (using this in an astronomical sense,
see stronomy,) are the north and south points ; the former being that point where the meridian first cuts the
onzon in the northern hemisphere, and the south, that where it first meets the horizon in the southern hemisphere.
Again, the two points where a great circle, passing through the zenith at right angles with the meridian, (and
^ called
520 G E O G R
Principles an<^ eac^ s‘£n ‘s *n^° 3° degrees.. The last
and circle shews die months and days corresponding to each
Practice, sign.
v 11 This wooden ring can represent the rational horizon
of any place marked on the terrestrial globe only, when
that place is situated in the zenith j and the method of
bringing the place into this situation is called rectifying
the globe.
To rectify Problem \TII. To rectify the globe according to
the globe. the latitude oj any place.
Find the latitude of the place, (by Problem 1.) and
see whether it be north or south. Then elevate the
pole of the globe which is in the same hemisphere with
the latitude, as far above the wooden horizon as is
equal to the latitude ; bring the given place to the bra¬
zen meridian, and it will be in the zenith.
Example. To rectify the globe for the latitude of
Edinburgh. The latitude of Edinburgh is 550 58' N.
therefore raise the north pole 550 58' above the horizon,
and bring Edinburgh below the brass meridian..
It is for the purpose of more easily rectifying the
globe, that one half of the brazen meridian is graduated
from the poles to the equator-, as, where this is not
done, it is necessary to take the complement of the la¬
titude, or the ditference between it and 90°, which in
some cases requires a calculation.
The place being brought below the meridian, when
the pole is elevated to the proper degree, it is evidently
in the zenith, or 90° distant every way from the hori¬
zon. Thus, in the above example, if we count the de¬
grees from that part of the meridian below which
Edinburgh is situated, we shall find that they amount
to 90° each way ; for counting from Edinburgh along
the meridian to the north pole, we have 34 ^ 5
which added to 550 58', the elevation of the poles, gives
90° on that side. Again', counting from the same point
of the meridian towards the southern part of the hori-
jon, we have 55° a^ a^ the equator, and 34
2' from thence to the horizon, making, as before, 90°,
and as the graduated edge of the meridian is 90° both
from the eastern and western side of the horizon, Edin-
89 burgh, in this situation of the globe, is in the zenith.
Obliqne \Vhen either of the poles of the gdobe is thus ele-
spherc. vated above the horizon, so as not to be in the zenith,
the globe is said to be in the position of an oblique
sphere, in which the equator and all its parallels are un¬
equally divided by the horizon. This is the most com¬
mon situation of the earth, or it is the situation which it
has with respect to all its inhabitants, except those at the
equator and the poles. To the inhabitants of an ob¬
lique sphere the pole of their hemisphere is elevated
above the horizon as many degrees as are equal to their
latitude, and the opposite pole is depressed as much be¬
low the horizon, so that the stars only at the former
are seen -, the sun and all the heavenly bodies rise and
set obliquely, the seasons are variable, and the days and
nights unequal. This position of the sphere is repre¬
sented at fig. 6. where the equator EQ, and the paral-
A P H Y. P;tl
lels cut the horizon HO obliquely, and the axis PS is Pi^
inclined to it. Hence this position is called oblique. id
If the globe is placed in such a position that any^;lw
point of the equator is in the zenith, it is said to be in
the position of a right or direct sphere, because the equa-Rji
tor and its parallels are vertical, or over the horizon at
right angles. This position is seen at fig. 7. where the
axis PS is in the plane of the horizon, and the equator
EQ is in a plane perpendicular to it. The inha¬
bitants of such a sphere, which are the inhabitants of
the earth below the line, have no elevation of the poles,
and consequently no latitude: they can see the stars at
both poles, all the stars rise, culminate, and set to
them ; and the sun always moves in a curve at right
angles to their horizon, and is an equal number of hours
above and below it, making the days and nights always
equal. i
If the globe be so placed that one of the poles is inPe|l:l
the zenith, and consequently the other in the nadir, itsn
is in the position of a parallel sphere ; so called because
the equator EQ (fig. 8.) coincides with the horizon,
and the parallels are of course parallel to it; while all
the meridians cut the horizon at right angles. The in-
bitants of a sphere, in this position, have the greatest
possible latitude \ the stars, which are situated in the
hemisphere to which the inhabitants belong, never set, !
but describe circles all around ; while those of the con- 1
trary hemisphere never rise : the sun is above the hori¬
zon for six months, during which it is day, and is be¬
low the horizon for an equal interval, when it is
night.
The wooden horizon is a necessary part of the appa¬
ratus of both globes j but it has been shewn, that in the
terrestrial globe, it can represent the rational horizon
of a place, only when the globe is rectified for the lati¬
tude of that place. In the celestial globe, it represents
the rational horizon in all positions.
In Adams’s globes there is a thin brass semicircle
NHS (fig. 5.) that is moveable about the poles, and
has a small thin circle N sliding on it. This semicircle
is graduated into two quadrants, the degrees of which
are marked both ways from the equator to the poles in
the terrestrial globe : this semicircle represents a move¬
able meridian ; and the small sliding circle, which is
marked with a few of the points of the compass, is
called a visible horizon, the use of which will appear
presently.
Before we proceed to the remaining problems on the
terrestrial globe, it will be proper to take notice of some
geographical principles that are connected with the ho¬
rizon.
It is evident, that the extent of the sensible horizon
of an observer depends on the height ol his eye above
the level surface of the earth. An eye placed on the
surface of the earth sees scarcely any thing around it;
but if it is elevated above that surface, it sees farther in
proportion to its elevation, provided always that its
view is not obstructed by intervening objects. I bus, in
an extensive plain, the eye can see farther, if elevated
called the prime vertical') cuts the horizon, are the east and west points j the former being on the /f/it band of a
person facing the sun at noonday, while the latter is on his right hand.
geography.
rt II.
ciplcs to a proper height, than It can from the same height In
nd a town or among hills; and, at sea, where the surface
ctice. ;s perfectly equal, the view is in proportion to the height
of the eye. It becomes an interesting problem to ascer¬
tain the extent of the visible horizon, or the distance to
which a person can see at any given height of the eye;
as, when this is known, we can calculate pretty accu¬
rately the distance of an object seen from such a height,
as land seen from the topmast of a ship at sea.
For solving this problem, it must be remarked, that
the distance of an observer from the boundary of the ho¬
rizon, or from a distant object, is different when mea¬
sured along the surface of the earth, and when measured
in a direct line. To illustrate this, let HDN (fig. 9.)
represent a section of the earth, of which C is the cen¬
tre, and let I) be the situation of an observer, whose
eye is elevated to B. The lines BA, BE, tangents
to the curve at H and E, represent the limit of the vi¬
sible horizon, or the radii of the circle circumscribing
vision. If the eye were elevated still higher, as to G,
it is evident, that the extent of the visible horizon will
be increased, being now represented by the tangent GF.
The length of the tangent BA, or GF, is easily found
rj by plane trigonometry (e).
B ;0Bof It was remarked above, that the visible horizon is
1 most distinct at sea, from the absence of those objects
which obstruct vision on land. Hence the sensible ho¬
rizon is sometimes called the horizon of the sea, and
this may be observed by looking through the sights of
a quadrant at the most distant part of the sea. In mak¬
ing this observation, the visual rays BA, or GF, by
reason of the spherical surface of the sea, always extend
a little below the true sensible horizon SS, and conse¬
quently below the rational horizon HN, which is paral¬
lel to it. Hence the quadrant shews the depression of
the horizon of the sea lower than it really is 5 and it is
obvious from the figure, that the higher the eye is situ¬
ated, the greater must be this depression. Thus, the
depression, when the eye is at G, marked by GF, is
evidently much greater than that marked by BE, when
the eye is at B. The depression of the horizon of the
sea is not always the same, though there be no variation
in the height of the eye j but the difference in this case
is very small, amounting only to a few seconds, and is principies
owing to a difference of the degree of refraction in the and
atmosphere. Were there no refraction, the visual ray Practice.
would be BE (when the eye is at B), and E would be V'—v 
the most distant point; but, by reason of the refraction,
a point on the surface of the earth beyond E, as F,
may be seen by an eye situated no higher than B ; and
if the refraction were still greater, a still more distant
point might be observed.
It will be necessary here to anticipate a few remarks DiffL-rTnte
respecting the difference between the apparent and truebetwcen
h;vels; a subject that will be more fully discussed under‘^e a;,p^'
Levelling. Two or more places are on a true level, true kvel.
when they are equally distant from the centre of the
earth, and one place is higher than another, or above
the true level, when it is farther from the centre of the
earth. A line that is equally distant in all its points
from the centre, is called the line of true level, and it
is evident that this line must be curved : and either
make part of the earth’s surface, or be concentrical with
it. Thus the line DAO, which has all its points, D,
A, O, equally distant from the centre C, is the line of
true level. But the line of sight DMP, as given by
the operation of a level, is a straight line, which is a
tangent to the earth’s surface at D, always rising high¬
er above the true line of level, according as it extends
to a greater distance. This straight line is called the
line of apparent level. Thus MA is the height ef the
apparent level above the true at the distance DA, and
OP is the excess of the apparent above the true level
at the distance DO.
The following table was constructed by Cassini, for
the purpose of shewing the excess of the apparent above
the true level at various distances from the point of ob¬
servation. It consists of three columns, in the first of
which the distance of the observed object from the place
of observation is given, fronr one second to 60 minutes,
or a degree. In the second is given the length of the
arc measured on a great circle of the earth, that corre¬
sponds to the observed distance, in feet and inches ; and
in the third is given the height of the apparent above
the true level in feet and inches, corresponding to each
observed and real distance of the object.
(e) In the right-angled triangle ACB (fig. 9.), the length of CB is given, supposing the height of the eye
HD to be 6 teet; for adding 6 feet to 19,943,400 feet, the length of the semidiameter of the earth, we have
I9>943>40^ feet f°r length of BC. Then, making the hypothenuse CB radius, we shall have, As radius to
the sine of the angle BCA, so is CB to BA ; and this will be nearly the same as the arc DA. Again, without
finding the quantity of the angle at C, BA may be found, by considering that BA* is equal to thelliffe'rence of
the squares of CB and CA, i. e. BA»=CB3-.CA3=(CB4-CA^ x (CB—CA)=CB -fCA into BD • and
hence BA=:X/(CB +CA) x BD.
To illustrate the last in numbers, we have CB=I9,943,4o6 feet, and CA= 19,943,400 feet. Then, to find
A, we have 19,943,406-1-19,943,400 (=39,886,806) X 19,943,406—19,943,400 (=6) = 239,320,836;
whence BA—239,320,836=15470 feet nearly, or about three miles.
Ihe distance, to which a person can see, is Found to vary as the square root of the altitude of the eye. To
nnd a general expression for this quantity,
let a be the altitude of the eye in feet,
d the distance at that altitude in miles j
then we have ^/6 : ^/c=3 : d=z-~^ X \A= 1.2247 X\/a. Hence, we deduce this general role : Multiply
the square rootof the height of the eye infeet by 1.2247, an<^ product will be the distance to which we can see
v OLi 1 A. Part II. + - it r
T 3 u from
522
Principles
and
Practice.
GEOGRAPHY.
Seconds.
Feet.
Inch.
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
*9
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
S2
33
34
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
5°
J1
52
53
54
56
57
58
59
60
101
20 3
3°4
406
507
609
710
812
914
1015
1117
1218
1320
1421
*523
1625
1726
1828
I929
2031
2132
2234
2336
2437
2539
264O
2742
2843
2945
3047
3I48
3250
3351
3453
3554
3656
3757
3859
3961
4002
4164
4265
4367
4468
457°
4672
4773
4875
4976
5°78
5I79
5281
5383
5484
5586
5687
5789
5890
5992
6094
6.8
1.6
8.4
3-2
10.0
4.8
11.6
6.4
1.2
8.0
2.8
9.6
4.4
11.2
6.0
0.8
7.6
2.4
9.2
4.0
10.8
5-6
0.4
7.2
2.0
8.8
3-6
10.4
5-2
0.0
6.8
1.6
8.4
3-2
10.0
4.8
11.6
6.4
1.2
8.0
2.8
9.6
4.4
11.2
6.0
0.8
7.6
2.4
9.2
4.0
10.8
5-6
Inch.
0.4
7-2
2.0
8.8
3-6
10.4
5-2
0.0
0.074
0.296
1.186
2.670
4.746
7.409
ib.68o
minutes.
Feet.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
i8
59
60
6094
12188
18282
24376
30470
36564
42658
48752
54846
60940
67034
73128
79222
853i6
91410
97504
103598
109692
115786
121880
127974
134068
140162
146256
152350
158444
164538
170632
176726
182820
188914
195008
201102
207196
213290
219384
225478
23*572
237666
243760
249854
255948
262042
268136
274230
280324
286418
292512
298606
304700
3I0794
316888
322982
329076
335*70
341264
347358
353452
359546
365640
Feet. Inch.
3
7
*4
22
3*
42
56
7*
88
107
127
149
*73
199
226
255
286
3*9
354
39°
428
468
5*0
553
599
646
694
745
797
851
907
965
1024
1085
1148
1213
*277
1348
1417
1496
1569
1638
17x6
*794
1875
*958
2042
2128
2215
2305
2396
2489
2584
2681
2779
2880
2982
3085
3*9*
10.680
6.580
**•853
1.812
I. 932
11.412
5-436
9-384
9.876
7.728
2.940
7-512
9.444
8.736
4.320
9.264
II. 568
11.232
7.188
0.504
4.248
5-352
10.224
6.084
11.232
1.776
I. 680
10.944
5.568
8.484
9.828
8.532
3.528
7.884
9.600
8.676
5.H2
10.908
2.064
1.764
II. 388
10.452
9.084
0.108
11.424
7.032
0.000
2.328
2.016
6.792
5-472
9.240
10.368
8.856
4-704
9.912
0.480
0.408
8.628
2.2o8‘
Part; I.
Frine
an
Prac:«,
from that height in miles. Example. Let the height of the eye he 49 feet. Multiply the square root of 49 or 7,
by 1.2247, and we have 8.5729 or about 8| miles for the distance to which the eye can see at the height ol 49^“*
GEOGRAPHY.
The above table will answer several useful purposes.
In the first place, the height of the apparent level above
the true may be found by it at any distance, from one
second to one degree, or miles. Thus, at the di¬
stance of 30,=about 35 miles, we have 182820 feet for
the length of the arch of a great circle on the earth,
and corresponding to this we have 797 feet 8 inches
484 parts for the excess of the apparent level above the
true. 2. The extent of the visible horizon correspond¬
ing to any height of the eye, may be found from the
table by observation. The semidiameter of the horizon
does not sensibly differ from an arc of a great circle on
the earth, containing as many minutes and seconds as
are equal to the angle of depression observed, and the
number of feet contained in such an arc may be found
in the table. Thus, if the depression, as observed by
observation, be 40", its semidiameter is also about 40",
and the length of the arc corresponding to it is 243,760
feet.
The following table, also taken from Cassini, shews
the different depressions of the horizon of the sea at dif¬
ferent heights of the eye, both by observation and cal¬
culation ; with the difference betwixt the two occasion¬
ed by refraction.
The height of the eye above The depression of the ho-
the surface of the sea. ri%on of the sea.
523
Feet.
1157
Inches.
6,9
C 3 2 30 by observation
I36 if
[8 by calculation
Difference by refraction 3 48
775
2,3
C 27 o by observation
^29 36 by calculation
Difference by refraction 2 36
571
11,0
C 24 o by observation
\ 25 25 by calculation
Difference by refraction
1 25
387
3,4
$19 45 by observation
C 20 54 by calculation
Difference by refraction
288 4,3
Difference by refraction
$15 0 by observation
L17 1 by calculation
The height of the eye above The depression of the ho-
the surface of the sea, muon of the sea.
Principles
ft lid
Practice
Feet.
187
Inches.
0,9
C13 O by observation
J_I4 41 by calculation
Difference by refraction
I 41
9 7,3
Diflerence by refraction
{3 20 by observation
3 18 by calculation
In the above table, the depression, as estimated by
calculation, is greater than that by observation in every
case except the last, in which the latter is greater by
two seconds than the former; but this difierence was
too small to be discovered by the instrument that Cas¬
sini employed.
Refraction lessens the angle of depression, by raising
the objects observed ; but as this refraction is itself va¬
riable, the depression and extent of the horizon also
vary. We are informed by Cassini, that even in the
finest weather he observed the refraction to differ at the
same hour of different days, and at different hours of
the same day. The truth of this observation may be
easily ascertained by looking through a telescope fur¬
nished with cross hairs, and fixed in such a position that
some highly elevated object, as the weathercock of a
steeple, may be seen through it; for, on observing the
weathercock at different times of the day, it will be
seen sometimes on the centre of the object-glass 5 some¬
times above, and sometimes below it. A similar expe¬
riment may also be made with plane sights fixed on a
cross-staff. It has long been observed, that the top of
a distant hill may sometimes, when the refraction is
very great, be distinctly seen from a situation from
which, at other times, when the refraction is much less,
it is not discernible, even though the sky be very clear.
Many of the following problems may seem to belong
to the celestial rather than the terrestrial globe ; but as
they may be solved equally well by means of both, and
as persons not uncommonly possess a terrestrial globe
without its usual companion, we shall throw as many
problems as possible under this head.
Problem IX. To find the sun's place in the ecliptic Problems
for any given time. respecting
the s»n.
Find the day of the month in the calendar on the
wooden horizon ; and opposite to it, in the adjoining
circle, will be found the sign and degree in which the
3U2 sun
fromTcertai^Sht1 tH ^ dedUCe ^ °f comPutinS the dIsta"<* °f any object seen in the horizon
comine in sieht^ We wZ’ ^ Z mast*1,ead’ ^ feet above the water, sees land or a ship just
aboutSi4 mifes or abont fi ’l arth‘S an e.ye C.an s.ee.I4 miles> consequently the object seen will be
tion 1 ve fe*Sues ^istant* If the object is within the horizon, or nearer the place of observa-
to the horiyon”06 ^ Pretty e.xactty» descending from the mast-head till the object just comes
, measuring the height at which this takes place, and thence computing the distance.
G E O G R
52+
Principle* sun *s on ^,e given llay* Then look for the same sign
and degree in the circle of the ecliptic drawn on tlie
and
fcfW,
Practice, globe, and that is the sun’s place at noon for the given
LJ"' v time.
Ex. I. What is the sun’s place on the 4th of June .
Ans. In 130 57' of the sign Gemini.
Ex. 2. Required the sun’s place for the first day of
every calendar month ?
For January vy ii°23'
February ^ 12 35
March K II 9
April (YI 11 56
May 11 14
June IT 11 3
July S3 90 42'
August ft 9 18
September ttR 9 9
October sO= 8 27
November nt 9 1^
December / 9 33
Problem X. To find the sun's declination for any
given time.
Find the sun’s place for the given day by Prob. X.
and bring it to the brazen meridian. The degree
marked on the meridian immediately over the place is
the declination required.
Ex. Required the sun’s declination for 18th March ?
The sun’s place for the given day is 20° 7' of K> an^
this being brought to the meridian, will be immediate¬
ly below 3° 54' S. which is therefore the declination
required.
From the above example, it is evident that the me¬
thod of finding the declination of the sun corresponds to
that of finding the latitude of a place on the globe, gi¬
ven in Problem I. the sun’s declination being measured
in the same way by an arc of the meridian interposed
between the equator and the sun’s place in the eclip¬
tic (f).
Problem XI. To rectify the globe for the sun's place
and the day of the month.
Find the sun’s declination for the given day, by
Problem XI. $ then elevate the pole that is in the same
hemisphere with the degree of declination, as many de¬
grees as are equal to the declination.
Ex. Rectify the globe for the sun’s place on the 6th
October? Ans. The sun’s declination on that day is
50 S. therefore the south pole must be elevated 50 above
the horizon.
Rectifying the globe for the sun’s declination corre¬
sponds to the rectifying of it for the latitude of a given
place. See N® 88.
A P H Y. Par; I
To perform the same problem by Adams’s globes. prifle _
Rectify the globe for the declination, bring the given an
place to the meridian, and set the horary index at 12, ^rac ft]
as before y then turn the globe towards the west, till the l"‘
given place reach the western edge of the horizon, and
the index will point to the time of sunrise. The time
of sunset will be known, in like manner, by bringing
the place to the eastern side of the horizon.
If the hour circle in the ordinary globes has a double
row of figures, the sun’s rising and setting may be found
at the same time $ for if the place be brought to the
eastern part of the horizon, the time of sunrise will be
shewn by the index, in that circle where the hours in¬
crease towards the east 5 and the time cut by the index
in the circle where the hours increase towards the west,
will shew the time of sunset.
Ex. I. Required the time of the sun’s rising and set¬
ting at London, on the 29th August ? Ans. The sun
rises at nine minutes after five, and sets nine minutes
before seven.
Ex. 2. Required the time of sunrise and sunset at
Edinburgh on the 1st of June ? Ans. For sunrise, 27
minutes after three ; for sunset, 33 minutes after eight.
Corollary. From this problem we may easily find
the length of the day and night for any given time;
for, having found by the globe the time of sunrise and
sunset, the double of the latter is the length of the day,
and the double of the former the length of the night.
Problem XIII. To find the sun's meridian altitude
on any given day, at a given place.
Rectify the globe for the latitude of the given place,
by Problem VIII. y find the sun’s place on the given
day by Problem IX. and bring it to the brazen meri¬
dian. Then fix the quadrant of altitude in the zenith,
or over the given place, and bring it over the sun’s
place ; and the degree of the quadrant lying over the
sun’s place will shew the meridian altitude.
Problem XII. To find the time of the sun's rising and
setting at a given place, for any given day.
Rectify the globe for the declination on the given
day, and bring the given place to the meridian, and
set the index of the hour circle at XII. Turn the
globe, till the given place come to the eastern edge of
the horizon, and the time of sunrise will be shewn by
the position of the index. Then turn the globe till the
given place come to the western part of the horizon,
and the position of the index will point out the time of
sunset.
If the globe has no quadrant of altitude, the sun’s
meridian altitude may be found by counting the num¬
ber of degrees on the meridian, between the horizon
and the sun’s place.
Ex. Required the sun’s meridian altitude at Edin¬
burgh on the 21st of June ? j4ns. 570 30', or the
greatest possible, this being the summer solstice.
Corollary. It may be known whether the sun’s
meridian altitude be north or south, by the following
observations. When the sun’s declination and the lati¬
tude of the place are of different names, i. e. the one^
north and the other south, the meridian altitude is of
the same name with the declination. If the declina¬
tion and latitude be both north or both south, the alti¬
tude is of the same name with the declination, if the
latter be the greater y but, otherwise, the altitude is of
an opposite name.
Problem XIV. Having the latitude of the place and
the day of the month given, to find the sun's altitude
for any given hour.
Rectify the globe for the latitude y find the sun’s
place, and bring it to the meridian, and set the horary
index
(f) For a table of the sun’s declination corresponding to his true place, see Vol. III. p* i70.
GEOGRAPHY.
Ill
cs index to noon j turn the globe till the index point to
the given hour, then fix the quadrant of altitude in the
]:e. zenith, and bring its graduated edge over the sun’s
i place, and the degree cut by the sun’s place will be
the altitude required.
Ex. What will be the sun’s altitude at 10 o’clock
A. M. on the 30th of November at Edinburgh ?
Am. 8° 50'.
Problem XV. Having the sun's meridian altitude
given at any place ^ to find the latitude of the place.
Bring the sun’s place for the given day to the meri¬
dian, and move the globe in the horizon till the dis¬
tance between the sun’s place and the northern or south¬
ern edge of the horizon, (according as the case may re¬
quire), be equal to the given altitude. The degree of
elevation of the pole will shew the latitude required.
Ex. The sun’s meridian altitude observed at a cer¬
tain place on 5th August is 740 24' N. What is the
latitude of the place ? Ans. 1° 36' N.
Problem XVI. The latitude of the place and the day
of the month being given, to find when the sun is due
east or due west.
Rectify the globe for the latitude of the place, bring
the sun’s place to the meridian, and set the index to
XII. Fix the quadrant of altitude in the zenith, and
if the sun’s declination be of the same name with the
latitude, bring the graduated edge of the quadrant to
the eastern side of the horizon ; but if the declination
is of a different name from the latitude, bring the qua¬
drant to the western part of the horizon. Turn the
globe till the sun’s place in the ecliptic come below the
edge of the quadrant, and the index will point to the
heur when the sun is due east. Subtract this from XII.
and the remainder shews the time when the sun is due
west.
Ex. At what hours is the sun due east and west at
the summer and winter solstice at Greenwich ? Ans. At
the summer solstice he is due east at 20 minutes past
seven, and due west at 20 minutes before five. At the
winter solstice he is due east at 20 minutes before five,
and due west at 20 minutes past seven.
Corollary. When the declination and latitude
are of the same name, the sun is due east after rising j
but when the declination and latitude are of different
names, he is due east before rising. As it is not con¬
venient to observe on the globe when the sun is due
east before rising, or while he is under the horizon, it
is better to bring the opposite point of the ecliptic due
west, and then the index shews the time when he is
due east.
Problem XVII. Having a place in the torrid %one
given, to find on what two days of the year the sun
is vertical at that place.
Find the latitude of the given place, and keeping
that in view, turn the globe round, noting the two
points at the ecliptic that pass below the degree of la¬
titude. Find in the calendar circle of the horizon the
days corresponding to those points of the ecliptic j and
these are the days on which the sun is vertical at the
given place.
1. On what days is the sun vertical at St He¬
lena, in latitude 150 yf S. ? Ans. On the 6th February prineinles
and 6th November. antj
Ex. 2. Required the days on which the sun is verti- Practice,
cal at Tobago, in latitude 11° 29' N. ? Ans. On April ^
19. and August 23.
Problem XVIII. To find those places in the torrid
zone where the sun is vertical on a given day.
Find the sun’s place for the given day, and bring it
to the brazen meridian j then turn the globe, and note
all the places which pass under that point of the meri¬
dian : these will be the places to which the sun is ver¬
tical on the given day.
Ex. 1. In what places is the sun vertical at the sum¬
mer solstice? Ans. At Canton in China, at Calcutta
in Bengal, at Mecca in Arabia, and at the Havan-
nah.
Ex. 2. To what places is the sun vertical on the 16th
of May and 29th of July ? Ans. At Bombay, Pegu,
in the northern part of Manilla, in the middle of the
Ladrone islands, at Owhyhee, Mexico, in Hispaniola,
and at Tombuctoo in the central parts of Africa.
Problem XIX. Having the day and hour at any
given place, to find where the sun is then vertical.
Find the sun’s declination by Problem XI. and the
places where it is noon at the given time, by Problem
III.; then any of those places where it is noon, whose
latitude is the same as the sun’s declination, will have
the sun vertical at the given time.
Ex. On the 1st of August at Edinburgh, it being
35 minutes past four, P. M. it is required to find where
the sun is vertical ? Ans. The sun’s declination on that
day is 180 14' N. and the place where it is noon at the
given time, that lies nearest in latitude to the declina¬
tion, is Kingston in Jamaica: this, therefore, is the
place required.
Problem XX. A place in the northern frigid zone
being given, to find when the sun begins to appear
above the horizon, and when to disappear; as also
the length of the longest day and night.
Rectify the globe for the latitude, and bring the as¬
cending signs of the zodiac (see Astronomy, N° 52.)
to the southern part of the horizon; observe what de¬
gree of the ecliptic is intersected by that point of the
horizon, and in the calendar circle find the day of the
month answering to that degree. That will shew the
time of the sun’s first appearance above the horizon at
the given place, and this is the end of the longest night
in that latitude. Then bring the descending signs to the
same part of the horizon, and observe the day which
answers to the degree of the ecliptic intersected 5 this
will shew the time of the sun’s disappearance, or the
beginning of the longest night. Now bring the as¬
cending signs to the northern part of the horizon, and
observe the degree of the ecliptic, and the correspond¬
ing day as before, which will give the time when the
sun begins to shine continually, or the beginning of
the longest day. Again, bring the descending signs to
the same point, and thus will be given the time when
the sun ceases to shine continually, or the end of the
longest day.
E.v. At what time does the sun begin to appear
abov& -
Z
526
G E O G R
Prinoiolct above llie horiion at North Cape in Lapland, the lati-
»„d tude ol' which is 72° N. > When does he disappear, and
ana luue ui winv,u  - %.•),»?
Practice. j,ovv i0I1St is lie entirely absent during the longest nig 1 .
 * Ans. He begins to appear on the 26th of January, and
entirely disappears on the 16th of November J he is
therefore absent for 71 days.
Cor. From the sun’s first appearance at the end ot
the longest night to the beginning of the longest day,
and from the end of the longest day to the sun s total
disappearance at the beginning of the longest night,
he rises and sets every day.
A P H Y. Pa ]
By this problem the limits of the month climates may pr.
be pretty nearly ascertained.
Pri-i
Problem XXIV. The hour and day being given at
any place, to find in what places the sun is rising,
and in what he is setting; where it is noon, and
where midnight.
Problem XXI. To fnd in what part of the northern
frigid 'zone the sun begins to shine continually on a
given day.
Find the sun’s declination for the given day, and
subtract this from 90°, the remainder will shew the
latitude required.
Note. The given day must be between the 21st ot
March and the 21st of June, as at no other time does
the sun begin to shine continually in the northern Ingid
zone
Problems Problem XXII. The length of the longest day in any
respecting bei given, to find the latitude oj that place.
ike cli- -t 00 ... ,
mates. Bring the 1st degree of Cancer to the meridian, and
set the horary index at noon. Then turn the globe
towards the west, till the index point to the hour ol sun¬
set, or half of the length of the given day ; raise or
depress the pole, till the sun’s place in the ediptic is
.exactly in the western edge of the horizon. The ele¬
vation thus obtained will be equal to the required lati-
tUln Adams’s globes, after bringing the first degree of
Cancer to the meridian, and setting the index to noon,
the globe must be turned towards the west, till the in¬
dex shew the time of sunset, and the sun’s place must
be brought to the eastern side of the horizon.
Ex. In what latitude is the longest day 18 hours
long ? Ans. In latitude j8 3®
By this problem the limits of the hour climates may
be pretty nearly ascertained.
Ex. Required the latitude in which the sun begins
to shine without setting on the 1st of June . Ans. I be
sun’s declination for that day is 22® N. and this subtract¬
ed from 90° leaves 68° N. the latitude required.
Problem XXIII. To find the latitudes of those places
in the frigid zone tv here the sums continually above
, the horizon for a given number of days.
Count from the first degree of Cancer towards the
nearest equinoctial point, as many degrees as is equal
to half the given number of days-, bring the point thus
obtained below the meridian, and note the degree ot
the meridian which it intersects. This subtracted from
90° will leave a remainder that is nearly equal to the
latitude of the place. .
Ex. In what latitude does the sun never set during
76 days ? Ans. In latitude 710 30', or very near the
southern part of Nova Zembla.
Note. This problem cannot be performed accurately
by the globe for as the sun requires 365 days six
hours to° move through the whole 360° ot the ecliptic,
he does not advance quite a degree in 24 hours.
3
Find by Problem XIX. the place to which the suu
is vertical at the given time j rectify the globe for the
latitude of that place, and bring the place below the
meridian. In this position of the globe all those places
that lie within the western edge of the horizon will
have the sun rising, and all those which are in the
eastern edge of the horizon will have it setting. Again,
to those places which lie under the upper semicircle of
the brazen meridian, it will be noon j and to those
which lie below the lower semicircle, it will be mid¬
night.
Ex. Suppose it be four o’clock P. M. on the 4th
of June at London $ where is the sun at that time
rising, and where is he setting j to what places is it
noon, and to what midnight ? Ans. The north-eastern
part of Siberia, Kamtschatka, the most western of the
Sandwich isles, and the most eastern of the Society isles,
are within the western edge of the horizon, and conse¬
quently to these the sun is rising. At Tobolsk, in the
Caspian sea, in the desert of Arabia, in the middle of
the Red sea, in Abyssinia, in the central parts of A-
frica, and in the country of the Hottentots, the sun will
be setting, as these places lie within the eastern edge of
the horizon. New Britain, the islands of Martinique
and Trinidad, and the middle part of South America,
which lie below the upper semicircle of the meridian,
have noon j and Chinese Tartary, the eastern part of
China, the Philippine isles, and the western part of
New Holland, which are situated below the under edge
of the semicircle, have midnight.
As the remaining problems on the terrestrial globe 0n
•chiefly respect the continuance of twilight, it is proper,ijgtj
before we proceed, to make a few remarks on this sub-
ject. For the explanation of the term, see Crefusculum
and Twilight.
Tht'Crepusculum, or Twilight, it is supposed, usually
begins and ends when the sun is about 180 below the
horizon j for then the stars of the 6th magnitude dis¬
appear in the morning, and appear in the evening. Itu
of longer duration in the solstices than in the equinoxes,
and longer in an oblique sphere than in a right one
because in those cases the sun, by the obliquity of his
path, is longer in ascending through 180 of latitude.
Twilight is occasioned by the sun’s rays refracted ii'»
our atmosphere, and reflected from the particles of it to
the eye. For let A (fig. 10.) be the place of an ob¬
server on the earth ADL, AB the sensible horizon,
meeting in B the circle CBM bounding that part 0
the atmosphere which is capable of refracting and re
fleeting light to the eye. It is plain that when the sin.
is under the horizon, no direct rays can come to t ie
eye at A : but the sun being in the refracted line
the particle C will be illuminated by the direct rays
of the sun j and that particle may reflect those rays
to A, where they enter the eye of the spectator. -
thus the sun’s light illuminating an innumerable mu 1
tude of particles, may be all reflected to the spectators
G E O G
A. From B draw BD touching the circle ADL In
,, D, and let the sun beat S in the line AD ; then the ray
lie. SB will be reflected into the situation BA, and will
'enter the eye, because from a principle in optics the
angle of incidence DUG is equal to the angle of re~
flection ABE. See Optics. This ray SB, or BA,
will therefore be the first that reaches the eye at dawn
In the morning, and the last that falls on the eye at
night, when twilight ceases, because as the sun gets
lower down, the particles of the air at B will no longer
be illuminated.
The depth of the sun below the horizon at the begin¬
ning of the morning or end of the evening twilight, is
determined by observing the moment when tbe air first
begins to shine in the morning, or ceases to shine in the
evening ; then finding the sun’s place for that time,
and hence the time till his rising in the horizon, or af¬
ter his disappearance below. This depth of the sun
below the horizon has been variously stated by different
astronomers, but it is now generally estimated at i8°.
Accordingly in Mr Adams’s globes there is a circu¬
lar wire fixed i8° below the horizon, to represent the li-
raits of the crepusculum (see PWY, fig. 5.).
As the cause of twilight is not constant, its limits
must continually vary; for if the exhalations in the
atmosphere be more copious er more extensive than
usual, the morning twilight will begin sooner, and that
ef the evening last longer than ordinary; as the more
copious the exhalations, the more rays will be reflected
from them, and consequently the more they will shine,
and again, the higher they are, the sooner they will
he illuminated by the sun. From this circumstance
the evening twilight is commonly longer than the morn¬
ing, at the same time, and in the same place. The re¬
fraction is also greater according as the air is more
dense, and not only is the. brightness of the atmo¬
sphere variable, but the same takes place, in its height
above the earth; therefore, the twilight is longest in
hot weather, and in hot countries, all other things be¬
ing equal. The chief differences, however, arise from
the different situations of places on the earth, or from
the difference of the sun’s place in the heavens. Thus,
the twilight is longest when the earth is in the position of
a parallel sphere, and shortest in that of a right sphere
(see N® 90.) : and in an oblique sphere, the twilight
continues longer at any place, in proportion as that place
is nearer to either of the poles ; a circumstance which
affords considerable relief to the inhabitants of the
northern countries in their long winter nights. Twi¬
light continues longest in all places of, north latitude,
when the sun is in the tropic of Cancer, and to those in
south latitude when he is in the tropic of Capricorn.
The time of the shortest twilight also varies in different
latitudes; thus, in England, the shortest twilight is
about the beginning of October and of March, when
the sun is in and X ; hence, when the difference
between the sun’s declination and the depth of the
equator is less than 18?, so that the sun does not de¬
scend more than 18° below the horizpn, the twilight
will continue through the whole night, as happens in
Britain from the 22d of May to the, 22d of July.
In the latitude of 49? N. twilight continues for the
whole night, only on the 21st of,June, or the time of,
the summer solstice: but at all places further to the
R A P H Y.
527
noith it continues tor a certain number of days before t>.- • 1
and after the summer solstice. ^ntf ^
Near the north pole there is continual twilight from Practice.
the 22d of September, the time of the sun’s permanent  
absence, to tbe 12th of November. It then ceases till
about the 30th of January, when it again appears, and
continues till the 21st of March, the time of the sun’s
permanent appearance. Hence the inhabitants of those
places nearest the pole, though they never see the sun
for nearly six months, have, however, the benefit of
twilight for above the half of that time, and are entire¬
ly excluded from the sun’s light little more than 12
weeks, during six of which the moon is constantly above
the horizon.
Were it not for the gradual change from light touses5©!
darkness, and vice versa, which is the consequence oflwiJight.
twilight, much inconvenience would arise. A sudden
change from the darkness of midnight to the full splen¬
dour of the sun, and the reverse, would injure the sight,
and would, in many casrs, be productive of much dan¬
ger to travellers, who would be overtaken by utter
darkness before they had time to prepare for its apr.
proach.
Problem XXV. To find where it is twilight at any pro
given time. respe«tii>g
Find where the sun is vertical at the given time, andtVVll‘gbU
rectify the globe for the latitude of that place. Ob¬
serve what places are within the limits of twilight, or
not quite 18° below’ the horizon. To those which are
situated within the western zone, between the horizon
and the parallel of 180, it will be twilight in the morn¬
ing; and those whichjare in the eastern zone will have
it twilight in the evening.
This problem maybe more conveniently performed
by rectifying the globe for the antipodes of the place
which has the sun then vertical, and observing what
places are situated in the zone formed above, the hori¬
zon, between it and a parallel circle of 180.
Ex. It is required to find where it is twilight on the
4th of June, when it is three o’clock P.M. at London.
Ans. Kamtschatka, the Sandwich isles, and the Mar¬
quesas, have twilight in the morning; and the inhabi¬
tants of Madagascar, of Tibet, and the eastern part of
Persia, have twilight in the evening.
Problem XXVI. To find the duration of twilight at
a given place on any given day.
Rectify the globe for the latitude of the place; firtd ,
the sun’s place for the given day by Problem X. and
bring it below the meridian, and set the horary index
to XII. Turn the globe till the sun’s place be just
within the circle that marks the limits of twilight, and
the index w^ll shew;-the beginning of twilight. Sub¬
tract the time of the beginning of twilight from the
time of sunrising at the given place (found by Problem
XII.) and the remainder will shew the duration of twi-_
light at the given place..
Note.-^-The above rule will answer both for the or¬
dinary globes, and for those of Adarps, except that in
the latter the sun’s place must be brought below the
western part of the horizon. A more convenient way
in both globes will be, to bring that point of the
ecliptic which is opposite to the sun’s place, 180 above
the,.
-^28
Principles
and
Practice-
too
Cause of
day and
nicht.
ioi
Problotn
©n lunar
eclipses.
the western horizon, and the index will then shew the
beginning of twilight.
Ex. How long will twilight continue at London on
the following days : March 2d *, September 25th} and
December 26th ? Ans. On the 2d of March it wil
continue one hour and fifty minutes ; on the 25th ot
September two hours ; and on the 26th of December,
two hours ten minutes (g).
Problem XXVII. To shew the cause of day and
night by the globe.
It will have appeared, from the consideration of the
cause of day and night given under the article Astro¬
nomy, that only that half of the earth which is opposite
to the sun, is illuminated by his rays, while that which
is turned from him is involved in darkness. As the
earth revolves on its axis from west to east, in the space
of 24 hours, every place on the earth in the course 01
that time alternately enjoys the light of the sun, and is
deprived of it. r
To illustrate this by the globe, rectify the globe lor
the sun’s declination, so as to place the sun in the ze¬
nith, and the horizon will represent the boundary be¬
tween light and darkness •, that hemisphere which is
above the horizon being illuminated by the sun’s rays,
and that which is below the horizon being deprived of
l|oht. If now a patch is put on the globe, so as to repie-
selit anyplace, and if the globebe made to revolve from
west to east j when the place is brought to the western
edge of the horizon, the sun will appear to the inhabi¬
tants of that place to be rising in the east, though, in
fact, the appearance arises from the place itself coming
beyond the limit of darkness. As the globe continues
to turn, the place rises towards the meridian, and this
produces the appearance as if the sun were advancing
towards the meridian in a contrary direction. When
the place comes below the meridian, it is noon to that
place, and the sun appears to have attained its greatest
height. . , „
As the place proceeds towards the east, it gradually
recedes from the meridian, and the sun appears descend¬
ing in the west. When it reaches the eastern edge oi
the horizon, and is proceeding below the boundary of
light and darkness, the sun appears to be setting; and
during the whole time that the place is moving below
the horizon, the sun will not appear till the place once
more rises in the west.
Problem XXVIII. To find at what places an eclipse
of the moon is visible at any given time.
Find the place to which the sun is vertical at the
given time, and rectify the globe for the latitude of
that place. As the moon is opposite to the sun, which
illuminates the superior hemisphere of the globe, the
G E O G R A P H Y. Pa:
eclipse of the moon will he visible to all the places that Prii
lie below the horizon. 'I
As the places below tbe horizon are not easily exa- N
mined, this problem may be more conveniently per¬
formed by rectifying tbe globe for the antipodes of tbe
place to which the sun is vertical at the given time, ra¬
ther than for tbe place itself j as in this latter position
of tbe globe the moon being in opposition to the sun,
will be vertical to the place below the zenith, and
its eclipse will be visible at all the places now above
the horizon.
Ex. 1. On the 4th of January 1806, at 55 minutes
past 11 P. M. reckoning the time at Greenwich, there
was an eclipse of the moon. It is required to find those
places to which the eclipse was visible? Ans. Through
the greatest part of Africa, in some part of Europe,
in Asiat South America, and a great part oi North
America.
Em. 2. On the 10th of May 1808, when it is eight
o’clock A. M. at Greenwich, the moon will be totally
eclipsed. In what places will the eclipse be visible ?
Ans. In most parts of America 5 in the islands ol the Pa¬
cific ocean, and on the eastern coast of New Holland.
I
Sect. II. Of the Use of the Celestial Globe. ]
The celestial globe, with respect to the circles that Cele! ,
are described on it, and the apparatus with which it is&lobt'
furnished, scarcely differs from the terrestrial globe,
which has been so fully described in the preceding sec¬
tion. The surface of the celestial globe is made to re¬
present all the stars that are commonly visible to the
naked eye, arranged under their constellations, and
bounded by the figures which have been given to these
constellations by the early astronomers. (See fig. 5.).
In Adams’s celestial globe the moveable semicircle
(N° 91.) turning round the poles represents a circle of
declination, and the small circle on it, an artificial sun
or planet.
Both the globes are often furnished with a mariner’s
compass, which is usually placed in the lower part of
the frame. ,
It must here be remarked, that the representation ot
the heavens on the celestial globe, though probably
much more accurate than that of the earth on the ter¬
restrial, is not so natural as the latter j for, in viewing
the stars on the external surface of a globe, the specta¬
tor sees them in an opposite position to that in which be
observes them in the heavens, so that to form a just
conception of their exact situation, he must suppose his
eye to be seated in the centre of the globe. Hence, d
a large hollow hemisphere were made of glass, and it
the stars in the corresponding hemisphere of the firma¬
ment were painted in transparent colours on its sur¬
face ; an eve situated in the centre of such a hemi-
J sphere
fG'l If we have the latitude of a place, and the sun’s declination given, we may find the beginning of the morn-
intr and the end of the evening twilight by calculation. Thus, in the oblique-angled spherical tnang e ^
ffe 11.) we have given ZP the co-latitude; PN the co-declination, and ZN=.o8° be.ng the sum of OO the
quadrant, and 18° the depression at the extremity of twilight. Then by spherical trigonometry we may cal M
the triangle ZPN, the hour angle from noon, and this reduced to time, at the rate of 15 per hour, give
time from noon to the beginning or end of twilight. For the mode of calculation, see Spherics.
II. GEOGRAPHY.
iples sphere would see the stars exactly as they appear in
id the heavens.
lice. The great use of the celestial globe is to perform a
variety of problems with respect to the stars, and the
motions of the heavenly bodies through the space which
they occupy.
Problem I. To place the celestial globe in such a situa¬
tion as that it shall exhibit an accurate representa¬
tion of the face of the heavens at any given place,
and at any given time.
Rectify the globe for the latitude of the place, as in
Problem VII. of the terrestrial globe, or by setting the
pole of the celestial globe pointing to the pole of the
earth, by means of the compass that is usually annexed
to the globes; find the sun’s place in the ecliptic;
bring this to the meridian, and set the horary index at
noon. Again, make the globe turn on its axis till
the index point to the given time, and in this position
the globe will exactly represent the face of the hea¬
vens, corresponding to the given time and place; every
constellation and star in the heavens answering in posi¬
tion to those on the globe. Hence, by examining the
globe, it will immediately be seen what stars are above
or below the horizon, which are on the eastern and
western parts of the heavens, which have just risen
above the horizon, and which are about to sink be¬
low it.
As this problem will he found extremely useful to
the student of astronomy, we shall here quote the exam¬
ple given in illustration of it by Messrs Bruce of New¬
castle.
“ Required the situation of the stars for the lati¬
tude of Newcastle, on October 6th, at eight o’clock in
the evening ?
“ In our present survey of the heavens, we shall com¬
mence at the north point of the horizon, and proceed
round eastward ; noticing the different constellations,
and the relative situation of the principal stars in these
constellations.
“ The first star which strikes the eye of the obser¬
ver, in the north-east part of the heavens, is Capella, in
the constellation Auriga, or the Waggoner: It is of the
first magnitude, of the altitude of 230, or nearly the
fourth part of the distance from the horizon to the ze¬
nith. There are two stars of the second magnitude,
which form with Capella a triangle :—The star which
forms the short side of the triangle is in the right shoul¬
der of Auriga, and is marked /3; it lies at the distance
of about 8° from Capella, further to the north ; its al¬
titude is 18°:—The star forming the longer side of
the triangle is in the Bull’s northern horn ; its distance
from Capella is more than 26° ; its altitude not more
than 50, and azimuth N. E. There are three stars of
the fourth magnitude, a little to the south of Capella,
that bear the name of the Kids.
“ If a line be drawn through the two stars that form
the upper side of the triangle, and continued to the
horizon, it will point out Castor, u, in Gemini just rising,
azimuth E. N. E: it is between the first and second
magnitude. The other stars in this constellation have
not yet risen.
, -A- l‘ne drawn between Castor and Capella, and con¬
tinued higher in the heavens, will point out Perseus, in
which there are three stars, one of the second magni-
Vol. IX. Part II. 6 +
tude, named Algenib, and two of the third magili- Principles
tude, one on each side of Algenib, at the distance^ of and '
about 50 : they form a line a little curved on the side Practice.
next Auriga. The altitude of Algenib is 27°; azi-  r~~J
muth N. E. by E.
“ A little to the south of Perseus is the Head of Me¬
dusa, which Perseus is holding in his hand. Besides two
or three small stars it contains one of the second, and
one of the third magnitude. The name of the brightest
is Algol; altitude 330, azimuth E. N. E. Algol is
only io° distant from Algenib.
“ Directly below the Head of Medusa, about 140
above the horizon, are the Pleiades or seven stars :
They are seated in the shoulder of Taurus, and are so
easily known, that no description is necessary. Alde-
baran, a stai* of the first magnitude, which forms the eye
of Taurus, is just rising; azimuth E. N. E. A vertical
circle drawn through Algol will point to it. There
are two stars of the third magnitude, and several smaller
very near Aldebaran, which form with it a triangle..
The whole cluster is called the Hyades.
“ A line drawn from Aldebaran through Algol, and
continued to the zenith, will direct to Cassiopeia. This
contains five stars of the third magnitude, besides several
of the fourth : it is in form something like the letter Y,
or, as some think, an inverted chair. It is situated
above Perseus, within 30° of the zenith. The altitude
of the brightest star, a, called Schedar, is 6o° ; azi¬
muth, E. N. E,
‘‘Below Cassiopeia and west of PerseusisAndromeda,
which contains three stars of the second magnitude. A
line from Algenib, parallel to the horizon towards the
south, will pass very near these three stars; and, as they
are all of the same magnitude, and placed nearly at the
same distance of 150 from each other, they may easily
be known. The name of the star nearest Perseus, and
which is in the foot of Andromeda, marked y, is Al-
maak : its altitude is 490; azimuth E. N. E. The
name of/3, in the girdle, is Mirach : its altitude 440;
azimuth E. The altitude of «, in the head of Andro¬
meda, is 46°; azimuth E. S. E.
“ About 18° below Mirach are two stars in Aries, not
more than 50 distant from each other, forming with
Mirach an isosceles triangle: the most eastern star, «, is
of the second magnitude ; the other, 0, of the third, at¬
tended by a smaller star, marked y, of the fourth mag¬
nitude. A line drawn from Mirach, perpendicular to
the horizon, will pass between the two, and besides,
will point to a star of the second magnitude, directly E.
not above 30 from the horizon.
“ This star is the first of Cetus, maked a, and is of
the second magnitude : it is named Menkar. A line
drawn from Capella through the Pleiades will also point
to it. Cetus is a large constellation, and contains eight
stars of the third magnitude ; they all lie to the west of
Menkar; /3, a star in the tail, is more than 40° distant
from it. The azimuth of /3 is S. E. by E ; altitude
nearly the same as Menkar.
“ The constellation Pisces is situated next to Aries; it
contains one star of the third magnitude, marked « :
its altitude is io°, azimuth E. by S. It is distant from
Menkar I50, A line drawn from Almaak, through
«e in Aries, will point to it.
“ If we return again to * in the head of Andromeda,
we shall find three other stars nearer the meridian, which,
3 X with
530 G E 0 G R
Principles with it, form a square. These stars are in Pegasus, and
and are placed at the distance of 150 from each other j they
Practice.. are aj[ 0f the second magnitude. The two stars form-
^|3e vvestern side ot the square are called-—the
upper one Scheat, which is marked and which, is
in the thigh of Pesagus ; the under one Markab, which
is marked <*, and which is in the wing $ the lowest star
in the eastern side of the square is in the tip. ol the wing,
and is marked y. 1 he altitude of Scheat is jjjj j azi¬
muth S. E. i E. Altitude of Markab, 430 j azimuth
S. E. by S. E. 1 • 1
“ A line drawn through y and (the diagonal in the
square of Pegasus) and continued to the meridian, will
point out Cygnus, a remarkable constellation in the
form of a large cross, in which there is a star of the
second magnitude, named Deneb or At'ided j it is mai li¬
ed «, and us almost directly upon the meridian at the
altitude of 3o°. Cygnus contains six stars of the third
magnitude. The constellation Cepheus, which contains
no remarkable stars, is situated between Cygnus and the
north pole. .
“ Below Pegasus, and nearer the meridian, is Aqua¬
rius, containing four stars of the third magnitude. A
line’drawn from « in Andromeda, through Markab,
will point to a in Aquarius. Its altitude is 320 ; azi¬
muth S. S. E.
“ A bright star of the first magnitude named Fomel-
Jiaut, in Pisces Australis, is then upon the horizon> azi¬
muth S. S. E. .... o
“ Delphinus is a small constellation, situated about 30
below Cygnus upon the meridian ; it contains five stars
of the third magnitude, four of them being placed close
together, and forming the figure of a rhombus or lo¬
zenge. A line drawn through the two under stars
of the square will point to it. Its altitude is about
5°°.
“ A little to the west of Delphinus, but not quite so
high, is Aquila, containing one very bright star of the
fust magnitude, named At air: It mayveryeasily.be
known from having a star on each side of it of the third
magnitude, forming a straight line. I he length of the
line is only about 50; altitude of Atair 40° ; azimuth
s. s. w.
“ Considerably above Atair, and a little to the W.
of Cygnus, is Lyra, containing a star of the first mag¬
nitude, one of the most brilliant in the firmament. It
is called Lyra or Vega, and is 350 to the N. W. of
Atair j altitude 6o°; azimuth W. S. W. Lyra,
Atair, and Arided, form a large triangle.
“ We come now to notice three constellations, which
occupy a large space in the western side of the heavens :
these are Hercules immediately below Lyra ; Serpenta-
rius between Hercules and the horizon, extending a lit¬
tle more towards the south ; and Bootes, reaching from
the horizon W. N. W. to the altitude of 450..
“ Hercules contains eight stars of the third magni¬
tude •, the star in the head, a, named Has AJgethi, is
within 50 of a in the head of Serpentarius. This last
is a star of the second magnitude, and is named lias
Alhague : its altitude is 30° j azimuth, S. W. by
W. 1 W. A Hue drawn from Lyra, perpendicular
to the horizon, will pass between these two stars. The
other stars in Hercules extend towards the zenith, and
those in Serpentarius towards the horizon.
A P H Y.
Part L
“ The constellation Bootes may easily be known from princ
the brilliancy of Arcturus, a star of the first magnitude, an !'
and supposed to be tbe nearest to our system of any in Praet,
tbe northern hemisphere: it is within lo° of the ho- 'r J
rizon $ azimuth W. N. W. Bootes also
 7   contains
seven stars of the third magnitude, mostly situated high¬
er in the heavens than Arcturus. The star immediate¬
ly above Arcturus is called Mezen Mirach, and is
marked e. The star in the left shoulder, named Se-
ginus, forms with Mirach and Arcturus a straight
line.
“ Between Seruentarius and Bootes is Serpens, con¬
taining one star of the second magnitude, and eight of
the third : a in Serpens is nearly at the same distance
from the horizon, as Arcturus 5 azimuth W.
“Above Serpens, and a little to the east of Bootes, is
the Northern Crown, containing one star of the second
magnitude, named Gemma, and several of the third,
which have the appearance of a semicircle. A line
drawn from Lyra to Arcturus will pass through this
constellation.
“ We come now to Ursa Major, a constellation
containing one star of the first, three of the second, and
seven of the third magnitude. It may easily be distin¬
guished by those seven stars, which, from their re¬
semblance to a waggon, are called Charles’s Wain.
The four stars in the form of a long square, are the
four wheels of the waggon ; the three stars in the tail
of the Bear, are the three horses, which appear fixed to
one of the wheels. The two hind wheels, a named
Dubhe, and /3, are called the pointers, from their al¬
ways pointing nearly to the north pole. Hence the
pole star may be known. The altitude of Dubhe is
30° j azimuth N. by W. ~ W. The distance between
the two pointers is 50 j the distance between the pole
star and Dubhe, the upper pointer, is 30°.
“Ursa Mino.r, besides the pole star of the second
magnitude, situated in the tail, contains three of the
third, and three of the fourth magnitude. These form
some resemblance to the figure of Charles’s Wain in¬
verted, and may easily be traced.
“ Draco, containing four stars of the second and se¬
ven of the third magnitude, spreads itself in the heavens
near Ursa Minor : the four stars in the head are in the
form of a rhombus or lozenge : the tail is between the
pole star and Charles’s Wain.
“Besides these constellations, there are a number of
others, which, as they contain no remarkable stars, we
have not described ; an enumeration of these will suf¬
fice. The Lynx, between Ursa Major and Auriga j
Camelopardalus, between Ursa Major and Cassiopeia j
Musca, and the Greater and Less Triangles between
Aries and Perseus, Aculeus, close to the head of Pe-
o-asus •, Sagittarius setting in the south-west j Antinous
and Sobieski’s Shield below Aquila j the I ox an
Goose between Aquila and Cygnus j the Greyhounds
and Berenice’s Hair between Bootes and Ursa Major,
and Leo Minor below Ursa Major
The astronomical terms that we must here employ Mi™
in describing the method of performing the ij
on the celestial globe, will be found explained in the ^
article Astronomy, or under their proper heads xn theBOff^J
general alphabet of this work. See Ascension, Azi-ed. p.
muth, Declination, &c.
Problem
id
:tice,
>3
ems
reji 'tin;
th'U'*.
t II. G E O G
PROBLEM II. To find the right ascension and declina¬
tion of any given star.
Bring the given star below the brazen meridian, and
mark the degree of the meridian under which it lies.
That degree shews the declination of the star, and the
? degree of the equator cut by the meridian gives the
star’s right ascension.
The right ascension of a star may also be found by
placing the globe in the position of a right sphere, and
then bringing the star to the eastern part of the hori¬
zon ; for that point of the equator which comes to the
horizon at the same time with the star, marks its right
ascension. See Astronomy, N° 249, 250.
Ex. I. What is the right ascension and declination
of the star Sirius ? Ans. Its right ascension is 990, and
its declination 160 27'S.
Ex. 2. .Required the right ascension and declination
of Aldebaran, or the star in the Bull’s Eye marked se ?
Ans. Its right ascension is 66°, and its declination 160
J'N.
PROBLEM III. Having the right ascension a?id declina¬
tion of a star given, to find the star on the globe.
Bx-ing the degree of the equator which marks the
right ascension below the brazen meridian, and count¬
ing along the meridian towards the north or south, as
far as the degree of declination, the required star will
be there found.
E.r. I. The right ascension of a certain star is 162°
15', and its declination is 570 27'N.; What is the name
ot the star ? Ans. The lower pointer of Ursa Major,
marked (3.
Ex. 2. The right ascension of Arcturus is 211° 30',
and its declination is 20° if N.: it is required to find
it on the globe.
This problem is extremely useful in discovering the
names and relative situations of the different stars.
Problem IV. To find the latitude and longitude of a
given star.
Bring the solstitial colure (see N° 75.) below the
brazen meridian, and there fix the quadrant of altitude
over the pole of the ecliptic which is in the same he¬
misphere with the given star. Then, keeping the globe
steady, bring the graduated edge of the quadrant over
the given star, and the degree of the quadrant cut by
the star, counted from the ecliptic, marks its latitude,
and the degree of the ecliptic that is cut by the qua¬
drant is the longitude of the given star (h). See As¬
tronomy, N° 252, 253.
Ex. 1. What is the latitude and longitude of Arctu¬
rus p Ans. Lat. 310 N. Long. Libra 20°.
Ex. 2. What is the latitude and longitude of Capel-
la? Ans. Lat. 230 N. Long. Gemini 180 30'.
Problem V. Having the day of the month given, to
find at what hour any star comes below the meridian.
Find the sun’s place, and bring it to the meridian,
and set the horary index to XII. j turn the globe till
the given star come below the meridian, and the index
"’ill point out the hour.
53
R A P H Y.
lo know whether the hour is in the forenoon or Principles
afternoon, it is necessary to observe, that if the star be and
to toe east ol the sun, it will reach the meridian latex1 Praciice.
than the sun, but if it be to the west ol that luminary, ' ^" v
it will come to the meridian sooner : hence, in the
former case, the hour will be P. M. and in the latter
A. M.
Ex. 1. At what hour does Sirius come to the meri¬
dian on the 9th of February ? Ans. At 7 minutes
past 9 P. M.
Fa,1. 2. Required the hour when Castor passes the
meridian on the same day. Ans. At C2 minutes past
9 P.M. J F
Problem VI. Having any star given, and a given
hour, to find on what day the star will come to the
meridian at a given hour.
Bring the given star below the meridian, and set the
horary index to the given hour. Make the globe re¬
volve till the index come to twelve at noon ; and the
day of the month which coiTesponds to the degree of
the ecliptic then below the meridian, found in the ca¬
lendar circle of the wooden horizon, will be the day re¬
quired.
Ex. I. On what day does Algenib, the first star of
Perseus, come to the meridian at midnight ? Ans. On
the 13th ol November.
Ex. 2. On what day does Arcturus come to the me¬
ridian at 9 o’clock P. M. Ans. On the 10th of June.
Problem VII. Having the latitude, the day of the
month, and the hour of the night given, to find the
altitude and azimuth of any given star.
Rectify the globe for the given latitude j bring the
sun’s place below the meridian, and set the horary in¬
dex at XII. then torn the globe till the index point at
the given hour. Fix the quadrant of altitude at 90°
from the horizon, that is, in the zenith, and brino its
graduated edge over the place of the star: the degree,
of the quadrant intercepted between the horizon and
the star is the altitude required 5 and the distance be¬
tween the foot of the quadrant and the nearest part of
the horizon, will be the azimuth.
It is evident that this problem on the celestial «lobe
is exactly similar to Problem XIII. on the terrestrial
globe, for finding the altitude of the sun.
Ex. x. What will be the altitude and azimuth of
Cor Hydrae on the 21st of December at London, at
4 o’clock A. M. ? Ans. The altitude 30°, the azimuth
S. 140 W.
Ex. 2. Suppose an observer at the Cape of Good
Hope, on the 2ist of June at midnight j required the
altitude and azimuth of Arcturus to him ? Ans. Alti¬
tude 12°, azimuth N. 550 W.
Problem V III. Having given the azimuth of any given
star, and the day of the month in a given latitude ;
to find the hour of the night, and altitude of the star.
Rectify the globe as in the last problem ; fix the
quadrant of altitude in the zenith, and bring it to the
given azimuth. Turn the globe till the star comes be-
3 ^ 2 low
(H) ^ n,ust he remembered that the longitude of the heavenly bodies is not estimated in degrees and minutes
like their right ascension, but in signs, degrees, and minutes, as the sun’s place is reckoned.
S32 G E O G R
Principles ^ow ^ie graduated edge of the quadrant, when the
and horary index will point out the hour, and the altitude
Practice. 0f tiie star will be seen by the quadrant.
* " 1} Ex. Suppose the azimuth of Dubhe to be N. 230 W.
at London on the first ot September j it is required to
find the altitude of the star, and the hour of the night.
Ana. The altitude of Dubhe at that time is 31°, and
the hour is 9 o’clock P. M.
Problem IX. The latitude ojthe place, the altitude of
a star, and the day of the month, being given ; to find
the azimuth and the hour of the night.
Rectify the globe as before, and having fixed the.
quadrant of altitude in the zenith, turn the globe and
quadrant of altitude till the latter comes over the star
at the given degree of altitude. In this position the in¬
dex will shew the time of night, and the position of the
quadrant at the horizon will shew the azimuth of the
star.
In the same way the hour of the night and the
azimuth of the sun may be found, by fixing a patch on
the globe in the sun’s place, and bringing it to the
quadrant as directed for the star.
As the sun and stars have the same altitude twice in
the day, it is proper to know whether they are to be
east or west of the meridian ; or whether the hour re¬
quired be in the evening or the morning.
Ex. At Edinburgh, on the 25th of December, m
the forenoon, when the sun’s altitude is 70 20', requir¬
ed the hour and the sun’s azimuth? Ans. It is 10
o’clock A. M. and the sun’s azimuth is S. 270 30' E.
Problem X. Having the azimuth of the sun or a star,
the latitude of the place, and the hour of the day given ;
to find the altitude and day of the month.
Rectify the globe for the latitude of the place, fix
the quadrant in the zenith, and bring its edge under
the given azimuth. Bring the sun’s place or the star
to the edge of the quadrant, and set the index at the
given hour. The degree marked in the quadrant will
shew the altitude ; and if the globe be turned till the
index points to twelve at noon, the day of the month,
answering to that degree of the ecliptic which is in¬
tersected by the brazen meridian, is the day required.
Ex. The azimuth of the star ct in the Northern Crown
was observed at London at 9 o’clock P. M. to be S. 89°
W. •, required the altitude and day of the month ?
Ans. Altitude 30° j day of the month istof September.
Problem XI. Having observed two stars to have the
same azimuth ; to find the hour of the night.
Rectify the globe as. before ; turn the globe and
move the quadrant till the edge of the latter comes
over both stars, and the horary index in this position
of the globe will give the hour required.
The following is a simple and easy method of finding
when two stars have the same azimuth. Hold a small
line with a plummet at its lower extremity between the
eye and the two stars, and if both stars fall within the
line, they have the same azimuth. The same may be
done by observing when any two stars pass behind the
perpendicular edge of a wall at the same time.
Ex. Yega and Atair were observed to have the same
azimuth at London on the nth of May j required the
hour of the night ? Ans. 15 minutes past 2 A. M.
A P H Y. Part
This problem may be applied to the regulating of princ
clocks a: :1 watches, by reducing apparent to real time, an
as explained under Astronomy. Piact
Problem XII. To find the rising, setting, and cul¬
minating of any star or planet, its continuance above
the horizon, its oblique ascension and descension, and
its eastern and western amplitude ; the place and day
being given.
Rectify the globe as in the foregoing problems; bring
the given star or the given planet (finding its place in
an ephemeris for the given day, and marking it by a
patch on the globe) to the eastern part of the horizon,
and the index of the hour circle will point out the time
of rising: the degree of the equator that comes to the
horizon with the given star or planet, marks its oblique
ascension,, and the eastern amplitude is shewn by the dis¬
tance of the star or planet from the eastern part of the
horizon.
Bring the star or planet to the meridian, and the in¬
dex will point to the time of its culminating.
Move the globe till the star or planet come to the
western part of the horizon, and the time of its setting,
its oblique descension, and its western amplitude, may
be found in the same manner as directed above ; for its
rising, oblique ascension, and eastern amplitude, the
number of hours passed over by the index, while the star
or planet is moving from east to west, will shew the time
of its continuance above the horizon.
Ex. 1. Required the above circumstances with respect
to Sirius on the 14th of March at London. Ans. It
rises at 24 minutes past two P. M. ; comes to the meri¬
dian, or culminates, at 57 minutes past six P. M.; and
sets at half-past eleven P. M. Hence it remains above
the horizon nine hours and six minutes. Its oblique
ascension is 120° 47', its oblique descension 77° I?',
and its amplitude 27° S.
Ex. 2. It is required to find the situation of the seve¬
ral planets on the 19th of January 1806. Ans. Mer¬
cury is about 22° to the west of the sun, and rises south¬
east by east, at 20 minutes before seven A.M. Venus
is an evening star, and sets about half past eight. Mars
is a very little to the east of the sun, and rises and sets
so near the same time with the sun, that he cannot be
seen. Jupiter is a morning star, and rises about six
o’clock, Saturn is a little to the east of the star Spica
Virginis, and rises about half an hour after midnight.
Herschel is very near Saturn, and rises about the same
time.
Problem XIII. To find those stars which never rise,
and those which never set, in a given latitude.
Rectify the globe for the latitude of the place; then,
holding a black lead pencil so as to touch the surface of
the globe at the northern point of the horizon, turn
the globe, so that the pencil may describe a circle:
all the stars which are between this circle and the ele¬
vated pole, never set. Again, holding the pencil at
the southern point of the horizon, turn the globe so as
to describe another circle there, and all the stars that
are between that circle and the pole, below the horizon,
never rise.
If the place is in southern latitude, the stars that ne¬
ver set are found by describing a circle at the southern
J & point
Pa
Frit
ft
Fra
i
Flat'
moo!
Insti' :
II. G E O G
point of die horizon, and those that never rise by a si-
68 milar circle at the northern point (l).
e. Throughout almost the whole year, the moon rises
— later every successive day, by above three quarters of an
hour; but at a considerable distance from the equator,
as in the latitude of Britain, France, and some other
I, countries, a remarkable anomaly takes place in the
moon’s motion about the time of harvest. At this sea¬
son, when the moon is about full, she rises for several
nights successively at about 17 minutes later only than
on the preceding day. This is attended with consider¬
able advantage, for as the moon rises before twilight is
well ended, the light is as it were prolonged, and thus
an opportunity given to the industrious farmer to con¬
tinue longer in the field, for the purpose of gathering
in the fruits of the earth. From the advantage de¬
rived from the full moon at the season of harvest, it has
been called the harvest moon. The following problem
has been contrived for the purpose of illustrating the
phenomenon by means of the globe.
Problem XIV.
Rectify the globe for any considerable northern lati¬
tude, suppose that of London. As the angle which the
moon’s orbit makes with the ecliptic is but small, we
may suppose, without any considerable error, her orbit
to be represented by the ecliptic. In September the
sun is in the beginning of =G=, so that the moon, when
full, being in opposition to the sun, must be in or near
the beginning of T1. Put a patch, therefore, in the
globe at the first point of in the ecliptic ; and as the
moon’s mean motion is about 130 in a day, put another
patch on the ecliptic 130 beyond the former, and it
will point out the moon’s place the night after it is full.
A third and fourth patch, put at the distance of 130
further on, will shew the moon’s place on the second
and thii’d nights after full, &c. Flow, bring the first
patch to the horizon, and observe the hour pointed out
by the index ; turn the globe till the second patch
comes to the horizon, and it will appear by the index
that there are only 17 minutes between the time of the
first patch rising, and that of the second. This small
difference in the motion of the moon evidently arises
from the small angle which her orbit makes with the
horizon. The remaining patches will come to the ho-
1 rizon with a little greater difference of time, and this
difference will gradually increase as the moon advances
in the ecliptic : but for the first week after the full
moon at harvest the difference will not be more than
two hours. If patches be continued on to the first point
in :Gs, it will be found that the time of their ‘rising,1 or
coming to the horizon, will increase considerably till
the last will be above hour later in coming to the
horizon, because that point of the ecliptic makes the
greatest angle with the horizon.
The point of the eliptic, which makes the least
angle with the horizon at rising, makes the greatest
angle at setting j and, consequently, when the differ-
R A P H Y.
ence is least at the time of rising, it
time of setting.
533
is greatest at the Priacipies
afld
Practice.
PROBLEM XV. To explain the equation of time by the lc.
globe. Equation
of time il-
The difference between apparent time and mean 0r*ustratei^
equal time, has been explained in Astronomy, from
N° 50 to 60 $ and the method of computing the equa¬
tion of time is also there described.
To explain the equation of time on the globe, make,
with a black lead pencil, marks all round the equator
and ecliptic, beginning with <¥>, at equal distances
from each other, suppose about 150. Then, on turn¬
ing the globe, it will be seen that all the marks on the
first quadrant of the ecliptic, reckoning from fip to ss,
come to the brazen meridian sooner than the correspond¬
ing marks on the first quadrant of the equator. Now,
as the former marks represent time as measured by the
sun, or a dial, and the latter represent it as measured
by an accurate clock, it will be evident, that through
the first quarter the dial is faster than the clock.
Still turning the globe, it will be seen that the marks
on the second quarter of the ecliptic, reckoning from
S3 to rii, come to the meridian later than the coi*-
responding marks of the equator} consequently in this
quarter the sun or the dial is slower than the clock.
By moving the globe round, and marking the approach
of the dots in the third quadrant, it will be seen that,
as in the first, the dial now precedes the clock, and in
the fourth quadrant, that it is behind it, according to
the explanation given in Astronomy.
Sect. III. Of the Construction of Globes.
The construction of globes is of considerable jmPort'G6J11..rfl
ance } as, in performing the problems in which they are construCJt
employed^ very much depends on the accuracy with tion of
which they have been constructed. We shall here,
therefore, describe pretty minutely the methods in
which the artists of Britain and France make their
globes.
There are certain general circumstances which are
attended to in the construction of every globe.
There is first provided a wooden axis, somewhat less
than the intended diameter of the globe, and to the
extremities of this axis, which is the basis of the whole
succeeding structure, there are fixed two metallic wires,
to serve as poles. Now, two hemispherical caps form¬
ed on a wooden mould or clock, are applied in the axis.
These caps are composed of pasteboard, or folds of pa¬
per laid one over another on the mould, till they are of
the thickness of a crown piece } and after the whole
has stood to dry, and has become a solid body, an inci¬
sion is made with a sharp knife along the middle, and
the^ tvvo caps are thus slipped off the mould. These
caps are now to be applied on the poles of the axis, as
they were before on those of the mould } and to fix
them
(1) This problem may be performed without the globe, by the following method. Find the latitude of the
place in a table, and subtract it from 90° ; the remainder will be the complement of the latitude. Then, if the
declination of the given star be of the same name with the co-latitude, and exceed it in quantity, it will never
set. If it be of a contrary name, and exceed it, it will never rise.
geography.
Principles them firmly on the axis, the two edges are sewed to-
and gether with packthread.
Practice. When the rudiments of the globe are thus laid, the
ai.£jst proceeds to strengthen the work, and make the
surface smooth and equal. For this purpose, the two
poles are fixed in a metallic semiciicle, of the propose!
size j and a composition made ot whitening, mixed with
water and glue, heated, melted, and incorporated to¬
gether, is daubed all over the paper surface. While
the plaster is applied, the globe is turned round in the
semicircle, the edge of which pares away all the matter
that is superfluous and exceeds the proper dimensions,
and spreads the rest over those parts that require it.
After this operation the ball stands to dry, and when
it is thoroughly dried, it is again put in the semicircle,
and fresh plaster applied to it 5 and thus tnej continue to
apply composition and dry the ball alternately, till the
surface accurately touches the semicircle in every point,
when it becomes perfectly firm, smooth, and equal.
When the ball of the globe is thus finished, the map,
containing a delineation of the surface of the earth, is
to be pasted on the globe. For this purpose, the map
is engraved in several gores or gussets, so that when
these are accurately joined together on the spherical
surface, they may cover every part of the ball, without
overlapping each other. I he greatest nicety is required
in formingtheseengraved gussets, as well in the accuracy
of the engraving, as in the choice and shape of the papei
employed. The method of^leScribing the gores or gussets,
usually employed by the British artists, is as follows.
1. From the given diameter of the globe there is
found a right line AB (fig* equal to the circum¬
ference of a great circle corresponding to that diame¬
ter; and this line is divided into 12 equal parts.
2. Through the several points of division, I, 2, 3, 4,
&c. with a distance equal to ten of the divisions, arches
are described crossing each, other as in D and E $ and
these figures are pasted on the glooe, so as when joined
together to cover ite whole surface.
3. Each part of the line AB is divided into 30
equal parts, so that the whole line, which may represent
the equator, is divided into 360°.
4. From the points D and E, which represent the
poles, with a distance =23 J°, there are described arches
a b, a b, (fig. 13.) which form twelfth parts of the po¬
lar circles.
5. In a similar manner about the same poles D and
E, with a distance —66|°, reckoned from the equator,
there are described other arches, c d, c d, which are the
twelfth parts of the tropics.
6. In forming the celestial globe, through the point
of the equator marked e (fig. 13.) representing the
right ascension of a given star, and through the two
poles D and E, there is drawn an arch of a circle j
and if the complement of the declination from the pole
D be taken in the compasses, and an arch be describ¬
ed, intersecting the former in the point t, this point i
will be the place of the given star.
7. In this way all the stars of each constellation are
laid down, and the circumscribing outline of the constel¬
lation is drawn as figured in the tables of Bayer, Flam-
stead, &c.
8. In the same manner are determined the declinations
and right ascensions of every degree of the ecliptic, d g.
The above is the method described by Mr Chambers,
. . Pa 1
of laying down or delineating the gores of a celestial pr
globe. Those of the terrestrial globe are delineated in III
much the same manner, only that every place is laid Fiji*
down on the gores, according to its longitude and lati.
tude, determined by the intersection of circles 5 and then
the outline of the coasts, boundaries of countries, &c.
are added, like the figures of the constellations above
mentioned.
9. When the surface of the globe has been thus pro-
jected on a plane, the gussets are to be engraved on
copper, to save the trouble of making a new projection
for every globe.
10. In the mean time, a ball of paper, plaster, or
the like, of the intended diameter of the globe, is pre¬
pared in the manner above described, and by means of
a semicircle and style, great circles are drawn on its
surface, so as to divide it into a number of equal parts,
corresponding to the number of gussets 5 and subdivid¬
ing each of these according to the other lines and divi¬
sions of the globe. When the ball is thus prepared,
the gussets are to be accurately cut from the printed
engraving, and pasted on the ball.
When the papers have been thus pasted on, and suf-
fered to dry, nothing remains but to colour and illumi¬
nate the globe, and to cover it with a thin layer of the
finest varnish, that it may the better resist dust and
moisture. The ball of the globe is now finished, and
is to be hung in a strong brazen meridian furnished
with hour circles and a quadrant of altitude, and fitted
into a strong wooden horizon.
The method employed by the French artists in pro-j[eti 01-
jecting the gussets of globes, is thus described by M.fonni tin
La Lande. gores |
“ To form celestial and terrestrial globes, it is neces¬
sary to engrave gores, which are a sort of projection or
developement of the globe. The length PC (fig. 14.)
of the axis of the curve, is equal to a fourth part of the
circumference of the intended globe j the intervals of
the parallels on the axis PC are all equal; the radii of
the circles Iv D I, which represent the parallels, are
equal to the co-tangents of the latitude, and the arches
of each, such as KI, are nearly equal to the number of
degrees that correspond to the breadth of the gore
(usually 30°), multiplied by the sine of the latitude;
thus, there will he found no difficulty in tracing them;
but the principal difficulty proceeds from the change
which those parts of the gores undergo, when they are
glued upon the globe ; as, in order to adjust them to
the space which they ought to occupy, it is necessary to
make the paper less on the sides than in the middle,
because the sides are too long.
“ The method employed by artists for engraving
these gores, isthus described by Bion ( Usages des Globes,
tom. iii.), and by Robert de Vaugondy in the seventh
volume of the Encyclopedie, and this method is suffi¬
cient for practical purposes.
“ Draw on the paper a line AC, equal to the chord
of 150, to make the half breadth of the gore; and a
perpendicular PC, equal to three times the chord ol
30°, to make the half length : for these papers, the
dimensions of which will be equal to the chords, be¬
come equal to the arcs themselves when they are pasted
on the globe. Divide the height CP into nine parts,
if the parallels are to be drawn in every 10°; divide also
the quadrant BE into nine equal parts; through each di¬
vision
I.
GEOGRAPHY.
s vision point of the quadrant, as G, and through the
corresponding point D of the right line CP, draw the
perpendiculars HGF and DF, the meeting of which in
J F gives one of the points of the curve EFP, which will
terminate the circumference of the gore. When a suf-
iicient number of points are thus found, trace the out¬
line PIB with a curved rule. By this construction are
given the gore breadths, which are on the globe, in
the ratio of the cosines of the latitudes, supposing those
breadths taken perpendicular to CD, which is not very
exact; but it is impossible to prescribe a rigid operation
sufficient to make a plane which shall cover a curved sur¬
face, and that on a right line AB shall make lines PA,
PC, PD, equal to each other, as they ought to be on
the globe. To describe the circle KDI, which is at
the distance of 30° from the equator, there must be ta¬
ken above O, a point that shall be distant from D the
value of the tangent of 6o°, which may be taken either
from tables, or may be measured on a circle equal to
the circumference of the globe that is to be drawn ;
this point will serve as a centre for the parallel DI,
which ought to pass through the point D ; for it is
supposed equal to that of a cone circumscribing the
globe, and which would touch it at the point D.
“ The meridians are traced to every io°, by divid¬
ing each parallel, as KI, into three equal parts at the
points L and M, and drawing from the pole P, through
all these points of division, curves which represent the
intermediate meridians lying between PA and PB, such
as BR and ST (fig. 15.).
“ The ecliptic AQ (fig. 15.) is traced by means of
the known declination, from different points of the
equator, as found in the tables ; for xo0 it is equal to
30 58'} for 20°—*]° 5o'z=BQ 205 for 3o0mi° 29',
&c.”
535
PrincipJes
and
Practice.
hue ABN is a straight line, the radius of the paral¬
lel of io° or of the circle GET, is 4083, &c. The
small circular cap which is placed under H, has its
radius 253? instead ol 247* which it would have if the v
sine of 20° had been the radius of it * La Lar.de
Globes are made of various sizes, from a diameter Yfro?w‘
of three inches, to that of as many feet j but their ^
most usual diameter is that of 18 inches, which ai^deil/1 ’
sufficiently large for most of the purposes for which
globes are employed. Some large globes were made
about 100 years ago, in France, by P. Coronelli, a
xranciscan monk, which were in considerable reputa¬
tion. They were engraved, and the plates are still to
be seen at I aris, at the bouse of M. Desnos, in the
Rue St Jacques. There are some large globes at
Cambridge, which were drawn by the hand; but
the largest globes of which we have any account, are
those which were made for the late unfortunate Louis
XVI. and were kept in the palace of Marly. They
were 12 feet in diameter, and we believe, are still ex¬
isting at Paris, where they occupy four entire rooms,
each of them being partly in an upper room, and part¬
ly in that below it, the floor of the upper room forming*
the horizon.
The account which we have given of the method of
constinoting globes, wdll be useful to those who pur¬
chase these instruments ; but to assist them still fur¬
ther, we shall subjoin the following practical rules for
the choice of globes.
1. Jne papers should be well and neatly pasted on n ,IC
the globes, which may be known by the lines and choosing
circles meeting exactly, and continuing all the way globes. &
even and whole j the circles not breaking into several
arches, nor the papers either coming short, or lappino-
over one another.
In general, it is observed that the paper on which
maps are printed, such as that called in France Colom¬
bia', contracts itself or a line in six inches, upon an
average, when it is dried after printing; hence it is ne¬
cessary to prevent this inconvenience in engraving the
I gores: if, however, notwithstanding this, the gores are
still found too short, it must be remedied by taking from
the surface of the ball a little of the white with which
| it is covered ; thus making the dimensions of the ball
correspond to those of the gores as they are printed.
But, what is singular, in drawing the gore, moistened
with the paste to apply it on the globe, the axis GH
lengthens, and the side AN shortens in such a manner
that neither the length of the side ACK, nor that of
the axis GEH of the gore are exactly equal to the
quarter of the circumference of the quarter of the globe,
when compared to the figure on the copper, or to the
numbers shewn on the side of fig. 15.
“ Mr Bonne having made several experiments on
the dimensions which the gores take after being cover¬
ed with paste in order to apply them to the globe, es¬
pecially of the paper called jesus, which had been em¬
ployed in covering globes of a foot in diameter ; found
that it was necessary to give to the gore engraved on
copper the dimensions laid down in fig. 15. Supposing
that the radius of the globe contains 720 parts, the
half of the breadth of the gore AG=r 188.5 ; the dis¬
tance AC for the parallel of io° taken on the straight
ine LM is =128.1, the small deviation from the pa-
•allel of io° in the middle of the gore ED is 4, the
2. The colours should be transparent, and not laid too
thick upon the globe, to hide the names of the places.
3. The globe should hang evenly between the brazen
meridian and the wooden horizon, not inclining either
to the one side or the other.
4. The globe should move as close to the horizon
and the meridian as it conveniently may, otherwise
there will be too much trouble to find against what
part .of the globe any degree of the meridian or hori¬
zon is.
5. The equinoctial line should be even with the hori¬
zon all round, when the north or south pole is elevated
90° above the horizon.
6. The equinoctial line should cut the horizon in the.
east and west points, in all the elevations of the pole
from o to 90°.
7. The degree of the brazen meridian marked o,
should be exactly over the equinoctial line of the
globe.
8. Exactly half of the brazen meridian should be
above the horizon, which may be known by bringing
any of the decimal divisions on the meridian to the
north point of the horizon, and finding their comple¬
ment to 90° on the south point.
9. When the quadrant of altitude is placed as far
from the equator, or the brazen meridian, as the pole
is elevated above the horizon, the beginning of the de¬
grees of the quadrant should reach just to the plane
surface of the horizon.
10. When the index of the hour circle passes from
one
536
Practice.
iqS
Principles one bour to another, 15 degrees of the equator must
and pass under the graduated edge of the brazen meri¬
dian.
' 11. The wooden horizon should be made substan¬
tial and strong ; it being generally observed, that, in
most globes, the horizon is the first part that fails, on
account of its having been made too slight.
In using a globe, the eastern side of the horizon
should be kept towards the observer, (unless in parti¬
cular problems which require a different position) j and
that side may be known by the word east on the hori¬
zon. In this position the observer will have the gra¬
duated side of the meridian towards him, and the qua¬
drant of altitude directly before him; and the globe
will be exactly divided into two equal parts by the
graduated side of the meridian.
In performing some problems, it will be necessary
to turn about the whole globe and horizon, in order
to look at the west side ; but this turning will be apt
to disturb the ball, so as to shift away that degree of
the globe which was before set to the horizon or
meridian. This inconvenience may be avoided by
thrusting the feather end of a quill between the ball
of the globe and the brazen meridian, and thus, with¬
out injuring the surface of the globe, it will be kept
from turning in the meridian, while the whole is
moved round, so as to examine the western side.
We have already mentioned some improvements
which have been made on the globes, for the pur¬
pose of remedying the defect in the old construction,
of placing the hour circles on the outside of the bra¬
zen meridian. Some other improvements and modifi¬
cations have been contrived by various artists ; but of
these we shall only mention those of Mr Senex, Mr B.
Martin, Mr Smeaton, and Mr Adams.
Mr Senex's Mr John Senex, F. B. S. invented-a contrivance for
improve- remedying these defects, by fixing the poles of the di¬
luent in the Hrnaj motiOR to two shoulders or arms of brass, at the
globes. distance of 23from the poles of the ecliptic. These
shoulders are strongly fastened at the other end to an
iron axis, which passes through the poles of the ecliptic,
and is made to move round with a very stiff motion ;
so that when it is adjusted to any point of the ecliptic
which the equator is made to intersect, the diurnal
motion of the globe on its axis will not disturb it.
When it is to be adjusted for any particular time,
either past or future, one of the brazen shoulders is
brought under the meridian, and held fast to it with
one hand, while the globe is turned about with the
ether; so that the point of the ecliptic which the
equator is to intersect may pass under the o degree of
the brazen meridian j then holding a pencil to that
point, and turning the globe about, it will describe the
equator according to its position at the time required ;
and transferring the pencil to 23? and 66^ degrees
eu the brazen meridian, the tropics and polar circles
will be so described for the same time. By this con¬
trivance, the celestial globe may be so adjusted, as to
exhibit not only the rising and setting of the stars in
all ages and in all latitudes, but likewise the other
phenomena that depend upon the motion of the diur¬
nal round the annual axis. Senex’s celestial globes,
especially the two greatest, of 27 and 28 inches in
diameter, have been constructed upon this principle ;
so that by means of a nut and screw, the pole of
GEOGRAPHY. Pa:Il
the equator is made to revolve about the pole of the Pri.
’
lies
109
ecliptic. _
To represent the above appearances in the most na- PnL
tural and easy manner, Mr B. Martin applied to the ’
contrivance of Mr Senex a moveable equinoctial and
solstitial colure, a moveable equinoctial circle, and a
moveable ecliptic ; all so connected together as to re¬
present those imaginary circles in the heavens for any
age of the world. ;
"in order to the performance of the problems which Imp,!,
relate to the altitudes and azimuths of celestial objects,me:! )y
Mr Smeaton, F. E. S. has made some improvements ap-Mr* a.
plicable to the celestial globe ; and to give some ideaton-
of the construction, they may be described as follows:
Instead of a thin flexible slip of brass, which generally
accompanies the quadrant of altitude, Mr Smeaton
substitutes an arch or a circle of the same radius,
breadth, and substance, as the brass meridian, divided
into degrees, &c. similar to the divisions of that circle,
and which, on account of its strength, is not liable to
be bent out of the plane of a vertical circle, as is
usual with the common quadrant put to globes. That
end of this circular arch at which the division begins,
rests on the horizon, being filed off square to fit and
rest steadily on it throughout its whole breadth; and
the upper end of the arch is firmly attached, by means
of an arm, to a vertical socket, in such a manner that
when the lower end of the arch rests on the horizon,
the lower end of this socket shall rest on the up.
per end of the brass meridian, directly over the zenith
of the globe. This socket is fitted to and ground
with a steel spindle of the length, so that it will turn
freely on it without shaking ; and the steel spindle has
an apparatus attached to its lower end, by which it can
be fastened in a vertical position to the brass meridian,
with its centre directly over the zenith point of the
globe. The spindle being fixed firmly in this position,
and the socket which is attached to the circular arch
put on it, and so adjusted that the lower end of the
arch just rests on and fits close to the horizon; it is evi¬
dent that the altitude of any object above the horizon
will be shewn by the degree which it intersects on this
arch, and its azimuth by that end of the arch which
rests on the horizon.
Besides this improvement, Mr Smeaton proposes that,
instead of fixing the hour index, as is usually dene, on
one end of the axis, it be placed in such a manner
that its upper surface may move in the plane of the
hour circle rather than above it. lo effect this, he
directs the extremity of the index to be filed off so as to
form a circular arc, of the same radius with the inner
edge of the hour circle, to which it is made to fit ex¬
actly, and a fine line is drawn in the middle of its up¬
per surface, to point out the hour, instead of the taPe(‘
ing point usually employed. By this, contrivance, 1
the hour circle be made four inches in diameter, the
time may be shewn to half a minute. lor a more pai-
ticular account of Mr Smeaton’s improvements, we re¬
fer the reader to the 79th volume of the Philosophical
Transactions.
Another improvement of the celestial globe,, by whic 1
it is better adapted to astronomical purposes, isdescn
ed in the article Astronomy, Vol. III. p.. 178. '
Besides the modifications in the construction of glo cs,Ai ^
introduced by Mr Adams, and which have been a'^tJI
Fa U-
G E O G R
•L ie$ rea(ty described, there are some others which we must
*ntj * briefly mention, respecting principally the placing the
■IL. globe in an inclined position, and fitting it w’ith a move-
u- ^ able or floating meridian and horizon.
The globes constructed after this manner do not
hang in a frame like the ordinary globes, but are fix¬
ed on a pedestal, and supported by an axis which is
inclined 66^° to the ecliptic, and is of course always
parallel to the axis of the earth, supposing the orbit of
this planet to be parallel to the ecliptic. On the pe¬
destal below the globe is a graduated circle, marked
with the signs and degrees of the ecliptic ; and adjoin¬
ing to this is a circle of months and days, answering
to every degree of the ecliptic j and within this is a
third circle shewing the sun’s declination for every day
of the month. There is a moveable arm on the pe¬
destal, which being set to the day of the month, im¬
mediately points out the sun’s place and declination.
Round the globe there is a circle representing the
horizon of any place, and at right angles to this is fix¬
ed a semicircle, serving for a general meridian. The
middle point of this semicircle serves to represent the
situation of any inhabitant on the earth $ for this pur¬
pose there is fixed a steel pin over the middle point of
this semicircle.
Mr Adams alleges that only one supposition is ne¬
cessary for performing every problem with this globe,
namely, that a spherical luminous body will enlighten one
half of a spherical opaque body, and consequently that a
circle at right angles with the central solar ray, and di¬
viding the globe in half, will be a terminator shewing
the boundary of light and darkness for any given day.
For this purpose, at the end of the moveable arm,
opposite to the sun, there is a pillar, from the top of
which projects a piece carrying a circle that surrounds
the globe, dividing it into equal portions, and separat¬
ing the illuminated from the dark parts ; and i8° be¬
hind this there is another circle parallel to it, represent¬
ing the limit of twilight.
There are two plates below the globe, which are
turned by the diurnal revolution of the globe, each of
them being divided into twice 12 hours, and on the
outside being marked with the degrees of longitude
corresponding to every hour; so that these circles give
at sight the hour of the day at any two places on the
globe, and the corresponding difference of longitude.
The celestial globe is mounted in a similar manner,
except that it is fixed on the axis, and the ecliptic ex¬
actly coincides with the sun’s apparent path from the
earth *.
A P H Y.
537
ol. IT,
.199,
in
/mill.
>h«e.
Sect. IV. Of the Armillary Sphere.
If a machine be constructed that is composed only
of the circles of the sphere, and made so as to revolve
like a globe, a great many of the most useful prob¬
lems relating to the heavenly bodies may be solved by
An instrument of this kind is called an armillary
sphere, and of these there are various formss One of
the most convenient is that contrived by the late Mr
James Ferguson, and is thus described in his Lectures.
It is represented at fig. 16.
The exterior parts of this machine are a compages
of brass rings, which represent the principal circles of
Vol. IX. Part II. +
the heaven, viz. 1. The equinoctial AA, which is di- Principle,
vided into 360 degrees, (beginning at its intersection and
with the ecliptic in Aries) for shewing the sun’s right Practice.
ascension in degrees ; and also into 24 hours, for shew- Y 
ing his right ascension in time. 2. The ecliptic BB,
which is divided into 12 signs, and each sign into 30
degrees, and also into the months and days of the year,
in such a manner, that the degrees or points of the
ecliptic in which the sun is on any given day, stands over
that day in the circle of months. 3. The tropic of
Cancer, CC, touching ihe ecliptic at the beginning of
Cancer in e; and the tropic of Capricorn DD, touch¬
ing the ecliptic at the beginning of Capricorn in f;
each 23- degrees from the equinoctial circle. 4, The
Arctic circle E, and the Antarctic circle F, each 23^
degrees from its respective pole at N and S. 5. The
equinoctial colure GG, passing through the south and
north poles of the heaven at N and S, and through the
equinoctial points Aries and Libra, in the ecliptic.
6. The solstitial colure HH, passing through the poles
of the heaven, and through the solstitial points Cancer
and Capricorn, in the ecliptic. Each quarter of the
former of these colures is divided into 90 degrees, from
the equinoctial to the poles of the world, for shewing the
declination of the sun, moon, and stars j and each quar¬
ter of the latter, from the ecliptic at e and/, to its poles
b and d, for shewing the latitude of the stars.
In the north pole of the ecliptic is a nut b, to which
is fixed one end of a quadrantal wire, and to the other
end a small sun Y, which is carried round the ecliptic
BB, by turning the nut: and in the south pole of the
ecliptic is a pin at d, on which is another quadrantal
wire, with a small moon Z upon it, which mav be
moved round by hand j but there is a particular con¬
trivance for causing the moon to move in an orbit which
crosses the ecliptic at an angle of 5^- degrees, in two
opposite points called the moon’s nodes j and also for
shifting these points backward in the ecliptic, as the
moon’s nodes shift in the heaven.
Within these circular rings is a small terrestrial globe
I, fixed on the axis KK, which extends from the north
and south poles of the globe at n and s, to those of the
celestial sphere at N and S. On this axis is fixed the
flat celestial meridian LL,which may be set directlyover
the meridian of any place on the globe, and then turn¬
ed round with the globe, so as to keep over the same
meridian upon it. This flat meridian is graduated the
same way as the brass meridian of a common globe,
and its use is much the same. To this globe is fitted the
moveable horizon MM, so as to turn upon two strong
wires proceeding from its east and west points to the
globe, and entering the globe at opposite points of its
equator, which is a moveable brass ring let into the
globe in a groove all around its equator. The globe
may be turned by hand within this ring, so as to place
any given meridian upon it, directly under the ctdestial
meridian LL. The horizon is divided into 360 de¬
grees all around its outermost edge, within which are
the points of the compass, for shewing the amplitude of
the sun and moon, both in degrees and points. The ce¬
lestial meridian LL, passes through two notches in the
north and south points of the horizon, as in a common
globe ; but here, if the globe be turned round, the hori¬
zon and the meridian turn with it. At the south pole
3 Y of
538
geography.
Practice.
Principles of the sphere is a circle of 24 hours, fixed to the rings,
and and on the axis is an index which goes round that cir¬
cle, if the globe be turned round its axis.
The whole fabric is supported on a pedestal N, and
may be elevated or depressed upon the joint O, to any
number of degrees from o to 90, by means of the arc
P, which is fixed into the strong brass arm Q, and slides
in the upright piece R, in which is a screw at r, to fix
it at any proper elevation. # .
In the box T are two wheels and two pinions, whose
axes come out at V and U; either of which may be
turned by the small winch W. When the winch is
put upon the axis V, and turned backward, the terres¬
trial globe, with its horizon and celestial meridian,
keep at rest; and the whole sphere of circles turns round
from east, by south, to west, carrying the sun Y, and
moon Z, round the same way, causing them to rise above
and set below the horizon. But when the winch is
put upon the axis U, and turned forward, the spheie
with the sun and moon keep at rest 5 and the earth,
with its horizon and meridian, turn round from west,
by south, to east; and bring the same points of the
horizon to the sun and moon, to which these bodies
come when the earth kept at rest, and they were car¬
ried round it •, shewing that they rise and set in the
same points of the horizon, and at the same times in the
hour circle, whether the motion be in the earth or in
the heaven. If the earthly globe be turned, the hour
index goes round its hour circle ; but if the sphere be
turned, the hour circle goes round below the index.
And so, by this construction, the machine is equally
fitted to shew either the real motion of the earth, or the
apparent motion of the heaven.
To rectify the sphere for use, first slacken the screw
r in the upright stem R, and taking hold of the arm
Q, move it up or down until the given degree of lati¬
tude for any place be at the side of the stem R 5 and
then the axis of the sphere will be properly elevated, so
as to stand parallel to the axis of the world, if the ma¬
chine be set north and south by a small compass j this
done, count the latitude from the north pole upon the
celestial meridian LL, down towards the north notch
of the horizon, and set the horizon to that latitude;
then turn the nut b until the sun Y comes to the given
day of the year in the ecliptic, and the sun will be at
its proper place for that day j find the place of the
moon’s ascending node, and also the place of the moon,
by an Epbemeris, and set them right accordingly; last¬
ly, turn the winch W, until either the sun comes to
the meridian LL, or until the meridian comes to the
sun (according as you want the sphere or the earth to
move), and set the hour index to the XII. marked
noon, and the whole machine will be rectified. Then
turn the winch, and observe when the sun or moon rise
and set in the horizon, and the hour index will shew
the times thereof for the given day.
Those who have made themselves acquainted with
the use of the globes, as described in the first and se¬
cond sections of this chapter, will be at no loss to per¬
form many problems respecting the motions of the hea¬
venly bodies by means of this sphere.
Dr Long, some years ago, constructed an armillary
sphere of glass, in Pembroke hall at Cambridge. It
was 18 feet in diameter, and could contain below it
more than 30 persons, sitting in such a manner with¬
in the sphere, as to view from its centre the represen
tation of the heavens drawn in its concavity. The
Par n
Prin
e»
lower part of the sphere, or that part which is not Praak
visible in the latitude of Britain, is wanting 5 and the
whole apparatus is so contrived, that it may be turned
round with as little exertion as is requisite to wind up
a common jack. Dr Long has given a description of
this sphere, accompanied with a figure, in his Astro-
nomy.
The invention of the armillary sphere is thought by
La Lande to be as ancient as that of astronomy itself.
It has been attributed to Atlas, to Hercules, to Ana-
ximander, and Musreus $ while others have supposed
that it originated in Egypt. The sphere of Archi-
medes, which became so celebrated, appears to have
been something like that of Dr Long, as it was certain¬
ly composed of a globe of glass, which, besides con¬
taining the circles of the sphere, served as a plane¬
tarium, and represented the motions of the planets.
Claudian has celebrated it in some beautiful lines. See
Archimedes.
A combination of the armillary sphere with a plane¬
tarium was constructed by the late ISIr George Adams,
and is figured in Plate XIII. fig. I. of his Astronomi¬
cal and Geographical Essays.
Chap. III. Of the Construction and Use of Maps
and Charts.
Sect. I. Description of Maps and Charts.
X13
Dr Long’s
sph«re.
It has been seen, that the surface of the earth mayu
be delineated, in the most accurate manner, on the sur-ofma ml
face of a globe or sphere. This mode of delineation,^1
however, can be employed only for the purpose of
representing the general form and relative proportions
of countries on a very confined scale j and is, besides,
from its bulk and figure, not well suited to many of the
purposes of the geographer. To obviate these incon¬
veniences, recourse has been had to maps and charts,
or delineations of the earth’s surface on a plane j where
the form and boundaries of the several countries, and
the objects most remarkable in each, whether by sea or
land, are represented according to the rules of perspec¬
tive, so as to preserve the remembrance that they are
parts of a spherical surface. In this way, the several
countries or districts of the earth may be represented on
a larger scale, and delineations of this kind admit 01
more easy reference. 1 .
In maps, the circles of the sphere, and the boundariesDtsc 1
of the countries within them, are drawn as they woul 0 a
appear to an eye situated in some point of the sphere,
or at a considerable distance above it. In maps of any
considerable extent of country, the meridians and pa¬
rallels of latitude are circular lines, but, it the map re¬
presents only a small district, as a province or county,
those circles become so large, that they may, withou
any considerable error, be represented by straight ines.
In charts, which are also called hydrographical maps, as
they are representations rather of the water than land,
the meridians and parallels are usually represente y
straight lines, crossing each other at right angles, as 1
the smaller maps ; and, in particular parts, there ar^
drawn lines diverging from several points, m t e 1
rectiou of the points of the compass, in order to mar
geography.
II.
jeg the bearings of particular places. In maps, the inland
face of the country is chiefly regarded in the delinea-
e. tion; but in charts, which are designed for the purposes
of navigation, the internal face of the land is left nearly
blank, and only the sea coast, with the principal ob¬
jects on it, such as churches, light-houses, beacons,
&c. are accurately delineated ; while particular care is
taken to mark the rocks, shoals, and quicksands in the
sea, that may endanger the safety of vessels ; the depths
or soundings of the principal bays and harbours, and the
direction of the winds, where these are stationary or pe¬
culiarly prevalent. Another distinction of maps and
charts is, that in the former, the sea-coast is shaded on
the side next the land, while, in the latter, it is shaded
towards the sea.
In maps the upper side represents the north, the
lower side the south ; that on the right hand the east,
and that on the left hand the west. All the margins
of the map are graduated j the upper and lower showing
the degrees of longitude, and the right and left margins
the degrees of latitude. (See fig. i. to which the
reader must refer in going over the following descrip¬
tion). If the map is on a small scale, only every ten
degrees of longitude or latitude are marked on the
margin j but, if the map is drawn on a large scale, every
degree is numbered, and sometimes every half degree
is marked with the number 30 in smaller figures. The
space included between every two degrees in small maps,
or between every two degrees in those on a larger scale,
is usually divided into ten spaces, which are alternately
left blank, and marked with parallel lines, to denote
the subdivisions of single degrees or minutes. Through
every ten degrees of latitude a line is drawn, represent¬
ing a parallel of latitude; and through every ten degrees
of longitude, or at smaller intervals in each, where the
size of the map will admit of it, there are drawn lines re¬
presenting meridians. In some maps these lines are conti¬
nued from side to side, or from top to bottom, across both
sea and land 5 but in other maps, they are sometimes only
drawn across the sea. The first meridian, however, and
the principal circles of thesphere, as the equator, tropics,
&c. should always be drawn directly across the map.
In most maps, it is marked on the margins whether
the longitude is east or west, and the latitude north or
south j but, if this is not marked, it may easily be known,
by observing towards what part of the map the degrees
increase. If the degrees of latitude increase from the
lower to the upper part of the map, the country deline¬
ated hes in north latitude $ but if they increase from
above downwards, it lies in south latitude. Again, if the
degrees of longitude increase towards the right, the
countries are in east longitude; but if towards the left,
they are in west longitude.
The principal objects that diversify the face of the
country delineated in the map, such as rivers, mountains,
forests, lakes, roads, cities, towns, forts, &c. are marked
in such a manner as that they may be most easily dis¬
tinguished. A river is denoted by a black crooked
hne, drawn very fine towards the source or head of the
riverJ and gradually becoming broader as it approaches
towards the mouth ; and the lesser rivers or rivulets,
which unite their waters with those of their principal
stream, are denoted by similar lines appearing to branch
off from the first.
Mountains are represented by the figures of little hills;
and if these figures are placed in a row, they denote Principles
a ridge ot mountains running across the land. If a and
mountain is a volcano, it is denoted in the map by the i1ractiee.
appearance of smoke issuing from its summit. Woods ' 
or forests are represented by a number of little trees or
shrubs, placed in a group. Lakes are denoted by a
circumscribed spot shaded with dark lines, and bogs or
fens by a more regular spot of the same kind, more
lightly shaded, or, where the map is coloured, painted
of a light green. Eoads are represented in a map by
two straight lines drawn parallel to each other, for the
principal roads, or by a single straight line for the lesser
or ci oss roads. Cities are denoted by a large house, or
the figure of a church with the steeple in the middle ;
and if the city is the metropolis of the country, this is
denoted by a white circular space in the middle of the
house or church. Small towns are usually represented
by circles ; and where a small church with the steeple at
one end occurs, it denotes a parish. Where the map is
on a large scale, or represents only a small district, the
towns are denoted by a group of small houses, or more
commonly by a number of small shaded spots on each
side of the road. _ A fort, castle, or fortified town, is
denoted by a semicircular space surrounded by an an¬
gular edge representing bastions. The shoals upon the
coast are represented by small dots ; the depth of water
in bays and harbours by figures, denoting the number
of fathoms, among which is sometimes drawn the figure
of an anchor, to shew that in that place there is good
anchorage for ships. -
The boundaries or limits that divide countries from
each other are distinguished in maps by dotted lines
drawn round each country or district, in such a direction
as to shew its proper form. Where the map is coloured,
the countries or districts are distinguished from each
other by the side of the boundary next each being
shaded by a diflerent colour from that of the adjoining.
Thus, in a map of Europe the boundary of France may
be shaded green, that of Spain red, that of Italy yellow,
that of Germany blue, &c. In one corner of the map
there is usually drawn a scale divided into a number of
equal parts, by which the number of miles or leagues,
from one part of the map to another may be measured.
Sometimes the parts into which the scale is divided are
used to denote geographical miles, of 60 to a degree ;
but more commonly they correspond to the miles in use
in the country where the map is made, as in Britain,
to British statute miles of 69^ to a degree.
To mark more distinctly the bearings of different
parts of the map, there is usually added in some blank
space a circle with four radii, marking the four cardinal
points of the compass ; the north point being distinguish¬
ed by the figure of a fieur de Us, and the east point by
a cross.
Till of late, the only distinction between the land
and water in maps and charts, was afforded by the
shading of the sea-coasts, as mentioned above. In this
way, however, the eye cannot easily and expeditiously di¬
stinguish the form and extent of the land; and, where the
shading is carried much beyond the boundary of the coast,
as is often done, especially in engraving small islands, the
land is made to appear much larger than it really is.
The ingenious Mr Wilson Lowry having lately-
contrived an instrument for engraving parallel straight
lines, in a much more clear and commodious way
3 ^ 2 than
54°
Prineip’es
and
Pniciiee.
116
Construe-
lion of
maps.
117
Ortho-
jrraphic
projections
11S
Stereo-
graphic
projections
G E O G R
than could be done by the common graver, it occurred
to Mr Pinkerton, while preparing bis Modern Geogra¬
phy, that this invention might be applied with ad¬
vantage to the improvement of maps. A set ot maps
was accordingly engraved by Mr Lowry for linker-
ton’s Geography, in which the water was marked by
dark parallel lines to discriminate it from tlm land.
These lines are drawn horizontally ; and Mr 1 inker-
ton proposed that, in engraving charts, Uie land
should be marked with similar lines drawn in a per¬
pendicular direction, while the water should be leit
blank. This improvement has since been adopted by
other constructors of maps and charts, and bids fair
to be generally used. The effect is pleasing J and the
progress of instruction will be greatly faci.itated by the
new' method, as the extent and bearings of the several
countries are seen, as it were, with a glance ot the eye.
In many of these maps which we have seen, however,
the lines are drawn too strongly, which renders the sea
so dark, that the names of islands and places on the sea
coast can with difficulty be perused. As the line °j
coast in these maps is strongly marked, the parallel
lines denoting the sea should be engraved in a light
and soft style ; and in this way Mr Lowry’s first spe¬
cimens are executed.
Sect. II. Of the Construction of Maps and Charts.
The construction of maps consists in making a pro¬
jection of the surface of the globe on the plane of some
one of its circles, supposing the eye to be placed in
some particular point. The describing of these pro-
iections depends on the principles of perspective, and
the projection of the sphere. The general principles
will be explained under those articles, but the parti¬
cular mode of drawing maps properly forms a part ot
the present treatise.
The methods of constructing maps vary according to
the size or scale of the map, and to the projection em¬
ployed in constructing it.
There are three projections employed in constructing
maps, the orthographic, the stereographic, and ^globu¬
lar. In the orthographic projection the eye is supposed
to view the part of the globe to he projected, from an
infinite distance. In this projection the parts about the
middle of the map are very well represented, hut those
towards the margin are too much contracted.
In the stereographic projection, the eye is supposed
to be situated in the surface of the globe to be re¬
presented, and looking towards the opposite surface.
This is the method usually employed in constructing
most maps, especially maps ot the world, or planispheres.
In constructing a map of the world, as well as most
partial maps, the part ot the sphere to be represented
is supposed to be in the position of a right sphere (see
N® 90.). In this mode of projection, the hemi¬
sphere to be represented is supposed to be delineated
on the plane of that meridian by which it is hounded,
in the same manner as its concave surface, conceiving
the sphere to be transparent, would appear to an eye
placed in the opposite hemisphere, where the equator
crosses a meridian ; that is po° distant from that which
forms the plane of the projection. In a delineation of
this kind, the meridians and parallels of latitude are re¬
presented by arches of circles, except the equator and the
central meridian, which are straight lines j and each paral-
A P H Y.
Park
lel or meridian forms an arc of a greater circle, in pro- prin(i
portion as it approaches nearer to the centre of the map.
By either of these projections only halt the globe Pruq.,
can be represented in one projection ; but in the map'^~v w
of the world, the two hemispheres are usually drawn on
the plane of the same circle, adjacent to each other.
By Mercator’s projection, usually employed for charts,
and to be described presently, the whole globe may be
represented in one projection, but much distorted.
If the projection of a map of the world be formed on
the plane of a meridian, the two projections will repre¬
sent the eastern and western hemispheres of the globe.
When the projection is made on the plane of the
equator, in the situation of a parallel sphere, the pro¬
jections represent the northern and southern hemi¬
spheres, which appear as their concave surface would
he seen by an eye placed at the opposite pole. In this
way the meridians become straight lines diverging
from the same centre, and the parallels are circles
having the same common centre.
The following is the method of constructing a map
of the world, on the plane of a meridian, according to
the globular projection. (See fig. lyO* _
About the centre C, with any radius as CB, describeg]0y
a circle, representing the meridian that is to form the project!
plane of the hemisphere. Draw the diameters NS,of a nut
and AB, crossing each other at right angles, and tbethe'V(!
former of these will be the central meridian, and the
latter the equator. Divide each semidiameter into nine
equal parts, and divide each quadrant of the circle also
into nine equal parts, each ot which will be equal to 11°.
If the scale of the map be sufficiently large, each of
these may again he divided into ten equal parts or de¬
grees. The next object is to describe the meridians
passing through every io°ofthe equator. Suppose we are
to draw the meridian of8o°westof Greenwich. We have
here three points given, the two poles and the point 80
on the equator, and it is easy to describe a circle that shall
pass through these three points. I Ins arch will be the me¬
ridian. The method of drawing a circle through any three
points is, in this case as follows : About the centre S,
with the radius SC, describe a circular arch, asXX5 and
about the centre N, with the same radsus, describe the
arch ZZ; then about the centre 8o° with the same di¬
stance, describe arches 1, 1, 2, 2, crossing the former,
and draw lines from 2 to 1 on each side ot AB, crossing
each other, and AB produced, in D. D is the centr®
of the circular arc, representing the meridian of 80
west from Greenwich j and with the same radius the me¬
ridian of 130° west longitude may be drawn. All the
other mei-idians are to be drawn in a similar manner by
describing a circular arch through three points N, ?
and the required degree. (See Geometry). “
For describing the parallels, suppose that of 60 1\*
Lat.; about the centre O, with any radius, describe the
circle FGH, and about the points 6o°, 6o°, in the pri¬
mitive circle, with the same distance, describe the ores
cc, dd, cutting the circle FGH : through the points ot
intersection draw straight lines, and the point w ere
these lines meet in NS produced, as in I, is ^e0cerp^e
of the arch that will represent the parallel of 60 . e
other parallels are drawn in a similar manner, observing
that the first circle, such as FGH, must have
centre that point in the central meridian through w ic
the parallel is to be drawn. lig. 18. represents i»
r ivrniectlOSS
Frit1
Pr«
pal HI, G E O G K A P H Y.
les projection with all the meridians and parallels com- equal parts, or geographical miles.
I pieted.
:e. If the map is very large, and the paper on which it
w is to be drawn does not admit of’ so many circles, the
i»|
Connr
lion of
Molar
Upt.
centres of the meridians and parallels are more easily
found in the following manner. Having divided the
semi-diameters and quadrants, each into 9 equal parts,
find, from a scale of equal parts, the length of the half
chord of each arc, and the versed sine of half the same
arc ; then add together the square of the half chord,
and the square of the versed sine, and divide the sum by
the versed sine ; the quotient is equal to the diameter,
and 4 °f this to the radius of the circle required. In
this manner the radii of all the meridians and parallels
may be found.
As, in drawing maps on a large scale, compasses of
an ordinary size will not answer for describing the cir¬
cular arcs, it is convenient to have some other mechani¬
cal contrivance for this purpose j and it is found that a
thin flexible ruler of tough wood, called a bow, may
be so bended as to form a curve, very nearly circular,
that will pass through the three points that are to de¬
termine the meridian or parallel. In this way the
circles on maps on a large scale are usually drawn by
engravers and students of geography, and where the
circle is of very large radius, the method is sufficiently
accurate ; but it ought by no means to be employed
where compasses of a proper size can be procured, or
conveniently used.
The following is the method given by Dr Hutton,
for describing a globular projection of the earth on the
plane of the equator. For the north or south hemij
spheres draw AQBE, for the equinoctial (fig. 19.), di¬
viding it into the four quadrants EA, AQ, QB, and
BE; and each quadrant into 9 equal parts, representing
each io° of longitude ; and then from the points of di¬
vision, draw lines to the centre C, for the circles of
longitude. Divide any circle of longitude, as the first
meridian EC, into 9 equal parts, and through these
points describe circles from the centre C, for the pa¬
rallels of latitude, numbering them as in the figure.
In this method equal spaces on the earth are represent¬
ed by equal spaces on the map, as nearly as any pro¬
jection will bear ; for a spherical surface can in no way
be represented exactly upon a plane. Then the se¬
veral countries of the world, seas, islands, sea-coasts,
towns, &c. are to be entered in the map, according to
their latitudes and longitudes.
To draw a Map of any particular Country.
There are three methods of doing this.
. 1st, For this purpose its extent must be known as to
latitude and longitude ; as suppose Spain, lying between
the north latitudes 36° and 440, and extending from
io° to 230 of longitude, so that its extent from north to
south is 8°, and from east to west 13°.
Draw the line AB for a meridian passing through
the middle of the country (fig. 20.), on which set off
8° from B to A, taken from any convenient scale ;
A being the north and B the south point. Through A
and B draw the perpendiculars CD, EF, for the ex¬
treme parallels of latitude. Divide AB into eight
parts, or degrees, through which draw the other paral¬
lels of latitude parallel to the former.
For the meridians, divide any degree in AB into 60
_ _ . Then, because the
length in each parallel decreases towards the pole,
from the table shewing this decrease given in p. 5x4.
take the number of miles answering to the latitude of
B, which is 484 nearly, and set it from B, seven times
to E, and six times to F; so is FF divided into de¬
grees. Again, from the same table take the number of
miles of a degree in the latitude A, viz. 434 nearly ;
which set off from A, seven times to C, and six times to
D. I hen from the points of division in the line CD,
to the corresponding points in the line EF, draw so
many right lines for the meridians. Number the de¬
grees of latitude up both sides of the map, and the de¬
grees of longitude on the top and bottom. Also in
some vacant place make a scale of miles, or of degrees,
if the map represent a large part of the earth ; to serve
for finding the distances of places upon the map.
Then make the proper divisions and subdivisions of
the country ; and having the latitudes and longitudes
of the principal places, it will be easy to set them down
in the map ; for any town, otc. must be placed where
the circles of its latitude and longitude intersect. For
instance, Gibraltar, whose latitude is 36° n', and lon¬
gitude 12° 27,» will be at G ; and Madrid, whose lati¬
tude is 40° 10', and longitude 140 44', will be at M.
In the same manner the mouth of a river may be set
down ; but to describe the whole course of the river, the
latitude and longitude of every turning, and of the towns
and bridges by which it passes, must also bemarked down.
The same is necessary for woods, forests, mountains,
lakes, castles, &c. The boundaries are described by
setting down the remarkable places on the sea coast,
and drawing a continued line through them all. This
method is very proper for small countries.
2d Method. Maps of particular places are but por¬
tions of the globe, and may therefore be drawn in the
same manner as the whole globe, either by the ortho¬
graphic or stereographic projection of the sphere. But
in partial maps a more easy method is as follows. Ha¬
ving drawn the meridian AB in the last figure, and
divided it into equal parts as before, draw lines through
all the points of division ; put them together to AB, to
represent the parallels of latitude. Then to divide these,
set off the degrees in each parallel j diminish after the
manner directed for the two extreme parallels CD and
EF, and through all the corresponding points draw the
meridians, which will be curved lines ; these were right
lines in the last method, because only the extreme pa¬
rallels were divided according to the table. This me¬
thod is proper for a large tract, as Europe, &c. in
which case the parallels and meridians need be drawn
only through every 50 or io°. This method is much
used in drawing maps, as all the parts are nearly of
their due magnitude, except being a little distorted to¬
wards the outside, from the oblique intersection 'of the
meridians and parallels.
3d Method. Draw PB of a convenient length, for
a meridian; divide it into nine equal parts, and through
the points of division, describe as many circles for the
parallels of latitude, from the centre P, which repre¬
sents the pole. Suppose AB (fig. 21.) the height of the
map ; then CD will be the parallel passing through
the greatest latitude, and EF will represent the equa¬
tor. Divide the equator EF into 9 equal parts of the
same size as those in AB, both ways beginning AB
divide
541
Principle*
and
Practice.
542
Principles
and
Practice.
tn
Mercator’s
projection.
G E O G R
divide also ail the parallels into the same number of
equal parts, but lesser, in proportion to the numbers for
the several latitudes, as directed in the last method for
the rectilineal parallels. Then through all the corre¬
sponding divisions draw curved lines which will repre¬
sent the meridians, the extreme meridians being EC and
FD. Lastly, number the degrees of latitude and longi¬
tude, and place a scale of equal parts, either in miles or
degrees, for measuring distances.
When the place of which a map is to be made is
but small, as when a county is to be delineated, the me¬
ridians will be so nearly parallel to one another, and
the whole will differ so little from a plane, that the
map may be laid down in a much more easy manner
than what is given above. It will be here sufficient to
measure the distances of places in miles, and note them
down in a plane rectangular manner. The method of
delineating such partial maps is the province of the sur¬
veyor. See Surveying.
Mercator’s projection is chiefly confined to charts for
the purposes of navigation. In this projection the me¬
ridians, parallels, and rhumbs, are all straight lines ;
but instead of the degrees of longitude being everywhere
equal to those of latitude, as is the case in plain charts,
the degrees of latitude are increased as we approach to¬
wards either pole, being made to those of longitude in
the proportion of radius to the sine of the distance from
the pole, or cosine of the latitude, or, what is the same
thing, in the ratio of the secant of the latitude to radi¬
us. Hence all the parallel circles are represented
by equal and parallel straight lines, and all the meri¬
dians are parallel lines also j but these increase indefi¬
nitely towards the poles.
From this proportional increase of the degrees of the
meridian, it is evident that the length of an arc of the
meridian beginning at the equator is proportional to
the sum of all the secants of the latitude $ or that the
inci’eased meridian bears the same proportion to its true
arc as the sum of all the secants of the latitude to as
many times the radius. The increased meridian is also
analogous to a scale of the logarithmic tangents,
though this is not at first very evident. It is not cer¬
tain by whom this analogy was first discovered, but the
discovery appears to have been made by accident. It
was first published and introduced into the practice of
navigation by Mr Henry Bond, by whom this property
is mentioned in an edition of Norwood’s Epitome of
Navigation, printed about 1645. This analogy, though
it had been found true by actual measurement, was not
accurately demonstrated. Nicholas Mercator offered to
disclose, for a sum of money, a method which he had
discovered for demonstrating it ; but this was not ac¬
cepted, and the demonstration was, we believe, never
disclosed. See Nicholas Mercatos. About two
years after, however, the demonstration was again dis¬
covered, and published by James Gregory.
The meridian line in Mercator’s scale is a scale of
logarithmic tangents of the half colatitudes. The dif¬
ferences of longitude on any rhumb, are the logarithms
of the same tangents, but of a difi’erent species j those
species being to each other as the tangents of the angles
made with the meridian. Hence any scale of logarithmic
tangents is a table of the differences of longitude, to se¬
veral latitudes, upon some one determinate rhumb $ and
therefore as the tangent of the angle of such a rhumb
3
A P H Y. Par
is to the tangent of any other rhumb, so is the differ- prin
ence of the logarithms of any two tangents, to the dif- a
ference of longitude on the proposed rhumb, intercept- ^ta(
ed between the two latitudes, of whose half comple-W"
ments the logarithmic tangents were taken.
It was the great study of our predecessors to contrive
such a chart in piano, with straight lines, on which all
or any parts of the world might be truly set down, ac¬
cording to their longitudes and latitudes, bearings, and
distances. A method for this purpose was hinted at by
Ptolemy, near 2000 years since, and a general map, in
such an idea, was made by Mercator: but the princi¬
ples were not demonstrated, and a ready way shown
of describing the chart, till Wright explained how to
enlarge the meridian line by the continual addition of
secants, so that all degrees of longitude might be pro¬
portional to those of latitude, as on the globe j which
renders this chart, in several respects, far more conve¬
nient for the navigator’s use, than the globe itself, and
which will truly shew the course and distance from place
to place, in all cases of sailing.
For further particulars respecting the construction,
and for the use of charts, see Navigation.
In choosing maps, it is proper to examine particular¬
ly whether the curved lines of those that ought to have
the meridians and parallels arches of circles be truly cir¬
cular. If the map is composed of more than one sheet,
the sheets should be so joined together as that the cor¬
responding meridional lines and parallels be each in one
continued line. The colours in painted maps, as was
observed with respect to globes, should be fine and
transparent, and not laid on too thickly.
Maps folded for the pocket answer very well for
travelling, in so far as they point out the relative situa¬
tion of places } but owing to the intervals at which the
parts are pasted on the canvas, the distances between
places cannot be ascertained with any degree of ac¬
curacy.
Sect. III. Of the use of Maps.
Maps are of great utility in the study of geography
and history; and if they are accurately drawn, many of
the problems that are usually performed on the globes,
may be solved mechanically by means of maps.
In consulting a map, it is not sufficient to find out in
it the name of the place of which you desire to know the
situation, although this is frequently all at which the
consulter of a map aims : it is, besides, proper for the
student to inform himself respecting the relative position
of the place, with regard to its vicinity to other places;
its bearings and distance from the principal places in
the same or neighbouring districts; whether it is near
the sea-shore, and is near a convenient harbour; whether
it be seated on some principal river, and on what side
of the river; whether it is in the neighbourhood of a
considerable canal ; whether it be near a lake, moun¬
tain, forest, &c. and many other little particulars that
will readily suggest themselves to an attentive reader.
The problems that are usually performed by means
of maps, are the following.
Problem I. To find the latitude and longitude of any
given place.
In maps on a large scale, or where the meridians anduseoi 'P
parallels of latitude are straight lines, the latitude of the
place
Pa
Pfin
t
Prf
II. GEOGRAPHY.
jgs place may be easily found by stretching a thread over
the place, so that it may cross the same degree of lati-
tude on each side of the map $ and the degree crossed
'“will be the latitude required. Or, with a pair of com¬
passes measure the shortest distance of the place from
the nearest parallel, and apply this distance to either
side of the map, so as to keep one point of the compas¬
ses on the same parallel $ then the other point will shew
the degree of latitude as measured on the graduated
margin, counting from the parallel north or south, ac¬
cording as the place is in north or south latitude.
The longitude of the place may be found in a similar
manner, by stretching the thread over the place, or
laying a ruler across it, so as to cut the same degree of
longitude on the top and bottom of the map, and that
is the degree required.
The above methods answer very well in plain charts or
in maps of counties ; hut when the meridians and paral¬
lels are curved lines, we must find how often the dis¬
tance of the place, measured by the compasses from the
nearest parallel, will reach the next parallel in a straight
direction, and from thence the latitude may be found
with sufficient exactness. Thus, suppose we are requir¬
ed to find the latitude of Berlin, the capital of Prussia.
The nearest parallel is that of 50° north latitude ; the
distance of Berlin from this parallel will reach the pa¬
rallel of 6o° in four times, measuring on the map of
Europe. The fourth part of ten, or two and a half,
added to 50, gives the latitude required, or 52^.
To find the longitude on such maps, measure how of¬
ten the distance of the place from the nearest meridian
will reach the next meridian. Thus, in the same in¬
stance, the distance of Berlin from the meridian of 10,
which is the nearest towards the east, taken three times,
will extend a little beyond the meridian of 20. Add to
10 the third part of this distance, which is about three
and a half, and we have 13® 30' for the longitude of
Berlin east from London.
Problem II. T/ie latitude and longitude of a place be¬
ing given ; to find the place on the map.
Problem III. Hhe latitude of a place being given ; to
find all those places on the same map that have the
same latitude.
If a parallel of latitude happen to be drawn on the
map through the given place, this problem is easily
solved, by tracing along the parallel, and seeing what
other places it passes through. If a parallel is not
drawn through the given place, take with a pair of
compasses the distance of the place from the nearest pa¬
rallel } then keeping one foot on the parallel, and the
other in such a position as to describe a line parallel to
the parallel of latitude, move the compasses, and all the
places over which the point that is not on the parallel
passes, have the same latitude with the given place.
Ibis method will not succeed in maps on which a
large tract of country is delineated on a small scale.
Problem IV. Given the longitude of a place ; to find
on the map all those places that have the same longi¬
tude.
Find the longitude of the given place, and if a meri¬
dian passes through it, observe all the places that lie
under this meridian ; or, if a meridian does not pass
through the place, find by the compasses, as in the last
problem, those places that are situated at the same pa¬
rallel distance with the given place from the nearest
meridian. These places have nearly the same longi¬
tude with the given place.
Problem V. To find the antccci of a given place-
Find the latitude and longitude of the place by Pro¬
blem I. and find another place of the same longitude,
nose latitude is equal to that of the former, but in a
contrary direction. The inhabitants of this latter place
are the antceci to the latter.
Ex. Suppose a ship to be in the Indian ocean, in
lat. 13° S. and long. 8o° E. it is required to find the
antoeci to her present situation ? Ans. The place which
has nearly the same longitude, and an equal latitude in
a contrary direction, viz. 130 N. is Madras.
543
Principles
and
Practice.
Where the meridians and parallels are straight lines,
this is done by stretching one thread from the given
latitude on one side of the map to the same latitude on
the other side j while another thread is stretched be¬
tween the corresponding degrees of longitude. The
intersecting point of the two threads shews the place
required. Thus, suppose we are required to find the
place whose latitude is 340 29' S. and longitude 180
23' E. Stretching one thread between the given lati¬
tudes, and another between the given longitudes, we
shall find that they cross over the Cape of Good Hope,
which is therefore the place required.
When the meridians and parallels are curved lines,
the most accurate way will he to describe a circle of la¬
titude through the given degree of latitude on each side,
and a circle of longitude through the corresponding de¬
grees of longitude, and the intersection of these circles
will shew the place. An easier method will be, know¬
ing between what two parallels of latitude and longitude
the place lies, and consequently by what four lines it is
bounded, to find the place by trial, by considering the
proportional distance of it from each line.
Problem VI. To find the periceci of a given place.
Find the longitude of the given place, and subtract
it from 1800: the remainder will be the longitude in
an opposite direction of the periceci. Then find a place
having an equal longitude with this last, and having the
same latitude with that of the given place : this latter
is the situation required.
Ex. It is required to find the perioeci to the inhabi¬
tants of the gulf of Siam. Ans. The longitude of Siam
is ioo° 50'E. which, subtracted from 1800, leaves 79®^
IO/ W. Now, the place that has this longitude, and
the same latitude with Siam, viz. about 14° N. is the
isthmus of Darien.
Problem VII. To find the antipodes of a given place.
This problem is solved on maps in the same manner
as on the globe.
Problem VIII. Having the hour at any place'given i
to find what hour it is in any part of the world.
Find the difference of longitude between the two
places, and reduce this to its equal value in time, by
N°
544-
Principles
and
Practice.
G E O G it
N° 65. Add this value to the given hour, if the place
where the time is required be to the eastward of the gi¬
ven place, and the sum is the time required. If the
place at which the time is required lie to the westward
of the given place, subtract the difference of longitude
in time from the given hour, and the difference is the
time sought.
Note. If, after adding, the sum is found greater
than 12, 12 must be cancelled, and the hours must be
changed from A. M. to P. M. and vice versa; and if,
on subtracting, the difference in time between the two
places happens to be greater than the given hour, 12
must be added to the given hour, and the hours changed
as before mentioned.
Ex. Suppose it to be at present 9 xi. M. at Lisbon,
what time of the day is it at Pekin in China? Ans.
The difference of longitude between Pekin and Lisbon
is 125° 33', which reduced to time gives 8 hours 22
minutes j and since Pekin lies to the east of Lisbon,
this must be added to 9, the given hour, giving a sum
of ty hours, 22 minutes 5 but as this is greater than 12,
we must take 12 away, and the difference, 5 hours 22
minutes, changed from morning to afternoon hours, is
the time required. It is therefore 22 minutes past five
P. M. at Pekin.
A P H Y. PatljH,
In order to make use of this analemroa, it is ^only
Problem IX. To find those places in the torrid %one
to which the sun is vertical on any given day.
Analemma
for solving
geographi¬
cal pro-
Wems.
Find in an ephemeris, or nautical almanack, the sun’s
declination for the given day ; then observe, in the map
of the world, all those places which lie under that pa¬
rallel of latitude, which is the same with the declina¬
tion, and these will be the places required.
Ex. It is required to find at what places the sun will
be vertical on the 20th of March and 23d of Septem¬
ber ? Ans. The sun’s declination on the 20th of
March, is 19' S. and on the 23d of September 6' N.
Now the principal places that lie near the parallel of
19' S. and 6' N. are the island of St Thomas, the mid¬
dle part of the islands of Sumatra and Borneo j the
Gallipagos isles, and Quito in South America.
The Analemma, .or Orthographic Projection deline¬
ated in Plate CCXXXV. will solve many of the most
curious problems, and with the assistance of maps will
be almost equivalent to a terrestrial globe. The paral¬
lel lines drawn on this figure represent the degrees of
the sun’s declination from the equator, whether north
or south, amounting to 23^ nearly. On these lines are
marked the months and days which correspond to such
and such declinations. The size of the figure does not
admit of having every day of the year inserted j but
by making allowance for the intermediate days, in pro¬
portion to the rest, the declination may be guessed at
with tolerable exactness. The elliptical lines are de¬
signed to shew the hour of sunrising or sunsetting before
or after-six o’clock. As 60 minutes make an hour of
time, a fourth part of the space between each of the
hour-lines will represent 15 minutes 5 which the eye can
readily guess at, and which is as great exactness as can
be expected from any mechanical invention, or as is ne¬
cessary to answer any common purpose. The circles
.drawn round the centre at the distance of I ij each,
shew the point of the compass on which the sun rises and
sets, and on what point the twilight begins and ends.
necessary to consider, that, when the latitude of the
place and the sun’s declination are both north or both
south, the sun rises before six o’clock, between the east
and the elevated pole j that is, towards the north, if
the latitude and declination are north 5 or towards the
south, if the latitude and declination are south. Let us
now suppose it is required to find the time of the sun’s
rising and setting, the length of the days and nights,
the time when the twilight begins and ends, and what
point of the horizon the sun rises and sets on, for the
Lizard point in England, I rankfort in Germany, or
Abbeville in France, on the 30th of April. The la¬
titude of these places by the maps will be found nearly
50° N. Place the moveable index so that its point
may touch 30° on the quadrant of north latitude in the
figure ; then observe where its edge cuts the parallel
line on which April 30th is written. From this reckon
the hour-lines towards the centre, and you will find that
the parallel line is cut by the index nearly at the di¬
stance of one hour and 15 minutes. So the sun rises at
one hour 15 minutes before six, or 45 minutes after
four in the morning, and sets 15 minutes alter seven in
the evening. The length of the day is 14 hours 30
minutes. Observe how far the intersection of the edge
of the index with the parallel of April 3C)^1 distant
from any of the concentric circles, which you will find
to be a little beyond that marked two points of the
compass, and this shews that on the April the
sun rises two points and somewhat more Irom the east
towards the north, or a little to the northward of east-
north-east, and sets a little to the northward of west-
north-west. To find the beginning and ending of the
twilight, take from the graduated arch of the circle
degrees with a pair ot compasses 5 move one foot of
the compasses extended to this distance along the paral¬
lel of April 30th, till the other just touches the edge
of the index, which must still point at $0. T-he place
where the other foot rests on the parallel of April 30th,
then denotes the number of hours before six at which
the twilight begins. This is somewhat more than three
hours and a half, which shews that the twilight then
begins soon after two in the morning, and likewise that
it begins to appear near five points from the east towards
the north. The uses of this analemma may be varied
in a great number of ways j but the example just now
given will be sufficient for the ingenious reader.
fra ci
Sect. IV. Of the Origin and Progress oj Maps.
The first map of which we have any certain record, otigij
is that of Anaximander, about 560 years before thep»p«J
Christian era. This is mentioned by Strabo, book i.
and is supposed to be that referred to by Hipparchus,
under the name of the ancient map.
It has been alleged, that Sesostris, king of Egv pt,
on his return from his boasted expedition, after having
traversed great part of the earth, recorded his march in
maps, of which lie gave copies, not only to the Lgyp*
tians, but to the Scythians, to the great admiration ot
both people. This is the relation of Eustathius; but
M. Montucla considers it as a very improbable story,
and thinks that the invention of maps cannot be dated jj|rf,
prior to Anaximander *. Some have supposed that the Mat *
Jews laid down the holy land in a map, when they <"s'*01^
tnbuted P-
PLATE CCXXX.
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GEOGRAPHY.
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art II. GEOGRAPHY.
iociples tributed the different portions to the nine tribes at Shi-
and loh ; a supposition which is derived from Joshua’s ac-
^tlcc-, count, that they were sent to walk through the land
and that they described it in seven parts in a book. Jo¬
sephus also relates, that when Joshua sent people from
the different tribes to measure the land of promise, he
sent wuh them men well skilled in geometry. All this
however, is no proof that these persons drew a sketch
of the country, according to onr idea of a map ; but
probably only wrote down, for the satisfaction of their
employers, the extent, boundaries, and general charac¬
teristics of the divisions of the land.
Herodotus has given a minute description of a map
constructed by Aristagoras, tyrant of Miletus, an
abridgement of which will serve to give some notion of
the maps of those times. It was drawn upon brass or
copper, and seems to have been merely an itinerary
containing the route through the countries which were
to be traversed in a march which Aristagoras proposed
to Cleomenes, king of Sparta, for the purpose of attack¬
ing the king of Persia at Susa, that he might thus assist
in restoring the Xonians to their liberty. The rivers
Halis, Euphrates, and ligris, which, according to He*
rodotus, must have been crossed in that expedition, were
laid down in this map ; and it contained one straight
line, called the royal road or high way, which co°m-
prehended all the stations or places of encampment,
from Sardis, the beginning of the route, to Susa, a dis¬
tance of 13,500 stadia, or 16874 Roman miles of 5000
feet each. The number of encampments in this whole
route was 111.
Ptolemy of Alexandria, the celebrated geographer
mentioned in N° 21. constructed maps to illustrate his
description of places, and these are the first that have
regular meridians and parallels, the better to define and
determine the situation of places. Ptolemy acknow¬
ledges that his maps, with the addition of some improve¬
ments of his own, the principal of which was certainly
the introduction of meridians and parallels, were copied
from previous maps made by Marianus Tyrius, &c.
ihey are, however, often very inaccurate.
According to Atheneus, a work which seems to have
contained maps, was written by Baeton, under the title
of Alexander’s march j and a work on the same subject
is mentioned as the production of Amynthus. We are
informed by Pliny, that this Baeton was one of the sur¬
veyors of Alexander’s marches 5 and he quotes the ex¬
act number of miles of these marches, according to Bae-
ton’s mensuration, and confirms their authenticity by
the letters of Alexander. Pliny also remarks, that a
copy of this conqueror’s surveys was given by Zenobius,
im treasurer, to the geographer Patrocles, who was ad¬
miral of the fleets of Seleucus and Antiochus.
EITT" *1 ^lonS most celebrated of the ancient maps, are
,]«. me Peutingerian tables, so called, because published by
leutinger of Augsburg. These tables contain an itine¬
rary of the whole Roman empire; all places except seas,
wood, and deserts, being laid down according to their
measured distances, though without any mention of la¬
titude, longitude, or bearing. A particular description
0 his monument of antiquity is given in the 18th vo-
anTin the" History of [he Academy of ”"?«™cuity alone arose. By supposing that he ob-
1761, from which M. Moutucla has ^awn^nTe8 fT "f ‘ ^ "7 U CUSt°m Established among
lowing account The manTf i f -P • . . geographers, of representing the meridians, by lines
Vol. IX. Part II. P f 1 eutinSer» as lt 19 ,n lhe drawn perpendicular to the base of the chart, and the
I" 3 ^ parallels
54
Pen
foof in 1 imPenaVlbrary» 13 exactly one French Principles
foot in height, and 20 feet eight inches in length, ac- and
cording to measures taken by Buache, from a copy of P'acUcc-
the splended edition given by Scheele in 1752. It com ‘■““■"V—'
prebends the whole extent of the Roman empire, from
Constantinople to the ocean, and from the shores of
Africa to the northern parts of Gaul; but the table
which it a fiords of this vast extent of country is bv no
means ^calculated to give us an idea of its figure, since
the 35 _ of longitude which it comprehends, occupy 20
feet 8 inches, while the 130 of latitude are comprised
withm the space of one foot ; thus the countries repre-
senled are so disfigured, that the Mediterranean appears
only like a broad river, and all the countries are so
distorted, towards the north and south, that they can¬
not be recognised.
Most of those who have seen this ancient map, have
considered it as the rude and bungling work of a man
little conversant with geography, and still less so with
mathematics ; but Edmund Brutx considers the distor¬
tion of tins map as similar to what we see in some pieces
of perspective, and that it ought to be examined from
some certain near point in order to perceive the objects
in their natural proportion.
Buache supposed long ago, that this map was con¬
structed with more scientific skill than it appears to be
at the first glance ; and that the apparent irregularities
which we observe in it, might have been introduced de-
sigued.y, for the purpose of deriving greater advantages
as to what was intended for the principal object. °fn
fact, as the Roman routes extended almost entirely
from east to west, they paid more attention to the mea¬
sures in this direction than those between north and
south; and the map in this way might have had the,
greater convenience of being more easily rolled up, and
consequently more portable.
Thus far Buache hazarded no more than conjecture :
but a labour undertaken by him with a very different
view, led him to the true design of the map of Peutinger.
lie had been tracing a scale of climates, and of the
length of toe days and nights, for the purpose of attach¬
ing it to small maps of the different countries of Europe.
As the space occupied by the scale was prettv much
extended in height, but had very little breadth, he
formed the idea of drawing a kind of map upon two
scales, one pretty much extended for the latitude, and
the other very much contracted for the longitudes, pre¬
serving the hollows of the coasts and boundaries of each
state. As this disposition of his map strangely disfigu¬
red the countries which it was intended to represent he
w-as led to imagine that this map might be the reverse
of that 0. I eutiuger. This was sufficient to engage
him to construct another map upon the same principle ;
but in which the scale of longitudes was much greater
than that of the latitudes. He then saw that he had
been right in his supposition, and that the map which
he had last constructed had a considerable resemblance
to that of Peutinger. This latter is in fact only a plain
chart, constructed upon two scales, of which that of the
longitudes is very great, and that of the latitudes much
smaller.
One difficulty alone arose. By supposing that he ob-
54-6
geography.
Part
P• -ei parallels to the equator by straight lines drawn parallel
a„d to this same base, Buache found a considerable error.
Practice. The bottom of the gulf of Venice and Home did not
then appear, as they ought to do, under the same n|f“-
dian. He soon, however, saw the solution of this diiix-
culty. The method of drawing the meridians parallel
to the sides of the chart, is a matter of pure agreement,
and had probably not been observed in the map ot
which we are speaking. The ancient Roman geogra¬
phers having considered that Italy was naturally divided
by the Appenines, according to its length, into two
parts that were nearly equal, had therefore delineated
the length of Italy from Trent to the end of the penin¬
sula, parallel to the lower margin of the map, and had
afterwards arranged the other parts which the map was
to contain, conformably to this disposition ; and as the
length of Italy is not in a direction parallel to the equa¬
tor, it would happen necessarily that the meridians and
parallels, if they had been drawn on this map, would
have been parallel neither to the sides nor to the lower
margins of the map, and that the vertical line^ passing
through Rome must intersect the gulf of Venice at
about the middle : but this line is not a meridian.
Thus, this map is not so rude a work as has been
imagined, hut has been entirely constructed according
to rule 5 and it even appears that the author had em¬
ployed pretty good materials in its compilation, as the
positions are laid down in a manner that differs little
*M. Mon-from modern observation*.
iwc/rt, tom. from the time of Ptolemy till about the 14th centu-
iv. p. 599. ^ no new maps were published j and the first maps of
any esteem among the moderns were constructed .by
Mercator, to whom we are indebted for the projection
according to which marine charts are constructed.
Mercator was followed by Ortelius, who undertook to
construct a new set of maps with the modern divisions of
countries and names of places, for want of which the
maps of Ptolemy were become almost useless. After
Mercator and Ortelius, many others published maps,
which were chiefly copied from those above mentioned,
till about the middle of the 17th century, when Blaeu
published his large atlas, or Cosmographie blavianc, in
which is a pretty accurate description of the earth, the
sea, and the heavens, comprised in 12 folio volumes.
About the same time an atlas in two folio volumes was
published in France by M. Sanson, the maps of which
are in general very correct, containing many improve¬
ments of the travellers of those times. The maps of
Blaeu and Sanson were copied with little variation both
in England, France, and Holland, till from later ob¬
servations De Lisle, Robert, Wall, &c. published still
more accurate and copious sets of maps.
The works of recent travellers and navigators have
considerably improved the construction and accuracy of
our maps and charts; hut there is still much to be done,
especially with respect to trigonometrical surveys, be¬
fore any high degree of correctness can be acquired.
Among the latest maps and charts, those constructed
6 by Mr Arrowsmith are in the greatest estimation.
Catalogue -^s a coMecti°n g0°d and accurate maps is of the
of the best greatest importance in the study of geography and his-
maps. tory, we shall here subjoin a list of some of the best
modern maps that have been published.
Those maps which may be collected for the purpose
of forming an atlas, have been arranged under three
heads, according to their size, or the extent of their Printi
scale. 1st, Those which consist of more than six sheets, ;
such as De Bouge’s map of Europe in 50 half sheets, ftact4
and Cassini’s map of France in 183 sheets. 2dly,1_' 'r‘
Those from six to four sheets, to which class belong se¬
veral maps of kingdoms. And, 3dly, Those from one
sheet to four, which is the smallest size that can answer
the purpose of an atlas. We shall briefly notice the
best maps of each size.
Planispheres, or Maps of the World.—We know of
no very large map of the world that can at present be
confidentially relied on : the best is that of Mr Arrow-
smith in four sheets; and Eaden has published very good
maps in one sheet.
Maps of Europe—1st Size. That of De Bouge, pub¬
lished at Vienna, or that by Sortzmann in 16 sheets,
which is the better of the two. 2d Size. Arrowsmith’s
in four sheets. 3d Size. That by Faden in one sheet.
Maps of England.—I. The trigonometrical surveys
of the counties, published by Lindley and Gardner, and
by Faden. II. Cary’s atlas of the counties, and his
England and Wales in 81 sheets. III. Faden’s map
in one sheet.
Maps of Wales.—I. That of Evans in nine sheets.
III. The maps in Pennant’s Tours, and Evans’s.Cam-
brian Itinerary.
Maps of Scotland.—I. The surveys of the several
counties. II. Ainslie’s nine sheet map. III. An ex¬
cellent map by General Roy, and Ainslie’s reduced
map, in one sheet.
Maps of Ireland.—I. Survey of counties. III. A
valuable map by Dr Beaufort, in two sheets, or Faden’s
in one sheet.
Maps of France.—I. Cassini’s mentioned above, and
the atlas nationale, in 85 sheets. III. Faden’s one sheet
map, and a map, in departments, by Bellycime, in four
sheets.
Maps of the Netherlands.—I. Ferran’s map in 25
sheets. II. Atlas de Department Belgique. III. Fer-
rari’s map reduced by Faden.
Maps of Holland.—II. Kep’s maps of the United
Provinces. III. Faden’s map of the Seven United
Provinces in one sheet.
Maps of Germany.—II. Chauchard’s map of Ger¬
many. III. A map of the Austrian dominions, in one
sheet, by Baron Lichtenstern.
Maps of Prussia.—I. Sortzmann’s atlas in 21 sheets.
III. Sortzmann’s reduced, in one sheet.
Maps of Spain.—Lopez’s atlas, not, however, very
accurate. II. A map of Spain in nine sheets by Mon-
telle and Chanlaire. III. Faden’s map in one sheet.
Maps of Portugal.—II. Geoffry’s improved by Rains-
ford, in six sheets. III. De la Rochette’s chorogra-
phical map in one sheep, published by Faden.
Maps of Italy.—I. The maps of the several states.
III. D’Anville’s map of Italy improved by De ia Ro-
chette, in four sheets, published by Faden.
Maps of Turkey in Europe.—III. Arrowsmith’s map
of Turkey in two sheets. De la Roehette’s map of
Greece in one sheet.
Maps of Switzerland.-—!. Weiss’s atlas, publishedat
Strasbui’gin 1800. III. Weiss’s reduced map inonesheet.
Maps of Denmark.—I. Maps of the provinces, un¬
der the direction of Bygge. III. Faden’s maps of Den¬
mark, Sweden, and Norway, in one sheet.
547
GEOGRAPHY.
ipendix.
Maps of Sweden.-—I. ktizs of the Swedish provin¬
ces, by Baron Herraelin. III. De la Kochette’s, by
Faden, in one sheet.
Maps of Asia.—The best general map of Asia is that
by Arrowsmith in four sheets, published in 1801 j and
D’Anville’s, in six sheets, may still be consulted with
advantage.
There are few good maps of the individual coun¬
tries j but the following are esteemed among the best.
Of China.—D’Anville’s atlas, and a map by Arrow-
smith.
Of Tartary.—k map by Witsen, in six sheets, and
one by De Witt in one sheet.
Of Robert’s map in one sheet.
Of the Birman Empire.—The maps published in Mr
Symes’s embassy.
OfHindostan.—Rennell’s map in four sheets. His at¬
las of Bengal, and his map of the southern provinces.
Of Persia.^JLn Rochette published a beautiful map
to illustrate the expedition of Alexander the Great*,
and a good modern map has been published by Mr
M'Donald Kinneir.
Of Arabia there are some good partial maps in Nie¬
buhr’s journey.
Of the Asiatic Islands there is an excellent chart by
Arrowsmith, in four sheets.
Of Australasia, or New Holland, the best drawing
is contained in Arrowsmith’s chart of the PacWic
ocean.
Maps of Africa.—The best general map of Africa is
still that of D’Anville, though some little additions
may be made to it, derived from the journeys of Park
and Brown. Major Rennell’s partial maps may be con¬
sulted with advantage.
Of Abyssinia there is a good map in Bruce’s travels.
Pf Egypt, the best maps are that of the Delta by
Niebuhr, and that of Lower Egypt by la Rochette. *
Of the Mahometan States, the best maps are those by
Shaw, and a chart of the Mediterranean in four sheets
by Faden. ’
Of the Cape of Good Hope, the best is Barrow’s
survey.
Maps of America.—There is no modern general
map of America that can be relied on. The best
is that of D’Anville, in five sheets, published in 1746
and 1748.
Mr Arrowsmith has published an excellent map of
North America, on a very large scale, but has omitted
the Spanish dominions.
Of the United States, the best map is Arrowsmith’s
in four sheets, published in 18025 and a good map,
including the recent states, was published by Mr Hel¬
lish in 1816.
Of the British Possessions in America, besides Ar¬
rowsmith’s map above mentioned, there is a good map
of Upper Canada by Smith, in one sheet.
Of the JFest India Islands, the best map is that of
Jefferys in 16 sheets, from which a smaller one in one
sheet has been reduced.
Of South America, the best map is that published by
Faden in 1799, in six sheets, from an engraving done
at Madrid some years before.
APPENDIX.
1. BEFORE we conclude this article, we must make a
tk mUie few obs#ervati°ns on the method to be followed for acquir-
itij'of ing or imparting geographical knowledge,
gs’iphy. As some knowledge of geography, as well as of chro¬
nology, is absolutely necessary, before history can be pro¬
perly understood, the rudiments of these sciences should
be learned, as soon as the capacity of the pupil will al¬
low. It happens fortunately, that some of the most use¬
ful parts of geography, those which consider the rela¬
tive situations, extent and boundaries of countries, with
the manners and customs of their inhabitants, are highly
interesting 5 and provided that a knowledge of them
be conveyed to a child in a pleasing manner, they are
well fitted to interest his curiosity, and awaken his at¬
tention. The more scientific parts of geography, and a
detailed account of the minute circumstances respecting
each country, though extremely useful, and indeed ne¬
cessary to the more advanced student, may be with¬
held for a little without any great loss, till his age
and judgment permit him to see their utility and ap¬
plication.
In teaching geography to very young children, their
chief attention should be directed to those circum¬
stances which are most interesting ; and even with this
limited view much may be learned at a very early pe¬
riod. For this purpose the dissected maps that are usu¬
ally sold at toy shops, may be employed with consider¬
able advantage 5 but it is to be regretted, that the maps
used in preparing these are seldom taken from the most
correct copies. Those works also which, under the dis¬
guise of fictitious voyages and travels, are intended to
convey a geographical knowledge of various countries
afford a very pleasing and profitable method of instruc-
tion. A late work of this kind, by M. Jaufret, enti¬
tled ^ Travels of Rolando, may be advantageously
put into the hands of young people 5 and, as they are
larther advanced, the travels of Anacharsis the younger
by the abbe Barthelemi will give them considerable
information respecting the manners, customs, and his¬
torical events of ancient Greece.
When the young student is sufficiently advanced to
prosecute the study of geography on a more extensive
and scientific plan, it would be desirable that he should
begin by reading some elementary treatise on astro-
nomy, such as that of Mr Bonnycastle, or the Spectacle
de la Nature ; or, if he has acquired a proper degree
of mathematical knowledge, he may read Laplace’s
Tt516^6 du Monde' the astronomical part of Robison's
Mechanical Philosophy, or the astronomical article in
this dictionary.
, may happen, that, from a defect of early educa¬
tion, or want of time, a preliminary course of astrono¬
my cannot be commanded. Still, however, consider¬
able progress may be made in geography, by the mecha¬
nical means of maps and globes. The student should,
therefore, provide himself with a pair of the best globes^
chosen according to the directions laid down in N° 107 5
and with a few good maps of those countries which
548
GEOGRAPHY.
are most interesting, particularly maps of Europe, Asia,
Africa, and North and South America, the British
islands, France, Germany, Italy, Russia, and Den¬
mark, which may be collected from the list given at
N° 126.
Being provided with these materials, the student
should first read over Chap. I. of Part II. of this trea¬
tise, or a similar part of some elementary work in geo¬
graphy. On the elementary principles of geography
we would recommend the general principles prefixed to
Mr Pattesnn’s general and classical Atlas 5 and for
teaching the use of the globes, Bruce’s Introduction to
Geography and Astronomy. For a complete account
of modern geography we cannot refer to a better work
than that of Mr Pinkerton \ and for a combined ac¬
count of ancient and modern geography, the pupil may
have recourse to a work on that subject by Dr Adam
of Edinburgh.
After reading over the preliminary part above men¬
tioned, the pupil may go through the second Chapter
of Part II. solving all the problems as he goes along
on the terrestrial globe ; and thus he may proceed pro¬
gressively through the whole article, leaving that part
of Part I. which treats of the history of geography for
the last object of his enquiry.
In studying the particular circumstances of each
country, the pupil should always have the map of
the country before him ; and, as he goes along, should
trace there the situation of each particular place j of
the principal mountains, lakes, the sources and direc¬
tions of the rivers, the form and bounding of the shores,
&.c. In his progressive view of particular geography,
it will be proper for the pupil to begin with the coun¬
try in which he resides j and, after having made him¬
self master of that, to proceed successively to those
which border on it, or whose connection with it is the
most interesting.
Thus an inhabitant of these islands, after having
taken a view of Europe in general, should make him¬
self acquainted with Britain and Ireland (by perus¬
ing the articles England, Scotland, and Ireland
in this Dictionary or in other works) ; whence he may
proceed to France and its dependencies in the Ne¬
therlands, Switzerland, Italy ; thence to Ger¬
many and the Austrian territories, Prussia, Swe¬
den, Denmark, and Russia j whence he may return
to the south of Europe to Spain, Portugal, and Tur¬
key, &c. After Europe, the United States of Ame¬
rica will probably be found the most interesting j the
pupil may therefore study the geography of North
America before that of Asia. From Asia he may
proceed to Australasia and Polynesia *, thence to
Africa, and so conclude with South America. No¬
thing will contribute more to the advancement of geogra¬
phical studies than the construction of maps. If the
pupil has time therefore he should early be instructed in
Append v
this part of the subject by at first drawing a map of the
world according to the directions laid down in N° 118.
then one of Europe, and so of other quarters and coun¬
tries. In constructing this map, it will be proper first to
lay down those places which are near the coast, in order
to form the outline of the maritime part of the country,
and only the most remarkable places Inland, especially
those which are situated in the course of the principal
rivers. In every map the most prominent features of
the country, as the mountains, lakes, rivers, and prin¬
cipal cities and towns, should first be attended to, and
from these the pupil may be introduced to the other
places in the order of their magnitude or importance.
The most agreeable and interesting method of stu-
dying particular geography, after having become ac¬
quainted with the elementary principles of the science,
would be to peruse the best books of voyages and tra¬
vels j for from those, where the traveller can be depend¬
ed upon, the most correct systems of geography are com¬
piled. Many of these, however, are too prolix and par¬
ticular to be put into the bands of most young people,
and a judicious abridgement of the best of them will
answer every purpose j and perhaps Dr Mayor’s col¬
lection may be recommended, as the best of the kind
in the English language. For those whose time and
convenience will admit of their reading the best writers
of voyages and travels, there is no want of such works;
and Mr Pinkerton has given at the end of his excellent
work, a list of the best in most languages. We shall
here only notice a few of the best and latest.
Pennant’s Tours in Britain.
Young’s Tours in the British isles.
Saintfoad’s Travels in England and Scotland,
Young’s Travels in France.
Holcroft’s Tour in France.
Spallanzani’s Travels in the two Sicilies.
Cox’s Travels in Russia, &c.
Pallas’s Travels in the Russian empire.
Carr’s Northern Summer.
Staunton’s Account of China.
Barrow’s Travels in China.
Percival’s Account of Ceylon,
Syme’s Embassy to Ava.
Collins’s Account of New South Wales.
Bruce’s Travels in Abyssinia.
Barrow’s Travels in Africa.
Park’s Travels in the interior of Africa.
Brown’s Travels in Africa.
Sonnini’s Travels in Egypt.
Percival’s Cape of Good Hope.
Mackenzie’s Journey in North America.
Davis’s Travels in America.
Mackinnon’s Tour in the West Indies ; with the
voyages of Anson, Byron, Cook, Phipps, Bligh, Wil¬
son, Wallis, La Peyrouse, &c. &c.
INDEX,
A.
. {MS's improvement of the
globes, N° nx
j ica, circumnavigation of, 11
‘i mder the Great improves geo¬
graphy, 14
i $ude, quadrant of, 86
j\ ihiscii, _ 78
lemma for solving geographical
problems, 123
kximander, the inventor of maps, 124
gents, geographical knowledge of, 25
in Europe, 26
Asia, 27
Africa, 29
k nodes, 7°
ip’, 68
i'/a/w, discoveries of, 32
J Mary sphere, Ferguson’s, 112
Long’s, 113
B.
Bl defined, 44
£. /wVelucidation of thePeutingerian-
tables, 125
C.
Ct defined, 53
Cs aginians, discoveries of, 10
Ce/«/globe described, 102
C/; ites, division of the earth into, 83
table of, 84
northern, places in the, 85
problems relating to the, 96
i explained, 75
Cs tents defined, 49
nts defined, 46
D.
md night, cause of, illustrated by
the globe, 100
sins the Periegetic, 22
E.
h , spherical form of, how proved, 39
40
41
J3
101
72
104
magnitude of,
divisions of,
population of,
Mp lunar, problem respecting,
*4 explained,
%'o» of time illustrated by the
globe,
F.
% on’s armillary sphere,
G.
112
18
piers, ancient, enumerated,
* Hudson’s collection of, 23
nSyphy, definition of, I
division of, 2
GEOGRAPHY.
INDEX.
Geography, physical, N° 4
importance of, 5
history of, p. 503
origin of, N° 7
improved by Alexander the
Great, 14
by Ptolemy Phila-
delphus, 93
of the ancients, 23
middle ages,. 31
modern discoveries in, 33
present defects of, 36
general observations on the
mode of studying, 127
Globes, nature of, 34
circles on the, 33
axis and poles of, 36
equator of, 37
meridians of, 38
brazen meridian of, 39
parallels of latitude, 60
horary circles of, 66
ecliptic on the, 72
tropical circles of, 73
polar circles of, 74
colures of, 73
quadrant of altitude, 86
wooden horizon of, 87
celestial, described, 102
general construction of, 103
gores of, how formed, 106
rules for choosing, 107
using, 108
improvement of, by Senex, 109
by Smeaton, no
by Harris, 66
by Wright. ib.
Gulfs defined, 44
H.
Harris's improvement on the hour-
circle of the globes, 66
Harvest moon illustrated by the globes, 103
Heteroscii, g0
Horary circles on the globe, 66
Horizon, wooden, of globes, 87
of the sea, explained, 93
depression of, how
estimated, p. 323
Islands defined, JvJ0 30
Isthmus defined, c2‘
L.
Lakes defined, 47
Latitude and longitude explained and
illustrated, 61
parallels of, 60
introduced by Eratos¬
thenes, 61
problems on, 64
549
Level, true and apparent, N° 94
table for estimating
the difference of, p. 322
Long's armillary sphere, N° 113
Longitude, how reduced to any single
meridian, 62
how reduced to miles, 63
how computed in time, 65
M.
Maps, and charts, distinction of, 114
description of, 113
construction of, u6
by the orthographic
projection, 117
by the stereographic
projection, 118
of the world, how projected by
the globular projection, 119
particular construction of, 120
use of, 122
origin of, 124
Peutingerian, 123
catalogue of the best, 326
Mercator''s projection, 3 2®
Meridians on the globe, 38
brazen,
prime or first, p. 313
Oblique sphere, gg
Oceans defined, 42
Ophir, situation of, discussed, o
P.
Parallel sphere, g 1
Peutingerian table described^ 325.
Peninsula defined, 3!
Perioeci, fig
Periscii, 82
Phoenicians, discoveries of, 8
Polar circles explained, 74
PomponiusMPAa., an ancient geogra-
pher, 20
Problems on latitude and longitude, 68
I. To find the latitude and
longitude of a given
place> P- 514
II. Latitude and longitude
given, to find the place, 313
respecting time, N° 67*
III. Hour at any place be¬
ing given, to find the
hour at any other place, p. 515
IV. Hour at any place be¬
ing given, to find where
it is noon, jjg
respecting the antceci, &c. N°7i
V. To find the antceci of a
given place, p. rXfi
VI. To find the periceci, ib.
Problems
55°
Problems on the terrestrial globe.
VII. To find the antipodes, p*5 l6
VIII. To rectify the globe
for the latitude, N° 88
respecting the sun, 95
IX. To find the sun’s place, ib.
X. To find the declination, p. 524
XI. To rectify the globe
for the sun’s place, lb.
XII. To find the time of sun¬
rise and sunset, ib.
XIII. To find the sun’s meri¬
dian altitude at a given place, ib.
XIV. To find the sun’s alti¬
tude for a given hour, ib.
XV. Sun’s meridian altitude
given, to find the latitude
of the place, 525
XVI. To find when the sun
is due east or west, ib.
XVII. T To find when the
XVIII. i sun is vertical in
XIX. J the torrid zone, ib.
XX. To find when the sun
begins to appear, &c. in
the northern frigid zone, ib.
XXL To find when he be¬
gins to shine continually
there,
XXII. To find the limits of
the hour climates, ib.
XXIII. Month climates, ib.
XXIV. To find where the sun
is rising, setting, &c. at a
given time, tb.
XXV. To find where it is
twilight at a given time, 527
XXVI. To find the duration
of twilight, &c. tb.
XXVII. To shew the cause
of day and night by the
globe, 52^
GEOGRAPHY.
XXVIII. To find where an
eclipse of the moon is visi¬
ble, P- 528
Problems on the celestial globe, 529
I. To place the globe so as
to represent the heavens
for any evening in any
latitude,
II. To find the right ascension
and declination of a star, 531
III. Having the right ascen-
tion and declination given,
to find the star, ib.
IV. To find the latitude and
longitude of a given star, ib.
V. 1 To find on what day a
VI. 3 given star comes to
the meridian at a
given hour, ib.
VII. To find the altitude and
azimuth of a given star, tb.
VIII. The azimuth, &c.
given, to find the altitude, ib.
IX. To find the azimuth and
hour of the night, _ 532
X. Azimuth and latitude
given, to find the altitude
and day of the month, ib.
XI. Observing two stars to
have the same azimuth, to
find the hour of the night, ib*
XII. To find the rising, set¬
ting, &c. of a star or pla¬
net, 533
XIII. To find those stars
which never rise, or never
set, ib.
XIV. To illustrate the phe¬
nomena of the harvest
moon, 534
XV. To illustrate the equa¬
tion of time, ib.
Ind;,
Problems performed by maps, N° ,i
Promontory defined,
Ptolemy's work on geography,
Ptolemy Philadelphus improves geo.
graphy, I
Pythias, voyage of,
Right sphere.
Rivers defined,
Sataspes, voyage of, J
Scylax, expedition of,
Seas defined,
Senex's improvement of the globes, 5
Smeaton's improvement on the globes, ;
Sphere, oblique, Li
right,
parallel, ^
armillary, by Ferguson,
by Long,
invention of,
Strabo's work on geography,
Straits defined,
Sun, problems respecting,
T.
Taprobctna, situation of, J
Time, problems relating to,
Tropics explained, j-j
Twilight explained,
uses of,
problems respecting, 9
W.
Wright's improvement of the hour cir
cle of the globes, 16
Z.
Zones, division of the earth into, 6
Zone, torrid, countries in, 7
temperate, places in, '9
frigid, countries in,
GEOLOGY.
latroduc- INTRODUCTION.
tion.
' l r_r,HAT part of natural history which treats of the in-
Defmition ternal structure of the earth, as far as we have been
and object able to penetrate below its surface $ of the arrangement
of geology. 0f t}ie materials of which it is composed, and of the
changes which have taken place in these, is called Ge¬
ology, from y«, the earth, and Aoyoy, a discourse.
This science has been called by Werner, Geognosy,
and is by him defined to be that part of mineralogy
which considering minerals as a part of our globe, treats •
chiefly of their bearings and positions withrespect to each w_ j
other (a). Till of late this department of literature*^
was called physical geography, but at present the terms jePh
Geology and Geognosy are generally adopted; of siqM< *
these we have preferred the former, as being equally l’1
expressive and more familiar j under this head we
propose to include every thing that is usually compre¬
hended under what have been called theories of the
earth.
Geology differs from Cosmogony as a part from
the
(a) Werner has probably made this trifling change from a desire of novelty $ and some of his admiring pupd*
have attempted to display in very pompous but puerile terms, that it is of great value and importance.
Uv
G E O L
j )duc« ^ie w^°le } the object of the iatter is to give an account
of the creation of the universe, while the former con¬
fines itself to the consideration of the planet which we
inhabit.
Geology is intimately connected with mineralogy,
and may indeed be said to depend on this as its very
foundation. Werner, as we have seen, considers Geog¬
nosy as a part of Mineralogy ; but we are disposed "to
concur with Mr Ivirwan, who, speaking of mineralogy
with respect to its relation to geology, calls it “ the
alphabet of the huge and mysterious volume of inani¬
mate nature.”
Geology may be divided into descriptive and specu¬
lative ; the former giving a general account of the ma¬
terials of which the globe is composed, and of their
arrangement; while the latter is strictly confined to
what may be called a theory of the earth, or an attempt
to explain the manner in which the structure and ar¬
rangement have been brought about, and the changes
that have taken place in the disposition of the compo¬
nent parts of the earth.
I he science of geology is of considerable importance
551
D: ;ou
Ini ranee
of
fei 2
in many points of view.
I. The student of natural history cannot but derive
L. a great fund of profit and advantage from a science,
which makes him acquainted with so large a depart¬
ment of nature. Mineral bodies, whether we consider
them as individuals of nature, or as collected into those
masses which form the strata of the earth, and the
mountains that rise above its surface, are peculiarly in¬
teresting to the naturalist, as well from the variety of
form and beauty of appearance which some of them
present, as the useful purposes to which many of them
are applied. The other kingdoms of nature delight us
with the display of order and design exhibited in their
organization, or interest us from the intimate connexion
which subsists between many of them and ourselves.
These are objects of the beautiful; while the stupen¬
dous mountain, the awful volcano, the towering cliff,
the gloomy mine, and the majestic cavern, are objects
of the grand and the sublime.
# 2. To the miner, and all those who are employed
in searching the bowels of the earth for the treasures
which they contain, geology, as well as mineralogy,
forms an essential qualification. Experience has shewn
that certain minerals and metals are found more fre¬
quently attached to some of the stony materials of the
earth than to others, and that a few of them are only
found in particular strata. Examples of this kind will
lie given presently. We have also learned that the
arrangement of the materials in the earth is so far re¬
gular and uniform, that when we know the particu¬
lar materials near which certain metals and mine¬
rals are commonly found, and the usual disposition in
these places ; and when we find in another situation the
same materials disposed in a similar manner, we are
pretty certain that the metal or mineral of which we
are in search is not far distant. We are therefore en¬
couraged to prosecute the search with every probability
of success. I hose who undertake to direct an investi¬
gation of this kind, or to carry on the operations re¬
quisite for the obtaining what is sought, would do well
to inform themselves beforehand of such facts as are
Well established respecting the distribution of the mate-
introduc¬
tion.
O G Y.
rials of the earth, and tne substances usually found con¬
nected with them. For want of this necessary informa¬
tion, we often see projectors impose on the credulity,  v-—
and impoverish the finances, of gentlemen of landed
property, who are led to suppose that they possess on
some part of their estate a rich vein of metal, seam of
coal, &c. the working of which will considerably im¬
prove their income.
3. Hie failure of undertakings of this kind, partly to the land
from the villany of the projector, and partly from the‘•'d pioprie.
ignorance of his employer, shews the advantages that^01 ’
gentlemen of landed estates would derive from th&
study of geology. An acquaintance with this science
would guard them against the artifices of designing
men, and prevent them from embarking in uncertain
and expensive projects, the issue of which is too often
ruin and disappointment. 7
4. But the study of geology boasts a still higher ad-a”d to the
vantage. Nothing has more contributed to demonstrateCh,'istiaE'’
the truth of the divine writings, and to clear up many
doubtful passages in them, than the discoveries that
have lately been made in the structure and formation
of die earth. The original state of the globe is so
intimately connected with that which it at present ex¬
hibits, that we cannot properly understand the latter
without referring to the former 5 and recent experience
has shewn that the obscurity in which the philosophical
knowledge of this subject was involved, has been high¬
ly favourable to those systems of atheism and infidelity
which prevailed in the last age. Much of this obscuri¬
ty is now removed ; and the investigations of White-
burst, Werner, Kirwan, Howard, and some other geo¬
logists, by proving that the supposition of a deluge is
the only hypothesis on which we can account for the
present state of our globe, have contributed as much to
the advancement of true religion as of philosophical
knowledge.
So numerous indeed, and so luminous, have been
the more modern geological researches, and so obviously
connected with the object we have now in view, that
since the obscuration or obliteration of the primitive
traditions, strange as it may appear, no period has oc¬
curred so favourable to the illustration of the original
state of the globe as the present, though so far removed
from it. At no period has its surface been traversed in
so many different directions, or its shape and extent un¬
der its different modifications of earth and water been
so nearly ascertained, and the relative density of the
whole so accurately determined, its solid constituent
parts so exactly distinguished, their mutual relation, both
as to position and composition, so clearly traced or pur¬
sued to such considerable depths, as within these last
thirty years. Neither have the testimonies that relate
to it been ever so critically examined and carefully'!' Kirwan'f
weighed, nor consequently so well understood, as with-S^f
in the iatter half of the 18th century -f-.”
Geological researches seem at first view to be attend-Difficulties
ed with almost insurmountable difficulty. It is evi-atten<hng
dent that the part of the earth which it is in our power1*10 stutty
to examine, is infinitely small when compared to that”^,'^'^”
which is entirely beyond our reach: and even much of
the elevated parts, that appear above the surface, would
seem to be so completely cut off from us by inaccessible
precipices, and the ice and snow with which the sum¬
mits
G E G
mils of some of them are perpetually covered, that cur
knowledge of their structure and compositions must for
ever remain Imperfect. Much of these difficulties
however, is rather apparent than real. It is true that
our researches can extend but a very little way below
the surface 5 but so far as our experience has yet
taught us, any farther Investigation would be rather a
matter of curiosity than utility. Those metahand mi™
nerals which prove of most service to mankind, are
found at no very great depth in the earth, and some ot
them almost on its surface ; and when we have pene¬
trated beyond these, the materials discovered are of a
nature so uniform, and of a texture so firm and hard,
that it is possible they may extend even to the
Again, the investigations of Saussure, De Luc, Lolo-
mieu, and Humboldt, have proved that the most dim¬
erous precipices, and the highest summits of those im¬
mense mountainous chains which traverse the earth m
so many directions, oppose but feeble barriers to perse¬
vering’industry and philosophic ardour.
The diversity which occurs in the structure and lo¬
cal arrangement of subterraneous substances, seems to
throw another difficulty in the way of the geologist *,
but the farther his researches are extended, the more
will this apparent diversity be diminished. The prac¬
tical skill which some miners possess in many parts ot
the ivorld, proves that the mazes of this labyrinth are
not without a clue •, and we may safely conclude, that
when our knowledge of the structure of the earth, and
the disposition of its materials, shall be still farther ex¬
tended, the greater part of the obscurities under winch
the subject is now veiled, will be entirely removed.
Multiplied observations of later years have enabled us
to form certain general conclusions, and lay down cer¬
tain general laws, which must materially assist future
observers. r ^
In the modern improvements of geology tbe_ Ler-
  mans led the way, and Lehmann may be considered
of geology. as the father of the science. Eminently skilled in ge¬
neral physics, practical mining, mineralogy, and che¬
mistry, and fully acquainted with the circumstances at¬
tending the relative situation of most mineral bodies in
very extensive tracts of different countries which he ex¬
amined, he was enabled to deduce, from a long series
of observations, some general conclusions, which have,
with some exceptions, been since verified in every part
of the world.
Lehmann was followed in his own country by Fer-
ber, Gmelin, Born, and Werner j in Sweden by Berg¬
man, Cronstedt, and Tilas 5 in Italy by Arduini j in
Switzerland, by Saussure and He Luc ; in Russia, by
Fallas •, in France, by Belametherie, Saint Fond, Do-
lomieu, and Lavoisier } and in Britain, by Hutton and
Kirwan, names which must ever be held in the highest
estimation by the cultivators of this part of natural hi¬
story. . .
Before entering on the study of geology, it is ne¬
cessary to acquire a competent knowledge of chemistry,
and a pretty extensive acquaintance with mineralogy,
as these sciences form an essential introduction to the
more general researches respecting the structure of the
earth. The former supplies the means of ascertaining
the nature of the substances met with ; and the latter
must be well understood, before we can arrange these
9
Principal
impiovers
10
Method of
studying
•geology.
LOGY.
substances under their proper heads, and before we intfod.
can comprehend the terms employed by geological tion
writers. _ _ H*
The study of this science, like that of some other
parts of natural history, particularly botany, can be
prosecuted with but little advantage in the closet. The
student must examine the declivities of hills, the beds
of rivers, the interior of caverns and of mines, the re¬
cesses of the ravine, and the utmost summits of the
mountain, before he can obtain that degree of know¬
ledge which is necessary to constitute a skilful and phi¬
losophic geologist. While making these personal ob¬
servations, lie should study the works of the best writers,
and compare the facts related and described by them,
with those which he himself has observed. The writ¬
ings on this subject may be divided into two principal
classes, one comprehending these works which contaiu
a systematic account of the whole, or some part of the
subject 5 such as Bergman’s Physical Geography, the
Geological Essays of Kirwan, the Theorie de la Terre
of Belametherie, the writings of Werner, &c.: and
the second comprising those works which treat of the
geology of particular countries in the familiar style of
travels 5 as Born’s Travels in Hungary, Ferber’s Tra¬
vels through Italy, Saussure’s Voyage dans les Alpcs,
Pallas’s Travels, Jar’s Voyages Metallurgiqi/es, Saint
Fond’s Travels in England and Scotland, &c. After
having acquired a knowledge of the principles and ge¬
neral facts of the science from the former, the student
will, by means of the latter, increase his knowledge in
the most familiar and agreeable way. _ t n
In the sketch of geology which we are to give inArrangi
the following aPicle, we shall consider the subject un-nwnt
der four general heads, which will be the subject of as
many chapters.
In the first chapter we shall describe the arrangement
and distribution of the materials of which the earth is
composed. Here, after giving some general notion of
that arrangement, we shall consider each of the prin¬
cipal materials under a separate section, in which we
shall first lay down those general marks by which each
is distinguished, describe its general arrangement, and
mention the places, especially in Britain, where the
substance is found in greatest abundance, and those
metallic or mineral bodies which are commonly found
in connection with it.
After having briefly considered each substance, we
shall, in the second chapter, bring the more general di¬
stribution of them under one view, still directing om
attention to the arrangement of these materials in the
British islands. . . > .
In the third chapter we shall give a brief outline 01
the most remarkable theories that have been framed in
modern times, to account for the distribution of mineral
bodies, and the manner in which we find them now ai-
ranged. In this chapter we shall dwell more particu¬
larly on the two rival theories which at present divide
the geological world, and shall enumerate some of the
objections which have been made to each.
In the fourth chapter we shall give some account 0
the derangement of the substances that compose our
globe, so far as it has originated from known causes,
and this will lead us to the consideration of Earth-
tiUAKKS and Volcanoes.
Chap.
2
rap<
I.
G E O L
-ange-
t, &«• Chap. I. Of the Arrangement and Distribution of
" Ma* the Materials of which the Earth is Composed.
[tail of
:Earth’
tMisuth.
3
Jt i.3ca
ti»i
ontftl
The materials of which the general mass of the earth
llm is composed, are variously distributed in different parts,
qjiral In some places they form irregular masses or blocks,
fiP81'011 either buried below the surface, or elevated to a greater
tr vaif1* or less height above it. In most places, however, the
materials are arranged in a more regular manner j those
of the same kind being collected into extensive masses,
lying in layers or strata, above or below a similar
mass of another kind, or these alternate with each
other to a considerable depth. These strata are some¬
times found arranged in a direction parallel to the ho¬
rizon j at others they are vertical, or perpendicular to
the horizon, appearing as if the horizontal strata had
been lifted up, and laid upon their edges. More com¬
monly the strata are arranged in a direction inclining
to the horizon, when they are said to dip.
The uppermost stratum is in most places covered to
a certain depth with mould that has evidently been
formed from the decomposition of organized substances.
In many parts of the earth this mould extends to
a very considerable depth, and constitutes the soil j in
other places it is barely sufficient to form a coating to
the strata, and in others it is entirely wanting.
A good instance of horizontal strata occurs about
irtical two miles to the east of Balleycastle in the north of
Ireland, of which we shall speak more particularly by
and by. One of the most curious examples of vertical
strata in Britain is found in the small island of Caldey,
on the coast of Pembrokeshire, where the strata of
which the whole island is composed are placed in
*uch a manner, that their edges are all exposed to view,
and they may be successively examined from the one end
of the island to the other. It is seldom that an oppor¬
tunity offers of examining the arrangement of strata
so easily as is afforded in this small island. In most
cases it is necessary to penetrate to great depths before
we can acquire an imperfect knowledge of the stratifi¬
cation of the earth ; and in no instance have we yet
proceeded a mile below the surface. In Caldey island,
however, the strata may be examined to the extent of
more than a mile, beginning at what may be supposed
the uppermost stratum, which is not more than a foot
thick, to that which may be called the lowest, at the
opposite end of the island, being a mass of red stone of
more than a mile in depth.
Sometimes the strata are continued in a regular ar-
ftherangement, preserving the same inclination to a very
considerable extent j but more commonly they appear in
some parts separated, as if they had been broken asun¬
der. These separations are usually in a perpendicular
direction, and the cavities are found filled with various
heterogeneous matters. Sometimes these are chiefly
composed of fragments of the adjacent strata, but for
the most part they consist of mineral or metallic sub-
Atances of a different nature.
When these fissures are filled up with broken frag¬
ments or rubble, as it is called, it very commonly hap¬
pens that they become the beds of brooks or rivers.
Thus the river Derwent runs for a considerable extent
iu Derbyshire over a fissure of this kind. When the
Assure is filled up with a solid stony matter, this forms
Voj.. IX. Part II. +
° G Y- 55
what in Scotland is called a dyke. If a mass of mineral Arrange-
or metallic matters fill the fissure, or be insinuated be- ment, ike.
tween the strata, it forms what is called a vein, and of t.hei Ma-
these veins sometimes branch between the strata in va- leri*ls c,f
rious directions. the £ur!h'.
When a fracture has taken place in the stratified
mass, one part of the mass sometimes preserves the same
position as it had before, or still forms a continued line
with the other parts of the mass, or is parallel to it 5
but more frequently one part is thrown out of its origi¬
nal position, and becomes more inclined to the horizon
than before. Sometimes one side of the mass is more
depressed than the other, as is commonly seen in many
of the strata in Derbyshire $ at others the two parts of
the mass are so disturbed as to incline towards each
other, as if they had been broken upwards. When the
edges of the strata on each side of the fissure are thus
divided and disarranged, they are said by the miners
to trap.
The chasms thus formed are sometimes of consider¬
able width, borne are found in Cornwall nearly 20 feet
across, and almost full of metallic and other mineral
substances. It not unfrequently happens, that these
fissures are empty, containing nothing but water in the
bottom. A celebrated chasm of this kind is shewn at
the Peak in Derbyshire; and if a stone be thrown in,
it is heard to strike from side to side for a considerable
time, till at length it seems lost in subterraneous water.
If the country’ in which the strata lie runs in a wa¬
ving direction of hill and dale, the strata usually pre¬
serve the same waving direction, keeping pretty nearly p} it<!
parallel to each other. A curious example of this kind ccxaivnr.
has been described by Gerhard, as occurring in the *6
district of Mansfield in Germany. See fig. 1, InStrataiii
those places where some remarkable dislocation of theRefer£tl
strata has not taken place, their distribution is in ge-^U!U
neral extremely regular, certain materials lying above
or below certain others in an uniform manner. The
observations of later geologists have discovered pretty
nearly the arrangement that takes place in most coun¬
tries ; and we shall presently give some examples of the
stratification of several parts of Europe. Before we at¬
tempt this, however, we must mention some circum¬
stances in which the materials composing the strata dif¬
fer from each other.
The general observation of all modern geologists nirisiln of
proves, that ail these materials may be distributed under the mute*
two general classes ; one consisting of those substances r‘ak-
which are found more or less connected with the re-
mains of organized bodies, as the bones, teeth, and
shells of animals, the trunks of trees, and other parts
of vegetable bodies; and the other comprehending
those in the substance of which these organic remains are
never found. As it is now generally believed that
the latter of these are of a formation prior to the for¬
mer, we shall here adopt the general division of them
into primary and secondary. We might go still farther
in this division, by arranging them under more heads ;
one, for example, containing those in which organic re¬
mains are sparingly found, and others containing those
substances which are found only in particular places ;
but as the first of these involves in it a particular theory
which we shall notice fully hereafter, and the other*
allude to facts which will be mentioned when treating
of the separate materials, we shall not here extend our
4 A division
5S4
the Eaitli
rrance_ division beyond the distribution of the materials into
ment, &. primary and secondary.
of the Ma- In the following short detail, many terms will occur
terials of can |)e understood only by the minera ogis .
They will be fully explained under the article Min -
RALOGY. The names which we shall give to the sub¬
stances described will be such as have been most gene¬
rally adopted in this country j but to prevent ambigui¬
ty, we shall, where it seems to be necessary, add the
synonymous names that occur in the best geological
writings.
G E O L O U
in Scotland also affords instances of the same variety. Arra])
It is also found in Corsica, and is often called Corsica rnent,; .
granite. 'l16 ’
b It has been doubted by some geologists, whether the
true granite is ever found stratified ; but numerous in- ^
stances of its stratification have been, lately adduced,
that leave no room to doubt that this is sometimes the Stratitj |
A. Primitive Compounds.
Sect. I. Of Granite.
Granite The name granite has long been applied to all stones
described, which are composed of an aggregate of quartz, feldspar,
and mica, distributed in such a manner as that each ot
them appear in a separate state j but as this dehm ion
has been considered as too loose, and comprehending
too many varieties, the name is at present restricted to
that kind of granitic stone in which the quartz, feld¬
spar, and mica, are found in grains or crysta s. Ot the
three substances, the feldspar is generally the most a-
bundant, and the mica the least so.
Granite is found in the lowest and the highest situa¬
tions of the earth that have yet been examined. It
forms the basis of all the other strata : and though
these are sometimes found below it, this situation seems
to have been the consequence of some accident, by
which the inferior substances were thrown below the
granite. Many mountains seem almost entirely com¬
posed of granite, as Gefrorn one of the Rhoetian Alps ;
and there is a high hill of white granite about six miles
to the west of Strontian in Scotland. Sometimes large
masses of granite are found in a detached situation at
some distance from the mountains to which they appear
to belong; and these masses seem in some instances to
have been broken off, and rolled down the mountain,
and in others to have been carried away by irresisti-
* ■xtmnr's hie torrents, or dislodged by earthquakes. On the
Jicrlf- summits of the mountains near Port Sonnachm in
shire, Scotland, are found large quantities of detached pieces
P* I32, of granite, some of them of amazing size .
.r<? Granite is most commonly found in vast blocks, se-
entttates parated from each other by rifts or chasms, irregularly
disposed. This is the case in most mountains, especial¬
ly in those which have high, pointed spires. The struc¬
ture of those blocks is pretty uniform, there occurring
seldom more than two varieties, one called porphyritic
granite, in which the basis is of a fine grain, containing
large crystals of feldspar. Of this variety many in¬
stances occur in the north of Scotland, and near Carls¬
bad in Bohemia. The other principal variety is that in
which the granite is found in distinct globular concre¬
tions, composed of concentric lamellae. This variety
was observed by Mr Jameson, on the road between
Dresden and Bautzen ; and Mr Barrow, in his descrip¬
tion of the Cape of Good Hope, mentions several glo¬
bular concretions of immense size. The isle of Arran
case. Pallas takes notice of some stratified granite on ,,
the banks of the river Berda, where what he considered
as perfect primitive granite, compactly crystallized, is
disposed in layers of various degrees ot thickness, some
not exceeding one-eighth of an inch, and bounded both
above and below by blocks of solid granite +. Again, t Pa/J
on the banks of the Gromoklea, he observed similar ™ .
layers of granite running in a direction from north to 1
south, each bed being from one span to three feet six
inches in breadth, and consisting of the most perfect
primitive granite, which he considers as a continuation
of that mineral tract which produces the cataracts ol i
the Dnieper J. Mr Playfair mentions an example oftlliV. jl.
stratified granite which he saw in Chorley forest in Lei-
cestershire, where real granite is disposed in beds on the
eastern border of the forest, especially near Mount Sor¬
rel. Another instance of real granite disposed in re¬
gular beds, is also mentioned by Mr Playfair as occur-j] p/aX
. .i lie P^IooflaTv in Rprwjirksliirpll. Mr lllmtn I
ring near the village of Priestlaw in Berwickshire||. Mr«
Jameson observed the Riesengebirge, which separates^.
Silesia from Bohemia, to be for 150 miles composed of| ^
oranite disposed in horizontal strata, and he observed a j0!fr
o „ -J T..C 701. :
similar stratification in Saxony and Lusatia §.
Granite constitutes the base of most of the British
mountains, but is more commonly met with in the north
and western parts of the island. I here is a considerable
mass of granite which runs longitudinally through Corn-
wall, from Dartmore to the Land’s End *. Consider- 1 ,ir
able masses are found in Scotland, but their extent lias^10
not been accurately ascertained. According to Mr
Playfair, there is no mass of any magnitude in the
southern parts, except that of Galloway, which occurs
in two pretty large insulated tracts. Mr Playfair thinks
that Dr Hutton greatly underrated the quantity of gra¬
nite in Scotland, which, especially in the north, he con¬
siders as extending over a large district. If we suppose
a line to be drawn from a few miles south of Aber¬
deen, to a few miles south of Fort William, it will, ac¬
cording to Mr Playfair, mark out the central chain of
the Grampians, along which line there are many gra-f »
nite mountains, and large tracts in which granite is the
prevailing rock f. . . A An\.\
It is remarkable that in the mountainous regions ot Mut fl|
Peru, especially in the environs of the volcanoes, no toni.
granite is found, except in very low situations, at the 399.
bottoms of valleys $. . , r ^ ,f
Several varieties of granite are subject to decay, from Decs
the decomposition of the feldspar which they , contain. g»'
This circumstance will probably explain a curious fact.
It is found that the granite existing in the interior of
mountains is much softer than that near the surface,
probably from the decay of the feldspar in the lat¬
ter, while it remains in its original state in the for-
mer Granite
(b) The decomposition of granite appears to go through several stages, from the.sohd rock to the loosesanih
Mte.
our. de
; n. tom.
p.277
1 de-
1 jed.
mage
Millpes,
1r
t5
\ re
n
Granite is by no means abundant in metallic and the
richer mineral substances j it, however, contains a con¬
siderable variety, some of which have as yet been found
in no other substance, especially molybdena. Iron ores
1 are very commonly found in granite, especially the
compact brown iron stone. It seems to be owing to
the presence of iron that granite assumes that fine red¬
dish colour with which we sometimes see it tinged. One
of the most remarkable instances of this kind is afforded
by the rocks to the south-east of the valley of Chamou-
ni, at the foot of the Alps. These rocks, from their
red appearance, are called Les Aigzd'Ues JRoifges, or the
red needles. These rocks were mentioned by Saussure,
but he had not ascertained their composition. This has
since been done by M. Berger, who found them to be
composed of granite, with a considerable quantity of
oxide of iron *. Bismuth, cobalt, blende, galena (an
ore of lead), and several ores of copper, are also some¬
times met with ; but the metal most frequently found
in granite is tin, especially in the great mining field in
Cornwall.
Sect. II. Gneiss.
Gneiss, by some writers called kneiss, is not unfre-
quently confounded with granite, from which it differs
rather in the arrangement than in the nature of its com¬
ponent parts. These in gneiss are arranged in a schis¬
tose or slaty form, whereas in granite, they are in dis¬
tinct grains or crystals, the layers being generally in
the direction of the mica. It sometimes is intimately
incorporated with masses of granite, but, in most in¬
stances, it reposes on the granite, being generally the
second layer. In descending into the valley of Cha-
mouni, Saussure observed a fine bed of true granite in¬
corporated with a rock of gneiss, which was arranged
iu very fine leaves f. Sometimes the gneiss lies entire¬
ly below the granite j but this is uncommon. More
generally there is found a vertical mass of granite, with
strata of gneiss on each side of it. Very frequently gra¬
nite and gneiss alternate with each other.
Sometimes whole mountains are composed of gneiss.
Th us Ben Lomond scarcely contains any other sub¬
stance, and the Schaw, which is the most northern point
of the northernmost of the Shetland islands, is entirely
gneiss. Mountains of this kind are, in genera], neither
so high nor so steep as those of granite, though Mount
Rosa in Italy, and a few others, must he excepted.
The summits of these mountains are also generally
more rounded than those of granite mountains. The
bases of all the Shetland islands seem chiefly composed
of gneiss, and the middle part of the Pyrenees is al¬
most wholly formed of this and granite.
It is curious that where gneiss is contiguous to gra-
GEOLOGY. 555
nite, its quartz and feldspar are moi’e apparent, and Arrange-
the mica less so; while, where it is more distant from mcub S'c.
granite, the contrary happens if. of the Ma-
Several metallic ores are found in gneiss, particular- the jSartti
ly those of iron, as the magnetic iron stone, and martial ‘
pyrites; lead ores, tin ores, blende, cobalt, copper, and *6
arsenical pyrites, and not unfrequently silver ores. Metals
found in
gneiss.
Sect. III. Micaceous Sc/iistus. t Kirwari’s
Essays, p.
This is otherwise called schistose mica, and mica slate. *75-
It is also composed of the same materials with granite ... 27
and gneiss, except that it contains little or no feldspar; Uilsius^
the quartz and mica being arranged in layers as in
gneiss.
I his substance also is very abundant in most rocks
and mountains. It generally composes the third layer
or stratum, being immediately above or without the
gneiss. It not uncommonly appears to be the only sub¬
stance composing the hill or mountain, from the gneiss
and granite being probably so completely covered as to
be out of sight. 2S
Micaceous schistus composes the rocks that are found Where
immediately to the north of Donkeld in Scotland, and foulld'
it is here penetrated in every direction by veins of
quartz. The southern shores of Loch Tay, the moun¬
tains of Glen Lochy, the vale ofTumel between Loch
Turn el and Loch Itannoch, contain much of the same
substance; and the lower part of Glen Tilt is chieflv
composed of it. In the western Highlands towards
Ben Lomond, micaceous schistus also abounds, and
some of it is found in the north of Argyleshire. The
Shetland islands are mostly composed of micaceous
schistus, in thick layers above the gneiss, with a few
masses of granite interspersed.
It not unfrequently happens that a bed of micaceous
schistus is intersected by veins of granite. Mr Jameson
observed an example of this in Glen Drummond in Ba- * M/n. 0/
denoch, of which he has given a plate. The veins arethe
very large, and run across the strata of schistus in
direction nearly parallel to each other*. 73‘
The metallic ores found in micaceous schistus, are Metals in
chiefly those of iron, copper, tin, lead, cobalt, and an-11'
timony.
Sect. IV. Quai't*.
30
Quartz is not unfrequentl v found distinct from feld- Quartz,
spar and mica, and sometimes whole mountains are
found composed of it. In particular, the mountain of
Kultuc, at the south-east end of the lake of Baikal,
among the Altaiscban mountains, which is 4800 feet
lon£> 35° high, and above 4000 broad, consists entire¬
ly of milk-white quartz ; and the mountain of Flinz-
4 -A- 2 berg
Ihese are thus marked by Mr Jameson. In its beginning disintegration it splits into masses, having a greater or
less tendency to the quadrangular form ; but these masses have still a degree of connexion amongst themselves, as
is the case upon the mountain top. 2 lie next step is the enlargement of the fissures, by which the masses are
loosened from their connexion, and tumble down from their elevated situations, upon the summits of the neigh¬
bouring mountains, or are hurried with impetuous velocity down the mountain side, covering the bottom of the
glens with their stupendous ruins. Lastly, These detached masses, by the action of the weather, are completely
disintegrated, forming a loose sand, which is left upon the tops or sides of the mountains, or is carried in oreat
quantities to the sea shore by the torrents. Jameson's Mineralogy of the Scottish Isles, rol. i. p, 82.
Arrange¬
ment, &:c.
of ike Ma¬
terials of
tbe Earth.
GEOLOGY.
* Williami
Mineral
K ingdom,
yoI. ii.
P- 5»-
3r
Ko metal*
»a art/.
berg in Lusace, is almost wholly composed of it. I here
is also an extensive ridge of quartz, some miles long, m
Bavaria, and Monnet mentions a rock ot it 60 teet
high. Mountains of it are also found in 1 liuringia, Si¬
lesia, and Saxony. It sometimes forms layers between
gneiss and micaceous schistus. A considerable roty
of granular quartz is found lying under micaceous
scbistus in the island of Islay, see fig. 4. A. It is otten
found forming spires on the tops of mountains, and ap¬
pearing like snow. . , .
Quartz is found in several parts of Britain ; but there
is very little of it in the southern part of the island.
Williams found it very common in the Highlands of
Scotland, where he has seen it regularly stratified, with
other regular strata immediately above and below it j
and sometimes composing high mountains entirely ot its
own strata. These strata are sometimes moderately so¬
lid j but often are naturally broken into small irregular
masses, with sharp angles, and of a uniformly fine gra¬
nulated texture, resembling the finest loaf sugar.
There are large and high mountains of this stone in
the shires of Ross and Inverness 5 and in a clear day
these appear at a distance as white as snow, being quite
bare of vegetation, except a little dry heath around the
base of the hill *. . »
The mountain of Swetlaia Gera, one of the Uralian
chain, consists of round grains of quartz, white and
transparent, and of the size ot a pea, united without
any cement.
No metals are found in quartz, though it sometimes
contains petroleum.
Sfxt. V. Argillaceous Schistus.
ArgiUHce- This stone, which is otherwise called clay slate, is
ous Kchistus the thonchieffer of Werner, and the argillite ot Kirwan.
tJfsatibc-d. js 0f the same nature with gneiss and micaceous schis¬
tus ; but in this the stratification is still more complete,
and all traces of crystallized granite entirely disappear.
Doubts have arisen whether this stone is primitive y but
these are row cleared up, as it is irequently found al¬
ternating with gneiss and micaceous schistus, especially
in Saxony, and with other primitive strata. It some¬
times happens, too, that both gneiss and granite rest
upon it.
There are two varieties of this stone, one hard, and
the other soft 5 but the hard often graduates into the
softer.
Sometimes this stone is found forming whole moun¬
tains 5 but more commonly it enters into them only par¬
tially'. In some, however, there are entire strata of it,
as at Zillerthal, in the Tyrol. The famous mountains
33
Where
foMfaU.
Chap.
of Potosi consist entirely of argillaceous schistus, and Arrant
Saussure found it on the summit of Mont Blanc. mm, &
In Britain it is not very common ; but is sometimes ot l|*e W
found on the higher parts of mountains. 11ms it iorms
the summit of Skiddaw in Cumberland. > ^
Argillaceous schistus, especially the softer variety, is
remarkably rich in metals. We have said that it forms Metal*
the greater part of Potosi, one of the richest silverr°UU(*11,1
mines. The ores of copper and lead, sulphur, pyrites,
blende, and calamine, are also found in it. The great
body of copper ore in the Parys mountain in Anglesea,
is found below this substance. It also sometimes con¬
tains antimonial and mercurial ores.
Sect. VI. Jasper.
It was supposed, by the earlier mineralogists of theJa^r
last century, that jasper was only pure quartz, so much »cribd.
penetrated by a colouring metallic oxide as entirely to
deprive it of its transparency ; hut Saussure and Dolo-
mieu, with their usual accuracy, discovered that it con¬
sists of flint, and not of pure quartz, having in combi¬
nation a quantity of argillaceous matter, more or less
mixed with oxide of iron.
Primitive jasper is always opaque. It is commonly
found imbedded in other stony matters, in colour it
varies from red to green, and frequently consists ot al¬
ternate stripes of red and green, sometimes perfectly
distinct, at others running together. There is a beau¬
tiful variety figured by Patrin, in which a dark-red
ground is crossed in every direction with curved white
lines, leaving here and there circular spaces of red sur¬
rounded with white, forming eyes.
Striped jasper is sometimes so abundant, as lobe the\n’fccftt
chief material of some mountains, in which it is mixed fonsd.
with broken fragments of granite and other primary
compounds (c). Mountains of red and green jasper also
occur. Generally, however, it appears in strata, inter¬
posed between layers of micaceous schistus, or alternat¬
ing, and sometimes mixed with compact red iron stone.
It is found in the south of France, reposing on granite j
and in the Altaischan mountains, it sometimes lies be¬
low argillaceous sebistus, but has there never been
found in contact with granite. A coarse kind of jasper
is sometimes found in the hills near Edinburgh *, and
some fine specimens are met with in the northern moun¬
tains.
Sect. VII. Hornstone.
37
This stone is considered by Mr Kirwan as the same fiouuk
with petrosilex, but Patrin and some others distinguish dcscritx
(c) There is often found interspersed between the strata of rocks, or sometimes above the upper stratum, a bed
of fragments that have been broken off from the principal strata. When these fragments chiefly consist of lime¬
stone and calcareous compounds, whether they be of an angular form, or consist of rounded pebbles, they are ge¬
nerally called by the name of breccia ; but when the fragments are of a siliceous or quartzy nature, especially
if they are agglutinated together, so as to form a solid mass, they have usually been called pudding stove, rrom
the uncertain manner in which these terms were employed, much confusion arose, till Rome de I’Isle, and other
later naturalists, have given the name of breccia to every stony mass that is composed ol angular fragments, 0
whatever nature they be; and they call by the name of puddingstone every agglutinated mass that is compose
of round pebbles, whether they he calcareous, quartzose, or of any other nature. These compounds will be spokeu
of presently in a separate section.
1P
I.
them. According to Patrin, hornstone is a compound
&c. primitive rock, composed of the same elements with
Sla- granite, in which schorl is very abundant, communicat-
artt t0 ^ie stone a gray, or sometimes blackish,
* ' colour, and containing a pretty large quantity of the
argillaceous matter of mica. Petrosilex, according to
him, is purer than hornstone, and commonly of a gray¬
ish or greenish colour, semitransparent, and very hard,
so as to give fire with steel. They are often found
united, and sometimes form entire mountains, contain¬
ing fragments of feldspar interspersed. They are com¬
monly found in large thick masses or blocks, though
they are sometimes stratified like the schistose stones.
Dolomieu is mistaken, when he asserts that petrosilex
is only found in primitive mountains, is it will appear
hereafter, that it is sometimes a secondary compound.
At Tuluimas, in the isle of Ilona, Mr Jameson found
a mass of rock chiefly composed of hornstone and
quartz, from 12 to 15 feet wide, and of considerable
length, lying between two beds of gneiss.
Sect. VIII. Pitch stone.
P! tone The Germans have given the name of pitchstone, or
(itil-eJ. pechstein, to a stony matter, which is found in large
masses of an irregular form, and of difl’erent colours, as
yellow, brown, red, green, &c. having sometimes the
appearance of rosin, and sometimes that of an enamel,
or of glass imperfectly transparent. It is never crystal-
, lized.
M'lit It is found, either in large masses, or in veins. At
^ Misnia, it is found forming entire mountains; and in
other countries there are mountains containing strata of
pitchstone, sometimes alternating with granite, at
others with porphyry. Mr Jameson describes a large
vein of it of a green colour, several feet wide, traver¬
sing a mass of red argillaceous sandstone, at Tormore
in the isle of Arran. This vein is extremely curious,
and contains stratulaeof different substances deposited in
the same fissure*. Another curious vein of pitchstone
is described by him as traversing a basaltic rock, toge¬
ther with a vein of hornstone, in the island of Eiggt.
Mr Jameson considers this as the first example of pitch-
jo!, il. stone traversing basalt, discovered in Europe, though
similar appearances have been found on the top of the
peak of Tenerift’e.
Pitchstone is only considered as a primitive rock,
when it is nearly allied to porphyry.
GEOLOGY.
The principal metallic substances
557
SM
nl
WJol.
r
(me-
itkt
Sect. IX. llornhlendey and Hornblende Slate.
Haidt Hornblende is sometimes found existing separately
from the compounds in which it usually occurs, as is
the case in Siberia, where there are mountains of black
hornblende. It is often found mixed with quartz,
mica, feldspar, or schorl, of a greenish or black co¬
lour. More commonly, however, it occurs in immense
strata, sometimes in layers of gneiss, argillaceous schis-
tus, or primitive limestone. A stratum of it above pri¬
mitive limestone has been found at Miltiz. It is some¬
times seen below granite, or granite is even found im¬
bedded in it. A rock of hornblende, reposing on gra-
, nite, has been seen by Mr Jameson in the isle of Arran ;
'and on the side of Loch Fine he found it alternating
' with strata of micaceous schistusf.
found in horn- Anange-
blende slate, are native sulphuret of iron and copper meat, &e.
ore. of the Ma¬
terial* ef
SECT. X. Serpentine. tlie Earth.
SERPENTINE is a stone of a similar nature with respect Metals
to its ingredients with those we have been describing.fonnd *f‘
It takes its name from its appearance, being generally
of a greenish ground, marked with white, yellow, described,
brown, or reddish spots, so as to bear some resemblance
to the skin of a snake. Its green colour is owing to a
quantity of slightly oxidated iron which it contains. It
is usually opaque; but sometimes parts of it are semi¬
transparent, and though not very hard, is capable of
receiving a good polish.
Serpentine is by no means uncommon, and is often 'Wheri
found in layers alternating with primitive limestone, or found,
below gneiss. The hill of Zobtenbeg in Lower Silesia,
consists almost entirely of serpentine, disposed in nearly
vertical strata, with a little hornblende interspersed.
Whole mountains of green serpentine are also found in
Siberia, and near Genoa, where it is called gabbro or
pulverez-za. It is also found near the White sea, and
the mountain of Regelberg in Germany is chiefly com¬
posed of it. Rocks of it are found near the Lizard
Point, on the coast of Cornwall j and hills of it occur
in some of the Shetland islands.
Metals are seldom found in serpentine, except a
magnetic ore of iron, which not unfrequently forms a
part of the serpentine rocks, imparting to them its mag¬
netic power. Veins of copper sometimes traverse it.
Sect. XI. Porphyry.
Porphyry generally consists of the same materials Porphyry
as granite, but in different proportions, and having alto-descriUd.
gether a difl'erent appearance; for instead of being
crystallized as in granite, ive find in the true porphyries
an uniform compact mass, in which are disseminated
small crystals of feldspar, and sometimes of schorl.
There are, however, many varieties forming shades be¬
tween granite and true porphyry, several of which are
described by mineralogists.
Porphyry is very abundant in many situations, form- wher«
ing a considerable part of hills, and even mountains, found.
It sometimes alternates with gneiss, and has been found
below it. Gneiss has also been found in the midst of
porphyry. It sometimes occurs in the midst of mica¬
ceous schistus, and sometimes forms an external cover¬
ing to other primitive strata. Whole mountains of por¬
phyry, arranged in immense strata, sometimes repose on
a base of granite or gneiss. This stone is found in the
greatest abundance in several places between the tropics,
especially in South America, where it is sometimes met
with at immense heights*. * A*.». eV
Porphyry is very common in most parts,of Scotland,
and, in particular,, forms a considerable stratum at the v0‘' '***
top of the Calton hill at Edinburgh, being in some places P' 41
12 or 15 yards thick, covering a bed of breccia.
Porphyry is found in considerable quantity between
Newcastle and Wooler, and blocks of it of considerable
size may be every where seen scattered about in the
fields. The feldspar of these porphyries being less du¬
rable than the rest of the stone, is partly destroyed in
soraie
558
geology.
Cha
Arrang-e-
ment, See.
of the Ma¬
terials of
the Earth.
* Saint-
fond's
Travels,
vol. i.
p. 164.
46
Metals
found in it
47
Schistose
porphyry.
some blocks, and appears corroded xn others *, from
which circumstance the porphyries are so porous, as to
appear as if they had been burnt. Porphyries of a si¬
milar appearance are found in the mountain of Esterele
in Provence, on the road from Frejus to Antibes .
There is a variety of porphyry mentioned by Uiar-
pentier, a great part of whose composition is indurated
clay, and nodules of clay of different colours are found
in its substance. Specimens of a similar nature occur
in the western islands of Scotland. There is also a spe¬
cies of porphyry nearly allied .to hornstone. .
The two varieties last mentioned are rich in metallic
ores ; in the former there being formed ores of silver,
copper, iron, lead, and antimony j and, m the latter,
sparry iron ore, native sulphuret of iron, galena, black
blende, and ores of bismuth.
A stone of a porphyritic nature is described by Wer¬
ner under the name of schistose porphyry, and is con¬
sidered by Kirwan as the same with the horn slate ot
Charpentier. It is found among the primitive rocks ot
Altai, and on the borders of the lake of Baikal, in
which latter place it is mixed with granite and horn¬
blende. It is also found in Siberia, and in Bohemia.
Saussure found it near Psaffensprung, intercepted be¬
tween strata of gneiss.
Paddmg-
* to ue and
breccia.
49
Examples
of breccia.
Sect. XII. Puddingslone and Breccia.
note a primary rock, essentially composed of grains of Art.a„
feldspar and hornblende, intimately blended together, mem
in which the hornblende is generally most predominant.of die a!
He first called it greenstone, but afterwards gave it the >f
name of syenite, as he supposed it similar to a stone de. 116 n
scribed by Pliny, as found at Syene in Upper Egypt,
where it was dug in great quantities, and from thence
carried to Rome, for the purpose of building public
edifices.
Syenite sometimes contains a few grains of quartz and
mica ; but these seem to be accidental, and are always
in very small quantity. This stone is not commonly
stratified.
Syenite usually overlays most of the other primary
rocks, and has often a bed of breccia interposed be¬
tween it and the inferior strata. It is very commonly
found reposing on porphyry. < j
It is found'in Saxony, in the environs of Dresden ;W])J
at Meissen in Thuringia j in Hungary, and in general fount,
in almost all primitive chains of mountains, especially
in the Alps. It is doubtless the same which Saussure
found in the summit of Mont Blanc, and which he calls
graniteUe. _ _ |
Metallic veins are not unfrequently found in syenite.Met:L
At Scharffenberg, veins of silver and lead are found in it.
it •, and it is said, that the veins of strontian in Argyle-
shire run in a similar rock.
So
Of pudding
stone.
| Pallas's
Trav. m
Crimea,
vol. ii. p.
197.
Syenite.
The distinction between these two stony matters was
mentioned in note C : they are both sufficiently com¬
mon, consisting of different materials. The breccia usu¬
ally lies in bodies, almost at.the.top of the other primi¬
tive strata, with some of which it sometimes altei nates.
Stratified breccias, consisting of fragments of flints and
jasper, cemented by hardened clay, are frequently found
in Siberia, and sometimes alternate strata of breccia,
porphyry, jasper, and other primary compounds, com¬
pose a considerable part of mountains. Some mountains
in the north of Scotland contain masses of breccia, com¬
posed of fragments of red granite, micaceous schistus,
and quartz, in a base of sandstone. Mount Scuraben
contains strata of this kind, surmounted by a rock of
white quartz. Similar appearances take place at Cro¬
marty, at Murray frith, and two or three miles to the
soutli of Aberdeen ; but in many of these instances the
breccia must be considered as secondary. Much of
the northern coast of Scotland abounds with breccia.
Puddingstone is also extremely common. A moun¬
tain of it is found in Siberia, near the rivulet of Tulat,
being composed of fragments of jasper, chalcedony,
aigue marine, and cornelian, cemented by a quartzose
matter. Immense heaps, and even a mountain of pud¬
dingstone, are found at Meisenbeim, in the Palatinate.
Puddin<rstone is found in considerable abundance in
passing from Eoch Xess to Oban, in Scotland, and be¬
tween Inverness and Dunolla. Large detached rocks
of puddingstone were seen by Pallas in the village of
Temirdski, in the Crimea. Some of these masses are
seven or eight fathoms long, lying one above an¬
other f.
Sect. XIII. Syenite.
This name has been introduced by Werner, to de«
3 s
Sect. XIV. Primitive or Granular Limestone,
It was long doubted whether limestone was ever toprin;ie
be found unmixed with organic remains, or primitive ; limes, e,
but the observations of late mineralogists and geologists
have fully proved, that primitive limestone exists in
considerable quantity. This stone is of granular struc¬
ture, and of a whitish gray colour, though frequently of
a dark iron gray, or reddish brown. It is sometimes
scaly or lamellar; at others nearly compact, and is
now and then found to have a splintery fracture. It
is generally unmixed with other primary compounds;
but sometimes particles of mica, quartz, hornblende,
&c. occur in it. a
This stone is always found alternating with the pri-Whe
mary strata, especially with gneiss, micaceous, and ar-fount|
gillaceous schistus. It sometimes forms whole moun¬
tains, as in Stiria, Carinthia, and Carniola, in Switzer¬
land and in the Pyrenees, being often found seven or
eight thousand feet high. Three mountains in Swit¬
zerland, all exceeding 10,000 feet in height, are chief¬
ly composed of it. In these situations it commonly
forms immense blocks, without any regular dip or di¬
rection ; but it is sometimes stratified, as at Altenberg
near the lake of Neuenberg. It is sometimes inter¬
posed between syenite and hornblende slate. One of
the most singular mountains of granular limestone is
that of Filabres in Spain, consisting of a block of white
marble three miles in circumference, and 2000 feet
high, without any mixture of other earths or stones, and.
with scarcely any fissure.
A considerable part of Mont Perdu in the Pyrenees
is composed of alternate vertical bands of granite, por¬
phyry, limestone, hornblende, and petrosilex.
Granular limestone is found in various parts of B;i-
tain, especially in the north of Scotland. One of the
most remarkable examples of it occurs in the island 0.
Islay;
h ge* Is!ay 5 _central part of which is formed of a compact
„„ &e. bed ot it of considerable extent. See fitr. 4. d. It also
of Ma-occurs in some other of the Western isles.
gjirtV Primitive limestone often contains veins of metallic
u.Vl.—j ore, especially those ot galena, magnetic iron ore,
blende, and pyrites.
Me ! in
;it. |
Prirb'e
tra| j--
«ri ■
C,p-
I.
GEOLOGY.
Werner understands
559
Sect. X\. Primitive Trap.
Trap is a name that was long ago given by the Swe¬
dish mineralogists, to distinguish certain stones that are
of a compact texture, and a dark colour, composing part
of several mountains. The word originally signifies a
staircase, and was given to mountains containing this
stone, because their strata retire one behind the other
like the steps of a staircase. But as many rocks of a
very different kind, both in their nature and formation,
have received the common name of fro/?, considerable
confusion arose among mineralogists, with respect to
what particular stones should receive this appellation.
Most of the French mineralogists, as Saussure, Dolo-
mieu, and Saintfond, make trap to signify a primitive
rock, but they do not always mean the same rock.
Other mineralogists, especially the Germans, under¬
stand by the name of trap, certain secondary rocks, and
especially what are commonly called basalts.
Werner comprehends under the name of trap, seve¬
ral series of rocks, which are principally characterized
by their containing hornblende, which is found almost
pure in those which he considers as the most ancient, or
what generally lie the lowest; and it degenerates gra¬
dually in the succeeding strata into a kind of blackish,
ferruginous, hardened clay. He distinguishes three se¬
ries or formations of traps ; primitive traps, transition
or intermediate traps, and stratiform or floetz traps.
We shall here consider the first of these.
Primitive trap is almost wholly composed of horn¬
blende, though it is sometimes mixed with feldspar, or
more rarely with mica and some other substances. Un¬
der this general description Werner comprehends four
stony substances ; hornblende and hornblende slate,
which we have already noticed in Section IX. primitive
greenstone, and schistose greenstone.
Primitive greenstone is a mixture of hornblende and
feldspar ; under this there are several varieties, accord¬
ing as its texture is more or less granular, or compact.
I. Common greenstone, in which the hornblende and
feldspar are intimately blended, is granular, and bears
considerable resemblance to syenite, in which the horn¬
blende is predominant. 2. A second variety has smaller
grains, in which are imbedded crystals of feldspar, be¬
ing of a structure between the granular and porphyritic.
3. A third variety has the grains of hornblende and
feldspar extremely small, so as to be scarcely distin¬
guishable. This stone loses its granular appearance,
and becomes entirely porphyritic. 4. Lastlv, when the
mass becomes quite homogeneous, and of a complete
green colour, it forms what was once called green por-
]C*phyry, and constitutes the fourth variety f.
Schistose greenstone is composed of compact feldspar,
hornblende, and a little mica, of which the hornblende
and feldspar are nearly, in equal quantity, and it now
and then contains a little quartz# Its structure is
schistose.
We have been thus particular in describing what
by primitive trap, as whatever Arrange-
may be thought of his theoretical opinions, his talent ment, See.
for mineralogical distinctions and characters cannot be of 1116 Ma*
called in question. terials of
Mr Kirwan has given a long section on the distin- the ^arth-j
guishing characters of trap, and its relation to basalt,
&c. in his Geological Essays. He thinks that there
might be formed a natural series of stones of a trap
nature, taking in not only the composition, but also
the texture, grain, and specific gravity, as something
of this kind has been conceived and done by Wer¬
ner.
Primitive trap is often found in vast strata in the w'liere
midst of gneiss, and veins of it running through gneiss, found,
have been found in Knobsdorf in Silesia, and in Bo¬
hemia. It is also sometimes found in granite, and it is
found passing through granite and micaceous schistus
in the Western isles of Scotland. Saintfond found it
alternating with granite, nearStMalo; and Charpen-
tier, with gneiss. It sometimes forms entire mountains,
as in the territory of Deux Fonts ; and in Norway it
is found reposing on granite. It sometimes alternates
with argillaceous schistus, as at Leidenburgh.
Primitive trap frequently contains metals, especially Metals
the ores of iron and copper. “ found in it.
Sect. XVI. Topaz Rock.
This stone is composed of quartz, schorl, topaz, and Topaz
lithomarga, (a kind of hardened clay) the three formerrock.
substances constituting small layers or plates alternat¬
ing with each other. It sometimes contains cavities or
geods, lined on the inside with crystals of quartz and
topazes. The texture of this stone is between the
schistose and the granular; that is, it is composed of
plates or laminae; but these laminae are of a granular
structure.
Topaz rock is very rare. It forms part of a moun¬
tain near Averbach, in the metallic mountains of Sax^
ony ; but no metallic matter has hitherto been disco¬
vered in it.
Sect. XVII. Siliceous Schistus.
Siliceous schistus, or flinty slate, is the kieselschiefer Siliceous
of Werner ; but there seems some dispute between his schistus
disciples, whether it be a primitive or a secondary rock ; described,
on which account we have placed it last in the former
series. Brochant does the same ; but Mr Jameson, in
his sketch of the Wernerian geognosy, places it among
the transition formations, or those which immediately
succeed the primitive. It is thus described by Mr Jame¬
son. Its colour is bluish gray ; it is internally dull; its
fracture in the great is imperfectly slaty; in the small,
large splintery, passing into flat conchoida! ; its frag¬
ments are indeterminately angular, and pretty sharp * Jimmw’s
edged; it is strongly translucent on the edges; it is M*n' °f
hard and brittle, difficultly frangible, and not particu- Dumfries,
larly heavy p- ^
An entire mountain formed of this stone is found in Where
Eusatia, in which there are no petrifactions. It is also found,
found in the Alps, interposed between gneiss and horn-
stone. Sehlendgenberg, a mountain in Saxony, is for
the most part composed of it, mixed with hornblende ®
and feldspar. Kirwaa considers it as the same sub¬
stance
5
* {range-
Enent, See.
Oi the Ma¬
terials of
the Earth.
* Minera¬
ls*) of,
Dumfries,
j>. !*4.
63
Secondary
eoB’po'inds.
GEO
stance which Saussure calls palaiopetre, which is com¬
monly considered as petrosilex.
Flinty slate is described by Mr Jameson as among
the mineral substances found in Dumfrieshire. He
particularly notices an immense rocky mass of it at the
Secondary
limestone
described.
entrance of the valley at Leadhills, by which the me¬
tallic veins are completely interrupted *.
No metals have been found in it.
B. Secondary Compounds.
The substances which we are now to notice are dis¬
tinguished from those which we have been describing,
in containing more or less the remains of organized be¬
ings. As the inferior strata of these secondary com¬
pounds usually contain fewer organic remains than those
above them, they are sometimes subdivided into two
order's, one of which is considered to be intermediate
between the primary and secondary strata. This is
Werner’s classification, of which we shall give an ac¬
count in the next chapter.
Sect. XVIII. Secondary Limestone.
*5
Where
found.
the Eai
Under this title we shall comprehend what Werner
calls transition limestone, floetz limestone, and lime¬
stone. Secondary limestone is a calcareous mass, some¬
times granular, and sometimes compact, the former ap¬
proaching to primitive limestone. Its fracture is scaly,
and it is sometimes semitransparent. In colour it is
very various, sometimes red, or rather blackish, with
white veins, consisting of calcareous spar. It is often
of a grayish cast. It sometimes forms vast blocks,
without any appearance of stratification j at other times
it is evidently stratified. It abounds with remains of
marine animals, and often contains nodules of agate,
and other similar stones.
A variety of calcareous stone is described by mine¬
ralogists under the name of swinestone. It is either
compact, slaty, or porous, and is said in general to con¬
tain no petrifactions, though some found in the moun¬
tain ofKinneculla contains many. It is considered by
Kirwan as primeval limestone, impregnated with pe¬
troleum.
Limestone is sometimes found in oviform balls, com¬
monly containing a grain of sand in them.
There is a variety of limestone that is very porous,
and abounds in remains of vegetable matter, as impres¬
sions of leaves, &c.
Secondary limestone is very abundant in most parts
of the world, forming a considerable part of many
mountains, and being often the principal stratum to a
considerable depth below the surface* The mountain
Iberg, in the Hartz, is composed of vast masses of it,
irregularly rifted j and mountains of a similar kind are
found in Siberia and in the Vivarais. In some of those
mountains vast caverns have been formed. Secondary
LOGY. Chap .
Perekop, which is minutely described by Pallas. Great Arra^
part of the summit of Mont Perdu, the highest of the ment,:
Pyrenees, is composed of secondary limestone, arrangedof l^eU
in nearly vertical strata, and so full of the remains of A*™11
marine animals as in some places to appear as if com¬
posed of nothing else. Here it seems to repose on gra¬
nular limestone.
The base of Mount Ingleborough in Yorkshire,
which is near 30 miles in circuit, consists entirely of
limestone, containing vast quantities of sea shells. This
stone also forms the principal inferior strata through the
greater part of Derbyshire, being arranged in beds of
various degrees of thickness, from a few inches to about
200 fathoms in some places, not having been perforated',
and abounding with shells, and other marine remains.
It is found in many quarries in Scotland distinctly
stratified. Mr Jameson notices quarries of limestone
at Closeburn, and Barjarg, and at Kellhead in Dum¬
friesshire.
Secondary limestone often contains metallic veins, Me tali
especially in Derbyshire, where it abounds with galena,[0UK<M
blende, sulphur pyrites, and copper pyrites. Sulphur is11,
also sometimes found in it. Kirwan remarks, that in
the rest of Europe limestone is seldom metalliferous. 6,
The stone commonly called alabaster, employed inAlahasi
making statues and ornaments, is properly a carbonated
lime, nearly allied to marble', though it is usually sup¬
posed to be a variety of gypsum or plaster stone. There
is a gypseous alabaster that will be noticed presently.
Calcareous alabaster is not often white (though as
white as alabaster is a common proverb), but generally
tinctured with iron of a yellow, brown, or reddish cast.
It is semipellucid, and usually so soft as to be scratched
by the nail.
It is commonly found in blocks, in marble quarries,
as in the island of Paros, and in several parts of Italy,
particularly in the territory of Volterra in Tuscany, in
Malta, &c. A variety is found in the form of stalac¬
tites of a conical or cylindrical form.
6«
Sect. XIX. Gray JVacke.
631
Gray wacke is a stone composed of fragments ofgr&y
quartz and argillaceous schistus, cemented by an argil-waokef
laceous matter similar to the schistus, varying in size,tr>bc(J.
from that of a hen’s egg, till they are so minute as to
be no longer visible. It sometimes contains a matter
similar to siliceous schistus.
There is a variety of this stone, called by Werner
gray wacke slate, which is a simple slaty stone, which
bears a considerable resemblance to argillaceous schis¬
tus. From this, however, it is to be distinguished, ac¬
cording to Mr Jameson, by the following characters.
“ It has seldom a greenish or light yellowish gray
colour, as is the case with primitive slate, but is usually
ash and smoke gray. It does not shew the silvery con¬
tinuous lustre of primitive clay slate, but is rather glim-
limestone mountains always repose on some primitive mering, which originates from intermixed scales of mi
stone j thus, in Siberia their base consists of granite, 1 • . 1 -  ,l-
porphyry or hornblende ; in Saxony, of granite, or
granular limestone, and sometimes of argillaceous schis¬
tus $ in Switzerland, these mountains repose on argil¬
laceous schistus or gneiss, or sometimes on calcareous
puddingstone. In the Crimea, there is an immense
extent of secondary limestone, between Boslof and
ca. Quartz scarcely occurs in it in layers, but usually
traverses it in the form of veins. Further we do not
find crystals of feldspar, schorl, talc, chlorite slate, or
magnetic iron stone are to be observed in it. It con¬
tains petrifactions, particularly those varieties that bor¬
der on gray wacke. It alternates with gray wacke*.”* M*11
These stones are distinctly stratified, but the direction (
(jllp-
I.
W i
foi
■JtUge- of strata \s not parallel to that of the other rocks
B &c. on which they lie. They are very commonly found co¬
at Ma- vering limestone, especially at the foot of mountains,
flirth .Gray Wacke is foUnd "Erzgebirge, at Braunsdorf,
i 5^, ^ Riesberg, and Averbach, in Voegtland, in Transylva-
g niai on the banks of the Rhine, in Lahnthal, and some
other places in Germany. It is also found in Britain ;
and Mr Jameson notices it among the minerals of
Dumfries-shire, where the gray wacke slate is found
near Moffat, in the vicinity of Langholm, in the high¬
er parts of the valley of Esk, and behind Burnswark.
The strata found in these places yield a very good slate,
nearly free from mechanical mixture, and well adapted
to the roofing of houses.
This species of stone is rich in metals ; the greater
foi in it. part of the veins of lead and silver in the Hartz, espe¬
cially those of Clausthal and Zellerfeld, are in gray
wacke. In Transylvania, in Vorespath, it contains
even rich mines of gold. The gray wacke strata on
the banks of the Rhine are also traversed by some me¬
tallic veins, but those of Saxony contain nothing but
blind coal.
GEOLOGY.
561
iron, blackish mica, and crystals of pale flesh-coloured Arrange-
ieldspar. Ihis rock may be confounded with porphy- ment, Icc.
ry, or with feldspar ; but is generally considered as dif-of tlle *Ia-
ferent from both. Mr Jameson found it inTeds'from teriaIs oi
three to twelve feet thick on the upper side of the Su¬
sanna vein in the valley of Leadhills, and in the moun
tain between Wamphray and Eskdalemuir.
the Eapth.
M !;
Sect. XX. Secondary Trap.
Sutdary
tr»'
Am;; a*
loid
ne.
top.
tree.
Several varieties of trap occur among the second¬
ary strata, and must be here enumerated. They all
consist principally of greenstone, or that mixture of
hornblende and feldspar, which constitutes the primi¬
tive traps, noticed in Section XV. but in the traps we
are now to mention, the mixture is much more inti¬
mate, the grains considerably finer, and the mass ap¬
pears^ homogeneous. We shall here notice only three
principal varieties $ the amygdaloid or toadstone, the
globular trap, and the greenstone, called by the Wer-
nerians transition greenstone.
1. The amygdaloid, called in Derbyshire toadstone,
and sometimes cat dirty appears to consist of hornblende
slate in a state of decomposition, and appears very simi¬
lar to a kind of wacke, of a very fine grain. It is of
a blackish colour, and very hard, and often contains a
number of bladder holes, which are sometimes entirely
empty, at others are partially or wholly filled with spar.
It runs in immense solid beds, without any appear¬
ance of stratification or fissure, of unequal thickness, ha¬
ving been seen from 6 feet to 600 thick. It commonly
alternates with the strata of secondary limestone, as in
Derbyshire, and sometimes seems to penetrate the infe¬
rior stratum of limestone to a very considerable depth.
It contains no metallic veins, and it is said entirely to
intercept those which it passes in the limestone strata.
Saintfond affirms that lead ore is sometimes found in cat
dirt 5 but he seems to have been deceived by the vague¬
ness of the term, as the miners of Derbyshire give the
same name to a greenish variety of limestone, which is
sometimes traversed by veins of lead ore.
2. Globular trap. This is a schistose greenstone,
partially decomposed, and also resembles a fine-grained
wacke j but it appears in the form of large balls, com¬
posed of concentric layers, with a hard nucleus. It is
lound at Altenzulze in Voegtland, and some other
places. It sometimes contains veins of copper and iron.
3. Greenstone. This is almost entirely composed of
feldspar, usually of a pale flesh-red colour, having some¬
times imbedded in it grains of gravish quartz, scales of
Vol. IX. Part II. f
Sect. XXI. Sandstone, or Grit.
. These terms, like many others which we meet with Sandstone
in mineralogy, are very vague and indefinite, and are
used to denote three or four kinds of stone j a calcare¬
ous, an argillaceous, and a siliceous sandstone. We
shall here consider only two of them, the argillaceous
and the siliceous.
• 7 6
Argillaceous sandstone. This is the sandstein ofArgillaee-
YVerner, and the argillaceous grit of the ordinary min-ous sand-
*s comPosed of grains of quartz, and sometimesstone'
of siliceous schistus j more rarely of feldspar. These
grains are of various sizes, and are cemented in an ar¬
gillaceous matter, commonly containing iron : whence
this stone is sometimes called ferruginous sandstone.
From the coarseness or fineness of the grains, it re¬
ceives the names of coarse and fine standstone. There
is a very coarse kind found in Derbyshire 5 containing
a considerable quantity of quartz pebbles.
This species of sandstone is found in immense beds,
sometimes above 100 yards thick.
,It: Js vei7 distinctly stratified, and is commonly di¬
vided by fissures, into the shape of parallelepipeds. It
sometimes alternates with layers of compact limestone,
and often lies above a stone which we are immediatelv
to mention, shale or shiver.
Sandstone is sometimes formed into globular concre¬
tions, composed of concentric lamella.
Sandstone is one of the most abundant products of where
nature, occurring in almost every country. In Britain found,
it forms the uppermost stratum in many parts of Derby¬
shire ; and in the isle of Arran there is an immense se¬
parate mass of it, forming what is called the cock \.\Jume»on\
In the same island it is found in Glenranza, reposingof the
on secondary limestone. °Isles, vol. i.
The globular concretions of sandstone are uncom-?‘2f‘
mon. Mr Jameson observed them in the isle of Skye,
near the harbour of Portree and Reuss observed thevol. ii. p. 87.
same in Bohemia §. § Mineral.
This species of sandstone usually contains many ^.Ge^ra'Ph-
trifactions, but is generally not very abundant in me-^^Ui.
tals ; it however sometimes contains veins of cobalt, s. 45.
2. Siliceous sandstone. This is a stone of a similar ' 7s
nature with the last, except that the cementing mass is8ilice°as
also of a siliceous nature. It is found in the°ports of
Domica and Campara, in the isle of Arbe, and on the
coast of Dalmatia, where it contains petrifactions. The
hill of Platinburg consists of sandstone, with a chalce¬
dony cement. Some fine specimens of siliceous sand¬
stone are found in Salisbury Crags at Edinburgh, con¬
taining shells which have assumed the nature of chalce¬
dony. It does not appear to contain metals.
sandstone
Sect. XXII. Gypsum, or Plasterstonc.
This is native sulphate of lime, and it appears in se-Gv 75
veral forms. Six varieties are usually enumerated j com- •vp,1UB'
aB
mop.
562
teriiils of
the Eartlt.
80
Common-
G E O L
Arrange- mAit gypsum, lenticular gypsum, crystallized gypsnro,
ment, Stc. fibrous gypsum, stalactitic gypsum, and gypseous aia-
ol'tlie Ma- baster.
1. Common gypsum is a compact, granulated stone,
commonly of a grayish colour, and mixed with impuri¬
ties, containing a considerable quantity of carbonate
lime. Its texture is seldom laminated, but it appears
like coarse loaf sugar. This kind is very abundant
many hills being entirely formed of it. Of these the
most^ remarkable are the plasterhills in the neighbour¬
hood of Paris, those in the canton of Bern in Switzer¬
land, and others among the Alps. Hills of gypsum
occur also in Spain and Poland j near the White sea;
in Asia, where they are mostly in horizontal strata; in
the north Archipelago, between Asia and America.
Saussure found a mountain in Switzerland composed 0
* Voyage gypsum, sand, and clay *. This kind sometimes con-
aux Alpes, ta;ns petrifactions, and often abounds with the impres-
tom. ii. p. sJons of an;ma] and vegetable matters; some very cun-
5Z3‘ ous examples of which will be mentioned in a luture
section. It contains few metals, although copper is
Si sometimes found in it, as are rock-salt and sulphur.
Lenticular. 2. Lenticular gijpsum is a curious variety, which
seems peculiar to'Montmartre near Paris. _ In one ot
the banks in this mountain, specimens of it are found
containing little lenticular bodies, distinct and dissemi¬
nated through the stony matter, so as to form a great
part of its mass. A specimen of this kind is figured by
Patrin, in his natural history of minerals. #
3. The crystallized gypsum is also found chiefly in
the environs of Paris, in crystals that are decaedral, or
sometimes like a rhomboidal octaedron, with the pyra¬
mids truncated near the base.
4. Fibrous gypsum, composed of short brittle threads
disposed in bundles, is found in Derbyshire, and near
Biom in Auvergne. A very beautiful variety, of a silky
feel, and reticulated texture, is described by Patrin, as
found in Poland, in the salt mines of Wielitska; in
Russia, near the junction of the river Oka with the Wol-
ga ; in Spain ; and in China,
Fat. variety of gypsum with the appearance of vegeta-
de Miner. found in caverns near the batlis at Alatlock in
tom. in. p- Dgrbyshire, A beautiful specimen of it is figured by
8 Patrin *. < .
Stalaetitic. 5. Gypsum is sometimes found hanging from the
sides and roof of caverns in the form of stalactites, a
+ Patrin, ^ transverse section of which shews their internal struc-
supra. p. ture to ratjiated. This variety is commonly called
schlot *.
6. Gypseous alabaster is very similar to true alabaster,
except that it does not, like that, effervesce with acids,
and is in general not so strong. It is found in great
abundance in Derbyshire in large masses, filling up ca¬
vities in argillaceous grit. It never forms a stratum,
but is generally attended with gravel, red clay, and,
shells. Mr Mawe represents the lower portions as be-,
ing very strong and compact,, so as to form columns
. ,f ■ a] and pilasters %. This kind is also found in Tranche
if Derbysh.Comte, and on the Marne about six leagues from Paris,
O G Y. Chap ,
with mica in St Gothard, it is enumerated by some Arran-u
among the primary compounds. »nent,i
Sect. XXIII. Fluor Spar.
of the 1
terialil'
the Em
82
Crystalli¬
zed.
Fibrous.
222.
^5
Gypseous
alabaster.
This beautiful substance, which is native Jluat °/F1J6|
lime, is found either in large unformed masses or blocks,
or crystallized in cubes or octaedrons. It is of diflerent
colours : but the most prevailing varieties are that in
parallel zones or bands of green, blue, yellow, and
white : and that in which a white ground is veined
with a reddish brown. Some specimens are so shaded
as to represent a geographical map; but these are very
rare. It is so soft as to be easily turned in a lathe into
those vases and other ornaments which are so common¬
ly seen on chimneypieces. . g-J 1
Fluor spar is found in several countries of Europe, but wtiers
especially in France and Britain. According to Patrin, found
there are mines of it in the primitive mountains of Gy-
romagny, in the Vosges, in the neighhourhood of Lan-
geac, in Auvergne, and at F orez near Ambierle, that
are inexhaustible §. It is also found in the mountain of j Hwl jft.
Pilat not far from Lyons ; among the rocks that skirt
the valley of Chamouni in the Alps ; in the Altaischan i
mountains of Asia ; and in Greenland.
The most productive mines of this substance in Bri¬
tain are in a mountain near Castleton in Derbyshire.
Here there are two mines producing the beautiful com¬
pact fiuor, called Flue John, which is found in pipe
veins running in various directions. The fiuor com¬
monly rests upon limestone, and it frequently has this
stone for a nucleus, round which it appears to have cry¬
stallized. Frequently, however, the centre is hollow.
In several parts of the mine the fiuor is found in detached
masses, in caves filled with clay and loose adventitious
matter, having the appearance as if it had been broken
off from the limestone on which it had been formed ,
for every piece, in one form or other, seems as if it had
adhered to something, and been broken off. .
Some ef the pieces of fiuor are a foot thick, and
have four or five different veins or zones: such large
pieces are, however, very rare, and generally they aie
only three or four inches thick *. _ * 1
Saintfond, who has given an interesting account of3fi«j
the curiosities near Castleton, says, that fluorspar would ^
be the most beautiful substance in nature, if it were
but a little harder.
It is also found in Northumberland, in a vein a-
mong the granite mountains of Aberdeenshiref, and inf jfe n’
one of the Shetland isles, in a vein of basalt $. Mm ’J
Fluor appears in some cases to be primitive. Thus^ -
it is found forming whole strata in the mountains of the ^ aoj
forest of Thuringia, and in a vein of quartz in Upper
Hungary.
Sect. XXIV. Chalk.
iv 84.
at Lagny.
Though from the ordinary form or situation of gyp¬
sum, and the organic remains so commonly found in it,
there can be no doubt of its being in most cases a se¬
condary rock; yet from its having been found mixed
Chalk is too well known to require a description, (j^i
It is not always white, but is frequently coloured. It
is disposed in horizontal beds that are often many yards
iii thickness, and which always repose on layers of
other calcareous stone of a harder structure. Ibese
beds are often of considerable extent, and very common¬
ly
tiap.
•range-
lit, &-c.
he Ma-
•ials of
Earth.
’'allas't
ivds,
ii. p.
9°
91 ,
i iratea
9*
omar.
•lay,
Si.
!• GEO
ly contain flints, oviform limestone, and vast quantities
of shells.
Challc, which is so abundant in some countries, is
scarcely found in others. It is well known that the
south and south-eastern parts of England, and the south
and south-west of France contain vast cliffs and beds of
it $ much of it is also found in Zealand. It is, we be¬
lieve, a rare production in Scotland, and in most moun¬
tainous tracts. It has been remarked by Pennant, that
if a line be drawn from Dorchester in the county of Dor-
set, to the county of Norfolk, it rvould form the boundary
of the great chalky stratum of England 5 no quantity
having been found to the north or west of that line.
There is a mountain of chalk between Tor and Isium
on the banks of the Donetz in liussia, in which some
Greek monks have excavated apartments to the length
of fifty fathoms *.
No metals are found in chalk, though it is said that
in France martial pyrites has been discovered in it.
Sect. XXV. Clay.
Clay is found in various states with respect to hard¬
ness or solidity, from the soft ductile clay used by the
potters and pipemakers to the perfect slate (clay slate,
or argillaceous schistus') already described.
Soft clay is found in beds of various degrees of thick¬
ness, commonly not far below the surface, and alter¬
nating with harder clay, slates, sand, or limestone. It
is generally very abundant, especially in those places
where coal or rock-salt is found.
Clay of a harder consistence, commonly called indu¬
rated clay, or in the language of the miners clunch, is
usually found below the softer clay, or there is some¬
times a stratum of slate or similar argillaceous matter
interposed. It often alternates with limestone, sandstone,
or gypsum. Petrifactions and shells are often found
in it, as are quartz, sulphur pyrites, martial ochre, com¬
mon salt, vitriol and alum.
A harder state of clay forms that substance winch
is called by mineralogists lithomarga (stone clay).
This is found in beds or strata often alienating with
the former, with slate or with limestone, especially in
coal mines. It also forms nests or balls in toadstone
and similar rock. It sometimes bears the impressions of
reeds and other vegetable bodies.
The next degree of hardened clay, forms slate clay,
(schiefer than of the Germans). This substance, how¬
ever, is not very hard, but is easily broken into angular
tabular fragments. Its internal appearance is usually
dull, but sometimes glimmering from a slight intermix¬
ture of scales of mica. Its colour is usually a yellowish
gray, with spots or clouds of a pearl gray, or a cherry
red, but sometimes it inclines to black. It usually lies
between beds of sandstone, and almost always below the
softer clays.
A kind of clay, of a still harder consistence, forms
slate or schistus. This is usually of a dark brown or
blackish colour, and a laminated texture. It lies in
beds, sometimes of immense thickness, usually below
sandstone, or alternating with this and limestone. It
often contains impressions of organic remains, and there
are sometimes found in it veins of lead ore. It is a
very common stratum in the coal countries.
LOGY. 563
Nearly allied to this is what the miners call rubble - Arran-e
stone, which is a common variety of slate found in meat, &e"
similar situations with slate, but often very rich in me- °*' ^ie
tallic ores, especially iron, galena, bismuth, and cobalt. t,erials °/
It also abounds with petrifactions. It is sometimes , £arth-f
found in primitive rocks.
Sect. XXVI. Marl.
95
Rubble-
stone.
96
Marl is a substance chiefly composed of sand, clay, Mail,
and calcareous matter, which is found in many places,
and forms one of the most valuable natural manures
used in agriculture. This is also found of various
degrees of hardness, from a soft powder to a stony con¬
sistence, in which last state it forms what Kirwan calls
marhte. In colour, it is usually of a reddish white, some¬
times verging upon red 5 and it is not unfrequently
found of a yellowish brown or blackish cast. Marl is
usually disposed in considerable beds of various degrees
of thickness, in valleys and other low lands, especially
among the coal strata. Indurated marl occurs in the
coal otrata of Mid Lothian *, and it is also found in the * Jameson's
island of Islay. Powdery marl is seen in Skye. Dumfries,
Stony marl, ov tnarlite, is found in Bavaria, alter-p' lc6’
natmg with sand and sandstone. Hills of it occur
in Carmola, Carinthia, and the Venetian territory. It
is also found between strata of limestone and argillaceous
schistus.
Sect. XXVII. Argillaceous Ironstone.
Ihis is sometimes called metal stone, and is very ArgiRace-
common in the coal countries. It is very heavy andous*ron*
compact, and of various colours, from a dark brownstonc-
to a blood red j the latter forms the Juematites or
bloodstone, one of the richest iron ores. It often con¬
tains in it spherical balls like iron bullets. It is dis¬
posed in strata alternating with indurated clay, slate
clay, marl, or sandstone, seldom far below the suriace.
It seldom forms very extensive beds, but is often con¬
fined to particular spots.
Ironstone is found in great abundance in Cumber¬
land, and in most parts of Scotland. It may be seen
in the cliffs all along the coast of Fife, from Dysart to
St Andrews.
Sect, XXVIII. Wacke and JBasalt.
We have already spoken of several stones under the whinstonc.
name of traps^ that are found both among primitive and
secondary compounds. The two substances which we are
now to notice are nearly allied to the traps, and have been
classed with them under the general name of whinstone.
This is a favourite term among the mineralogists of
Scotland, of whom Sir James Hall employs it as a ge¬
neric name to denote trap, basalt, wacke, grunstein, and f Edin.
porphyry f. The term is convenient, but Professor PhiLTrans.
Jameson and others of the Wernerian school object tovo1* v- P*
it as too vague and indefinite. 46*
Wacke, or wacken, differs from trap only in fiei*ng\yack^
more compact and of a finer grain. It is heavy and
very hard, so as often to strike fire with steel; it is
dull and opaque, and breaks with an even fracture. Its
colour is usually a reddish brown or gray of various
4 B 2 shades,
/
;64
geology.
Chap.
Tracts,
p. 204.
100
Basalt.
.. ^ gLades. and sometimes it has a greenish cast. _ It has
laent, &c. usually an earthy smell, when breathed on. It ^ome-
of the Ma-times highly impregnated with iron, and often contains
terials °f crystais of /^or^Wc, and very commonly those ot
the BaitJ hexagonal black mica. •.1
It often forms a considerable part of mountains, either
in vast blocks, as in the hill on which Edinburgh castle
stands, or in strata lying above limestone jr sandstone,
or alternating with these. A great part of the Cal ton-
hill, of Salisbury craigs, and Arthur s^seat at Edin¬
burgh, is composed of strata of this kind *, and similar
appearances take place in the bed of the water of Leith
near the town, and in the cliffs on the coast of Fife,
especially at St Andrews, lo the eye of the volcanic
Saintfond, all these beds appeared to be lava. VV e aie
disposed to think, with Mr Playfair, that the curious
instance of alternate strata of basalt (as Saintfond calls
it) and limestone, near Villeneuve de Berg, described
, and figured by that author, affords an example of wmn-
\teTmr ~les stone alternating with limestone, such as are seen m
Vole, p.382.Scotland f. Several varieties of wacke are f™nd £
t Towns. tiie hills near Edinburgh, and are described by Lh
Townson J. Mr Jameson observed wacke alternating
with porphyry in Skye. # ,
Basalt has a finer grain, and is more compact, than
even wacke, and is the most dense of ail the whins or
traps. It is found either in large blocks, covering the
other strata, sometimes in the form of tables, or in re¬
gular prismatic columns, either straight or bended. VS e
have already treated so fully of the nature, properties,
and chief habitats of basalt (see BasaltES), that
little remains to be added here.
It is principally distinguished from wacke, where it
is not in regular prisms, by very rarely containing crys¬
tals of mica, which are so common in the latter.
Saintfond, in his splendid work Sur les Volcans eteints
du Vtvarais, &c. has figured some examples of basal¬
tic pillars which rival those of Staffa and the Giants
Causeway. A more romantic situation is scarcely to be
conceived than that drawn in his eleventh plate, of a
village placed in the front of a bold hill covered with
bundles of small pillars lying in every direction, and
having detached perpendicular columns standing at each
end, with a large cave directly behind the houses.
Large masses of basalt are seen in the north of Shet¬
land, standing insulated, and assuming a very grotesque
appearance. "Mr Jameson describes one of these m the
isle of Jura, that forms a natural arch. We remember
seeing two curious insulated rocks on the shore at the
foot of Kinkeld braes at St Andrews, but do not recol¬
lect whether they are ot a basaltic nature.
Several other substances, as sand, gravel, peat, &c.
might here be noticed, but their structure and situa¬
tion are too well known to render a particular notice
necessary.
Many of the stones which we have described among
the primitive rocks, are also sometimes found among
the secondary strata, as argillaceous schistus, hornstone,
hornblende, jasper, and especially puddingstone 5 but
they are not so important as to require a second exami¬
nation.
Before we conclude this general account of the ma¬
terials which compose our globe, we must briefly notice
two of the most valuable mineral productions, viz, rock
salt and coal, and must say something of fossils andA,ran
petrifactions.
Sect. XXIX. Rock Salt.
gi
ment, £
of the Mi!
terialsi
the Ear;i,
Rock salt or sal gem, (the steinsal of the Germans) 10I
is the purest muriate of soda that is found in nature, it Rock sa!
being much less impregnated with foreign matters than describe
what is procured irom sea water. It is very haid, and
generally very transparent, being sometimes as clear as
crystal. It is usually white, but often yellowish, blue,
red, or violet, and now and then it is quite opaque.
This salt forms in the bowels of the earth horizontal
beds or banks, more or less thick, from a few inches
to many hundred fathoms j and sometimes extending
several miles round. It commonly alternates with clay
or gypsum. The beds are sometimes without any break
for a great extent. It is generally found a few fathoms
below the surface, and m some places is found continued
to the depth of 1000 feet. . . 102
It is found in some mountains ; and in Algiers, near Where
the lake called Marks, there is a mountain almost found,
wholly composed of it. The famous salt mine of
Wielitska in Austrian Poland, about eight miles to
the south-east of Cracow, is in the northern extremity
of a branch of the Carpathian mountains. The salt
found here is of an iron gray colour, intermingled with
white cubesand sometimes large blocks of salt are
found imbedded in marl. This famous mine has been
worked ever since 1251, and it is pretended that its
excavations extend more than a league fiom east to
west*. About five leagues to the south-east of Cra-*
cow are the salt mines of Boschnia, the depth ot which son’s T
is nearly equal to those of Wielitska (1000 feet) j
the salt procured from them is less pure +. Mines ofJ ^
salt, in horizontal undulated beds, occur at Thorda in ^ jou^
Transylvania, and in Upper Hungary. In the side of
a mountain, about two leagues from Halle, on theN 47
banks of the Inn, to the north-east of Inspruck, rock
salt is found imbedded in layers of a slaty rock 5 but
there is one part of the mountain in which there occurs
an immense body of salt, without any mixture of rock,
to which they pass by a gallery 260 toises in length,
closed at the end with a locked door. This salt is very
impure There are three important salt mines in jJar’ii'y.
Spain j the first near Mingranella, in a mountainous tom. ii
tract, between Valentia and Castile, imbedded in layers p- 31
of gypsum 5 the second in Spanish Navarre, in a ridge
of hills composed of limestone and gypsum 5 and the
third that of Cardona in Catalonia, about 16 leagues
to the north-east of Barcelona, which is one ot the most
curious natural productions with which we are acquaint¬
ed. It consists of an immense solid rock ot salt, eleva¬
ted 500 feet above the earth, and extending to a depth
that has not been ascertained. It is without crevices
or clefts, and has no appearance of strata, and is near a
league in circuit. There is no plaster or gypsum found IBm ^
in the neighbourhood, and the salt rock is as high a8 ^
any of the adjacent hills ||. _ k
Rock salt is found in several places in England, par*Saltr£|
ticularly at Nortlmich in Cheshire, at Droitwich matV1-
Worcestershire, and near Weston in Staffordshire ; but W1L‘
the mines in Northwich are the most productive. Sa t
mines, in this situation, were known to the Romans j
1 but
ap.
I.
* '(iwe's
li era!.
:mige- but the principal mine that is at present wrought, was
t. &c' discovered in the beginning of last century. It forms
^Ioaf' immense quarries, extending over several acres, which,
E,irtl,. with their huge crystal pillars and glittering roof,
j present a most beautiful spectacle. The salt found here
is of a dark-brown colour, like brown sugarcandy, and
is so hard that it is blasted with gunpowder to get it
from the mass. It is disposed in beds, alternating with
beds of clay, gypsum, and slaty stone. Salt is procured
at the greatest depth hitherto explored ; and wherever
a shaft is sunk in the neighbourhood, there is a certain¬
ty of finding salt *.
Besides these extensive mines, rock salt is found in
ihe canton of Berne in Switzerland, in Siberia, in A-
rabia, in Tibet, and even in New Holland. It is also
found in many parts of America, at a great height in
the mountains, especially those of Peru.
Sect. XXX. Coal.
We have already, in the articles Coal and CoAL-
ERY, treated of the nature of this substance, of the
strata that are usually found connected with it (accord¬
ing to the phraseology of the miners), and of the me¬
thod of procuring it from the pits ; and, in Minera¬
logy, we shall give a particular account of the several
varieties, and the distinguishing characters of each. A
few observations respecting the principal collieries, with
the appearance of the coal found in them, and the
corresponding stratification, fall to be made in this
place.
There are certain general circumstances that attend
the depositions of coal in almost every place where it is
found, and which wre must mention before noticing the
particular collieries. These are as follows.
1. The beds in which coal is disposed, usually have
their extremities near the surface of the ground, from
which they bend obliquely downwards, the middle part
of the bed being nearly horizontal, so that a vertical
section of the bed nearly resembles the keel of a boat.
This figure is well expi*essed in the first and third plates
to Mr Jameson’s Mineralogy of Dumfries. The lowest
part of the bed is usually the thickest (d).
2. A bed of coal is seldom found single j but, in ge¬
neral, several strata occur in the same place, of various
thickness, the upper being usually very thin, and the
lower very thick, with several stony strata between each
two. Where there is only one bed, this is generally of
very considerable thickness. At Whitehaven there are
found at least 20 coal strata below the surface ; and at
Liege, in France, there are no less than 60.
3. The strata that separate the layers of coal are
nearly the same in every colliery, and will be seen by
referring to the table given under Coalery, and by
those which will immediately he added. Those strata
which are in immediate contact with the coal, are ei¬
ther whinstone, or more commonly an argillaceous slaty
mass $ and near this is sandstone, in layers that are se¬
parated by slaty clay, mixed with- particles of coal.
GEOLOGY. 565
4. It is an observation wliicli holds, almost without Arranje.
IN
G ral
d iustan.
a ■ tend-
itbal
exception, that the slaty strata, and especially those nient. See.
next the coal, bear the impression of vegetables, and of t!lc Ma"
often of exotic or unknown plants. terials ot
1 the Earth.
Coal, in a greater or less quantity, hut of very dif- ic6
ferent qualities, has been found in most countries, and Where
perhaps exists in all. It is found in France, Holland,roun<1,
Britain, Germany, Saxony, Portugal, Switzerland,
and Sweden ; in China, Japan, and in New Holland ;
and much of it is worked in Virginia in America.
But trance and Britain may be considered as the fa¬
vourite seats of this invaluable commodity, which may
justly be put in competition with the treasures of Po-
tosi and Peru. Ic^
It is stated by BulTon, that there are no fewer than Coal mines
400 collieries worked in France 5 and yet Saintfond re-of Prance,
grets that his countrymen are not so far advanced in
the use of this mineral as the inhabitants of Britain *. * Saint-
The most considerable coal mines in France, are those/OK(P*
in the Lyonnois, at Forez, Burgundy, Auvergne, Trave/tr,
Languedoc, Franche Comte, and Liege. ti01n’' ’ 1*’
The mines in the Lyonnois, and those of Forez, are
among the most important in France. They are situa¬
ted in a valley, extending from the Rhone to the Loire,
in a direction from north-east to south-west, between
two chains of primitive mountains, and they occupy in
length a space of six or seven leagues, from Rive-de-
Gier to Firmini. In one part of the valley, in the
neighbourhood of Saint-Etienne, the strata are nearly
horizontal, and the medial thickness of the coal stratum
is from three to six feet 5 and near the Loire there are
from 15 to 20 of these. At Rive-de-Gier the strata
are almost vertical, and their thickness is very un¬
equal, being seldom less than three feet, and sometimes
amounting to 40 or even 60. All the coal produced
by these mines is of an excellent quality, and its quan¬
tity is immense. Patrin states, on the most undoubt¬
ed authority, that there are in the neighbourhood'of
Rive-de-Gier, no less than 40 mines at work, which
produced in one year 1,600,000 quintals of coal f.
The next in importance are the coal mines of Liege.
The beds of coal in that country have a direction fromy, p.
east to west j they commence about a league to the east
of the town, and extend to about a league and a half
to the west of it. Here, after meeting with some inter¬
ruption, they extend for several leagues farther. Their
breadth, from north to south, is about three-fourths of
a league. At Verbios, which is to the north-west of the
city, there are, according to Jars, more than 40 strata
of coal, which are separated from each other by beds of
different kinds of sandstone, of from 30 to 100 feet in
thickness J. Gennete has counted 61 of these beds, .
placed one above another j and he is of opinion, that
the lowest penetrates to the depth of 4000 feet perpen-^ 2S1
dicular. Though these mines have been wrought from ^
the 12th century, they have not yet reached to more
than the tw'enty-first bed, at the depth of a little more
than 1000 English feet 5. § Patrin,
Thetom. v.p.
33°*
(d) Saintfond, in the section which he has of the coal strata at Newcastle, describes them as if they were con¬
vex towards the upper surface. (See p. 134. of vol. i. of the English Translation of his Travels in England, &c.)
Surely this is a mistake.
geology.
Chapra
566 _ The prlncipal collieries of Britam are those .fNe- beJs, whW. cannot, at present, he rendered profit- toj
Arrange¬
ment, See.
of Hie Ma¬
terials of
the Earth.
10S
Principal
colleries
of England,
* Saint-
fond's Tra
vels, vol. i.
p. 140.
castle and Whitehaven.
Newcastle is surrounded by collieries to the distance
of six or seven leagues, and may, perhaps, be consider¬
ed as the richest coal district in the world. There are
in several of the Newcastle mines not fewer than 10
beds of coal, two of which are considerably thicker
than the rest, being each about a fathom in thickness
These are called the mam coal, and are distinguished
into the high main coal, and the low main coal, separa¬
ted from each other by a considerable number ol stony
strata. Good coal, in sufficient quantity, is generally
found at the depth of little more than 100 feet. I he
bed is five feet thick in some places, and less in others ,
but, in general, it is easily wrought, and large pieces
are brought up. This last circumstance is of consider¬
able advantage, as these pieces are most proper for
chamber fires, and easily transported, which makes this
kind of coal sell at a higher price. W here the bed ot
black and bituminous clay is penetrated, the coal is
found adhering to it: but this is not always the case,
for there are other mines in the neighbourhood where
freestone is recovering, which, in the points of contact,
is mixed with coal to the thickness of two or three
inches; the latter running, as it were, in splinters into
the stone, and having a ligneous appearance, when at¬
tentively examined . j- .•
At Whitehaven, the beds of coal lie in a direction
parallel to each other. Their inclination or dip is
nearly to the west, and is from one yard in eight, to
one in twelve. The strata are frequently interrupted
bv large fissures, or dykes, some of which remove the
strata upwards or downwards, 120 feet. The course of
these fissures is almost east and west. In a depth from
the surface of 165 and a half fathoms, there are, in
these collieries, seven large beds of coal, and 18 thin
able.
The strata superincumbent on the large beds of coaloft!l.e
are, 1st bed, Blue slate. 2d, Gray freestone. 3d,
Hard, white freestone. 4th Blue slate, striated or »
speckled with freestone. 5th, Gray slate. 6th, Hard,
white freestone.
The strata immediately beneath these large beds of
coal, are from one and a half to six inches thick, and
consist of a species of argillaceous earth, or shale.
As this earth is of a very soft or friable nature, the
weight of the superincumbent strata presses the pillar of
coal through it. If the pillar descends a few inches,
the roof not equally yielding at the same time, crushes,
or breaks into small pieces. When, under these cir¬
cumstances, the thickness of the bed does not exceed
six feet, nor the depth 30 fathoms, the surface of the
earth is sensibly affected *. _
There appear to be two principal belts of coal in this
island, extending from the eastern to the western coast j
one from Newcastle to Whitehaven, the other from the1'
east coast of Scotland, across the vale of Forth and
Clyde, to Ayrshire. Coal is indeed found in many other
parts of the island $ but the quantity is very trifling.
The similarity of situation, and the similar nature of
the coal at Whitehaven and Newcastle, would natural¬
ly lead us to infer, that the coal at both places is from
the same seam. But this is placed beyond dispute, by a
comparative examination of the strata in both situations.
We shall here give two tabular views of the strata, one
taken from Saintfond’s Travels, and the other from Dr
Joshua Dixon’s account of the Whitehaven mines, in
his literary life of Dr Brownrigg. Allowing for the
different names given by different miners to the same
substances, and Dr Dixon’s greater minuteness, there
is a wonderful similarity between the two tables.
Table I. Strata in Restoration Pit, St Anthon’s Colliery, Newcastle, to the depth of
135 fathoms.—Prom Saint fond.
N°
1
2
3
4
J
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
J9
20
Stratum.
Soil and clay, .
Brown freestone,
Coal, I.
Blue metalstone,
White girdles, .
Coal, II.
White and gray freestone,
Soft blue metal stone,
Coal, III.
Freestone girdles,
Whin,
Strong freestone,
Coal, IV. .
Soft blue thill,
Soft girdles mixed with whin,
Coal, V.
Blue and black stone,
Coal, VI.
Strong freestone,
Gray metalstone,
Path. Feet.
5
12
2
2
6
5
3
1
3
1
3
Inch.
N°
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
GEOLOGY,
Stratum.
Coal, VII.
Gray post mixed with whin,
Gray girdles, . .
Blue and black stone, .
Coal, VIII.
Gray metalstone, .
Strong freestone, .
Black metalstone, with hard girdles
High main coal, IX. .
Gray metal, .
Post girdles, . ,
Blue metal, . .
Girdles, . . .
Blue metalstone, .
Post, ...
Blue metalstone, . .
Whin and blue metal, .
Strong freestone, . .
Brown post with water,
Blue metalstone, with gray girdles,
Coal, X. .
Blue metalstone, .
Freestone, .
Coal, XI. . .
Strong gray metal, with post girdles
Strong freestone, . .
Whin, ...
Blue metalstone, • .
Gray metalstone, with post girdles,
Blue metalstone, with whin girdles,
Coal, XII.
Blue gray metal,
Freestone, . .
Freestone mixed with whin,
Freestone,
Dark blue metal,
Gray metalstone and girdles,
Freestone mixed with whin,
Whin,
Freestone mixed with whin,
Coal, XIII.
Dark gray metalstone, .
Gray metal and whin girdles,
Gray metal and girdles, .
Freestone, . .
Coal, XIV.
Blue and gray metal, .
Coal, XV.
Blue and gray metal, .
Freestone mixed with whin,
Gray metal,
Gray metal and girdles, .
Low main coal, XVI. .
Fatb. Feet. Inch.
6
3
6
io
576
Arrange¬
ment, &c.
of the Ma¬
terials ot'
the Earth.
Table
geology.
568
Arrange*
sient, See.
*f the Ma*
terials of TABLE 11.
the Earth.
Strata in Croft Pit at Preston-Hows near Whitehaven, to the depth
107 Fathoms. From Dixon.
Stratum.
Fath.
1
2
3
4
.5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
J9
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
5°
51
52
53
54
55
5<5
Soil and clay, . • •
Brown soft limestone,
Dark-coloured limestone, harder,
Yellowish limestone mixed with spar,
Reddish hard limestone,
Hard dark-coloured limestone,
Yellowish limestone mixed with spar,
Soft brown limestone, .
Soft brown and yellow limestone mixed with treestone,
Limestone mixed with yellow freestone,
Reddish soft freestone,
Red slate, striated with freestone in layers,
Red freestone, •
Soft red stone,
Red slate striated with red freestone,
Red slate striated with freestone,^
Strong red freestone, rather grayish,
Lumpy red freestone speckled with white freestone,
Blue argillaceous schistus speckled with coal, .
Red soapy slate,
Black slate with a small appearance of coal,
Ash-coloured friable schistus,
Purple-coloured slate,
The same, and under it black slate,
Coal, I. .
Soft whitish freestone, .
Blackish slate, a little inclined to brown.
Coal, II.
Blackish shale intermixed with coal,
Whitish freestone,
Strong bluish slate mixed with freestone,
White ironstone,
Freestone striated with blue slate,
W~hite freestone in thin layers,
Dark-blue slate,
Coal, III.
Dark gray shale,
Coal, IV. . . .
Gray freestone mixed with ironstone,
Hard white freestone,
Coal, V. .
Shale mixed with freestone,
Olive-coloured slate adhering to black slate superincumben
Coal, VI.
Black shale mixed with freestone,
White freestone mixed with slate,
Dark blue slate.
Coal, VII. .
Black shale mixed with freestone,
Strong white freestone,
Brown ironstone,
Dark-gray slate,
Dark-gray shale with an intermixture of Coal, VIII.
Light-coloured slate mixed with freestone,
Blue slate striated with freestone,
Strong white freestone a little tinged with iron,
3
n coal,
Feet. Inch.
I.
■ge-
3ic.
Ma-
of
rtli.
N°
GEOLOGY.
Stratuir.
Very black shivery slate,
Strong coal of a good quality, IX.
Soft gray slate,
Very black coal, X. burns well,
Hard black slate,
Coal mixed with pyrites, XI.
Argillaceous schistus, gray and brittle,
Blue rough argillaceous schistus,
Fine blue slate,
Freestone mixed with ironstone,
Black shivery slate,
Dark-blue slate, very fine,
Dark-blue slate, very brittle.
Coal, XII.
Soft gray argillaceous schistus,
Argillaceous schistus mixed with freestone,
White freestone with fine particles,
Blue slate striated with white freestone,
Light-blue slate,
Blue slate a little mixed with ironstone,
Black shivery slate,
Coal, XIII.
Brownish hard slate,
Strong blue slate tinged with ironstone,
Dark-blue slate rather inclined to brown,
Black shivery slate,
Coal, XIV.
Lightish-gray, brittle soapy schistus, .
Freestone striated with blue slate,
Fine blue argillaceous schistus striated with freestone,
Black slate, with hard, sharp, and fine particles,
Very light blue slate, remarkably fine,
Coal, XV.
Soft gray argillaceous schistus,
Black shivery slate,
Coal, XVI.
Strong lightish-coloured shale,
Blue slate striated with white freest©
Ironstone,
Gray slate,
Strong white freestone,
Freestone striated with blue slate,
99 I White freestone,
Freestone striated with blue slate,
Black slate,
Freestone striated with blue slate,
Strong white freestone,
Freestone mixed with blue slate,
Strong white freestone,
Grayish slate of a shivery nature,
Freestone mixed with blue slate,
Very strong white freestone,
Fine blue slate,
White freestone striated with blue slat
Fine blue slate,
White freestone,
Freestone striated with blue slate,
White freestone,
White freestone in thin layers,
Fine blue slate,
Coal, XVII.
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
100
101
102
103
104
x05
106
107
108
109
no
[II
[12
CI3
[I4
‘*5
ti6
ri7
569
Arrange¬
ment, &c.
of the Ma¬
terials of
the Earth,
VOL. IX. Part II.
t
57°
G E O L
A lloe \n interesting and valuable memoir on the subject of
nirnt, &c. coal, written by M. Duhamd the younger whs pre-
> l*   , fi-i fKo A r»qfmv ot Sciences cl!
O G Y. Chap. |
dus there below stony masses, which appear to have been Arran
, ^ r 1 L- c   
1?'
®f the Ma-seated a few years since to the Academy ot sciences at
»I- .»*■* t . , • ■ • a.1 .4. 1.U/-<vi riHnrP<1
109
I'ossiU.
Paris, who adjudged it the prize that had been offered
: for the best essay on the subject. An ample abstract ot
this memoir appeared in the Journal des Mines, 1 V11*
In this paper is given a table of the number ot veins,
their direction and inclination, and the nature ot the
strata next the coal, and in the neighbourhood, in ail
the principal mines in Europe. For a fuller view ot
the natural history of coal, the readers may consult Ur
Millar’s edition of Williams’s Mineral Kingdom, 13X0.
Sect. XXXI. Of Fossils and Petrifactions.
Those organic remains of vegetable and animal mat¬
ter which are found below the surface ot the earth,
mixed with the stony matters which are properly the
component parts of the earth, are generally called >5-
sds, or extraneous fossils. If they have entirely lost a!
traces of vegetable or animal matter, and have assumed
a stonv earthy nature, they are ciiWeA petrifactions.
Some of these organic remains, particularly tnose oi
the vegetable kind, are found penetrated with a bitu¬
minous substance, so as to be rendered highly inflam¬
mable. One of the most curious circumstances attend¬
ing these fossil bodies is, that they are very commonly
• i* A’CC 4. Cr/-»rv» fhafr m xvlurll tllP.V
natives of a different country from that in which they
are found, or are the remains of species that are now no
longer known.
We may properly divide these substances into those
of the vegetable and those of the animal kingdom.
x. Vegetable fossils. Almost every part of vegetables,
the trunks, branches, leaves, and fruits, have been found
in a fossil state, or impressions of some of them are seen
in various mineral substances, especially in the slaty
stone which accompanies coal.
Fig. 6. represents a curious example of this, that was
found in the mines at Saint Etienne in France.
A, is a fruit resembling that of coffee. B, is a por¬
tion of an unknown vegetable, apparently of the verti-
cillate tribe. C, is a species of fern, which is very re¬
markable, as it is furnished with fructifications. D, is
part of a plant with verticillate leaves, probably a species
oigalium. E, is some exotic fruit.
Whole trees are often found below the surface of the
earth, especially in bogs and mosses, sometimes retain¬
ing much of their vegetable nature, but more commonly
either impregnated with bitumen or completely petri¬
fied. Subterraneous trees are frequently dug up in the
isle of Anglesea 5 and in the isle of Man there is a
marsh six miles long and three broad, in which fir trees
are found in great quantities; and though they are 18
or 20 feet below the surface, they appear as if standing
firmly upon their roots. Subterraneous trees, in various
states, are frequently found in Ireland, especially in the
neigbourhood of Lough Neagh. Much has been writ-
tunon the subject of these petrifactions of Lough Neagh,
by Dr Boate, in his Natural History of Ireland ; by
Mr Molyneux, in the Philosophical Transactions, N°
* Parkin- clviii. and Dr Barton in his Lectures on Natural Philo-
son's Orga-sophy. Some of these trees are represented as of an im-
nrc Re. mense size *. One of the most curious instances of vege-
UlClinc a ix-w .    . . S
ma”“' table fossils, is that relatedbyB.ammazzim,asseenby him
i«tter tii.
at Modena in Italy. At the bottom of wells, that are
a
the foundation of a former city, at the depth of near 30 mem.&i
feet, they find heaps of wheat entire, filbert trees, withof Ul« S
their nuts, briars, &c. They find, likewise, every six
feet, a layer of earth, alternating with branches and  ^
leaves of trees.
At the depth of 28 feet, or thereabouts, they find
chalk that cuts very easily. It is mixed with shells of
several sorts, and makes a bed of about 11 feet. After
this they find a bed of marshy earth, of about two feet,
mixed with rushes, leaves, and branches. Aiter this bed
comes another chalk bed, of nearly the same thickness
with the former, which ends at the depth of 49 feet.
That is followed by another bed of marshy earth like
the former ; after which comes a new chalk bed ; and
these successive beds are always found in the same order.
The auger sometimes finds great trees, which give the
workmen much trouble. They see also sometimes at
the bottom of these wells, great hones, coals, flints, and
• c * j 1 •Wjy 1* j
pieces 01 iron ^ ^ Ditcou?
These vegetable fossils are generally of a flinty struc-pt ^
ture, being sometimes rough and sandy j at otheis so
hard and compact as to admit of a fine polish. Some
beautiful specimens of petrified wood, of the appearance
of agate, are to be seen in cabinets ot natural history.
That of Besson at Paris contains two examples of this
kind, which are figured at fig. 7- and 8. Fig. 7* a
transverse section ol a piece ot agatized wood, in which
the ligneous texture is most completely preserved.
Fig. 8. is another more compact, and which has the
additional singularity of containing several worms. The
white oval spots are supposed to have been eggs, from
which the worms had issued. In Dr Millar’s Minera-
logical Cabinet there is a similar specimen containing
worms and their ova from Siberia, as well as many beau¬
tiful specimens of agatized wood Irom Siberia and Ger¬
many. no
Among the bituminous vegetable fossils, none haveBorey.!
attracted more attention than what is called bovey coal,
a substance of an intermediate nature between wood
and pitcoal, which is dug up in a common near Chud-
leigh in Devonshire. It is of a laminated texture, of a
chocolate, or sometimes of a shining black colour, like
deal boards that had been halt charred. It burns hea¬
vily, and consumes to light gray ashes. It is regularly
stratified among beds ot sand and clay, and the beds ot
coal are sometimes ot considerable thickness. Mr I ark-f 0>£<i
inson has collected much information respecting^ theitrw®^
former and present state of this coal, in his enler^a*n^DSlerxjji
work on fossils J. n
2. Animal fossils. Fossils of animal matters are still ^ba] *
more common than those of vegetables. Shells andsils.
bones are found in almost every bed of limestone, and
in almost every country, at the bottorn of the deepest
valleys, and at the tops of very considerable moun-
tains. # ,
In the limestone strata in Derbyshire are found many
of those fossils, which are ooWcA star-stones, and screw-
stones, which appear to be the remains of marine ani¬
mals called encrini. These are described by M lute-
hurst, who has given figures ot similar animals biougnt
entire from the West Indies §. Fig. 9. represents one ^
of these stones. > . va„ i.
The isle of Cherea in Dalmatia contains caverns in
which are found nrodigious quantities of fossil bones 0
* oxen,
Ch:>- I*
G E O L
Arr c-
oxen, horses, and sheep. Similar examples occur in
CTen cc. many places ; but human hones are, we believe, never
aft!i Ia- found in a fossil state.
tail of J^ossil shells are found on the Alps, on the top of
U | ' Mount Cenis, on the Apennines, on the mountains of
Genoa, and in most of the quarries of stone and marble
in Italy j in most parts of Germany and Hungary, and
indeed generally in all the elevated places in Europe.
We also find them in the stones whereof the most an¬
cient edifices of the Romans were constructed.
In Switzerland, Asia, and Africa, travellers have
observed petrified fish in many places; for instance, on
the mountains of Castravan, there is a bed of white la¬
minated stone, and each lamina contains a great num¬
ber and diversity of fishes; they are, for the most part,
very flat, and extremely compressed, in the manner of
fossil fern yet they are so well preserved, that the mi¬
nutest marks of their fins and scales are distinguishable,
and every other part, whereby one species of fish is
known from another.
There are likewise many echenites and petrified fish
between Iver and Cairo, and on all the hills and heights
of Barbary, most of which exactly correspond with the
like species taken in the Red sea.
The long chain of mountains which extend from east
to west, from the lower part of Portugal to the most
eastern parts of China, those which stretch collaterally
to the north and south of them, together with the moun¬
tains of Africa and America, which are now known to
us, all contain strata of earth and stone, full of shells.
The islands of Europe, Asia, and America, wherein
Europeans have had occasion tr. dig, whether in moun¬
tains or plains, all furnish us with shells, and convince
us that they have this particular in common with their
adjacent continents.
glossopelra, or the teeth of sharks and other fishes,
are found in the jaws, polished and worn smooth at the
extremities, consequently must have been made use of
during the animal’s life; and in shells the very pearls
are found, which the living animals of the same kind
produce.
It is well known that the purpura pholades have
a long-pointed proboscis, which serves them as a kind of
gimblet or drill, to pierce the shells of living fish on
whose flesh they feed. Now, shells thus pierced are
found in the earth, which is another incontestable proof
that they heretofore inclosed living fish, and that these
fish inhabited places where the purpura‘awA pholades
preyed on them.
In Holland sea shells are found 100 feet below the
surface j at Marly-la-Ville, six leagues from Paris, at
75; and in the Alps and Pyrenean mountains they are
found under beds of stone of loo, nay even 1000
feet.
Shells are likewise found in the mountains of Spain,
France, and England, in all the marble quarries of
Flanders, in the mountains of Gueiders, in all the hills
round Paris, in those of Burgundy and Champagne ;
and, in short, in ail places where the basis of the soil is
neither freestone nor sandstone.
By shells we would be understood to mean, not only
those which are merely testaceous, but the relics of the
crustaceous fishes also; and even all other marine pro¬
ductions ; and we can venture to assert, that, in the ge-
O G Y. S7i
nerahty of marbles, there is so great a quantity of ma- Arran_Te.
line productions, that they appear to surpass in bulk the merit, &e.
matter whereby they are united. oftheMa-
Among the many instances of the multiplicity of terif!u ot
oysters, there are few more extraordinary than that im- tiie 1|-itrlil-
mense bed which M. de Reaumur gives an account of, *
which contains 130,630,000 cubic fathoms. This vast
mass of marine bodies is in Touraine in France, at up¬
wards of 36 leagues from the sea. Some of these shells
are found so entire, that their different species are very
distinguishable.
oome ot the same species are found recent on the
coast of Poictou, and others are known to be natives of
more distant parts of the world. Atnontr them are
likewise blended some fragments of the more strom*
parts of sea plants, such as mudripores, fungi mariniy
occ. The canton of Touraine contains full nine square
leagues in surface, and furnishes these fragmentsof shells
wherever you dig.
Near Reading in Berkshire, a continued body of
oyster shells has been found : they lie in a stratum of
greenish sand, about two feet in thickness, and extend
over five or six acres of ground ; they are covered by
stiata ol sand and clay, upwards of feet deep. Se¬
veral whole oysters are found with both their valves or
shells lying together, as oysters before they are opened j
the shells are very brittle; and in digging them up,
one of the valves will frequently drop from its fellow.
Several are dug out entire j nay, some double oysters
with their valves united.
in a quarry at the east end of Broughton in Lincoln¬
shire, innumerable fragments of the shells of shell fish,
of various sorts, are found under a stratum of stone im¬
bedded in clay, with pieces or coral, and sometimes
whole shell fish, with their natural shells and colours :
some are most miserably cracked, bruised, and broken 5
others totally squeezed flat by the incumbent weight of
earth.
feiiUiks teeth arc dug up) in tire isle of Sheppey, re¬
taining their natural colour, not petrified.
The teeth of sharks have likewise been taken out of
a rock in Hendershelf park, near Malton in ‘York¬
shire.
In the isle of Caldcy, and elsewhere about Tenby in
Pembrokeshire, marine fossils have been found in solid
marble, on the face of the broken sea cliffs, 200 fa¬
thoms below the upper surface of the rocks. Nor were
they only observed upon the face of these rocks, but
even more or less throughout the whole mass or extent
of them. This is manifest from divers rocks hewn
down by workmen for making of lime, and other pieces
casually fallen from the cliffs.
inousands of fossil teeth, exactly answering to those
of divers sorts of sea fish, have been found m quarries
and gravel pits about Oxford.
At Tame in Oxfordshire, the belemnites, or thunder¬
bolt stones, are found in a stratum of blue clay, which
still retain their native shelly substance.
The belemnites JounA in gravel pits, have suffered
much, by their being rubbed against each other in the
fluctuation of waters.
The nautili and belemnitea are frequently found at
Gorsing near Oxford
One of the most extraordinary collections of shells is Tr^ roL
4 C 2 that1"- P- i-
572
Arrange¬
ment, &c.
of the Ma.
terials of
the Earth.
G E O L
(hat lately discovered by Ramond on the summit of
Mont Perdu, the highest of the Pyrenees, where there
are found vast quantities ot sea shells and other marine
spoils, and even skeletons of animals in a fossil state.
Whole skeletons of very large animals have been dis¬
covered in a fossil state. Those of elephants have been
found buried in the plains of Siberia j and bones of the
rhinoceros, the hippopotamus, and the tapir, have been
found in other places. A very large skeleton, nearly
complete, of an immense animal, similar to the rhino¬
ceros, is preserved in the cabinet of Madrid. It was
duu- up at Paraguay in South America, at the depth ot
100 feet, in a sandy bed, on the banks ot the river
de la Plata. A description and engraving of it are gi¬
ven by Cuvier, in the Annals of the National Museum,
N° 29. It appears to be at least J2 feet long, and the
bones are of an immense size. . . .
A prodigious quantity ot fossils, both of marine ani¬
mals, and of quadrupeds, are lound in the plaster hills
of Montmartre near Paris. An account of these has
lately appeared in several numbers of the Annals ot the
National Museum, by M. Lamarck, accompanied with
the anatomical illustrations of Cuvier. These papers
are extremely curious, and contain engravings ot most
of the fossils described, some ot which are the remains
of unknown animals. Our limits do not permit us to
present our readers with even an abstract of these
accounts. We shall therefore select only one ex¬
ample.
Fig. 10. represents a block of gypsum, on the sur¬
face of which is the skeleton of an animal resembling
a mouse, or, according to Cuvier, one ot the opossum
O G Y. Chap, i
tribe. The skeleton is nearly entire, and the head, Gel)fi
the neck, the spine, the pelvis, one of the fore and Disuit
hind legs, and part of the tail, are very distinct. Uwi of
There were two pieces of gypsum found together,
which appear to have divided the skeleton between
them. The animal seems to have been crushed or im¬
bedded in his natural situation *. * Ann. \
We have now enumerated the principal materials M**- Ai
that compose the external crust of our earth, and have *X1,
mentioned some of the most material circumstances re-1’’
specting each. The metallic ores still remain to be
considered, and they shall be noticed in describing me¬
tallic veins.
Chap. II. General Distribution of the Materials of
the Earth.
The uppermost stratum of the earth, in low situa¬
tions, is, for the most part, composed of sand or clay,
or a mixture of these, forming beds that are either com¬
posed of the same mixture, or of alternate layers of the
two substances. These beds vary in thickness, in dif¬
ferent places ; but, in the same place, they usually pre¬
serve nearly the same thickness for a considerable ex¬
tent. Sometimes these beds ot clay, sand, and earth,
with shells, extend to the depth of some hundred feet.
See the annexed table, 1. (e).
This table exhibits a view of the arrangement of
strata in several countries of Europe; and, with the
tables of coal strata, in the last chapter, will give the
reader more information on this subject than an elabo¬
rate detailed account.
(e) The following works are referred to in the table of strata.
* Varenii Geogr. Gener. lib. i. prop. vii.
f Buffon, Nat. Hist. vol. I. art. vii.
J Bergman, Descript. Phys. de Terre, sect. viii.
|] Kirwan, Geolog. Essays, p. 259.^
§ Guettard, Atlas Mineral, de la France.
Whitehurst’s Theory of the Earth, sect. xvi.
** lb. sect. xix.
Table.
Pable of the order of Strata in Various Parts of Eur
573
II- GEOLOGY.
574
General
TJisU'ibu-
non of the
Materials
of the
Earth.
112
Definition
of moun¬
tains.
ii3
G E O L
In our subsequent view of the distribution of the
stony matters that compose the earth, we shall consider,
" The nature, disposition, and structure, of moun-
taf The nature, direction, &c. of dykes
3. The nature, direction, &c. of metallic veins.
Sfxt. I. Of Mountains.
There are no objects on the surface of the earth
which are so well calculated to excite the attention of
mankind in general, and that of geologists in particu¬
lar as those stupendous elevated masses which we ca.L
mountains. The term mountain has in. general been
applied to those parts of the earth which are elevated
to a very considerable height above the level surface j
and a mountain is in common language distinguished
from a hill only by its superior elevation. _ Bui as it is
found necessary in a scientific point of view to render
this distinction more accurate and precise, vanous geo-
logists have given more correct definitions. By i im ami
Mitterpachter every elevation whose declivity makes
with the horizon an angle of at least 13 , and whose
perpendicular height is not less than one-hith oi the
declivity, is called a mountain. Werner distinguishes
mountains according to their height, into high, middle*
sized, and low. A high mountain according to him is
that whose perpendicular height exceeds 6000 feet;
when the height is not above 6000 nor below 3000 he
calls it middle-sized; and when its height is below 3000
feet, he calls it low.
Mountains are either single or in groups ; and these
groups either consist of several mountains standing near
each other so as to occupy nearly the centre of a cer¬
tain space of ground, or they follow each other so as
to form a ridge or chain, running across a country, or
along its. shores. Sometimes these chains run in a lon¬
gitudinal direction, as is the case with Mount Caucasus
and the Uralian mountains in Asia, the Cordilleras in
South America, &c. but often they run in a curvilineal
direction like a crescent, as the Carpathian mountains,
which separate Hungary from the rest of the Austrian
territories. It has been supposed by some theoretic wri¬
ters, that chains of mountains always run in nearly the
game direction, which has been conceived to be from
east to west 5 but this is by no means exact, as later
observations have shewn that they assume different di¬
rections according to the form of the country where they
are situated. Some writers have laid it down as a gene¬
ral rule, that chains of mountains always extend in a
direction nearly parallel to the length of the country ,
but to this there are also many exceptions. T-hus the
Uralian mountains, the Carpathians, the Pyrenees, the
Grampians in Scotland, and many others, run rather
across the country. It often happens that mountains
occupy nearly the central parts of a country •, and the
land generally slopes with a gentle declivity towards
one side of the chain, while towards the other li ia con¬
siderably steeper. This circumstance of one side of a
chain of mountains being steeper than the other, has
beep lately extended to mountains and hills in general •,
and Dr Kirwan has written an excellent paper on the
the subject, from which we shall here extract the most
important observations.
O G Y. Chap. 1
“ That one part of almost every high mountain cr Centra
hill is steeper than another, could not have escaped Oistrih
the. notice of any person who had traversed such moun-
tains j but that nature in the formation of such decli-
v'sties had any regard to different aspects or points of Earth,
the compass, seems to have been first remarked by the-v*|
celebrated Swedish geologist Mr Tilas, in the 22d vol. u4
of the Memoirs of Stockholm for 1760. Neither Va-ol)™,|
renius, Lvilolph, nor Buffon in his natural history pub- fions on|
lished in I7§4, have noticed this remarkable circum-thedecij
    vities of]
stance
“ The observation of Tilas, however, relates only to™0"11'*4
the extreme ends, and not to the flanks of mountains 5 gte
with respect to the former, he remarked that the steep-Me he
esl declivity always faces that part of the country where the low
the land lies lowest-, and the gentlest, that part of the coumr7
country where the land lies highest: and that in the
southern and eastern parts of Sweden they consequent¬
ly face the east and south-east; and in the northern the
west. The essential part of this observation extends
therefore only to the general elevation or depression of
the country, and not to the hearings of their declivi¬
ties. . uS
“ The discovery that the different declivities of the,Wester*
flanks of mountains bear an invariable relation to their s‘de the
different aspects, seems to have been first published bylleePei
Mr Bergman in bisBhysical Description of the Barth,
of which the second edition appeared in 1773. He
there remarked, that in mountains that extend from
north to south, the western flank is the steepest, and the
eastern the gentlest. And that in mountains which run
east and west the southern declivity is the steepest, and
the northern the gentlest. \ol. II. § 187.
“ This assertion he grounds on the observations re¬
lated in his 1st vol. § 32. namely, that in Scandinavia,
the Suevoberg mountains that run north and south, se¬
parating Sweden from Norway, the western or Nor¬
wegian sides are the steepest, and the eastern or Swedish,
the most moderate the verticality or steepness of the.
former being to that of the latter as 40 or 50 to 4 or 2-
“ That the Alps are steeper on their western and
southern sides than on the eastern and northern,
“ That in America the Cordilleras are steeper on
the western side, which faces the Pacific ocean, than
on the eastern. But he does not notice a few excep¬
tions to this rule in particular cases which will hereafter
be mentioned. < r xt n "I f
“ Buffon, in the first volume of bis Epochs of
ture, published in 1778, p. 185. is the next who notices u ^
the general prevalence of this phenomenon, as far as
relates to the eastern and western sides of the mountains
that extend from north to south ; but he is silent with
respect to the north and south sides of the mountains
that run from east to west nay, he does not seem to
have had a just comprehension of this phenomenon ; for
he considers it conjointly with the general^ dip of the
regions in which these mountains exist. Ihus he tells
us, vol. i. p. 185, that in all continents the general de¬
clivity, taking it from the summit of mountains, is al¬
ways more rapid on the western than on the eastern
side ; thus the summit of the chain of the Cordilleras
is much nearer to the western shore than.to the eastern;
the chain which divides the whole length of Africa,
from the Cape of Good Hope, to the mountains of tne
Moon,
irials
the
alii.
T'1'
3
Of 'if.
m
(|jiip. II. GEO L
eral Moon, is nearer, he say?, to the western than to the
jifibu- eastern seas j of this, however, he must have been igno-
the as that tract of country is still unknown.
“ The mountains which run from Cape Comorin
through the peninsula of India are, he says, much near-
er to the sea on the east than on the west; he probably
meant the contrary, as the fact is evidently so, and so
he states it in vol. ii. p. 295 ; the same he tells us may
be observed in islands and peninsulas, and in moun¬
tains.
“ This remarkable circumstance of mountains was
notwithstanding so little noticed, that in 1792 the
author of an excellent account cf the territory of Carls¬
bad in Bohemia, tells us he had made an observation,
which he had never met with in any physical descrip¬
tion of the earth, namely, that the southern declivity of
all mountains was much steeper than the northern,
which he proves by instancing the Erzgebirge of Sax¬
ony, the Pyrenees, the mountains of Switzerland, Savoy,
Cariuthia, Tyrole Moravia, the Carpathian, and Mount
Hsemus in Turkey. 2. Bergtn. Jour. 1792. p. 385. in
the note.
“ Herman in his geology, published in 1787, p. 90.
has at least partially mentioned this circumstance j for
be says that the eastern declivities of all mountains are
much gentler and more thickly covered with secondary
strata, and to a greater height, than the western flanks,
which he instances in the Swedish and Norwegian
mountains, the Alps, the Caucasian, the Apennine, and
Ouralian mountains j but the declivities bearing a south¬
ern or northern aspect he does not mention.
“ Lametherie, In vol. iv. of his Theory of the Earth,
of which the second edition appeared in 1797, a work
which abounds in excellent observations, p. 381. pro¬
duces numerous instances of the inequality of the eastern
and western declivities, but scarce any of the northern
and southern, whose difference he does not seem to have
noticed; but he makes a remark which I have not seen
elsewhere, that the coasts of different countries present
similar declivities.
“ With regard to eastern and western aspects, he
thinks that a different law has obtained in Africa from
that which has been observed in other countries; for
in that vast peninsula he imagines the eastern declivi¬
ties of mountains are the steepest, and the western the
gentlest. Of this, however, he adduces no other proof,
but that the greatest rivers are found on the western
side : this proof seems insufficient, as, if mountains be
situated far inland, great rivers may flow indiscriminate¬
ly from any side of them, and sometimes few rivers flow
even from the side whose descent is most moderate; for
instance, from the eastern side of the mountains of Sy¬
ria. The Elbe and the Oder, two of the greatest rivers
in Germany, take their course from the western sides,
the first of the Bohemian and the other of the Moravian
mountains, which yet are the steepest. Many originate
from lakes, as the Shannon with us ; many take such a
winding course, that from a bare knowledge of the place
of their disemboguement it is impossible to judge from
what side of a mountain they issue, if from any; their
course at most discovers the depression of the general
level of the country.
“ In 1798, the celebrated traveller and circumna¬
vigator, John Reinhold Foster, published a geological
Of ia.
neton'e.
o G Y. S7
tract which merits so much more attention, as all the General
facts were either observed by himself, or related to him Distrilm-
by the immediate observers. In this he states as a fact tion of.t!ie
universally observed, that the south and south-east sides
of almost every mountain are steep, but that the north £Srtb.
and north-west sides are gently covered and connected v——<
with secondary strata, in which organic remains abound, ^
which he illustrates by various instances, some of which a,!<i
have been already, and others will presently be men-
tioned. . mountains
“ At present this fact attracts the greatest attention,steepest,
being obviously connected with the original structure of
the globe, and clearly proving that mountains are not
merely fortuitous eruptions unconnected with transac¬
tions on the surface of the earth, as has of late been
confidently advanced. J2I
“ I shall now state the principal observations relative Account of
to this object, that have been made in different parts offfiountBins«
the world.
In Europe.
1. The mountains that separate Sweden from Nor-jn Europe,
way extend from north to south, their western sides are
steep, and the eastern gentle. 1. Berg. Erde Beschreib.
P* I57;
2. The Carpathian mountains run from east to west;
their southern sides towards Hungary are steep, their
northern towards Poland moderate. Foster, § 46.
3. Dr Walker, professor of natural history at Edin¬
burgh, observed that the coasts and hills of Scotland are
steeper and higher on the western side than on the
eastern. Jameson’s Mineralogy of Scotland, p. 3.
However, Jameson observed, that the south side of the
isle of Arran is the lowest, and the north side the high¬
est, p. 51.
4. The mountains of Wales are gentle on the eastern
and steep on the western side.
5. The mountains of Parlhery, in the county of
Mayo, are steep on the western side.
6. The mountains which separate Saxony from Bo¬
hemia, descend gently on the Saxon or northern side,
but are steep on the Bohemian or southern side. Char*
pente, p. 75, The southern declivity is to the northern
as six to two. Bergm. Journ. 1792, p. 384. and
385*
7. The mountains which separate Silesia from Bohe¬
mia run nearly from east to west, yet are steeper on
the northern or Silesian side than on the opposite Bohe¬
mian. Assemanni Silesia, 335. Such branches as run
from north-east to south-west, have their western cover¬
ed with primordial strata, and consequently less steep.
4. New Roz-. p. 137.
8. The Meissener in Hessia is steeper on the north
and east sides, which face the Warra, than on the south
and western. 1. Bergm. Journ. 1789, p. 272.
9. The mountains of the Hartz and Habischtswald
are steep on the south, and gentle on the northern sides.
Foster, § 46.
10. The Pyrenees, which run from east to west, are
steeper on the southern or Spanish side. Carbonieres,
xiii.
11. The mountains of Crim Tartary are gentle on
the northern, and steep on the southern sides. Foster,
ibid.
Ifi
GEOLOGY.
576
Gcuerai
Distribu¬
tion of tiie
Materials,
of the
Earth,
123
In Asia,
Chap.
In Asia.
12. The Ourals, which stretch from north to south,
are far steeper on the western than on the southern
sides. Herman Geologic, p. 90.; and, 2. Ural. Bcs-
c/ireib, p. 389. . , ^ c
13. The mountain of Armenia, to the west or the
Ourals, is steep on its east and north sides *, but gentle
on the southern and western. 1. Pallas Voy. p. 277\
14. The Altaischan mountains are steep on their
southern and western sides, but gentle on the nortliern
and eastern. Foster, ibid, and Herman. 2. Ural Bes-
chreib, p. 390. in the note.. c ,
1 j. So also are the mountains of Caucasus, ^.ocnrijt.
JBerl. Gelasch. 471*
16. The mountains of Kamtschatka are steep on the
eastern sides. Pallas, 1. Act. Petropol. I'j'j'j. p. 43*
17. The Ghauts in the Indian peninsula are steep on
the western side.
18. The mountains of Syria, which run from north
to south, skirting the Mediterranean, are said to be
steeper on the western side, facing the Mediterranean.
4. La Metherie, p. 380.
In America.
Ceneri
Distriki
“ The Cordilleras run from north to south j theirtion of
western hanks towards the Pacific are steep, their east-
ern descend gradually. _ Eartj]
“ In Guiana there is a chain of mountains that run
from east to west 5 their southern flanks are steep, their 124
northern gentle. Votjages de Condamine, p. 140.”* In Ame-
The theory according to which Mr Kirwan attempts*1^
to explain the appearances of mountains which are enu-joun,
merated above, will be given in the next chapter. to!, iv.
We have already, under the article Barometer, P-*56.
N° 44. shewn the method of computing the height ofj J
mountains by means of that instrument. The following moa“JaiJ
table shews the height of the principal mountains in
the globe, chiefly according to this computation.
In this table the second column shews the height as
estimated by the barometer, and the third the same by
geometrical calculation. Where the numbers are pla¬
ced in the middle of these two spaces, it denotes an un¬
certainty by what method the computation has been
made.
Table of the Heights of Mountains, according to the latest computations.
fountains.
In Britain.
Ben Nevis,
Whim,
Ben Lawers,
Ingleborough,
Do.
Ben More,
Pennygent,
Crossfell,
Skiddaw,
Snowden,
Mount Battock,
Pendlehill,
Schehallion,
Helvellyn,
Hartfell,
Ben Wevis,
Ben Lomond,
Saddleback,
Ben Ledy,
In Ireland.
Slieve Donard,
Croagh Patrick,
Nephin,
Knock Meledown,
Mangerton,
Cumeragh,
In France.
Puy de Sansi,
Plomb de Cantal,
Puy de Dome,
Height by
Barom.
Height by
Geometry.
Feet. Feet.
4350
4050
4015
3987 I
2377 I 2380
39°3
3930 I
3839
338o I 353°
34J6 I
3465
34” I
3564
3324
3300
3700
3240
3048
3099
3*5°
2666
2640
2700
2160
2500
6300
6200
5000
Mountains.
Pyrenees.
Mont Perdu,
Canigou,
Alps.
Mont Blanc,
Schrekhorn,
Finsteraar,
Mount Titlis,
Mont Bosa,
Mont Cenis,
In the Tyrol,
Glochner,
Or tele,
Plaley Kogel,
Germany.
Stuben,
Brenner
Lomnitz peak, T
Kesmark peak, > Carpath.
Krivan, J
iEtna,
Sicily.
In Denmark, Norway, and
Sweden.
Swukku,
Areskutan,
Kinneculla,
Roetack,
Height by
Barom.
Feet.
11,000
9,000
15,662
13,000-p
12,000+
10,818
15,000
9,760
Height by
Geometry.
Feet.
11,500 Fr.
13,000 Fr.
9,748 Fr.
4692
5109
8640
8508
8343
10,032
9000
6162
931
6000
3
Table
g.*x
GEOLOGY.
Table of the Heights of Mountains, Continued.
pS
(pe of
i itains
Mountains.
In Russia.
Pauda,
Canary Islands.
Peak of Teneriffe,
In North America.
Stony Mountains,
White Mountains,
Blue Mountains,
Height by
Earom.
Height by
Geometry.
Feet.
Feet.
4512
11,424
3000
4000
2000
I
Mountains.
Height by
Barom.
South America.
Chimborazo,
Do.
Cotopaxi,
Tunguragas,
In lamaica.
Blue Mountains,
Feet.
20,910
16,170
Height by
Geometry.
Feet.
20,280
18,600
7431
'•1
Cf osi-
tit f
m lains.
ofc
’.‘lion
nary
The course of mountains is that direction of their
. length in which they descend and grow lower ; or if a
river runs parallel to them, they are said to have their
course in the direction of the stream of the river. The
course of mountains is seldom uniform. It has been
laid down as a general maxim by Buffon, that when
there are two parallel chains of mountains, the salient
angle of one ot the chains always corresponds with the
internal angle of the other ; but later geologists have
ascertained that this circumstance does not generally
hold, except when a river runs between the two
chains.
It generally happens, that one particular mountain,
or chain of mountains is composed of those stony ma¬
terials which we have denominated primitive } while
the rest is made up of the secondary compounds. The
primitive substances occupy the base and central parts
of the mountain, and often extend to its very summit t
the secondary cover these, and are generally found on
the flanks or sides ot the mountain, though sometimes
they cover the top of the mountain. In a chain of
mountains there are commonly three, and often five
parallel ridges, of which the central ridge is composed
of primitive compounds, and those on each side of it,
chiefly or entirely of secondary compounds. Hence’
mountains aie usually divided into primary or primeval
and secondary or epizootic j the latter term being given
to the secondary mountains from their being deplete
with shells and other remains of animal beings. The
secondary mountains are also sometimes divided into
original and derivative, for a reason that will appear
hereafter.
The primary mountains, besides their being in the
centre, and destitute, or nearly so, of organic remains,
may generally be distinguished by the ruggedness and’
■angular appearances arising from the different nature
and hardness of the substances of which they are com¬
posed $ the quartz and harder granite resisting the at-
tacits of the a.r and weather, while the other substances
being softer, gradually decay, and leave the harder in
the form of spires and angles. Where, however, the
primitive compounds have been completely covered
with secondary strata, these angular appearances seldom
take place j and the mountain is only to be distinguish¬
ed by its position and the structure of its internal parts,
ihe secondary mountains generally hare their tops
Vol. IX. Part II. |
round, and much smoother than those of the primary
mountains. 1 J
In some cases a number of mountains appear united
at their tops into an extensive plain or platform, from
which they seem to diverge and branch in every direc-
tion. Ihe most remarkable instance of this kind occurs
in libet. (See Geography, N° 41.).
It is difficult to acquire a knowledge of the interior
structure of mountains. The greater part of them is
bid from our view, and nature only exposes them in a
tew points by means of fissures, caverns, and interme¬
diate valleys.
“ The materials of which mountains consist are dis¬
posed either in irregular heaps, or piles variously in¬
tersected by rifts, or in beds or strata separated from
each other by rifts, often horizontal, or varying from
that direction by an angle of from 5 to 40 degrees, and
sometimes much more considerably, approaching even
to a vertical position. The strata of mountains are most
frequently in the direction of their declivity, yet some¬
times their course is directly opposite, or countercur¬
rent: the best manner of determining the angles of their
course is by discovering that of their rifts. It chiefly
depends on the unevenness of the fundamental ground
that supports them. According to 1 Sauss. 502. most
ot the elevated granitic mountains in Swisserland are
formed of immense vertical pyramidal lamina;, parallel
to each other, that is, piles somewhat inclining from the
unequal distribution of their weight, a disposition that
may well be expected from collateral crystallizations:
but this disposition is not universal, for they have been
found in Saxony, and in the Pyrenees, horizontally
stratified j much less can it be said, that this vertical
position is general, for the strata of gneiss are generally
horizontal, and commonly very regular, discoverin(r no
traces of a violent shock. Mount liosa, next to Mount
.- 1,gleSt In £ur°Pe> consists also of gneiss,
which M. Saussure found horizontally stratified.
“ Shangin, who lately (1786) travelled over the AI-
taischan mountains, being consulted by Pallas, whether
he found any vertical layers or strata therein, answer¬
ed, he had not £ but that he found them perfectly hori¬
zontal on the banks of the river Tschary.
“ Mountains of primitive limestone are frequently in
irregular piles, but often also horizontally stratified.
Siliceous schistus is also often horizontally stratified*
4 D ’ Man,
577
General
Distribu-
tion of the
Material);
of the
Barth.
of the
Earth.
578 G
General Many argillites, particularly roof slates are generally
Distribu- said to have nearly a vertical position : but \o,ght has
tiou of the shewn that it is only their lamellae that are so situ-
Materials atetj tjiejr horixontal seams, and their walls, discover-
intr their true position j their verticality arising only
i from the drain of the water, and, consequently, their
contraction in that direction : hence those that are most
silicited, as they contract less, discover less verticali¬
ty. Sometimes horizontal strata overlap on both sides.
Sometimes they are flanked on both sides with vertical
“ Much confusion prevails in the structure of the
Pyrenees, and of the Grison mountains, and those on
the borders of the Baikal, and other great lakes.
“ The perturbed state of the strata often proceeds
from the decomposition of internal beds of pyrites, to
which water has had access j this appears to be the
cause of the alterations observed in the mountain of
Rabenberg, on the frontiers of Saxony. In this moun¬
tain a double direction of the strata of gneiss is obser¬
ved ; between both the strata are vertical, and a laige
E O L O G Y. ^ Chap. I,
sandy plains of Nicoco, Caffraria, Monemugi, and Zan- Gener
intermediate space is filled with iron ore: but this
mountain contains beds of pyrites and vast swallows j
most probably then the pyrites swell,_ uplifted the
whole/and the dissolved iron flowed into the va¬
cuity, from which the water afterwards drained off
on the sides.
“ In secondary mountains, particularly the calcare¬
ous, the greatest disorder often prevails, though in ge¬
neral their stratification is horizontal.
“ The calcareous mountains of Savoy are often arch¬
ed like a lambda, probably from the sinking of the in¬
termediate strata, the intermediate remaining horizon¬
tal. Sometimes they assume the form of the letters
Z. S. C. or of a disjointed 3C, the convexities facing
each other. So also in the Pyrenees, they sometimes
overlap, from an unequal distribution in their original
formation, and bend various ways. They assume a
spiral form, or that of a horse-shoe placed horizon¬
tally.
“ According to Lehman, most secondary strata pre¬
sent hollows or moulds, (as they are called,) from in¬
ternal depression. But sometimes also elevations, from
an original elevation in the fundamental stone.
“ In Scotland, all the secondary strata in the vicinity
of primeval mountains, are nearly vertical •, but at a
greater distance they approach more to an horizontal
*Kir\can'& direction*.”
Geological We shall now trace the course of the principal moun¬
tainous chains on the globe, and in accompanying us,
the reader may have before him a good map of the
world.
M. Buache places the most elevated points of the
great chains of mountains under the equatorial line :
but, according to Pallas, the fullest and most continuous
lands, and perhaps likewise the most elevated, are to be
found at a distance from the equator, and towards the
temperate zones. If, in fact, we survey the globe’s
surface, we shall not be able to perceive that chain of
mountains, which running from east to west, and divid¬
ing the earth into two portions, ought again to meet.
On the contrary, extensive plains seem to accompany
the line through almost its whole extent. In Africa,
the deserts of Nigritia and those of Upper Ethiopia are
on the one side of the line $ and on the other are the
2
Essays,
p. a S,i.
129
Equatorial
mountains
not the
highest.
guebar. From the eastern shores of Africa to the Sunda Distril
islands, is a space of 1500 leagues of sea with almost ^ of!ji
no islands, except the Laccadive and Maidive islands j
most part of which have little elevation, and which run Eart'J
from north to south. From the Molucca islands and'—v-/
New Guinea, to the western borders of America, the
sea occupies a space of 3000 leagues. Though Chim¬
borazo and Pichincha in America, the two highest
mountains which have been measured, are near and
even under the line, yet from this no conclusion can
be drawn j because on one side these mountains run in
a direction not parallel to the equator $ the Andes or
Cordilleras attain a greater elevation as they remove
from the equator towards the poles j and a vast plain
is found exactly under the line, between the Oroonoko
and the river of the Amazons. Besides, the latter ri¬
ver, which takes its rise in the province of Lima about
the ilth degree of south latitude, after crossing the
whole of South America from west to east, falls into
the ocean exactly under the equator. This shows that
there is a descent for the space of 12 degrees or 300
leagues. From the mouth of the river of the Ama¬
zons, to the western shores of Africa, the sea forms
another plain of more than 50 degrees.
From the few certain facts and accurate observations 13c
which we have received from well informed travellers,
we might almost affirm that the most elevated land on
our globe is situated without the tropics in the northern
and southern hemispheres. By examining the course
of the great rivers, we in fact find that they are in ge¬
neral discharged into three great reservoirs, the one
under the line, and the other two towards the poles.
This, however, we do not mean to lay down as univer¬
sally true $ for it is allowed, that, besides the two ele¬
vated belts, the whole surface of the earth is covered
with innumerable mountains, either detached from one
another or in a continued chain. In America, the 0-
roonoko and the river of the Amazons run towards the
line, while the river St Lawrence runs towards the 50th
degree of north latitude, and the river de la Plata towards
the 40th degree of south latitude. "We are still too lit¬
tle acquainted with Africa, which is almost all contain¬
ed within the tropics, to form any accurate conclusions
concerning this subject. Europe and Asia, which form
only one great mass, appear to be divided by a more
elevated belt, which extends from the most westerly
shores of France to the most easterly of China, and to
the island of Sagaleen or Anga-hata, following pretty
nearly the 50th degree of north latitude. In the new
continent, therefore^ we may consider that chain where
the Mississippi, the river St Lawrence, the Ohio, and
the river de los Estrechos, take their rise, as the
most elevated situation in North America 3 whence the
Mississippi flows towards the equator, the river St Law¬
rence towards the north-east, and the rest towards the
north-west. In the old continent, the belt formerly
mentioned, and to which we may assign about 10 de¬
grees of breadth, may be reckoned from the 45th to
the 55th degree of north latitude : for in Europe the
Tagus, the Danube, the Dnieja^r, the Don and the
Volga, and in Asia the Indus, the Ganges, the Meran,
the Mecon, the Hoang-ho, and the A ang-tse-Kiang,
descending as it were from this elevation, fall into the
great reservoir between the tropics 3 whilst towards the
:iap.
II.
GEOLOGY.
>neral worth the Rhine, the Elbe, the Oder, the Vistula,
itribu- the Oby, the Jenisei, the Lena, the Indigirka, and
oftbe the Kowyma, are discharged into the northern reser-
'li18 voir'
| urtk Judging from those mountains the height of which
i,y—;has been calculated, and from the immense chains with
which we are acquainted, we may infer that the
highest mountains are to be found in this elevated belt.
The Alps of Swisserland and Savoy extend through
the 45th, the 46th, and the 47th degrees. Among
them we find St Gothard, Furca, Bruning, Russ,
Whiggis, Scheidek, Gunggels, Galanda, and las tiy,
that branch of the Swiss Alps which reaches Tirol by
the name of Arlenberg and Arula. In Savoy
meet with Mont Blanc, the Peak of Argentiere,
Cornero, Great and Little St Bernard, Great and Little
Cenis, Coupeline, Servin, and that branch of the
Savoyard Alps which proceeds towards Italy through
the duchy of Aost and Montferrat. In this vast heap
of elevated peaks, Mont Blanc and St Gothard are
particularly distinguished. The Alps, leaving Swis¬
serland and Savoy, and passing through Tirol and Car-
niola, traverse Saltzbourg, Stiria, and Austria, and
extend their branches through Moravia and Bohemia,
as far as Poland and Prussia.—Between the 47th and
48th degrees, we meet with Grimming the highest
mountain of Stiria, and Priel which is the highest in
Austria. Between the 46th and 47th degrees, the
Bacher and the Reinschnicken, form two remarkable
chains. The upper one, which traverses the counties of
Trencsin, Arrava, Scepus, and the Kreyna, separates
Upper Hungary from Silesia, Little Poland, and Red
Russia ; the inferior one traverses Upper Croatia, Bos¬
nia, Servia, and Transylvania, separates Lower Hun¬
gary from Turkey in Europe, and meets the upper chain
behind Moldavia, on the confines of Little Tartary.
In these mountains are situated the rich mines of Scbem-
nitr..
To form a general idea of the great height of this
Alpine belt, it is necessary only to remark, that the
greatest depth of the wells at Schemnitz. is 200 toises $
and yet it appears from the barometrical calculations
of the learned M. Noda, that the greatest depth of
these mines is 286 toises higher than the city of Vien¬
na. The granito-argillous mountains of Schemnitz, and
of the whole of this metallic district, are inferior, how¬
ever, to the Carpathian mountains. Mount Krivany
in the county of Arrava, and the Carpathian moun¬
tains between Red Russia and the Kreyna, appear by
their great elevation to rule over the whole of the upper
Alpine chain. In the inferior chain we likewise meet
with mountains of an extraordinary height $ among
others, Mount Mediednik, which gives its name to a
chain extending far into Bosnia $ and Mount Hemus,
celebrated even among the ancients. In short, this ex¬
tensive chain reaches into Asia, and is there confounded
with another chain no less famous, which, following ex¬
actly the 50th degree of latitude, runs through the
whole of Asia. This chain of mountains is described
by Dr Pallas in the work above mentioned ; and we
shall now trace its course in company with this intelli¬
gent observer.
This author places the head of the mountains of
Oural, between the sources of the Yaik and the Bie-
lala, about the 53d degree of latitude, and the 47th of
579
of the
Earth.
longitude. Here the European Alps, after having tra- General
versed Europe, and sent oft various branches which Disiritm-
we shall afterwards examine, lose their name, which t!on of the
is changed into that of the Ouralic or Uralian moun- Ma^rl‘a!s
tains, and begin their course in Asia. This lofty
chain, which separates Great Bulgaria from the de¬
serts of Ischimska, proceeds through the country of
the Eleuths, follows the course of the river Irtis, ap¬
proaches the lake Teleskaia, and afterwards forms a
part of the same system of mountains with the Al¬
taic chain. There they give rise to the Oby, the Irtis,
and the Jenisei, which begin their course about the
50th degree of north latitude, and fall into the Frozen
we ocean.
*33
The Altaic chain, after having embraced and united
all the rivers which supply the Jenisei, is continuedcliait1-
under the name of Saianes, without the smallest inter¬
ruption, as far as the Baikal lake. The extension of
this chain to the south forms that immense and elevated
plain which is lost in Chinese Tartary, which may be
compared with the only plain in Quito, and which is
called Gobi or Chamo. The Altai afterwards interpo¬
sing between the source of the Tchikoi and of the rivers
which supply the Amur or Sagaleen, rises towards the
Lena, approaches the city Jakuck beyond the 60th de¬
gree of latitude, runs from that to the sea of Kamtschat-
ka, turns round the Ochockoi and Pensink gulfs, joins
the great marine chain of the Kurile isles near Japan,
and forms the steep shores of Kamtschatka, between the
55th and 60th degrees of latitude. After running in
the same parallel, and giving rise to the Ohio, the Ri¬
viere Longue, the river St Lawrence, and the Mississip¬
pi, they are lost in Canada. From the eastern shores of
America to the western shores of Europe, we find a vast
interruption. }
The European Alps produce three principal chains Alpiiie*
which run towards the equator, and some smaller ones chain,
running towards the pole. The first southern chain
is sent out through Dauphine ; traverses Vivarais, Ly-
onnois, Auvergne, Cevennes, and Languedoc, and,
after joining the Pyrenees, enters Spain. There it
divides into two or three ramifications, one of which
runs through Navarre, Biscay, Arragon, Castile,
Marche, and Sierra Morena, and extends into Portu¬
gal. The other, after traversing Andalusia and the
kingdom of Granada, and there forming a number
of mountains, again makes its appearance, beyond the
straits of Gibraltar, in Africa, and coasts along its
northern shores, under the name of Mount Atlas.—-
The second principal chain of the Alps passes out
through Savoy and Piedmont $ spreads its roughnesses
over the states of Genoa and Parma ; forms the belt
of the Appennines; and after frequently changing its
name, and dividing Italy into two parts, terminates
in the kingdom of Naples and in Sicily, producing
volcanoes in every part of its course.' The third chain
is sent off from Hungary, and scatters innumerable
mountains over all Turkey in Europe, as far as the
Morea and the Archipelago at the bottom of the Medi¬
terranean sea. The northern branches, though smaller
at first, are no less clearly defined ; and some of them
even extend their ramifications as far as the Frozen
ocean. An Alpine branch, issuing from Savoy through
the country of Gex, proceeds through Franche Comt6,
Suntgaw, Alsace, the Palatinate, and Veterabia.-—
4 D 2 Anothe
583
General Another issues from the territory of Saltzbourg, passes
JJistribu- along Bohemia, enters Poland, sends oft a ramihcation
tion of lire into Prussia towards the deserts of Waldow, and alter
MofCthe1S‘ Ilavil1^ PaSSed thr0USh RUSSia ^ l0St 1,1 1116 g0Vel°ment
Earth, of Archangel. .
tj The Asiatic Alps send forth in tike manner several
r34 branches both to the south and noith. . he ura ic
Asiatic mountains, between the sources of the Bielaia and the
A pS‘ Jaik, produce three principal branches ; the. first ot
which, including the Caspian sea m one ot its divi¬
sions, enters Circassia through the government ot A-
stracan, passes tbrongh Georgia under the name ot
Caucasus, sends a vast number of ramifications to the
west into Asiatic Turkey, and there produces the
mountains, Tschilder, Ararat, Taurus, Argee, an
many others in the three Arabias ; while the other
division, passing between the Caspian sea and the lake
Aral, penetrates through Chorasan into Persia. I he
second branch, taking a more easterly direction, leaves
the country of the Eleuths •, reaches Little Buchana 5
and forms the ramparts of Gog and Magog, and the ce¬
lebrated mountains, formerly known by the name ot Co/,
which M. Bailly has made the seat of the war between
* Lettrcs t(ie Dives an(} ti,e Peris*. It traverses the kingdoms of
Zntidef' and Turkestan, enters through that of Labor
let. 16.’ into the Mogul territory, and, alter giving rise to the
elevated desert of Chamo, forms the western peninsula
of India. While these two branches run towards the
south, the third branch of the Ouralic chain rises to¬
wards the north, following almost the 79th degree ot
longitude, and forms a natural boundary between Eu¬
rope and Asia; without, however, bounding the im¬
mense empire of Russia. Phis chain, after coming
opposite to Nova Zembla, divides into two consider¬
able branches. The one, running to the north-east,
passes along the Arctic shores ; the other, proceeding
towards the north-west, meets the northern European
chain, traverses Scandinavia in the shape ot a horse shoe,
covers the low lands ot I inland with rocks ^ and, as is
observed by Dr Pallas, appears to be continued from the
North Cape of Norway through the marine chain of
Spitzbergen, scattering islands and shelves perhaps
throughout the northern ocean, that, passing through the
pole, it may join the northern and eastern points of Asia
and North America.
*35 The Ouralic, which, in the country of the Mongols,
becomes the Altaic chain, proceeds towards the equa¬
tor. After forming the mountains and caverns where¬
in, as we are told, the ashes of the Mongol emperors
of the race of Gengis-Kan are deposited, together
with the vast plain of Chamo, consisting of arid
sand, and the frightful rocks and precipices of Thi¬
bet, which form the mysterious and desert retreats of
the Grand Lama, it crosses the rivers Ava and Me-
nan *, contains in its subdivisions the kingdoms of
Ava, Pegu, Laos, Tonquin, Cochin-China, and Siam j
supports the peninsula of Malacca $ and overspreads
the Indian ocean with the isles of Sunda, the Mo¬
luccas, and the Philippines. From the borders of the
Baikal lake and of the province of Selinginskoy, a
branch is detached, which spreads over Chinese Tar¬
tary and China, is continued into Corea, and gives rise
to the islands of Japan.
The great chain having extended to the north, near
the city of Jakuck, upon the banks of the Lena, sends
Chap. ]
off one of its branches to the north-west, which, passing Genet
between the two Tungusta, is lost in marshy grounds
lying in the northern parts of the province ot Jen- ^
nisseiskoy. The same chain, after it has reached the 0f tt,'
eastern part of Asia, is lost in the icy regions of the Earl
north about Nos-Tschalatskoy, or the Icy Promontory,' v-M
and Cape Czuczenskoy. 13c
It will be more difficult, perhaps, to trace the ele-Soutki |
vated belt in the southern hemisphere beyond the tro-^atic
pic of Capricorn, than it has been to distinguish that
towards the north. An immense extent of ocean seems
to occupy the whole Antarctic part ot the globe.—
The greatest south latitude of the old continent is not
more than 34 degrees, and South America scarcely
extends to the 55th degree. In vain has the enter¬
prising Cook attempted to discover regions towards
the pole : his progress was constantly interrupted by
tremendous mountains and fields of ice. Beyond the
50th degree no land and no habitations are to be found.
The islands of New Zealand are the farthest land in
these desert seas j and yet the south cape of 'larai-
Poenamoo extends only to the 48th degree : We do
not mention Sandwich land, which is situated in the
58th degree, because it is too small and too low. It
must be recollected, however, that, according to the
declaration of travellers, the Cordilleras become higher
as they advance southward to the straits of Magellan j
and that Terra del Fuego, which lies in the latitude ot
55, is nothing but a mass of rocks of prodigious eleva¬
tion. America, however, exhibits to our view ele¬
vated points, whence chains of mountains are distributed
in difterent directions over the whole surface of the
new continent. There must likewise be great re¬
servoirs, where the most remarkable rivers take
their rise, and from which they necessarily descend
towards their mouths. In the southern hemisphere,
this elevated belt is nearer the equator ; and though
it does not extend to the 50th degree, it is evidently
to be met with, and may be accurately traced, be¬
tween the 20th and 30th degrees. The high moun¬
tains of Tucuman and of Paraguay, which intersect
South America about the 25th degree of latitude,
may be considered as the American Alps. If we
look into the map of the world, we shall be able to
distinguish an elevated belt all along this parallel. In
Africa, Monomotapa and Caff’raria are covered with
very high mountains, from which pretty large rivers
descend. In the Pacific ocean, we find New Hol¬
land, New Caledonia, the New Hebrides, and the
Friendly and the Society islands, under the same pa¬
rallel. We may, therefore, with sufficient propriety,
distinguish this parallel by the name of the Southern
Alps, as we have already distinguished the elevated
belt of the 50th degree of north latitude by that ot
the Northern Alps. In America, the Rio de la Plata,
which, after a course of 500 leagues, falls into the ocean
at the 35th degree of south latitude; the Parana,
which rises from the mountains of the Arapes, and
falls into the Plata at Corriente ; the great number
of rivers which flow into that of the Amazons, such as
the Paraba, which receives in its course the tribute 01
more than 30 other rivers $ the Madera, the Cucln-
rara, the Ucayal, &c. &c. all descend from these
southern Alps. From these Alps likewise three con¬
siderable branches of mountains are detached, v/k-ch
2*
GEOLOGY.
ap.
II.
GEOLOGY.
>7
JI tains
o( irtii
Ar ica.
Bri
jneral go by the common name of Andes or Cordilleras 
kribu- The first branch, which extends towards the south,
oftlieand passes out from Paraguay through Tucuman, se-
X Plates Chili from these provinces and from Chimito,
•rth. anti >s continued through Terra Magellanica as far
as Terra del Fuego. The second branch, directing
its course towards the equator, traverses Peru, in vain
endeavouring to conceal treasures which the avarice
of men has taught them to discover in its bowels j
bounds the Spanish Missions; enters Terra Firma
through Popayan; and unites South and North Ame¬
rica by the isthmus of Panama. The third division,
issuing from Paraguay through Guayra and the terri¬
tory of Saint Vincent, traverses Brazil, distributes ra¬
mifications into Portuguese, French, and Dutch Gui¬
ana, crosses the Oroonoko, forms the mountains of
Venezuela, and near Carthagena meets the second
branch coming from Popayan.
We have already supposed, that the elevated belt
of North America was situated about the 45th degree
of north latitude ; and there we imagined we recog¬
nized the continuation of the northern Alps of the
old continent. This chain likewise sends forth con¬
siderable branches on both sides. One of them is de¬
tached across the sources of the Mississippi, the Belle
Riviere, and the Missouri, and at the entrance of New
Mexico divides, in order to form California to the
west, and the Apalachian mountains to the east. 
Thence proceeding through New Biscay, the audi¬
ence of Guadalaxara, Old Mexico, and Guatimala, it
meets at Panama the southern branch, which is part
of the Alps of Paraguay. The second branch, fol¬
lowing the course of the Mississippi, separates Louisi¬
ana from Virginia ; serves as a bulwark to the United
States of America; forms the Apalachian mountains
in Carolina ; and at last, traversing East Florida, en¬
closes the gulf of Mexico with the Great and Little
Antilles. In the north, we can trace the branches of
the elevated belt; on one side observe them proceed¬
ing towards Canada, directing their course through
Labrador to Hudson’s Straits, and at length con¬
founded with the rocks of Greenland, which are co¬
vered with eternal snow and ice. On the other side,
we see them rising through the country of the Assi-
nipoels and the Kristinos, as far as Michinipis and the
northern Archipelago.
In tracing the course and direction of the British
ins. mountains, we shall begin with the central chain, which
runs through the southern part of the island from north
to south, commencing at Geitsdale, about 14 miles to
the south east of CaiTisle, and ending at Land’s End in
Cornwall, or rather in the Scilly isles to the west of this.
This chain passes from Geitsdale forest through the
western districts of Durham and Yorkshire, forming the
hills called Kelton Fell, Stanmore, Widehill Fell, Wild-
bore Fell, Bow Fell, Home Fell, Bun Hill, &c. A
little to the west of the chain stand several detached
mountains, the principal of which is Skiddaw in Cum¬
berland. Passing through Yorkshire we find Craven,
Whurnside, Ingleborough, and Pennygent; and on the
east of Lancaster is Pendle. In this course there are
several miles of coal and lead. The chain next pro¬
ceeds through Derbyshire, and in this part of the ridge
a great variety of valuable minerals are found, especi¬
ally lead, copper, gypsum, fluor, barytic earths, mar-
581
of the
Earth.
r39
«a pyrites, iron ore, manganese, and several ores of General
zinc. About this point the ridge stretches a little in- li)istribu-
to Cheshire, and seems to terminate; a central chain don of the
of somewhat less elevation may, however, still be traced, Milteria,s
proceeding in a waving direction towards Salisbury, and ^
having three irregular branches, two to the east, and
another running to the south-west into Cornwall. The
first eastern branch proceeds towards Norfolk, and to
this belong some considerable hills, especially those of
Gog Magog in Cambridgeshire. The second branch
passes into Kent, and diverges a little into Surry and
Hampshire. The continuation of this chain is afforded
by the hills of Mendip, Polden, Ledgemoor, and Black-
down in Somersetshire; the Tores and Wilds of Dart-
more in Devonshire, and the upland Downs of Corn¬
wall. Malvern hills in Worcestershire deviate a little
from the chain, but those of Cotswold in Gloucester¬
shire appear to be a continuation of it. The principal
mineral found in this ridge of mountains, after leaving
Derbyshire, is the tin ore of Cornwall.
W ales contains many mountains, especially in its
northern part, where Snowden is celebrated for its height
and classical fame. The top of this mountain is formed
almost into a point, and commands an extensive view,
not only of the neighbouring counties, but of part of
Scotland and Ireland, and the isles of Man and An¬
glesey. A line of mountains proceeds from Snowden
along the western coast to Plinlimmon ; and in this line
lie Urrou Seth, Caeridris, and Moyle Vadiau. A few
hilis ot little elevation proceed towards Shropshire,
among which the Wrekin is the most remarkable.
Another small chain proceeds south towards Cardiff,
but contains no hills of any eminence.
Leaving England, and proceeding towards the north, Scoufh
we find the Cheviot Hills, so celebrated in the history mountains,
ol the border skirmishes. These form a regular ridge,
running from south-west to north-east, where they join
the hills of Galloway. In this part of Scotland there
are several mountainous ridges running in various direc¬
tions, generally north and south according to the course
of the rivers ; but there is, properly speaking, no uni¬
form chain. Dumfries-shire contains several mountains,
some of which are of considerable height, especially
Hartfell in Annandale, from which proceeds the cele¬
brated chalybeate spaw; Lowtber near Leadhills;
Blacklaw on the borders of Ayrshire ; Etrick Pen, in
Eskdale moor; Carnkinnovv near Drumlanrigg; and
Queensberry hill, which gives the title to the dukedom
of that name. Proceeding towards the north, we find
1 entland hills, a little to the south-west of Edinburgh,
and the romantic hills of Arthur’s seat and Salisbury
Craigs, in the immediate vicinity of that city. On the
eastern coast, before crossing the Forth, is North Ber¬
wick Law, which must he considered as closing the list
of southern hills in Scotland. The principal part of
these southern hills consists of calcareous earth, and
argillaceous schistus ; and except in those of Galloway,
granite and other primitive rocks are very sparing. In
the Lothian hills the calcareous strata are surmounted
by vast blocks of trap, wacke, and basalt.
On the north of the Forth are the hills of Oehil, of
little elevation, but celebrated for affording large quan¬
tities of agates and chalcedonies. The hills of Kin-
noul and Dunsinnan in the eastern part of Perthshire,
are generally considered tba last of. the lowland bills.
The.
of llie
■Earl!!,
141
Irish raoau-
tains.
C E O I
' r. 1 The principal northern chain of British mountains is
Son. that of the Grampian hills, extend,ng Iron, Loch Im-
tion, of the ,,-ioml to Stonehaven, and forming the southern bourn ary
Muter ais f the Jlighlands ; and rising by a gradual transition
from the Sidlaw hills on the east, the Campsey h.lU on
- the west, and the Ochils in the middle. I he pnncipal
mountains of tips chain are Ben Lavvers Len More,
Schehallion, Ben Vorlich, Ben Lomond, and Ben Ledy.
NeHr Ben Lawers is Ben Nevis, the highest mountain
In Britain, and to the north-west ot thi^ near l ort
Augustus, is the' long hiU of Corn Allok. ^Ajo
20 miles to the east of this is the high mountain 0.
Cairnaorum, famous for the specimens of quartzose stones
found^there. Numerous mountains lie in the second
divisions of the Highlands, beyond Loch Linne, and
Loch Ness, especially on the western shore, which is
crowded with hills. ' Few of these are considerable
To the west of Boss-shire are several hills, among which
Ben Chat, Ben Chasker, and Ben Golich are the most
remarkable. More inland stands the high mountain of
Ben We vis, nearly equal to Ben Nevis. In most ot
these mountains the primitive rocks prevail, and granite
is often very abundant. Few minerals, however, ex¬
cept iron ore, are found. __
Ireland contains but few mountains, and none of any
considerable importance. They generally form short
lines, or appear in detached groups, one of the highest
of which is that on the west and south of the lake of
Killarney, in which is the mountain of Mangerton. A
small line of hills called Shecky mountains runs on the
north-west of Bantry Bay, passing towards the east.
To the northward of this stands Sliblogher and Nagles,
and towards the east are the hills of Knockemdown.
In the county of Leinster is a mountain of the same
name, and to the south of Dublin are the Wicklow
hills, from which there were lately such great expecta¬
tions of golden treasure. In Ulster stand the ^moun¬
tains of Monrne, the highest of which, Donard, is said
to be nearly the height of Mangerton. The most
mountainous part of Ireland is the western peninsula of
that island, towards which, in the county of Mayo,
stands Nephin, one of the highest in the kingdom.
On the south-east of Clewbay is the mountain of Croagh
Patrick, also in the county of Mayo, which is the last
Irish hill of any importance.
We cannot here with propriety enter on the theory
of the formation of mountains. The hypothesis of the
principal geological writers with respect to this subject,
will be seen from the general view of the theories to
be given in the next chapter. We may in this place
only remark, that all the systems which have been con¬
structed, to explain the formation of the primitive moun¬
tains, with respect to which there is the most dispute,
may be reduced to three.
In the first of these, mountains are supposed to have
been formed such as we now see them, except that they
have suffered some degradations and modifications, from
certain accidents posterior to their original formation,
and that these mountains owed their elevation above the
places which surround them, to one single accidental
accumulation of more materials in one place than in an¬
other $ an accumulation which might have taken place
without that great precipitation which preceded and oc¬
casioned the consolidation of the crust of our globe.
In the second hypothesis, all the primitive mountains.
O G Y. Chap.it,
are supposed to have been raised by one cause, and in Genth
one certain manner; and the materials which compose ni8tIll
them, to have been thrown out of their natural posi- T
tion. It is with respect to this raising or displacement 1 oftl!
that geologists have imagined so many different hypo- £at,
theses.
In the third general theory, these mountains are sup¬
posed to have become pre-eminent from the accidental
lowering or removal ol the mateiials which originally
surrounded them, whether this happened from the ma¬
terials composing these mountainous situations having
suffered no displacement, or that they had been them¬
selves removed.
M. Dolomieu is of opinion, that there are mountains
whose situation and structure favqur each of these three
hypotheses *. * Jonty
; 1 Mm.!
Sect. II. Of Dykes.
xlii.
I !.
We have described dykes (N° 15.) to be those in-Histor|
terruptions of the strata which are formed by per pend i-dyiei
cular fissures filled with stony substances. As these
stony matters are frequently ot that kind called whin-
stone, these dykes are commonly called whin dykes, and
the history of these is very important, as they form one
of the principal subjects in the principal theories of the
earth. _ . „ ,4-
Dykes have received different denominations descnp-miB€l
tive, in some measure, of the nature of the substances
of which they are composed j or of the seeming effects
they have produced on the intersected horizontal strata.
They are called basaltic veins, trap dykes, whin dykes;
and in the coal countries of Scotland they are called
gaws, from the idea that they have occasioned the se¬
paration of the coal, and contiguous strata, through
which they run.
These dykes have been more attentively observed m
coal countries, than where they occur elsewhere 5 be¬
cause on the accurate knowledge of their course, in¬
clination, and thickness, depend, in a great measure,
the judicious and successful operations of the miner,
when his workings approach the dyke, or render it ne¬
cessary to cut through it to reach the strata of coal on
the other side. But, though less attended to, they have
been observed and traced in other places, where a great
extent of the horizontal strata has been exposed in the
beds of rivers, as in the bed of the Water of Leith,
above St Bernard’s Well, near Edinburgh, and on the
sea shore, especially on the western coasts of Scotland,
where the rocks are more abrupt and precipitous, and
where the violence of the Atlantic ocean has removed
part of the horizontal strata, and left the vertical strata
remaining, like immense walls or dykes. Hence pro¬
bably the origin of the name ; and as they often consist
of that species of stone called whinstone, this epithet has
been added.
The course, however, of the greater number which
we have had the opportunity of examining, generally
lies between the points of the compass S. and S. E.
and N. and N. W. This is most frequently the course
of the whin dykes of Islay and Jura ", it is the course
of a remarkable dyke which traverses the coal strata
at the village of Stevenson, near Saltcoats, in Ayr¬
shire j part of which is seen on the surface, not many
hundred yards to the north of the west end of that vil¬
lage i
Tap.
II.
the
lirth-
j iera! laSe i an<J.,t 18 t{ie course of two dykes, still more re-
: riba- markable, in the island of Great Cumbrav, in the frith
of the of Clyde. J
I i enali Geologists, who have treated this subject, do not seem
to have marked, with much attention, the course of the
dykes. They have mentioned in general terms, that
they follow all directions. More extensive observation
may probably shew, that the most frequent directions of
the principal dykes, is from north to south, or a few
points deviation from that course. And if this be esta¬
blished, by a fuller and more accurate history of dykes,
the analogy between them and metallic veins will be
more complete ; for it is observed of the latter, that the
most powerful, that is, the most productive, run from
north to south.
Dykes do not always run in a straight line. In their
course they form certain flexuosities. But, in this wind¬
ing course, the deviations are usually so small, as to have
little effect on the general direction of the dyke, which,
upon the whole, may be considered as nearly the
same.
The continuity of dykes is sometimes interrupted,
exactly in the same manner as frequently happens to
the horizontal strata, and which, in technical language,
is termed a slip.
In the island of Islay we have observed two dykes of
this description, the one on the south side of Lochindal,
near the point of Laggan j the other on the shore of the
south-east part of the island, a little to the south of the
house of Ardmore. In both these dykes, the extent of
the separation of the slip was just equal to the thickness
of the dyke. The opposite sides were brought exactly
into the same line.
After this separation, these dykes, in so far as they
could be traced, preserve the same thickness, course,
and inclination as formerly.
A very remarkable dyke has been discovered, in the
coal field, in the district of Boulogne in France. It
runs in the form of a crescent from north to west.
The direction of dykes downwards is seldom perpen
GEOLOGY.
58.-
IJO
.tide.
dicular. I his deviation from a line perpendicular to
the horizon is called their inclination. The inclination
of a dyke is usually denominated the hade or hading.
See the article Coalery.
The inclination of different dykes, and even of the
same dyke, is various, sometimes approaching to, and
sometimes deviating from the perpendicular. The ex¬
tent of dykes downwards, we believe, has not been
ascertained with any degree of accuracy, and the termi¬
nation of very few has yet been detected. The depth
to which researches of this kind can be carried, is com¬
paratively small. With all the ardour, ingenuity, and
power of man, investigations to determine this’point,
will probably always be limited by the extent of his
mining operations, The crescent-formed dyke just
mentioned, which occurs in a coal-field in the district of
Boulogne in France, which consists of a species of mar¬
ble, found in several quarries in the vicinity, has been
traced to the perpendicular depth of 600 feet, where it
is succeeded by a schistus rock, which latter, with the
same course and inclination, continues to intersect the
horizontal strata.
The extent of dykes in length has not been accu¬
rately determined. Indeed, it must be extremely dif-
ficult to trace them with any degree of certainty. For.
those which are observed on the sea coast, where they ceoeml
are most conspicuous, soon disappear in the mountains, irSkl.
on the one hand, or on the other lose themselves in tionoftbe
the sea. And, as the extent of the same coal field AIateriaIs
rarely exceeds a few miles, they have seldom been fol- / ^
lowed beyond its limits. In many cases, the change * - an * r
in the nature and arrangement of the strata, renders it
almost impossible. Some, however, have been traced
to a very great extent; one in particular, on the banks
ot the river Meuse in the Netherlands, has been fol-
owed in its direct course, to the distance of four
leagues ; and of this dyke it is observed, if pursued
through all its windings, the extent is not less than six
leagues.
The thickness of dykes is various. Sometimes they Thi/knea*
are observed no thicker than a few inches. From that
they increase to one foot, six feet, and very often are
found from 10 to 20 feet. There is one in the island of
Islay, of the enormous thickness of 69 feet. This im¬
mense dyke accompanies a lead vein, about a foot thick,
which is included between it and the limestone strata.
In this mining field, tvyo whin dykes, one of them 10
feet thick, have been discovered, crossing the metallic
veins.
In going downwards, dykes are said to decrease in
thickness. I his is particularly observed of dykes of
smaller magnitude.. Of smaller dykes it is also said, that
they diminish in thickness towards the extremities.
In one respect, some whin dykes are exactly analo¬
gous to metallic veins, in having branches, or in the
miners phrase, strings going off and traversing the con¬
tiguous strata, and forming in the course they take, an
acute angle with the principal dyke. A whin dyke of
this description has been observed in the island of Jura,
on the shore of the sound. The diverging branch ter¬
minated in a point among the horizontal strata, at the
distance of a few feet from the great dyke, assuming-
altogether a wedge-like form.
, If've include metallic veins in the account, the ver-vr ,I4-S,
tical strata may be said to be composed of every kind of 3 Cna *'
mineral substance, hut almost always different from the
intersected horizontal strata. By this last circumstance
their occurrence is at once recognized. In general, the
dykes that are found in Scotland, whether in the coal
countries, or in the western coasts and islands, where
they are so frequent, are of that species of stone which
comes under the denomination of trap or whinstone.
Dykes, consisting of other species of stone, have also
been found in Scotland. On the Mull of Kinouth,
which forms the southern headland, at the entrance of
Lochindal, in Islay, we observed a small dyke of gra¬
nite, crossing the headland, which is of granular quartz.
There are some vertical strata of granite in the island
of Icolmkill, of pitchstone in the island of Arran, and
of serpentine at Portsoy in Banffshire.
Bergman, in his Physical Geography, supposes that
granite was never found to be a component part of
vertical strata. What has been already mentioned
proves the contrary. Granite dykes have also been dis¬
covered in other places. Besson has observed dykes of
this description on the great road between Limoges
and Cahors in France, traversing horizontal strata of
argillaceous schistus, a species of stone which has ge¬
nerally been considered of later formation than gra¬
nite. These dykes, he observes, are from an inch to
sir.
5^4-
geology.
Chap. L
^ , six feet in thickness, and the quartz, feldspar, ami mica,
Distnifu- are of larger size than are usually found in the granite
tion of the 0f mountains. Dolomieu has made a similar ohserva-
Maierials ti an(i considers it as a discriminative character, by
which the granite of mountains and that found in ver-
tical strata8may be easily distinguished. But this is not
always to be admitted as a characteristic mark of dis¬
tinction. The granite dyke which has been already
mentioned, crossing the granular quartz, on the Mull
of Kinouth in Islay, is small grained, and others of th .
latter description have been observed in other places.
There is a very singular dyke on the coast ot Ayr¬
shire, between Weems bay and Largs, near the house
of Kelly. It is about ten feet thick, traverses the ho¬
rizontal strata, which consist of plumb-pudding roc ',
whose cement is sandstone of a red colour, from north¬
east to south-west, and crosses a larger dyke of the
whinstone of this country, nearly at right angles, llus
dyke is composed of different materials. Part is of the
common whinstone, and part of a plumb-pudding rock,
cemented by the matter of the dyke j and these alter¬
nate with each other, both in the thickness of the dyke,
and lengthwise. On one side, there are four feet thick
of whinstone ; immediately in contact with this there is
plumb pudding stone three feet thick, and so on alter¬
nately, across the whole dyke. In tracing the dyke
lengthwise across the whole line, there is found a few
yards of whinstone, which is succeeded by a few yards
of plumb-pudding stone, and this is again succeeded oy
the whinstone. . .
But, for the general view which is here proposed, it
is not requisite to give a full account of all the mineral
substances which enter into the composition of vertical
strata, or even a minute enumeration of all the varieties
that are found in whin dykes.
*49 One of the most singular circumstances respecting
Peculiar whin dykes, which seems to have been entirely over-
whhTdykes looked by geologists, still remains to be considered.
This is the peculiar structure or arrangement ot the
parts of which they are composed. Of this peculiar
arrangement it may be observed in general, that it is
in all respects the reverse of what takes place in the
horizontal strata. « _ _
When the dyke is of small magnitude, it is pretty
compact in all its parts ; but if an attempt be made to
break or separate any part of it, the fracture will be
found to run most readily in the perpendicular direction.
But when the dyke is of more considerable thickness, it
usuallv forms several divisions, marked by perpendicular
fissures, and there is often very great variety in the na¬
ture and qualities of the several divisions of the same
dyke. The exterior division of one side sometimes, and
sometimes the exterior division of both sides, are of a
softer texture than the intermediate division j and often
contain, in great proportion, specks of radiated zeolite
and calcareous spar, while the middle divisions, as well
as being harder, are also more homogeneous. In other
cases, the reverse of this appears. The middle parts of
the dyke are the softest and least compact, exhibiting
the greatest variety of heterogeneous substances.
Some whin dykes have a great tendency to assume,
when broken, the prismatic form. 11ns is the case with
many, even of the most compact texture. In otheis,
where the side of the dyke is exposed to view, and mi¬
nutely examined, fissures may be traced, discovering
3
the ends of pretty regular prisms. But in some dykes Ger, ;1
• .1 • 1 1 - C T  4-1- ^ orvA i r* n r%] itmn a a onf I tv*.
 JT- # J vjcr l
in the island of Jura, the prismatic columns are entirely Distil,,,
separated, and lying loose, are four, five, or six-sided, tion
. f - i i i*   ! 4.1 1 M n
jointed j the perpendicular fissures forming the joints, ^
i •   fflio nf>rnpnnirnlar Lncoltio
and in all respects similar to the perpendicular basaltic Es)
columns, except being in the horizontal position. In one V—X,
of the dykes in the island of Jura, the columns are from
12 to 18 inches in diameter. In some others on the sea
shore, near the house of Mr Campbell of J ura, and at the
harbour of the Small Isles, in the same island, there are
columns of the enormous size of io and l 2 feet diameter.
A dyke which traverses the basaltic strata of the
Giants Causeway in the north of Ireland, exhibits still
more remarkably this peculiarity of structure. The.
smallest masses detached from it assume the columnar
form, and most of them are perfectly regular. The
fracture invariably runs in the horizontal direction 5 the
columns consequently lie in the same position, are three,
four, five, and six-sided, and are generally of small
size. Observations on Vertical Strata, by Dr Millar,
Scots Mag. vol. Ixiv.
Sect. III. Of Metallic Veins.
The history of metallic veins, although far from he-jy]etgj
ing so full and satisfactory as could he wished, is more veins
complete than that of whin dykes. The latter have excit¬
ed no farther attention than as objects of curiosity to the
geologist, or as singular facts in establishing a theory,
and when they come in the way of the operations ot
the miner, to discover their connexion with the conti¬
guous strata j while the wants and luxuries of man have
roused ingenuity and exertion in exploring the former,
on account of the precious and useful metals with which
they are stored. Thus, the splendour and beauty ot
some metallic substances, and the utility ot others, have
made them in all ages be esteemed and valued by man¬
kind ; and consequently they have been the constant
objects of pursuit and investigation. It is obvious that
the beauty and utility of metals, on account of which
thev are so much valued and sought alter, excite great¬
er interest in procuring them j on the one hand, the
researches and observations ot the philosopher in fui-
nishing the history and general principles, and, on the
other, the immediate application of this knowledge,
and of these principles, in the practice and operations
of the miner.
The history of whin dykes is, in general, quite ana¬
logous to metallic veins j but, ot the latter, from what
has been stated, we can speak with more certainty anti
precision. ^
Three different kinds of metallic veins have been (ie-Dbtir m
scribed by geological writers; the perpendicular vein,a1'"
the pipe vein, and the flat or dilated vein. We shall
consider each of these in their oroer. . 1
I. Of the perpendicular vein.—Uiis kind of metallic perpjci
vein occurs most frequently. As may he expected, it lm'<
is various in its course or direction, thickness, and in¬
clination. Metallic veins are found running in every
direction ; but, in general, the most powerful veins,
that is, the most productive, are observed to run from
north to south, or at least a few points deviation from
that course ; and when any deviation happens, it is
usually to the east of north, and to the west of south. ij
The course or direction of a vein is called in techm-Conr
calveius
tie
Liil'tk.
-v—
l1^.
1 matioa
lap. II. GEO
i»neral cal language Its bearing. The extent of a vein in the
Striba- line of bearing, we believe, rarely exceeds the range of
i of the mountains in which it is discovered. This is the^case
ole1* w‘t*1 tlle Pr‘llc‘Pa' ve‘n at Leadhills. It is limited to
the chain of mountains in which the operations are now
carried on 5 and although the mines of Wanlockhead
are not a mile distant, new veins appear with galena or
lead ore, of quite a different quality, and all the ac¬
companying minerals, whether forming part of the vein,
or found in cavities, are also quite different from the
lead ore and other minerals found in the veins at Lead-
hills.
The inclination of veins is various. Sometimes they
are nearly perpendicular; sometimes they deviate con¬
siderably from a perpendicular line ; sometimes the
same vein in its course downward, inclines to one
side ; sometimes it is perpendicular, and sometimos it
inclines to the other side. When the deviation from
the perpendicular does not exceed io°, the vein is still
considered as a perpendicular or vertical vein. When
a vein is inclined, the two sides which include the me¬
tallic substances are in very different positions, and have
consequently received from the miners different names.
That side which supports the metallic ore, or on which
it seems to lean, is called the ledger side, or simply the
ledger. The opposite side which covers the ore, or
which overhangs it, is denominated the hanging side,
or simply the hanger. From the inclination of the vein
being varied in its course downwards, it must appear
that the same sides, according as the inclination varies,
must change their position and denomination. This
will perhaps be more intelligible by the section at
fig. 5. in which AA represents the vein; BO, CC,
DD, EE, the strata intersected by it; 1. the hanger;
2. the ledger ; 3. the hanger; and, 4. the ledger.
The thickness of veins, and indeed of the same vein,
is also extremely various. Sometimes they are only a
few inches thick. From this they increase to the thick¬
ness of several feet. The veins which rvere wrought at
Leadhills, about seven years ago, were from two to
six feet within the sides; but some years before that
time the principal vein in those mines, by the addition
of two strings or small veins, assumed the extraordinary
thickness of 14 feet of pure ore. This unusual appear¬
ance, both on account of its richness and grandeur,
excited so much attention and admiration, that the
countess of Hopetoun undertook a journey to these in¬
ferior regions, not less than 150 fathoms below the sur¬
face of the earth, to witness the splendour and brilli¬
ancy of this subterraneous apartment. The uncommon
thickness and abundant richness of this vein are still talk¬
ed of at Leadhills with enthusiasm. But a thicker vein
was once wrought at Llangunog in Wales. Fifteen feet
of clean ore were for some time dug out of this vein.
These are, however, far exceeded by the copper veins
in the Parys mountain in Anglesea, which are describ¬
ed by Mr Pennant in his Welsh tour. The thickness
of one of these veins is 21 feet, and of another 66
feet.
The broadest metallic vein, of which we have any
account, is, we believe, that of the Ecton copper mine,
m Derbyshire. In this mine there was worked, at one
time, a heap of ore, of the astonishing extent of 70 yards
fr°m side to side *.
The extent of veins downwards has in many cases
Vol. IX. Part II. f
LOGY.
been ascertained.
585
neif.
n ‘ *
To the regret and disappointment of General
the miner, they have been frequently intercepted and Distriba-
entirely cut off by the horizontal strata. The rich vein tion of tllc
ot lead ore at Llangunog in Wales, which we have al- Mate,'ial*
ready mentioned, was intercepted in this manner by a
stratum of black schistus or shiver, the nature of which 1 ^ J* r
is not described by Williams, who states the fact *. * Mineral
Their researches to recover their lost wealth, wdiich Kingdom,
were prosecuted for several years, proved altogether V°!‘K
fruitless. I he smallest trace of this unusually produc-^
live Vein was never afterwards discovered.
Two kinds of perpendicular mineral veins have been i^o kLl
observed and described. In the one case the relative of perpendi-
position of the strata which contain the metallic sub-cular veiiw.
stances is exactly similar to that of the coal strata when
they are intersected by a whin dyke. On one side of
the vein the strata are elevated or depressed from their
former plane. This is illustrated by fig. 3. where the
letters BB, CC, DD, EE, mark the corresponding
strata which have been deranged or displaced. In the
other kind of vein the mineral substances containing the
metallic ores are merely separated without any eleva¬
tion or depression ; for each side of the fissure still re¬
maining in its former plane, the opposite sides of the
divided strata exactly correspond to each other. The
mines at Strontian in Argyieshire are of this latter de¬
scription.
Veins of this kind have frequently smaller veins, or,
as they are called in the language of the miners, sfrwagvr,
which run off at an acute angle, preserve their course
for some distance, not, in general, very great, gradual¬
ly diminish in thickness, and at last are entirely lost
among the contiguous strata. At the place of junction
the principal vein is always thicker, as has been alrea¬
dy noticed with regard to the unusual thickness of the
principal vein at Leadhills.
To this account of perpendicular veins we may add,
that some veins are found crossing each other, and that
whin dykes have also been discovered intersecting me¬
tallic veins. Examples of the latter occur in the island
of Islay.
2. Of the pipe vein.—The perpendicular vein last de- Pipe vein,
scribed, intersected or cut the strata across. What has
been denominated the pipe vein is extremely limited in
the line of bearing, but having the same inclination as
the strata which include it. It may be considered as in
some measure of a circular form, extremely irregular,
and always following the course of the strata between
which it is included, like the perpendicular veins ;
sometimes as it dips downwards, it is enlarged; some¬
times it is diminished, and sometimes it is so much con¬
tracted, that the including strata come into close con¬
tact. In a word, this kind of vein is subject to all the
irregularities of the veins formerly described, only that
its inclination is invariably the same with the accompa¬
nying strata. i£.s
3. The flat or dilated vein.—This kind of metallic Flat vein,
vein, after what has been said with regard to other
veins, will require but a short description. It is exact¬
ly similar to the pipe vein, only that it is more extend¬
ed in the line of bearing. It is included between the
horizontal strata; and therefore its inclination or dip
must be the same as the including strata. A vein of
this kind might with more propriety and accuracy be
regarded as a metallic horizontal stratum, were it not
4 E that
586
O E O L
General tliat it is always fonml varying in its dimensions and
Distlibu. equally irregular as the perpendicular veins ivlncli in-
tion l^etersect tlie horizontal strata.
It is almost needless to add, that the flat or horizon¬
tal veins are subject to the same derangement as the
coal strata, when they are intersected by a whin dyke.
The vein, along with the including strata, is either ele¬
vated or depressed, and the same thing takes place
when they are traversed by a metallic vein. Mb. y
Dr Millar. ... r .. n*
To finish the sketch of the history of metallic veins,
we have only to enumerate the different metallic ores
that occur in them, and to mention the places where
these are found in greatest abundance. In this enume¬
ration we shall follow the arrangement of metals given
by Brochant, in the second volume of his Jratte Ale-
vientaire de Mmeralogie.
In naming the several species, we shall adopt the no¬
menclature of Kirwan, adding the French and German
synonyms to each. As it would far exceed our limits
to give even a cursory description of the several species,
we refer the reader for that to the article Mineralogy
in this work, or to the elementary treatises of Kirwan or
Brochant, or the more extensive treatise of Hauy.
O G Y.
Chap. ]1
III. Mercury.
Gener;
Distribi
Materials
of the
Earth.
IS9
Metallic
I. Platina
p, till Has been found hitherto only in its metallic or native
ores. state, and it has as yet only been met with in South
\merica, especially at Choco in New Grenada. It is
found in the sand of rivulets, and probably comes from
the primitive mountains.
II. Gold.
Goldies Native gold.-T,\s is found principally in primitive
mountains, sometimes in veins, and sometimes dissemi¬
nated through the stony matter. The substances which
most commonly accompany it are quartz, feldspar, cal¬
careous spar, heavy spar, pyrites, red silver ore and
vitreous silver ore, and galena. Gold is still more com-
monly met with in the sand washed from certain rivers.
The countries where gold is chiefly found in rocky sub¬
stances, are Hungary, Transylvania, Peru, Mexico,
Siberia, and Sweden. It has also been found in France,
near the town of Oisans, in the department of the Isere j
but not in sufficient abundance to render the working
of the mine profitable. Among the rivers whose sands
furnish gold, we may enumerate the Rhine, the Da¬
nube, and the Araniosch in Transylvania.
Gold has been found in several parts of the British
dominions, especially at Silsoe in Bedfordshire, in the
Wicklow hills in Ireland, and in the neighbourhood of
Leadhills in Lanarkshire. It is said that a jeweller,
who died lately in Dublin, often declared that gold,
to the value of 30,000!. had passed through his hands,
which was brought from the Wicklow hills. This
mine is now in the hands of government, but we be¬
lieve does not answer the expectation that was first form¬
ed as to its produce. General Dirom informs us, that
in the reign of James V. of Scotland, 300 men were
employed "for several summers in washing the sand near
Leadhills for gold, of which they are said to have col¬
lected to the amount of ioo,oool. sterling. It is said
* Mawc's that pieces of gold, an ounce in weight, have been
De.rb^‘ found at Leadhills, and that Lord Hopetoun has a
ST P‘ Plece stU1 larSer in his Possession*-
3.
Species 1. Native Mercury, or Quicksilver. Le Mer- tion oft
cure natif. Gediegen Quecksilber.—This is found at
Idria in the Austrian territories ; at Almaden in Spain ;
in the Palatinate, and a few other places. We are u—^
told by Mr Jameson, that a quantity of quicksilver was i<s2
discovered some years ago in a peat moss, in the island Mercury!
of Islay, and he thinks it probable that veins of it existore!-
there *; but there seems no ground whatever for such * Min,
expectations. ^ !
Species 2. Natural Amcdgama. L’Amalgame na- •'•t
tif. Naturalicher Amalgam.—This consists of mercury
and silver, in very variable proportions. It is found at
Sahlberg in Sweden ; at Roseneau in Hungary, and es¬
pecially at Moschellandsberg in the duchy of Deux
Ponts, where it is found mixed with common ferrugi¬
nous clay, and with other ores of mercury.
Species 3. Mercury Mineralised by the Sulphuric
and Muriatic Acids. Mercure Cornee ou Muriate.
Quecksilber Hornerz.—This species was discovered
about 30 years ago, in the mines of Moschellandsberg,
and at Morefeld, in the duchy of Deux Ponts, by M.
Woulfe, mixed with ferruginous clay, quartz, litho-
marga, native quicksilver, and cinnabar. It has also
been found at Almaden in Spain, and at Heisowitz in
Bohemia 5 but it is very rare.
Species 4. Native Cinnabar. Le Cinnabre. Zmno-
ber. This usually forms a gangart for the other ores
of mercury. It occurs in the stratiformed mountains,
pretty near the surface. This ore is found in a great
many parts of Europe, especially at Almaden in
Spain, Idria in the Austrian territories, at Moschel¬
landsberg, in Bohemia, in Saxony, in Hungary, in
Transylvania, in the Palatinate, and in Fiance 5 but in
this last it is found but in small quantity.
IV. Silver.
ifi3l
Species 1. Native Silver.—A particular variety of Silver
this species, mixed with gold, is very rare. It is prin¬
cipally found in Conigsberg in Norway, and Schlan-
genberg in Siberia. In the former of these places it is
found disseminated through calcareous spar, fluor spar,
and rock crystal, in a vein running through a rock of
hornblende slate, and accompanied with blende, galena,
and pyrites. That of Siberia is found distributed through
a mass of heavy spar.
Common native silver is found in considerable quan¬
tity in Mexico and Peru. It is also met with in Sibe¬
ria, Saxony, France, Sweden, Norway, in the Hartz,
and in Bohemia. It is principally found in the primi¬
tive mountains, distributed through masses oi heavy
spar, quartz, calcareous spar, fluor spar, pyrites, blende,
cobalt, galena, red silver ore, and vitreous silver ore.
Silver has been found in several parts of Britain, es¬
pecially near Alva in Scotland. It is confidently af¬
firmed, that a mass of capillary silver, weighing 16 oz.
was found in the lead mines at Garthoness in the isle of ^
Islay, mixed with galena f. , . . .
Species 2. Antimoniated Native Silver. L Argent
Antimonial. Spiesglas Silver.— This species has 11-
therto been only found in the mine at St Wenceslas at
Altwolfach, and in the duchy of Wirtemberg, in a
vein mixed with calcareous spar, heavy spar, native si -
ver, and quartz. „
’ u Species
I
lap. n. G E O L
jiineral Species 3. ArseniatedNative Silver. L’Argent Ar-
Stribu- senical. Arsenik Silber.—This is also rare, having
, °fdie been found only at Andreasberg, in the Hartz, and at
-th!? Kassala in Spain. In the Hartz it is mixed with na¬
tive arsenic, red silver ore, galena, blende, and calca¬
reous spar. Considerable quantities of silver, probably
of this species of ore, are obtained from the lead ore of
Lead hills.
Species 4. Corneous Silver Ore, or Muriated Silver.
L’Argent Cornee ou Muriate. Horn Erz.—Th is has
been found in Peru, Mexico, Saxony, France, Siberia,
and, as is affirmed, in Cornwall in England.
Species 5. Sooty Silver Ore. L’Argent Noir. Sil-
berschwarze—This is found in Saxony, France, and
Hungary, mixed with other ores of silver, and some¬
times with native silver.
Species 6. Vitreous Silver Ore. L’Argent Vitreux.
Silberglaserz.—This is found in Bohemia, Saxony,
Norway, Swabia, Siberia, and in Hungary, mixed
with other silver ores, and usually accompanying cal¬
careous spar, heavy spar, and floor spar.
Species “y. Red Stiver Ore. L’Argent Rouge. Roth-
giltegerz.—This is found in the Hartz, Bohemia, Sax¬
ony, France, Swabia, and in Hungary, accompanying
native arsenic, realgar, vitreous silver ore, galena, cal¬
careous spar, and heavy spar.
.<>4
C *r
4
V. Copper.
Species 1. Native Copper.—This is met with in Sibe¬
ria, the Uralian and Altaischan mountains, Kamtschat-
ka, Japan, Saxony, France, Sweden, Hungary, Palati¬
nate, and near Redruth in Cornwall, in England. It
usually accompanies other ores of copper, especially
malachite and copper azure.
Species 2. Vitreous Copper Ore. Le Cuivre Vitreux.
Kupferglas.—This is found in Siberia, Hungary, Swe¬
den, Norway, Russia, Saxony, Silesia, Hesse, and in
Cornwall.
Species 3. Purple Copper Ore. La Mine de Cnivre
Violette. Buntkupfererz.—This is always found in
the neighbourhood of other copper ores, especially with
the species last mentioned, and with copper pyrites. It
is found in Saxony, Bohemia, the Bannat in Transyl¬
vania, the Hartz, Norway, Russia, Sweden, Hungary,
Hesse, and in Derbyshire in England, especially in the
famous Ecton copper mine.
Species 4. Yellow Pyrites, or Yellow Copper Ore.
La Pyrite Cuivreuse. Kupferkies.—This is the most
common species of copper ore, and is found both in pri¬
mitive and secondary mountains, sometimes in beds, and
sometimes in veins. It occurs most abundantly in Bo¬
hemia, Saxony, Hungary, Sweden, France, Spain, and
especially in Britain, where it forms one of the princi¬
pal varieties of copper ores, found in the famous Parys
mine in the isle of Anglesea.
Species 5. White Copper Ore. La Mine de Cuivre
Blanche. Weisskupfererz.—This species is very rare,
hut it has been found in Saxony in the mines of Frey-
berg, in Hesse, in Wirtemberg, and in Siberia, with
other copper ores.
Species 6. Gray Copper Ore. Le Cuivre Gris.
Fahlerz.—This again is a very common species, and is
found in all those countries that possess mines of cop¬
per.
Species 7. Black Copper Ore. Le Cuivre Noir.
Materials
of the
Earth.
0 G Y- 587
Kupfefschwarze.—This is found mixed with malachite General
and with green and blue copper ores in Saxony, Hun- Distribu-
gary, in the Bannat, in Silesia, in Norway, in Russia, tion of.tlie
in Swabia, in Sweden, and in Siberia. It also occurs
in the Parys mine of Anglesea.
Species 8. Florid Red Copper Ore. Mine de Cuivre '
Rouge. Roth-kupfererz.—This usually accompanies
native copper, malachite, and brown earthy iron ore.
It is met with in Saxony, in the Bannat, in the Hartz,
in Norway, in Siberia, near Cologne, and in Corn¬
wall.
Species 9. Brick-red Copper Ore. Le Mine de Cuivre
couleur de Brique. Ziegelerz.—Found in similar situa-
ations with the preceding.
Species 10. Blue Calciform Copper Ore. L’Azur
de Cuivre. Kupferlazur.—Found in the Bannat, in
Plesse, in Saltzburg, in Poland, in Siberia, in Thurin¬
gia, and in the Jyrolese. It is usually imbedded in
slaty marl, or in sandstone, not far below the surface
of the earth.
Species 11. Malachite.—This is always found mixed
with other copper ores, and occurs in most of the copper
mines that have been enumerated.
Species 12. Mountain Green. Le \ert de Cuivre.
Kuplergriin.—This commonly accompanies species 4,
6, 9, 10, and II. It is found in Saxony, in the
Hartz, in Norway, Silesia, Siberia, Hungary, Wir¬
temberg, and Britain, as at Leadhills and in Derby¬
shire.
Species 13. Olive Copper Ore. Mine de couleur
Olive. Olivenerz.—This species is extremely rare. It
has been found chiefly near Karrarach in Cornwall,
where it is accompanied by species 11 and 12, and
brown iron ore in a gangart of yellow lithomarga mix¬
ed with quartz. It is said to have been found also at
Jonsbach near Rustelstadt in Silesia.
VI. Iron.
(Species 1. Native Iron.—This species is very uncom-Iron orei.
mon ; but it has been met with in several places, espe¬
cially at Kamsdorf and Eibenstock in Saxony, atKrans-
najarsk near Jenisei in Siberia, at Olumba near St Jago
in South America, and Guile near Grenoble in France.
The two most remarkable specimens of native iron are
those found in South America and in Siberia. The
former of these forms a mass weighing at least 300
quintals, or 15 tons. It is soft and malleable, and in
every respect like the purest iron. That of Siberia is a
spheroidal mass, weighing about 14 quintals, resting on
the surface of the earth, near the summit of a moun¬
tain. Its texture is cellular, and its cavities are filled
with a transparent, greenish, vitreous matter. No
mines or veins of iron are in the neighbourhood of
either.
Species 2. Martial Pyrites. Pyrite Martiale. Schwe-
felkies.—This species is one of the most common ores
of iron, and is found abundantly in every country where
there are any other ores of iron. There are three va¬
rieties of it described by Brochant, which are less com¬
mon, but these are also found in many places.
Species 3. Magnetic Pyrites. La Pyrite Magnetique.
Magnetkies.-—This has been found only in primitive
rocks, especially in micaceous schistus, accompanied
by quartz, hornblende, &c. and usually lying in beds
mixed with other pyrites, galena, and magnetic iron-
4 E 2 stone.
S88
G E O L
It is found in Saxony, Bavaria, Norway, and
of the
Earth.
deneral stone.
Distribu- Silesia. _ „ ..
tioa of the Species 4. Magnetic Ironstone. Le Fer Magnetique.
Materials MJneti8cher Eisenstein.—Of this there are three
varieties, the common magnetic ore, which is very com¬
mon in primitive mountains, especially those that are
composed of gneiss and micaceous schistus. U is otten
in great abundance, forming large beds, or even whole
mountain®. It is found in greatest quantity in Saxony,
Bohemia, Italy, Corsica, Silesia, Siberia, Norway, and
especially in Sweden. The second variety, called fi¬
brous magnetic ironstone, is uncommon, but is found at
Bibsburg in Sweden. The third, which K.rwan calls
magnetic sand, is found in the banks of some rivers, par¬
ticularly of the Elbe, as also in Sweden and Italy. _
Species 5. Specular Iron-ore. Le Fer Specula ire.
Eisenglanz.—This is found in many places,often in con¬
siderable quantity, especially in Saxony, Bohemia,
France, Normandy,Prussia, Sweden, Siberia, Hungary,
Corsica, and the island of Elba. It is generally found
only in primitive mountains, sometimes in beds, some¬
times in veins, accompanied with quartz, hornstone,
martial pyrites, and magnetic iron ore.
Species 6. Bed scaly Iron Ore. La Mine de ierKouge.
Roth-Eisenstein.—This is rather rare, hut is found in
several parts of Saxony, in the Hartz, in Nassau, m
Thuringia and Hungary. Another variety of the same
species, the compact red ironstone of Kirwan, is much
more common, being found in Saxony, Bohemia, the
Hartz, Hesse, Siberia, and in France, sometimes in
veins, and sometimes in beds, commonly mixed with
the two following species, and with argillaceous iron¬
stone, quartz, hornstone, and calcareous spar.
A third variety, the common hematites or blood¬
stone, which is one of the most productive iron ores, is
always found accompanying the last_ variety, and is of
course met with in most of the situations above enume¬
rated. It is produced in abundance in several parts of
England, as in Derbyshire, but more especially at Ul-
verston in Lancashire, where there is one perpendicu¬
lar vein of it 30 yards wide, in a rock of limestone.
Large quantities of it are carried to Carron, where it is
smelted with the common Carron ironstone.
Species 7. Brown Iron Ore. La Mine de Fer Brnne.
Braun-eisenstein.—Of this there are several varieties,
of which the compact brown ironstone, and the brown
hsematites, are very common j but the brown scaly iron
ore is rather rare. The last is found at Kampsdorf in
Saxony, at Klausthel, in the Hartz, at Lauterick in the
Palatinate, and at Naila in the principality of Bareith.
Species 8. Calcareous Iron Ore. La Fer Spathique.
Spathiger-eisenstein.—This is found both in primary
and secondary mountains, and there are few veins of
iron which do not contain it in greater or less quan-
tity.
Species 9. Black Ironstone. La Mine de Fer Noire.
Schwarz-eisenstein.—This is found in the principality
of Bareith, in the Hartz, Saxony, Hesse, and Palati¬
nate. -cm-'
The common argillaceous iron ore of Jvirwan, is
ranked by Brochant as a variety of this. It is very com¬
mon in most iron countries, and much of it is found in
Britain, especially in Colebrook-dale, Shropshire, and
in Dean forest in Gloucestershire. The Carron ore is
principally of this kind.
O G Y. Chap. I
Species xo. Lowland h'OH Ore. La Mine de Ferde Qsne|i|
Gazon. Reasen-eisenstein.—There are several varieties Disum
of this, all of which are found in low, humid situations, tionofij
in veryextensivebeds, alternating with sandstone, clay, Moafl”s:
&c. This species is much more abundant in the north
than in the south of Europe, especially in the duchy of
Brandenburg, in Courland, Lithuania, Livonia,Prussia,
Prussian Poland, and Lusace.
Species 11. Blue Martial Earth. La Fer Terreux
bleu. Blaue-eisenerde.—This is found imbedded in
clay and similar earths, and often accompanies the last
species. It occurs in Saxony, Silesia, Swabia, Bavaria,
Poland, and the Palatinate.
Species 12. Green Martial Earth. Le Fer Terreux
Vert. Grun-eisenerde.—This species is uncommon, hav¬
ing been found only at Braunsdorf, and Schneeburg in
Saxony, in veins, accompanying quartz and sulphur
pyrites.
Species 13. Emery. L’Emeril. Schmirgel.—This
is found in Saxony, distributed in a bed of hardened
steatites, in sandstone. It is also found in Italy, Spain,
Peru, the isle of Naxos in the Archipelago, where there
is a cape called by the Italians, Capo Smeriglio, or ths
Emery Cape. It is often mixed with particles of mag¬
netic iron ore, whence some have supposed the emery to
be magnetic.
VII. Lead.
m
Species 1. La Galene Commune. Gemeiner-Blei-L«£d,
glanz.—This is the most common and abundant ore of
lead, and is found both in primitive and secondary stra¬
ta, in beds and veins, accompanied with quartz, fluor
spar, calcareous spar, sparry iron ore, barytic earths,
blende, pyrites, and several ores of silver. It is found
in great abundance at Leadhillsand at Wanlockhead in
Dumfrieshire, in Derbyshire, Strontian in Scotland, and
in the Mendip hills in Somersetshire. A variety of
this, called compact galena, is found in the same situa¬
tions, especially in Derbyshire. It has often been con¬
founded with graphite, or plumbago.
Werner enumerates nearly 20 formations, as he calls
them, of galena, but Mr Jameson thinks the galena
formation in Dumfriesshire is different from any of these.
Species 2. Blue Lead Ore. La Mine de Plomb Bleue.
Blau-bleierz.—This species has as yet been found only
at Zschopau in Saxony, accompanying fluorspar, barytis
spar, white and black lead, and malachite.
Species 3. Brown Lead Ore. La Mine de Plomb
Brune. Braun-bleierz.—This species is also very rare,
hut is found at the same place with the last, and also in
Bohemia, Brittany, and Hungary.
Species 4. Black Lead Ore. La Mine de Plomb
Noire. Schwarz bleierz.-—This is found in Saxony, at
Freyberg,at Zschoppau, in Cumberland,in some parts cf
Scotland, in Poland, and Siberia.
Species 5. White Lead Ore. La Mine de Plomb
Blanche. Weiss-bleierz.—This is not a very abundant
species, but it is found in several lead mines, especially
in Bohemia, Saxony, the Hartz, France, Siberia, Hun¬
gary, Carinthia, and in some of the British lead mines,
especially at Leadhills.
Species 6. Green Lead Ore. Phosphorated lead or®
of Kirwan. La Mine de Plomb Vert. Grun-bleierz.
—This is found in veins, more commonly in the pri¬
mitive mountains. It is met with in Bohemia, Saxony,
Bavaria*
(P'
11.
GEO
Bavaria, Siberia, Brisgau, France, Peru, and at Lead-
hills in Scotland.
Species 7. Red Lead Spar. Le Plomb Rouge. Ro-
thes-bleierz.—This is one of the rarest ores of lead, be¬
ing as yet only found at Ekatharenburg in Siberia.
Species 8. Yellow Lead Spar. Le Plomb jaune.
Gelbes-bleierz..—This has been known only for a few
years. It has been found at Bleiherg in Carinthia, in
a gangart of calcareous stone. It has also been found
near Freyberg in Saxony, at Annaberg in Austria, and
at Reczbanya in Hungary.
Species 9. Native Vitriol of Lead. Le Vitriol de
Plomb natif. Naturliher-blei-vitriol.—This is found in
the isle of Anglesea, in a vein of brown iron ore, mixed
with copper pyrites. It is also found at Leadhills in
Scotland.
Species 10. Earthy Lead Ore.— Of this there are
two varieties, the friable and the indurated. The for¬
mer is found in Saxony, in Lorraine, in Poland, and
Siberia, Bohemia, and Silesia. The latter is found in
most lead mines. Mr Jameson notices two varieties of
lead earth, which he calls white-lead earth, and friable
lead earth, as met with at Leadhills.
VIII. Tin.
Iis Species 1. Tin Pyrites. La Pyrite d’Etain. Zinnkies.
This species is very rare, and is, we believe, found only
in Cornwall, at Wheal rock, among copper pyrites.
Species 2. Common Tinstone. La Pierre d’Etain.
Zinnstein.—This is found chiefly in primitive rocks, as
in granite, gneiss, micaceous schistus, and porphyry,
both in masses and veins. It is the common ore of
Cornwall, and is lound also in Saxony, Bohemia, and
the East Indies.
Species 3. Wood Tin Ore. L’Etain grenu. Zin-
nerz.—This is found in Cornwall, in the parishes of
Colomb, St Denis and Roach, accompanying the for-
589
LOGY.
black are found in most of these places, and besides in Ge,leral
France and England, especially in Derbyshire. dSZ
opecies 2. Calamine. La Calamine. Galmel. Qf lion of ibe
this there are two varieties, compact and striated. Both
occur only in particular stratiform rocks, often forming
entire beds with indurated clay, and calcareous spar.
1 he latter is usually found in the cavities of the former.
Loth occur in Bohemia, in Carinthia, and in most of
the German lead mines. They are also found in Bri¬
tain, especially at Leadhills, Wanlock-head, and in
Derbyshire.
M aterials
of the
Earth.
XI. Antimony.
mer.
IX. Bismuth.
Species i. 'Native Bismuth is a very rare
metal, but is most commonly found in its native state.
It is usually in a gangart of quartz, calcareous spar,
and barytic spar. It occurs in Bohemia, in Saxony, in
the territory of Hainauit, in Suabia, in Sweden, and in
France, in the mines of Brittany.
Species 2. Sulphurated Bismuth. La Galene de Bis¬
muth. Wismuth Glanz.—This is very rare. It com¬
monly accompanies the former, and is found at Joa-
chimsthal, in Bohemia, at Johann-Georgen-stadt,
Schwarzenberg, and Altenberg in Saxony, and at Rid-
derhyttan in Sweden.
Species 3. Bismuth Ochre. L’Ochre de Bismuth.
Wismuth Okker.—This is still more rare than the last,
and is chiefly found near Schneeberg in Saxony, and at
Joachimsthal in Bohemia.
X. Zinc.
Species 1. Blende. This is sulphurated zinc, and is
one of the most common ores of that metal. There
are three varieties j the brown, the yellow, and the
black.. Of these the yellow is the most rare, and is
found in Saxony, in Bohemia, in the Hartz, in Norway.
iTansylvania^ and Hungary. The brown and the
Species I. Native Antimony.—This is very rare. Jt Antimony
.was discovered at Sahlberg in Sweden, in the year 1748, orcs•
in a gangart of some calcareous stone, and it was also
found some years ago at Allemont in France, accompa¬
nying other ores of antimony and of cobalt.
Species 2. Sulphurated Antimony. L’Antimoine
iris.. Grau-spies glas-erz.—There are several varieties
ot this, as the compact sulphurated antimony, found at
Lraunsdorf m Saxony 5 at Coldgronach in the principa-
Jity or Bareith ; at Maguria in Hungary, and Auvergne
in I ranee: foliated sulphurated antimony, found in
Braunsdorf and Goldgronach, and in the Hartz, and
Iransylvama: striated sulphurated antimony, found in
Saxony, Hungary, France, Swabia, Tuscany, Sweden,
the Hartz, Spain, and in England : plumose antimonial
ore, found at Freyberg in Saxony, at Braunsdorf and
Stab Ibe rg, and at Chemnitz in Hungary. All these
varieties are usually found in a quarlzose rock.
Species 3. Bed Antimonial Ore. L’Antimoine Rouge.
Koth-speis glas-erz.—This is found at Braunsdorf, at
Malaska and Kremnitz, in Hungary, and at Allemont
in France. It usually accompanies the first and second
species, especially at Allemont, or the next species,
which is the case at Braunsdorf.
Species 4. Muriated Antimony. Antimoine blanc.
ueies-speis glas-erz.—White antimony is extremely
rare; it is principally found at Przibran in Bohemia,
in quadrangular, shining tables, disposed in bundles up¬
on galena. It is said also to have been found at Brauns¬
dorf and Malaska.
Species 5. Antimonial Ochre. L’Ocre d’Antimoine.
Spies glas-okker.—This species is also very rare j it is
found at Braunsdorf, near Freyberg, and in Hungary,
always accompanying the second and third species.
XII. Cobalt.
Species x. While Cobalt Ore. Le Cobalt blanc.Coblltom,
Weisser speis-kobalt.—This is found in Norway, Swe¬
den, at Anaberg in Saxony, in Swabia and Stiria ; but
it is very rare. In Saxony and Norway, it occurs in
beds of micaceous schistus, along with the 7th species,
and with quartz, hornblende, and pyrites.
Species 2. Dull Gray Cobalt Ore. Le Cobalt gris..
Grauer-speis-kobolt.—This is found in Saxony, Bohe¬
mia, France,. Norway, Swabia, Hungary, Stiria, and in
a few mines in England. It is sometimes mixed with
ores of silver.
Species 3. Bright White Cobalt Ore. Le Cobalt
Eclatant. Glanz-kobolt.—This is the most common,
of all the ores of cobalt, and almost always accompanies
the ores of nickel, and of silver. It is found in Bo-
!ieroiaa[,
590
General hernia, Saxony, Silesia, the Hartz, Hesse, Sweden, Swa-
Distribvi- bia, Norway, Stiria, Spain, Thuringia, and in England,
tion of the jt js found in beds in the primitive rocks, and in veins
Materials • i.i.p cprondaTV
^ SpecTes 4. Black Cobalt Ochre. Le Cobalt Terreux
noir. Schwarzer-erd-kobolt.—This is found in Saxony,
in Thuringia, Swabia, Hesse, the Palatinate, Saltzburg,
and in the Tyrol, accompanying other ores ot cobalt,
and several ores of silver, copper, and iron.
Species 5. Brown Cobalt Ochre. Le Cobalt Terreux
brun Brauner-erd-kobolt.—This is found in consider¬
able quantity at Saalfeld in Thuringia ; at Kamsdorf in
Saxony, and at Alperspach in Wirtemberg, accom¬
panying other ores of cobalt.
Species 6. Yellow Cobalt Ochre. Le Cobalt Terreux
iaunne. Geber erd-kobolt.—This is one of the rarest
ores of cobalt. It is found at Saalfeld in Thuringia, at
Alperspach in Wirtemberg, and at Altemont m Dau-
phine in France. _ , , m
Species 7. Bed Cobalt Ore. Le Cobalt Terreux
rouge. Rother-erd-kobolt. This is found in Saxony,
Thuringia, Hesse, Swabia, Bohemia, Allemont in
France, and in Norway.
GEOLOGY. Chap
hernia, Saxony, the Hartz, Carinthia, Swabia, Tran- Gei)Sj
sylvania, and in France. It is always met with in pisj
veins, in primitive mountains, accompanied by realgar, u“n,,-g
galena, the ores of cobalt and nickel, and several ores ^ ^
of silver. # Eai
Species 2. Arsenical Pyrites, or Marcasite. La Py-
rite Arsenicale. Arsenik-kies.—This is found in Bo¬
hemia, Saxony, and Silesia, accompanying the common
tin stone, and galena, with some other minerals.
Species 3. Bealgar. Le Realgar. Rauschgelb.—
This is found in the Bannat, Bohemia, Saxony, Swabia,
the Hartz, the Tyrol, Hungary, and in the neighbour¬
hood of volcanoes, especially j^htna and Vesuvius.
Orpiment, which Brochant makes a variety of real¬
gar, is found in several of the above places, and also in
Natolia, in Servia, Transylvania, and Wallachia, usually
accompanying quartz and clay.
Species 4. Native calx of Arsenic. L’Arsenic oxide
natif. Naturlechnr arsenik-kalk.—This is very rare,
but is found in a small quantity in Bohemia and Joa-
chimsthal, in Saxony, at Raschau, at Salatna, in Tran¬
sylvania, and in Hungary.
XVII. Tungsten.
XIII. Nickel.
Nickel Species I. Sulphurated Nickel. Le Kupfer Nikel.
orei. Kupfer Nikkei.—This is found in veins,both in primitive
and secondary mountains, almost always accompanying
some of the ores of cobalt, to which it seems to bear
some geological relation. It is also found in some sil¬
ver mines. It is met with in Bohemia, Saxony, Thu¬
ringia, the Hartz, in Swabia, Hesse, Allemont in
France, Stiria, and in some parts of Britain. Its
usual gangart is quartz, barytic and calcareous spar.
Species 2. Nickel Ochre. L’Ocre de Nikel. Nik-
kel-okker.—This is found in the same situations with
the last, from a decomposition of which it appears to
be produced.
XIV. Manganese.
Manganese Species I. Gray Ore of Manganese. Le Manganese,
ares. Grau-braunstein-erz.—There are several varieties of
this, but they are all commonly found near each other,
in veins or in masses, commonly in the primitive moun¬
tains.
They are found in considerable quantity in many
mines in Saxony, Bohemia, Bavaria, and Hungary.
They are also met with in France, and in several parts
in Britain, as in Derbyshire, Leadhills, and Wanlock-
head j in the Mendip hills, and the isle of Jura.
Species 2. Bed Manganese Ore. Le Manganese
rouge. Roth-Cronstein-erz.—This is very rare, but is
found at Catnick, Offenbanya, and especially at Nag-
yag in Transylvania, at which last place it is found in
a gold mine.
Species I. Tungsten. Le Tungstene. Schiverstein. Tung 1
 This is a very rare mineral, but is found at Schlack-ore5t
enwald in Bohemia, at Ehrenfriederdorf in Saxony, and
at Riddarkytten, Bisburg in Sweden, usually accom¬
panying quartz, mica, talc, and tin ore.
Species 2. Wolfram.—This is also pretty rare, but is
found in Bohemia, Saxony, and at Poldice in Corn¬
wall.
XVIII. Uranium.
Species 1. Sulphurated Uranite. L’Urane noir. Pe-uranj
cherz.—This is found at Joachimsthal in Bohemia, andot«.
at Johann-Georgen-Stadt, and Schneiberg in Saxony,
accompanying the two following species, and lead and
copper ores. _
Species 2. Micaceous Uranitic Ore. L’Urane Micace.
Uran-glimmer.—This is found in the Bannat, Saxony,
Wirtemberg ; near Autun in France, and near Karra-
rach in Cornwall.
Species 3. Uranitic Ochre. L’Ocre d’Urane Uran*
okher. This has been found at Joachimsthaf in Bohe¬
mia, and at Johann-Georgen-Stadt in Saxony, but it is
uncommon.
XIX. Titanium.
XV. Molybdena.
Molybdena Le Molybdene sulphure. Wasserbley.^—This is found
ares. jn Bohemia ; at several places in Saxony j in Sweden ;
at Tillot in France, and at Chamouni at the foot of
Mont Blanc. It is commonly found in primitive rocks,
especially in tin mines.
XVI. Arsenic.
*75
Areettic Species 1. Native Arsenic.—This is found in Bo¬
ose*. r
Species I. Menakanite.—This has been found chiefly Thai n
near Menakan in Cornwall. °re!-
Species 2. Titanite. Le Ruthile. RuthiL—This
is found at Boinik and Rhonitz in Hungary j in New
Castile in Spain ; at Aschaffenbourg in Franconia ; at
St Yreiux in France, and in Mount St Gothard, and
some other places in the Alps. _
Species 3. Titanitic Siliceous Ore. Le Nigrine. Ni*
grin.—This has been found near St Gothard in the
Alps, at Ohlapian in Transylvania, &c.
XX. Tellurium.
Species 1. Sylvanite. Le Sylvane natif. Gedie-Telii18
gen Sylvan.—This is found chiefly atFatzeborginTran-ou*
sylvania, but is now become extremely rare. It occurs
a;), m.
GEOLOGY.
The
of in beds of gray wacke and secondary (or transition)
th. limestone.
-Le Sylvane graphique. Shrifterz.
591
; Species 2. — _   
—This is found at Offenbanya in Transylvania, in a
bed of porphyritic syenite, and granular limestone.
Species 3 Le Sylvane blanc. Weiss- Syl-
vanerz.—This was brought to Brochant from Freyberg:
in Saxony.
Chap. III. Of the most Remarkable Theories of the
Earth.
flirt
Wu
A LATE writer considers the proper object of a theory
f of the earth, to be the tracing the series of those revolu¬
tions which have taken place on the surface of the
earth 5 to explain their causes, and thus to connect to¬
gether all the indications of change that are found in the
mineral kingdom. He justly observes, that the forma¬
tion of such a theory requires an accurate and extensive
examination of the phenomena of geology, and that it
is inconsistent with any, but a very advanced state of
the physical sciences. There is perhaps no research in
those sciences more arduous than this ; none where the
subject is so complex, where the appearances are so di-
versified, or so widely scattered j and where the causes
that have operated are so remote from the sphere of or¬
dinary observation *.
With such requisites, and under such difficulties,
it is not surprising that so many who have aimed
at constructing theories of the earth, have failed in
the attempt. It certainly requires a prodigious ac¬
cumulation of facts, together with a talent for obser¬
vation, and for arrangement, which are seldom found
united. We shall presently see how far those theo¬
ries which have hitherto been framed to account for
the changes that the earth has undergone, have been
successful.
It is not, however, to be supposed, that a correct
theory of the earth is impossible, though some may
think it an arrogant, if not a presumptuous undertaking,
to attempt explaining how the present state of the globe
and the revolutions which it has undergone, were
brought about. The time is perhaps not far distant
when the present prevailing hypothesis will be im¬
proved into a rational, and so far as is consistent with
the knowledge and acquirements of man, a perfect
system.
Mr Kirwan has laid down certain laws of reasoning;
which should be adhered to inviolably in investigations
of this kind. The first is, that no effect should be at¬
tributed to a cause whose known properties are inade¬
quate to its production. The second is, that no cause
should be adduced, whose existence is not proved either
by actual experience or approved testimony. Many
natural phenomena have arisen or do arise, in times or
places so distant, that well conditioned testimony con¬
cerning them cannot, without manifest absurdity, be
rejected. Thus the inhabitants of the northern parts
of Europe, who have never felt earthquakes, nor seen
volcanoes, must nevertheless admit, from mere testimo¬
ny, that the first have been, and that the second do ac¬
tually exist. The third is, that no powers should be
ascribed to an alleged cause, but those that it is known
by actual observation, to possess in appropriated cir¬
cumstances.
Sect. I. Theory of Burnet.
Theories of
the Earth.
. The first wIlo formed this amusement of earth-making lSl ,
into a system, was the celebrated Thomas Burnet; aJurnel.
man of polite learning, and rapid imagination. His
sacred theory, as he calls it, describing the changes
which the earth has undergone, or shall hereafter un¬
dergo, is well known for the warmth with which it is
imagined, and the weakness with which it is reasoned-
for the elegance of its style, and the meanness of its
philosophy. The earth, says he, before the delude
was very differently formed from what it is at present:
it was at first a fluid mass ; a chaos composed of various
substances, differing both in density and figure; those
which were heaviest sunk to the centre, and formed in
the middle of our globe a bard solid body; those of a
lighter nature remained next; and the waters, which
were lighter still, swam upon its surface, and covered
the earth on every side. The air, and all those fluids
whicji were lighter than water, floated upon this also,
and in the same manner encompassed the globe; so that
between the surrounding body of waters, and the cir¬
cumambient air, there was formed a coat of oil, and
other unctuous substances, lighter than water. How¬
ever, as the air was still extremely impure, and must
have carried up with it many of those earthy particles
with which it once was intimately blended, it soon be¬
gan to defecate, and to depose these particles upon the
oily surface already mentioned, which soon uniting, the
earth and oil formed that crust which soon became an
habitable surface, giving life to vegetation, and dwell¬
ing to animals.
This imaginary antediluvian abode was very different
from what we see at present. The earth was light
and rich, and formed of a substance entirely adapted to
the feeble state of incipient vegetation ; it was a uni¬
form plain, everywhere covered with verdure, without
mountains, without seas, or the smallest inequalities.
It had no difference of seasons, for its equator was in the
plane of the ecliptic, or, in other words, it turned di¬
rectly opposite to the sun, so that it enjoyed one per¬
petual and luxuriant spring. However, this delightful
face of nature did not long continue in the same state,
for, after a time, it began to crack and open in fissures;
a circumstance which always succeeds when the sun ex¬
hales the moisture from rich or marshy situations. The
crimes of mankind had been for some time preparing to
draw down the wrath of heaven ; and they at length
induced the deity to defer repairing those breaches in
nature. Thus the chasms of the earth every day be¬
came wider, and, at length, they penetrated to the
great abyss of waters, and the whole earth in a manner
fell in. Then ensued a total disorder in the uniform
beauty of the first creation, the terrene surface being
broken down ; as it sunk, the waters gushed out in its
place ; the deluge became universal; all mankind, ex¬
cept eight persons, were destroyed, and their posterity
condemned to toil upon the ruins of desolated nature.
It remains to mention the manner in which he re¬
lieves the earth from this universal wreck, which would
seem to be as difficult as even its first formation.
These great masses of earth falling into the abyss, drew
down with them vast quantities of air; and by dash¬
ing against each other, and breaking into small parts
by.
592
Theories ofW violence of the shock, they at length left be-
the Earth, tween them large cavities filled with nothing but air.
' These cavities naturally offered, a bed to receive the
influent waters 5 and in proportion as they hlled, the
face of the earth became once more visible. I he
higher parts of its broken surface, now become the tops
of mountains, were the first that appeared ; the plains
soon after came forward, and at length the whole globe
was delivered from the waters, except the places in the
lowest situations j so that the ocean and the seas are
still a part of the ancient abyss that have not had a
place to return to. Islands and rocks are fragments of
the earth’s former crust; kingdoms and continents are
larger masses of its broken substance j and all the ine¬
qualities that are to be found on the surface of the pre¬
sent earth, are owing to the accidental confusion into
which both earth and waters were then thrown.
GEOLOGY. Chap.
aware, however, that an objection that fossil substances Theo
. it 1 1 1 ‘ 1.I T 1.1.! • xl x
Sect. II. Theory of JToodward.
are not found dissolved, he exempts them from this uni- the ii ^
versal dissolution, and for that purpose, endeavours to*
show that the parts of animals have a stronger cohesion
than those of minerals; and that, while even the hard¬
est rocks may be dissolved, bones and shells may still
continue entire.
Sect. III. Theory of Whiston.
Theory Of The next who attempted a theory of the earth was
Woodward. Mr Woodward, who in his essay towards a natural
history of the earth, endeavoured to give what he con¬
sidered as a more rational account of its appearances
than had been given by any preceding writer. He was
indeed much better qualified for such an undertaking
than any of his predecessors, as he was one ot the most
industrious naturalists of bis time. Hence though his
system must be considered as weak and untenable, bis
work contains many important facts relating to natural
history.
Woodward sets out by asserting that all terrestrial
substances are disposed in beds of various natures, lying
horizontally, one over the other, like the coats ot an
onion, and" that they are replete with shells and other
marine productions •, these shells being found in the
deepest cavities, and on the tops of the highest moun¬
tains. From these observations, which were warranted
by the experience of naturalists at that time, but which
we now know not to be universally correct, be proceeds
to remark that these shells and extraneous fossils are not
productions of the earth, but are all actual remains of
those animals which they are known to resemble; that
all the beds of the earth lie below each other in the
order of their specific gravities, and that they are dis¬
posed as if they had been left in this situation by sub¬
siding waters. All this is affirmed with much earnest¬
ness, although many of the circumstances are contra¬
dicted by daily experience. Thus, we not uofrequent-
ly meet with layers of stone above the lightest soils,
and find the softest earth below a stratum of hard stone.
Woodward, however, having taken for granted, that
all the strata of the earth are arranged in the order of
their specific gravities, the lightest at the top, and the
heaviest near the centre, he deduces as a natural con¬
sequence, that all the substances of which the earth is
composed were once in an actual state of solution. This
universal solution he conceives to have happened at the
time of the flood. He supposes that at that time a
body of water, which was then in the centre of the
earth, uniting with that which was found on the sur¬
face, so far separated the terrene parts as to mix all to¬
gether in one fluid mass $ the contents of which after¬
wards sinking according to their respective gravities,
produced the present appearances of the earth. Being
Of all the theories of the earth that have been Then f
formed, previous to those of Hutton and Werner, noneWhiu
has been more applauded or more opposed than that of
Whiston. Nor is this surprising; for this theory being
supported with all the parade of mathematical calcula¬
tion, confounded the ignorant, and produced the ap¬
probation of such as desired to be thought learned,
since it implied a considerable knowledge of abstract i
science, even to be capable of comprehending what the
writer aimed at. It is not easy to divest this theory of
its mathematical garb, but the result of our philoso¬
pher’s reasoning appears to be as follows.
He supposes the earth to have been originally a
comet, and he considers the history of the creation, as
given us in scripture, to have its commencement just
when it was, by the hand of the Creator, more regular¬
ly placed as a planet in our solar system. Before that
time, he supposes it to have been a globe without beau¬
ty or proportion } a world in disorder, subject to all the
vicissitudes which comets endure 5 some of which have
been found, at different times, a thousand times hotter
than melted iron 5 at others, a thousand times colder
than ice. These alternations of heat and cold, conti¬
nually melting and freezing the surface of the earth, he
supposes to have produced, to a certain depth, a chaos
entirely resembling that described by the poets, sur¬
rounding the solid contents of the earth, which still
continued unchanged in the midst, making a great
burning globe of more than two thousand leagues in
diameter. This surrounding chaos, however, was far
from being solid : he compares it to a dense though fluid
atmosphere, composed of substances mingled, agitated,
and shocked against each other; and in this disorder he
describes the earth to have been just at the eve of crea¬
tion.
But upon its orbit being then changed, when it was
more regularly wheeled round the sun, every thing
took its proper place, every part of the surrounding
fluid then fell into a situation, in proportion as it was
light or heavy. The middle or central part, which al¬
ways remained unchanged, still continued so, retaining
a part of that heat which it received, in its primeval
approaches towards the sun ; which heat he calculates,
may continue for about six thousand years. Next to this
fell the heavier parts of the chaotic atmosphere, which
serve to sustain the lighter ; hut as in descending they
could not entirely be separated from many watery parts
with which they were intimately mixed, they drew
down a part of these also with them ; and these could
not mount again after the surface of the earth was con¬
solidated ; they therefore surrounded the heavy first de¬
scending parts, in the same manner as these surround
the central globe. Thus, the entire body of the earth
is composed internally of a great burning globe, next
which is placed a heavy terrene substance that enconi-
ap. III.
,ries of Passes roun^ which also is circumfused a body of
iEartlu water. Upon this body of water, the crust of the earth
4v ' on which we dwell is placed, so that, according to him,
the globe is composed of a number of coats, or shells,
one within the other, all of different densities. The
body of the earth being thus formed, the air, which is
the lightest substance of all, surrounded its surface, and
the beams ol the sun darting through, produced that
light which, we are told, lirst obeyed the Creator’s
command.
The whole economy of the creation being thus ad¬
justed, it only remained to account for the risings and
depressions on the surface of the earth, with the other
seeming irregularities of its present appearance. The
hills and valleys are considered by him as formed by
their pressing upon the internal fluid, which sustains the
outward shell of earth with greater or less weight j those
parts of the earth which are heaviest, sink into the sub¬
jacent fluid more deeply, and become valleys ; those
that are lighter, risedrighest upon the earth’s surface, and
are called mountains.
Such was the lace of nature before the deluge j the
earth was then more fertile and populous than it is at
present j the life of man and animals was extended to
ten times its present duration; and all those advan¬
tages arose from the superior heat of the central globe,
which ever since has been cooling. As its heat was then
in full power, the genial principle was also much greater
than at present; vegetation and animal increase were
carried on with more vigour; and all nature seemed
teeming with the seeds of life. But these physical ad¬
vantages were, only productive of moral evil; the
warmth which invigorated the body, increased the pas¬
sions and appetites of the mind ; and as man became
more powerful, he grew less innocent. It was found
necessary to punish this depravity; and all living crea¬
tures were overwhelmed by the deluge in universal de¬
struction.
This deluge, which simple believers are willing to
ascribe to a miracle, philosophers have been long de¬
sirous to account for by natural causes. They have
proved that the earth could never supply from any re¬
servoir towards its centre, nor the atmosphere by any
discharge from above, such a quantity of water as would
cover the surface of the globe to a certain depth over
the tops of our highest mountains. Where, therefore,
was all this water to be found? Whiston has found
enough, and more than a sufficiency, in the tail of a
comet; for he seems to allot comets a very active part
in the great operations of nature.
He calculates with great seeming precision, the year,
the month, and the day of the week on which this
comet (which has paid the earth some visits since,
though at a kinder distance) involved our globe in its
tail. The tail he supposed to be a vaporous fluid sub¬
stance, exhaled from the body of the comet, by the
extreme heat of the sun, and increasing in proportion as
it approached that great luminary. It was in this that
our globe was involved at the time of the deluge; and
as the earth still acted by its natural attraction, it drew
to itself all the watery vapours which were in the comet’s
tail; and the internal waters being also at the same
time let loose, in a very short space the tops of the
highest mountains were laid under the deep.
Ihe punishment of the deluge being thus completed,
Vol. IX. Part II. ^ f
geology.
533
and all the guilty destroyed, the earth, which had been ,nt .
broken by the eruption of the internal waters, was also.f
enlarged by it; so that upon the comet’s recess, there -" ^
was found room sufficient in the internal abyss for the
recess of the superfluous waters, whither they all re¬
tired, and left the earth uncovered, but in some respects
changed, particularly in its figure, which, from being
round, was now become oblate. In this universal
%vreck of nature Noah survived, by a variety of happy
causes, to repeople the earth, and to give birth to a race
ot men slow in believing ill-imagined theories of the
earth.
Sect. IV. Theory of Buffon.
Less abstracted and more popular than the theory of Theory4 of
.ton, ‘jut equally fanciful and pompous, was the by- Buffoa.
pothesis of Buffon. This system, which was received
with great admiration, depends principally on two facts
winch, though generally true, were by Buffon extended
much too far.
It had been long observed, that such flinty or sili¬
ceous bodies as form a part of the composition of glass
are among the most abundant materials which compose’
the earth, and that many of them nearly resemble glass
in colour, transparency, lustre, hardness, and specific
gravity. As glass is produced by fusion in a strong
heat it was inferred by Buffon, that the flinty bodiet
found on the earth derived their origin from a similar
fusion; and as no heat sufficient to produce so great an
effect, could be found on our globe, the author has re¬
course to the sun as its source. He supposes the
planets, and the earth among the number, to have ori¬
ginally formed a part of the body of the sun. In this
situation a comet falling in on that great body, might
have given it such a shock, and so shaken its whole
frame, that some of its particles might have been driven
ofl, like streaming sparkles from red-hot iron ; and each
of these streams of fire, though very small in comparison
of the sun, might have been large enough to form a
planet much greater than our earth, or any other of the
planetary system. In this manner the planets, together
with the globe which we inhabit, might have been
driven off from the body of the sun by impulsion ; and
in this way they would have continued to recede from
it for ever, had they not been arrested by the superior
power of attraction, exerted on them by the sun ; and
thus, by the combination of the centrifugal and centri¬
petal forces, they were whirled round in the orbits which
they now describe.
After giving a number of reasons.for thecredibility, or
at least possibility, of theforegoingsupposition, the author
concludes that it is evident, that the earth assumed its
present figure when in a melted state. It is natural to
think, says he, that the earth, when it issued from the
sun, had no other form but that of a torrent of melted
and inflamed matter; that this torrent, by the mutual
attraction of its parts, took on a globular figure, which
its diurnal motion changed into a spheroid ; that, when
the earth cooled, the vapours, which were expanded like
the tail of a comet, gradually condensed, and fell down
in the form of water upon the surface, depositing at the
same time a slimy substance mixed with sulphur and
salts, part of which was carried by the motion of the
waters into the perpendicular fissures of the strata, and
4 F produced
594
• ftfproduced metals, and the rest remained on the surface,
Eaih and gave rise to the vegetable mould which abounds in
u— > different places, with more or less of animal or vegeta¬
ble particles, the organization of which is not obvious to
the senses. _ . , , • • n .
Thus the interior parts of the globe were originally
composed of vitrified matter, and probably they are so
■it present. Above this were placed those bodies which
had been reduced by the heat to the smallest particles,
as sand, which are only portions of glass, and above
these pumice stones, and the scoria; of melted matter,
from which were afterwards produced the several kinds
of clay. The whole mass was covered with water to
the depth of five or six hundred feet, arising from the
condensation of the vapours when the earth began to
cool. This water deposited a stratum of mud, mixed
with all those substances which were capable of being
sublimed, or exhaled by fire ; and the air was formed ot
the most subtile vapours, which, from their small specific
gravity, floated above the watei.
Such was the condition of the earth, when the tides,
the winds, and the heat of the sun, began to introduce
changes on its surface. The diurnal motion of the
earth, and that of the tides, elevated the waters in the
equatorial regions, and necessarily transported thither
great quantities of slime, clay, and sand j and by thus
elevating those parts of the earth, they perhaps sunk
those under the poles about two leagues, or a 230th
part of the whole 5 for the waters would easily reduce
into powder pumice stones, and other spongy parts of
the vitrihed matter upon the surface ; and by this means
excavate some places and elevate others, which, in
time, would produce islands and continents, and all
those inequalities on the surface, which are more con¬
siderable towards the equator than towards the poles.
The highest mountains lie between the tropics and the
middle of the temperate zones, and the lotvest from the
polar circles towards the poles. Indeed, both the land
and sea have most inequalities between the tropics, as is
evident from the incredible number of islands peculiar
to these regions.
The other circumstance which forms a principal part
of the basis of this theory, is derived from the composi¬
tion of sea shells. It is well known that these shells con¬
sist chiefly of an earth like that which constitutes the
principal part of limestone or marble j and it was hence
inferred that, after a series of ages, these shells being
broken down into minute particles, produced those im¬
mense masses of calcareous substances which are now
found either in vast mountains, or in stratified plains, in
almost every part of the earth.
Bufibn conceives very naturally, that the surface of
the earth must, at the beginning, have been much less
solid than it is at present, and consequently the same
causes which at this day produce but slight changes,
must then, on so yielding a body, have been attended
with very considerable effects. There is, he thinks,
every reason to suppose, that the earth was at that time
covered with the waters of the sea; and that these wa¬
ters were above the tops of our highest mountains, since,
even in such elevated situations, we find shells and other
marine productions in very great abundance. It ap¬
pears also that the sea continued for a considerable time
upon the face of the earth j for as these layers of shells
are found so very frequently at such great depths, and
GEOLOGY. Chap. I,
in such prodigious quantities, it seems impossible forThceiy,;
such numbers to have been supported all alive atone tlieEfd
time j so that they must have been brought there by —“r*'
successive depositions. These shells also are found in
the bodies of the hardest rocks, where they could not
have been deposited all at once, at the time of the de¬
luge, or at any such instant revolution ; since that would
be to suppose, that all the rocks in which they are found
were, at that instant, in a state ot dissolution, which
would be absurd to assert. The sea, therefore, deposit¬
ed them wherever they are now to he found, and that
by slow and successive degrees.
“ It will appear also, that the sea covered the whole
earth, from the appearance of its layers, which lying
regularly one above the other, seem all to resemble
the sediment formed at different times by the ocean.
Hence, by the irregular force of its waves and its cur¬
rents, driving the bottom into sand-banks, mountains
must’have been gradually formed within this universal
covering of waters ; and these successively raising their
heads above its surface, must, in time, have formed the
highest ridges of mountains upon land, together with
continents, islands, and low grounds, all in their turns.
This opinion will receive additional weight by consider¬
ing, that in those parts of the earth, where the power
of the ocean is greatest, the inequalities on the surface
of the earth are highest; the ocean’s power is greatest
at the equator, where its winds and tides are most con¬
stant 5 and in fact, the mountains at the equator are
found to be higher than in any other parts of the world.
(Vid. N° 129.). The sea, therefore, has produced the
principal changes in our earth ; rivers, volcanoes, earth¬
quakes, storms, and rain, having made but slight alter¬
ations, and only such as have affected the giobe to \eiy
inconsiderable depths.” .
“ In the formation of this theory, says Mr Ivirwan,
genius (I mean genius in its primitive sense, the su¬
blime. talent of fascinating invention, and not the ener¬
getic power ofjpatient, profound, and sagacious investi¬
gation), unhappily presided. Yet dazzled by the splen¬
did but delusive scenery, presented by an ardent imagi¬
nation soaring to the source of light, and rending from
its flaming orb the planetary masses that surround it 5
then marking with daring and overweening confidence,
fancied successive epochs of the consolidated fabric di
the terraqueous globe 5 the public attention was long
arrested by the magical representation, and the under¬
standing nearly betrayed into a partial, if not a total, as¬
sent to it.
“ This proud gigantic theory, was, however, like an¬
other Goliath, soon demolished by a common flint or
pebble, the very substance it sprung from. Common
glass essentially contains an alkaline salt, to which
alone it owes its fusibility; siliceous substances contain
none, and are absolutely infusible when unassociated
with any. Macquer found them infusible not only in
furnaces, but in the still incomparably superior heat ci
inflamed oxygen. Hence the hypothesis grounded on
the assumed identity of these substances and common
glass, vanished like the unembodied visions ol the nig it*
With respect to limestone, the other pillar on which
this theory rests, Cronstedt, Ferber, Born, Arduim, an
Bergman, demonstrated the existence of numerous an
immense mountains, in which not only no vestiges 0
shells could he traced, but whose internal structure o-
position
lS:|
:ap. HI. GEO
n iry of position was incompatible with the supposition of ori-
tiiartli. gination thence derived.” *
Uf/—'
Q. gical Sect. V. Theory of Whitehurst.
my;.
[^5 The first person who founded a theory of the earth
T y°f on accurate and industrious observation was the late
W:"1,Mr John Whitehurst, who, in an inquiry into the origi¬
nal state and formation of the earth, has advanced opi¬
nions which differ considerably from those of preceding
naturalists, and in some measures resemble those which
are at present in greatest repute.
Mr Whitehurst sets out with stating his opinions,
that the terraqueous globe, which we now inhabit, was
originally in a fluid flute, and this, not from any solvent
principle or subsequent solution, but owing to the first
assemblage of its component parts ; whence he presumes
that the earth had a beginning, and has not existed
from eternity. He rests his proof of this original fluid
state of the earth on its spheroidal form, which a fluid
globe in its revolution would naturally acquire, but
which could not easily be produced in a solid body.
The fluidity of the earth and the infinite divisibility
of matter, an opinion which generally prevailed at that
time, prove, according to him, that the component parts
of the elements were uniformly blended together, none
being heavier or lighter than another; hence they com¬
posed a uniform mass of equal consistence throughout,
from the surface to the centre, and consequently the
new formed globe was not adapted to the support of
animal or vegetable life. It would therefore be absurd
to suppose, that organized bodies were created during
the chaotic state of the earth; and there is a great
presumption that mankind were not created till the
earth was become suitable to the nature of their ex¬
istence.
The component parts of the chaos were heterogene¬
ous, and endowed with peculiar chemical affinities,
whereby similar substances were disposed to unite and
form select bodies of various denominations, and thus
the chaos was progressively formed into a habitable
world.
The first operation of nature which presents itself to
our consideration is the production of the spheroidal
figure of the earth, acquired from its diurnal rotation,
and the laws of gravity, fluidity, and centrifugal force.
When this form was once completed, the component
parts began to act on each other according to their af¬
finities : hence the particles of earth, air, and water,
united to those of their own kind, and with their union
commenced their specific gravities; and the uniform
suspension which had hitherto prevailed throughout the
whole of the chaotic mass, was destroyed.
On the component parts separating into homogeneous
masses, those of the greatest density began to approach
towards the centre of gravity, and those of the greatest
levity ascended towards the surface. As the specific
gravity of air is so much less than that of water, it
is presumed that the former escaped from the general
mass sooner than the latter, and formed an impure at¬
mosphere surrounding the newly-formed globe. Water
being next in levity, succeeded the air, and formed one
vast ocean about the earth. In process of time these
elements became perfectly pure, and fit for the preser¬
vation of animal and vegetable life.
L ° G Y' 595
When the component parts of the chaos had been Theory of
thus progressively separated, and collected into distinct »he Earth.
masses, the following consequences are supposed to have '    
ensued. The solids could not uniformly subside from
every part of the surface, and be equally covered by
water; for, as the sun and moon were coeval with the
chaos, in proportion as the separation of the solids and
fluids increased, so, by the action of those bodies on the
sea, the tides became greater, and removed the solids from
place to place, without any order or regularity. Hence
the sea became unequally deep; and those inequalities
daily increasing, dry land gradually appeared, and di¬
vided the waters which had hitherto been universally
diffused over the earth. The primitive islands being
thus iormed gradually became firm and dry, and fit for
the reception of animals and vegetables.
The atmosphere, the sea, and the land, being thus
formed, Mr Whitehurst proceeds to consider the order
m which animal and vegetable bodies were severally
created. He first supposes that, as the ocean became
pure, and fit for animal life, before the formation of the
primitive islands, fish were the first animals produced
and he supports this opinion by many ingenious argu¬
ments and facts. He observes, that in every instance
upon record, the fragments of sea-shells are infinitely
more numerous than the bones and teeth offish. The
latter, too, are but rarely deposited in any other matter
than in beds of sand and gravel, and not in the solid
substance of limestone, as the shells offish generally are,
even to the depth of many hundred yards, and dispersed
throughout the whole extent of the secondary strata.
Hence it is probable, that shell-fish were produced in
prodigious quantities, sooner than any other kind of
animal. The ocean being thus stocked with inhabi¬
tants, previous to the formation of the primitive islands,
many of them became enveloped, and were buried in
the mud by the action of the tides ; and this would
happen more particularly to the shell-fish, as they were
less able to extricate themselves. Since the remains of
marine animals are thus imbedded at various depths in
the earth, there is sufficient proof that these marine
bodies were entombed at successive periods of time,
and that they were likewise created before the primi¬
tive islands, and consequently before any terrestrial
islands.
.That the earth has, at different times, suffered very
violent convulsions, producing extensive ruptures of its
solid parts, may reasonably be concluded from the
rugged and uncouth appearance of many of the moun¬
tainous parts of the world. We see rocks in some
places torn asunder, or appearing as if cut with a saw,
and we find, in various parts, substances both mineral
and organized, which are not generally met with, ex¬
cept in very distant regions. Most of the irregularities
of the earth’s surface are attributed by Mr Whitehurst
to the general deluge. This would, in some instances,
have the effect of reducing large masses of matter to a
second state of solution ; many eminences would be le¬
velled, and some of the valleys would be filled up,
while some parts which were before covered with water,
might receive such an accession of matter as to fill up
their cavities, and on the subsidiJng of the waters become
a vast level plain. On the oilier hand, those elevated
regions which were chiefly composed of the hardest
stones, by having the lighter portions of earth washed
4 F a away
596
GEOLOGY.
Theories of&way fi’om their basis, would appear considerably in-
ihe Earth, creased in height. Mr Whitehurst attributes the pro-
‘ - » '■l duction of pit coal also to the deluge, as it is difficult to
account for the deposition of such a quantity of vege¬
table matter (supposing pit-coal to be ot vegetable
origin) below the surface of the earth, on any other
hypothesis. The animal matters found in a fossil state,
especially those remains of animals which are not now
found upon the earth, can only be accounted for, on the
supposition of a deluge.
Mr Whitehurst, however, is not content with attri¬
buting to the deluge most of the changes which have
taken place on the surface of the earth, but he derives
from the same source the curtailed longevity ol man,
and many of the evils incident to mankind. “ At that
dreadful era, says he, and not before, the year became
divided into summer and winter, spring and autumn,
and the spontaneous products of the earth no longer
sufficed the calls of human nature without art and
labour 5 wherefore he who sowed would expect to leap,
and he who built an hut for his protection, would
naturally expect to enjoy the fruits of his own labour;
aecessity, therefore, was the parent ot property, and
property created a thousand imaginary wants, which its
possessors endeavoured to gratify, and their example ex¬
cited similar ideas in those who bad it not, but never¬
theless studiously endeavoured to gratify their artificial
wants by unjustifiable means. Hence the necessity of
laws, dominion, and subordination, which had no exist¬
ence in the antediluvian world.
“ To that great revolution in the natural world, we
may therefore ascribe many of the evils incident to
mankind ; for experience shews, that men who are born
in rude and savage climates are naturally of a ferocious
disposition ; and that a fertile soil, which leaves nothing
to wish for, softens their manners, and inclines them to
humanity.”
The above is a general outline of Mr Whitehurst’s
theory, some parts of which are very ingenious, and are
corroborated by observation, while others are not a
little fanciful and improbable. In his supposition that
the earth was originally in fluid state, he agrees with
most other theorists, as this is a circumstance which ad¬
mits of little doubt ; though, as Kirwan has shewn, it is
not necessary to suppose that the whole mass of the earth
was fluid, but only those parts of it which are near the
surface. In his play of affinities, and consequent separa¬
tion of the materials of the earth into homogeneous
masses, Whitehurst has been followed by Mr Kirwan,
tKirwan's wj10 j,ag franied a beautiful and ingenious speculation on
Oeohgicul successive changes that took place from the action
Sssay 1. of th6 materials on each other
1S7 Mr Whitehurst has been betrayed by his fondness for
a favourite theory, into several errors respecting the
stratification of the earth, which require to be men¬
tioned. Thus, though the arrangement of the strata,
especially where it has not been disturbed by some
evident and violent cause, is extremely uniform ; he has,
however, extended this regularity farther than it really
obtains. He tells us that the strata invariably follow
each other, as if it were in an alphabetical order, or a
series of numbers, whatever be their denomination.
Not that they are alike in all the different regions of
the earth, either in quality or in thickness, but that
*heir order in each particular part, however they may
Chap. 1
differ in quality ; yet they follow each other in regular xheorrUf
succession, both as to thickness and quality, insomuch, theEif
that by knowing the incumbent stratum, together with '
the arrangement thereof in any particular part of the
earth, we may come to a perfect knowledge of all the
inferior beds, so far as they have been previously dis¬
covered in the adjacent country. With respect to the
strata that accompany coal, some instances are apparent¬
ly but not really, contradictory to this rule.
We now know, however, that Mr Whitehurst’s ob¬
servations do not universally apply. In the old mines
in the valley of Planen, in Saxony, the strata, though
they are near each other, vary considerably in thickness,
from that of a few inches to several feet, and the stratum
of coal, in particular, varies from two to thirty-two feet.
Again, in Mount Salive, the strata of coal, though in a
calcareous mountain, vary considerably; and Mr White¬
hurst himself informs us, that at Bensal moor, those
strata which are in other places the lowest, are found at
the surface. Even in Derbyshire, to which Mr White¬
hurst’s observations chiefly apply, we are informed that
even when the arrangement is the same, the thickness
of the strata varies considerably.
Sect. VI. Theory of Dr Hutton.
iGi
The next theory which we have to consider, is thatTheor!'
proposed by Dr James Hutton, which has become soHotto;
ranch the object of inquiry and debate, as to give name
to one of the two principal sects into which geologists
are now divided.
The leading principles of the Huttonian theory, as
concisely laid down by one of its greatest admirers and
supporters, are the following.
1. The first circumstance which Dr Hutton has
considered as a general fact is, that by far the greater
part of the bodies which compose the exterior crust of
our globe, bear the marks of being formed of the mate¬
rials of mineral and organized bodies, of more ancient
date. The spoils or the wreck of an older world are,
he thinks, everywhere visible in the present, and though
not found in every piece of rock, they are diffused so
generally as to leave no doubt that the strata which
now compose our continents are all formed out of strata
more ancient than themselves..
2. The present rocks, with the exception of such as
are not stratified, having all existed in the form of
loose materials collected at the bottom of the sea, must
have been consolidated and converted into stone by
virtue of some very powerful and general agent. The
consolidating cause which he points out is subterrane¬
ous heat, and the objections to this hypothesis have
been attempted to be removed, by the introduction of
a principle new and peculiar to himself. This prin¬
ciple is the compression which must have prevailed in
that region where the consolidation of mineral sub¬
stances was accomplished. Under the weight of a su¬
perincumbent ocean, heat, however intense, might be
unable to volatilize any part of those substances which,
at the surface, and under the lighter pressure of out
atmosphere, it can entirely consume. The same pres¬
sure, by forcing those substances to remain united,
which at the surface are easily separated, might occa¬
sion the fusion of some bodies which in our fires ar®
only calcined.
3. Tbs
f ip. HI. GEO
met of 3- The third general circumstance which this theory
iiarth. is founded on is, that the stratified rocks, instead of be-
ing either horizontal or nearly so, as they no doubt
were originally, are now found possessing all degrees
of elevation, and some of them were perpendicular to
die horizon ; to which we must add, that those strata
which were once at the bottom of the sea, are now
raised up, many of them several thousand feet above
its surface. From this, as well as from the inflexions,
the breaking and separation of the strata, it is inferred,
diat they have been raised by the action of some ex¬
pansive force placed under them. This force, which
has burst in pieces the solid pavement on which the
ocean rests, and has raised up rocks from the bottom of
the sea into mountains 15,000 feet above its surface,
exceeds any which we see actually exerted, but seems
to come nearer to the cause of the volcano or the earth¬
quake than to any other, of which the effects are di¬
rectly observed. The immense disturbance, therefore,
of the strata, is in this theory ascribed to heat acting
with an expansive power, and elevating those rocks
which it had before consolidated.
4. Among the marks of disturbance in which the
mineral kingdom abounds, those great breaches among
rocks, which are filled with materials different from the
rock on either side, are among the most conspicuous.
These are the veins, and comprehend not only the me¬
tallic veins, but also those of whinstone, of porphyry,
and of granite, all of them substances more or less crys¬
tallized, and none of them containing the remains of
organized bodies. These are of posterior formation to
the strata which they intersect, and in general also
they carry with them the marks of the violence with
which they have come into their place, and of the
disturbances which they have produced on the rocks
already formed. The materials of all these veins, Dr
Hutton concludes to have been melted by subterrane¬
ous heat, and, while in fusion, injected among the fis¬
sures and openings of rocks already formed, but thus
disturbed, and moved from their original place.
This conclusion he extends to all the masses of whin-
stone, porphyry, and granite, which are interspersed
among the strata, or raised up in pyramids, as they
often appear to be, through the midst of them. Thus,
in the fusion and injection of the unstratified rocks,
we have the third and last great operation which sub¬
terraneous heat has performed on mineral substances.
5. From this Dr Hutton proceeds to consider the
changes to which mineral bodies are subject when rais¬
ed into the atmosphere. Here he finds, without any
exception, that they are all going to decay j that, from
the shore of the sea to the top of the mountain, from
the softest clay to the hardest quartz, all are wasting
and undergoing a separation of their parts. The bodies
thus resolved into their elements, whether chemical or
mechanical, are carried down by the rivers to the sea,
and are there deposited. Nothing is exempted from
this general law ; among the highest mountains and the
hardest rocks, its effects are most clearly discerned ;
and it is on the objects which appear the most durable
and fixed, that the characters of revolution are most
deeply imprinted *.
Iii not surPrising that this theory should have met
i0| with many advocates among the more superficial obser-
f-iii .5i,vers of nature. The production of a man in whom ge-
L ° g y. S97
nius, observation, and industry, were united, and who Theories of
passed a considerable part of a long life in chemical and the Earth.
geological researches, was calculated to dazzle the ima- ' ’—* 1
gination by the grandeur of its design, and to captivate
the judgment by its appearance of regularity and con¬
sistence. It has been considered as a peculiar excel¬
lence of this theory, that it ascribes to the phenomena
of geology an order similar to that which exists in the
provinces of nature with which we are best acquainted j
that it produces seas and continents, not by accident,
but by the operation of regular and uniform causes ;
that it makes the decay of one part subservient to thei
restoration of another, and that it gives stability to theI!lustra~
whole, not by perpetuating individuals, but by repro-*WW'
ducing them in succession-jf-. P’ Ijg^
An hypothesis with such pretensions could not fail of Objections
being minutely examined and severely criticised by theto lhe Hut~
more enlightened part of geologists, and accordingly tol”an t*w"
very serious objections have been made to it by Kirwan0*7*
and others. We shall state a few of what appear to us
to be the most convincing arguments against Dr Hut¬
ton’s theory, referring those who wish to see a more de¬
tailed refutation of it to the geological writings of Kir-
wan, and A Comparative View of the Huttonian and
Neptunian Theories.
Some of the strongest arguments against this theory From the
are drawn from the nature of caloric, and what we nature and
know of its action on other bodies. We know that ca-ac^on °f
loric is of so diffusible a nature, that it is always com-ea*ori®'
municated, from that body or set of bodies, in which it
is most abundant, to that in which it is less so, till an
equilibrium of temperature is produced. But Dr Hut¬
ton’s theory supposes a subterraneous heat as constantly
existing, capable of fusing the most obdurate rocks, and
of raising them by its expansibility from the bottom of
the ocean, and yet incapable of extending its influencs
th rough the superincumbent strata at all times, so as to
fuse or evaporate superior bodies, and gradually expand
itself, so as to acquire that equilibrium which is one of
its natural effects. Again, supposing such a subterra¬
neous heat to exist, it is surely extraordinary, that sub¬
stances which we are incapable of fusing by the strong- -
est heat that we can excite, even in the greatest state of
division, should, by this subterraneous beat be so com¬
pletely fused, and in such vast masses, as to have as¬
sumed the appearance under which they now present
themselves. If the solar rays, in the utmost state of
concentration, if a united stream of inflamed hydrogen¬
ous and oxygenous gases from the tube of a blow-pipe
or gazometer, cannot melt the smallest visible portion
of calcareous spar or rock crystal, bow can we conceive
that the immense mountains of limestone and of quartz
which are met with in so many places could have been
fused into a state of perfect fluidity ? Or even if they
could be fused, how is it possible that the carbonic acid
of the limestone should not have been dissipated by so
strong a heat ? If we suppose with Dr Hutton, that
this subterraneous beat acts with the assistance of im¬
mense pressure from the superincumbent strata and wa¬
ters of the ocean, hence preventing the dissipation of
volatile matters, still it should act uniformly, and should
fuse all those bodies which come in its way, that are
capable of fusion. Now, we know that feldspar, schorl,
mica, and chlorite, are much more fusible than quartz,
and of course, when a mass compounded of these comes
undesV
59®
G E O L
Tk-ories t,,e !nflaenC'! of this ,,eat’ ‘V86 fUSBlet
the Earth, substances should be melted as well as the quartz. u
v—in some stones in which most of these ingredients mee ,
as m the granite of Portsoy, there is every reason to
suppose that some of them have been in a fluid state,
while the others were solid or less fluid, as crystals ot
the latter are impressed on a bed of the former, viz. in
the instance cited, crystals of feldspar in a mass ot
quartz. As it is certain, according to the advocates ot
the Huttonian theory, that at least the quartz was
fluid when it was moulded on the feldspar, how happen¬
ed it that this comparatively fusible stone was not also
melted, and blended in one compact mass with the
quartz ? We also frequently find crystals of quartz pe¬
netrated by schorl and chlorite, which is a proof that
the latter must have been hard while the former was
in a fluid state. Hence it is evident that these appear¬
ances could not have been the effect of fusion by heat.
Again, we find seams of coal penetrated by thin lami¬
na; and crystals of quartz, an effect which, according to
this theory, must have taken place while the quartz
was in a state of fusion. But, in this case, the stiata
of shale above and below the coal should also have been
fused (shale being much more fusible than quartz), and
thus the whole should have acquired a slaty texture $
and besides in this intense heat, the coal should have
been entirely charred and lost all its vegetable impres¬
sions.
The very existence of such a subterraneous heat, that
constantly maintains itself without fuel, ready to act on
any emergency, when a quantity of the old world has
been abraded and translated, sufficient to furnish the
materials of a new one, is avowedly hypothetical, as we
have no proof that it exists. Nay, we have direct proof,
as far as rational induction can carry us, to the con¬
trary. It was long ago observed, by Irving and For¬
ster, that the heat of the sea diminishes in proportion to
the depth to which we proceed in examining it, and
the same has been more lately proved by Peron, by
f Journ. dcvarious trials in many different latitudes f. Now the
Phys. tom. contrary of this ought certainly to happen, (unless this
lx. p. 81. subterraneous heat is entirely unlike common heat) if
there constantly existed in the bowels of the earth a
heat capable effusing quartz and limestone.
The structure of whin dykes, detailed in Section II.
of last Chapter, affords additional arguments in opposi¬
tion to the Huttonian theory.
The evidence which Dr Hutton has adduced to
prove the subterraneous eruption of dykes, is drawn
from the apparent derangement of the horizontal strata
at a place where they are intersected by a dyke, and the
peculiar appearance of the coal in their immediate vi¬
cinity, which he supposes to be in a state of calcination,
from having been in contact with the ejected matter
of the dyke in fusion. Let us first attend to the effect
of this eruption of a dyke, the apparent derangement
of the strata } and let us consider for a moment, what
must be the mechanical operation of a mass of this li¬
quid matter bursting upwards through the coal strata.
Suppose a coal field of a mile square in extent; suppose
that the coal and concomitant strata are perfectly re¬
gular, having a moderate dq) or inclination to the
south; and suppose that this coal field is to be inter¬
sected by a dyke, ejected in a state of fusion from the
bowels of the earth. Considering the nature of the strata
191
From the
structure
of whiu
dykes.
O G Y. Chap
which usually accompany coal, such as sandstone, lime-xw
stone, ironstone, &c. which are very hard and compact, the:,
we must allow, that the resistance from such substances v—
would be very great. In this previous state of circuni-
stances, then, what would be the effect of the eruption
of a dyke in the middle of the field, in a direction from
north to south ? Can it even be imagined, that this
liquid mass in its progress upwards through the super¬
incumbent strata to the surface of the earth, would
merely destroy the continuity of these strata, and not in
its irresistible course, carry along with it part of all
the substances composing that strata through which it
passed ? But farther, one of the most obvious conse¬
quences of such an eruption, would beBthe elevation of
part of the whole range of the strata on both sides of
the dyke, and the extent of this elevation will be in pro-
portion to the power or thickness of the dyke ; and, not
only is it natural to expect this elevation of the strata
to a certain extent, but from the operation of an agent
so tremendous and irresistible, that the whole strata
should be broken, disjointed^ and confused. But does
this statement correspond with the phenomena ? From
the history of dykes traversing coal strata, we know
that it does not. On the contrary, the whole of the
strata, in most cases, preserve the same thickness, the
same parallelism, and the same inclination to the hoii-
zon on both sides of the dyke. It is true, the half mile
of coal field intersected by a dyke, as we have supposed
above, will on one side of it be elevated or depressed.
If the dyke, which runs north and south in its course
upwards, inclines to the west, the western division will
be elevated. But this is not a partial elevation only in
the immediate vicinity of the dyke. It extends over
the whole field on the west side of the dyke, and the
strata continue fair and regular, in all respects corres¬
ponding to those from which they have been detached,
till they are intersected by another dyke.
From this reasoning, we think the conclusion fair
and obvious, that dykes intersecting coal strata have not
been formed by subterraneous eruption, and therefore,
that the elevation or depression of the strata is not owing
to this cause. Dr Hutton’s theory, in this respect, is
opposed by the facts which it professes to explain, and
consequently it is untenable.
Let us now consider the argument drawn from the
supposed calcination of the coal which has been in con¬
tact with the matter of the dyke in a state of fusion.
Here Dr Hutton seems to have overleaped the bounds
of his own theory, and lost sight of his own principles,
which suppose, that all the strata and stony matters of
which the globe is composed, have been consolidated
by means of heat •, that the exhibition of the common
or ordinary phenomena of heat is not to be looked form
the grand processes ol nature } because these operations
have taken place at great depths in the bowels of the
earth, or under immense pressure at the bottom of the
sea j and this is the reason that coal, and lime strata, lor
instance, which have been subjected to this intense degiee
of heat discover no marks of calcination, the one being
deprived of its carbonic acid, and the other of its bitu¬
men. Now, granting this hypothetical argument to be
well founded, what is the reason that the coal, wine is
in contact with a dyke, has undergone the processes 0
calcination, when this coal is at as great a depth m e
bowels of the earth, under as immense pressure, an
t±i ^
t
Fro
in. G E O L
es of much excluded from atmospheric air, as any coal at its
irth. original formation. But all the coal in contact with a
'dyke, is not in this state. Clean coal is sometimes
found in immediate contact j and, in many places, clean
coal is also found intercepted between regular ranges of
basaltic columns, and this coal discovers not the smallest
mark of calcination. On the other hand, coal in this
supposed state of calcination, has been frequently dis¬
covered, at a great distance from any dyke or basaltic
substance whatever. Masses of this foul coal often oc¬
cur, to the regret and disappointment of the miner, in the
midst of strata otherwise perfectly clean and regular.
This last fact shews us, that we must look for the cause
of this singular phenomenon elsewhere than in the cir¬
cumstance of the coal having been in contact with a
dyke while in fusion ; for it appears that the effect does
not always follow in the same circumstances, and that
the same effect is produced in very different circum¬
stances.
These observations are probably sufficient to shew
that the above argument in proof of the subterraneous
eruption of dykes, is equally unsatisfactory in explain¬
ing the phenomena, and consequently equally untenable
with the former. Both, therefore, must fall to the
ground.
The wedge-like form of dykes might be adduced as
O G Y.
599
L
11:
w
te ^another argument against their formation by subterrane¬
ous eruption ; for it is not easy to conceive that a dyke
in a state of fusion should, in its eruptive progress to¬
wards the surface of the earth, enlarge and become
thicker.
The history of metallic veins furnishes us with stronger
objections against Dr Hutton’s theory. If, according
to this theory, metallic veins have been formed by the
substances they contain being ignited in a state of fusion
from the bowels of the earth, it will naturally follow,
that the veins thus formed might be traced to the
greatest depths, and even to the subterraneous furnace
from which they issued. But we know that the fact is
quite otherwise. The termination of many veins down¬
wards has been discovered. Even the most powerful and
productive have been unexpectedly cut off by the hori¬
zontal strata, and no vestige of them could ever be
traced. This was the case with the rich vein of lead
ore at Llangunog in Wales. It is the case also with
many veins in their course downwards, to diminish gra¬
dually in form of a wedge, and then they are lost for
ever. Now, this certainly could never have happened,
had they been formed by subterraneous eruption. Some
trace of their progress, some mark of their course
through the intersected strata, would still have remained.
But no such indications, no such traces, are found. We
must therefore conclude, that metallic veins have not
been formed in this way, and that this theory, which ap¬
pears to be so much at variance with facts, will not ac¬
count in a satisfactory manner for their formation.
The masses of stone of the same species with the
neighbouring superior strata, sometimes rounded and were
worn by the action of water, which are found at great
depths in mineral veins, and organized substances, petri¬
factions of vegetables and animals, present us with ano¬
ther objection to this theory, equally strong and insur¬
mountable. These substances are the productions of
the surface of the earth } and even supposing them to
have existed in the bowels of the earth, it is incon¬
ceivable that they should have retained their primitive Theories of
form after they were subjected to so high a temperature the Earth,
as is necessary to hold metals in a state of fusion. ' 
Sect. VII. Theory of Werner.
The latest, and perhaps most celebrated, theory tliatTheory^of
has yet appeared, is that of Professor Werner of Frey-Werner,
berg, with an account of which, and some observa¬
tions on Mr Kirvvan’s opinions, we shall close this chap¬
ter.
We have said already, (N° I.) that the subject of
which we are now treating is called by Wernerg-eogwo-
sy, and his pupils are commonly called geognosts.
Werner is of opinion, that our knowledge is already
sufficiently advanced to form a rational theory respect¬
ing the formation of the exterior crust of our globe j
for he does not deny that we cannot reason with respect
to what is below this, since we have no fact which can
give us the least notion with respect to it. We are on¬
ly certain that some part of our globe has been in a
fluid state, as is proved by its spheroidal form. The
crystalline form of granite and other rocky substances
which constitute the base of that part of the earth with
which we are acquainted, are, according to Werner,
sufficient proofs that this part at least has been in a state
of minute dissolution. Again, the stratified appearance
of most mountains and rocks shew that they are an ac¬
cumulation of precipitates or sediments which have been
deposited one over another. The numerous remains of
marine animals which- are found imbedded in many
rocks, and of which some species are still found in our
seas, allow us to believe that this solution was aqueous j
that it was a vast ocean which has covered our globe
to a very considerable height. The exterior part of the
globe, then, has been entirely dissolved by the waters
which surrounded it, andfrom this solution certain che¬
mical precipitations took place, which have formed the
crust that we note see.
In framing his theory, Werner professes to banish
every thing that is hypothetical, and only to draw from
general facts such immediate consequences as he be¬
lieves it impossible not to deduce from them, and on
these alone he founds his geognosy. The object of
this theory, according to one of his disciples (the tran¬
slator of his book on metallic veins), is to acquire a
knowledge of the structure of the solid crust of the
terraqueous globe, and the relative disposition of the
materials which compose itj the means of doing this are
to be derived from observation. Werner sets out with
stating, that the chemical precipitates that took place
from the chaotic fluid, did not form a regular surface,
but that they collected here and there so as to produce
the primitive mountains. These mountains he calls cha¬
otic, because, says he, they have been formed during the
period when the surface of the earth was a sort of chaos.
After the retreat of the waters, these elevated parts
first discovered. They were exposed to the de¬
structive action of the elements, and the shock ,ol tides
and torrents. The valleys were hollowed out, and the
mountains acquired nearly the form in which we now
see them.
Observation has shewn that the strata of which tne
earth is composed, may be divided into a certain num¬
ber of congeries, each of which is composed: of a cer¬
tain
6 oo G E O L
Theories of tain set of minerals that are nearly the same in what-
the Earth.ever part of the world the congeries is round. lo these
‘ V   congeries Werner has given the name of formations, of
which he distinguishes six kinds orclasses, four universal,
being found all over the globe, and two partial, found
only in particular districts. These formations be lias
arranged according to the order in which he conceives
them to have been produced, beginning with that for¬
mation which lies next the solid nucleus of the earth,
and which may therefore be conceived to be the oldest,
and ending with the most superficial, which is consider¬
ed as the newest formation. ,
The first of these classes is called by Werner that of
primitive formationsconsist of a number of for¬
mations lying above each other, being those which are.
supposed the oldest, as in these no organic remains have
been discovered. The substances constituting this
class are granite^ gneiss^ micaceous sclnstus^ argillaceous
schistus,primitive limestone, primitive trap, syenite, and
porphyry. Of these the granite is the lowest, and there¬
fore is considered as the oldest j and next this follow the
others in the order in which we have enumerated them,
except that the primitive limestone, and primitive trap,
are found in an uncertain order, alternating with
gneiss, argillaceous schistus, or micaceous schistus j and
are therefore considered as subordinate to these forma¬
tions.
When the waters had subsided, and the summits ot
the primitive mountains had been uncovered, organiz¬
ed bodies were produced $ and part of these being in¬
tercepted among the chemical precipitations which were
still going on, and the mechanical precipitations which
now began to take place, were carried with these to
the flanks of the primitive mountains, and the valleys
between them. Hence were produced a second series
of formations, which are called by Werner transition
formations, or rocks of transition, as he considered them
to be deposited during the period when the earth was
passing from an uninhabited to an inhabited state. A-
mong these formations, however, the organic remains
are but few. The substances composing this class, are
transition limestone, gray wacke, gray wacke slate,
transition trap, siliceous schistus. Of these the two last
are subordinate, alternating with gray wacke and gray
wacke slate.
The third formation is what Werner caWs floelz for~
motion, or that, in which the beds or strata lie nearly
horizontal, appearing as if they had been deposited
from water. This formation comprehends most of what
are usually called secondary strata. It is divided by
Werner into three subformations, named from the va¬
riety or situation of the sandstone, which forms a prin¬
cipal part of each ; as, i. Old red sandstone formation,
composed of floetK limestone, old red sandstone, and fo¬
liated gypsum. 2. Second sandstone formation, compo¬
sed of sandstone, floet% limestone, and fibrous gypsum.
O G Y. Chap, f j
3. Third sandstone formation, composed of sandstone, rj.^,
limestone, and chalk, &c. Of these, as before, the first the EjfJ
mentioned is the oldest, and in this, somewhere near v——yvg
the gypsum, there is usually found salt or sulphur. In
this formation, organic remains are first seen in any
great quantities.
The fourth formation is called independent coal for¬
mation, because in this coal is first found, and because
it is not universally spread over the earth as the three
preceding, but is collected in insulated masses, indepen¬
dent of each other. This is also divided into three, each
successively more recent than the preceding. The first
series of strata consist of slate clay, limestone, marl, soft
sandstone, greenstone, argillaceous ironstone, shale, and
coal; the second of indurated clay, marl, limestone,
porphyritic stone, and coal; and the third of loose sand¬
stone, conglomerate, (a variety of sandstone), slate clay,
and coal.
The fifth is called fioetos trap formation, so called be¬
cause the beds of which it is composed, consist of ma¬
terials that are mostly of the nature of trap, or whin-
stone. The substances that compose this formation are
gravel, sandstone, siliceous sandstone, clay, ivacke, ba¬
salt,greenstone, schistose porphyry,pitchstone, and gray-
stone. Coal is also found in this formation, somewhere
among the beds of siliceous sandstone, clay, wacke, and
basalt, to which it is therefore considered as subordi¬
nate (f).
The sixth and last formation is the alluvial forma¬
tion, or that which has arisen from the action of lakes
and rivers, washing down part of the older strata.
This is divided into two series of strata j the first being
those that have arisen from the action of lakes newly
drained, comprehending marl, sand, clay, coal; and
the second, those which have been produced from the
action of rivers, comprehending mud, ironstone, sand,
peat, &c. This formation is the most recent of any, but,
like the fourth, it is only partial.
The above is an outline of Werner’s geognosy, which
is considered as an improvement of what is called the
Neptunian theory, or that which explains geological ap¬
pearances by the action of water, in opposition to what
is called the volcanic theory, or that which attributes
these appearances to an igneous origin. _ ^
One of the principal objections to the Neptunian Q|,jee),
theory is drawn from the insolubility in water of many to the -
of the substances which compose our globe j butthisoryof f-
the Neptunians endeavour to explain, by supposing thatI'er■
at the very commencement of their existence these sub¬
stances were in that state of minute division which aque¬
ous solutions require, but which no known existing quan¬
tity would be able to effect, after the substances had ac¬
quired their utmost consolidation, as it is well known,
that a solid substance may be kept in solution, at least
for a short time, in a less quantity of fluid than was ori¬
ginally requisite to dissolve it.
A
(f) We may here notice Werner’s opinion with respect to the formation and situation of basalt $ as this is the
only theory of importance respecting it, that has not been mentioned under the article Basaltes, “ I am per¬
fectly convinced (says Werner in a late memoir) that all the varieties of basalt have been produced in the humid
way, and that they are of a very recent formation $ that they formerly composed a great bed of immense extent,
covering both the primitive and secondary strata $ that time has anew destroyed a considerable part, and has leu
only the basaltic eminences which we now see.” Vid. Jameson's Mineralogy of Dumfries^ p. 184.
(IP'
>r.
in. GEO
r(1„ j a second objection is derived from the difficulty of
th arth. supposing that these substances could have been consoli-
 1 dated below water, or that the water could completely
shut up the pores of a body, to the entire exclusion of it¬
self} so that had the mineral substances been consolidated
as here supposed, the solvent ought either to remain with¬
in them in a liquid state, or, if evaporated, should have
left the pores empty, and the body pervious to water.
Mr Playfair argues strenuously against the notion of
these substances being precipitated from the chaotic
fluid, which has been so ingeniously supported by Kir-
wan, who ascribes the solution of all substances in the
chaotic fluid to their being finely pulverised, or created
in a state of the most minute division ; and the solvent
being then insufficient in quantity, he supposes that, on
that account, the precipitation took place the more ra¬
pidly.
“ If* says Mr Playfair, he means by this to say, that
a precipitation without solution would take place the
sooner, the more inadequate the menstruum was to dis¬
solve the whole, the proposition may be true, but will
be of no use to explain the crystallization of minerals,
the very object he has in view 5 because to crystalliza¬
tion it is not a bare subsidence of particles suspended in
a fluid, but it is a passage from chemical solution to
non-solution, or insolubility, that is required.
“ If on the other hand he means to say, that the so¬
lution actually took place more quickly, and was more
W •(rtr’|imniediately followed by precipitation, because the
Ilk.i. quantity of the menstruum was insufficient, this is to
for assert that the weaker the cause, the more instantaneous
will be its effect
Werner’s theory of dykes and veins requires a more
particular consideration.
This theory supposes, that the spaces which are now
occupied by vertical strata, or dykes, including also
metallic veins, were originally fissures, formed by the
operation of different causes.
1. The unequal height and density of mountains,
are considered as the most general causes of fissures.
When the mountains were in a soft and humid state,
that side which was least supported not only separated
by its own weight, but the whole strata of the side
gave way, and sunk below their former plain. This
also seems to be the opinion of Saussure, with regard to
the formation of fissures. It is not to be expected,
that events of this kind should be of frequent occur¬
rence, now that mountains have acquired sufficient
firmness and stability to resist the force of gravity, ope¬
rating in consequence of the inequality of weight and
diversity of the materials of which they are composed.
Instances, however, of the operation of such causes are
not altogether wanting, even in modern times. After
a season of excessive rains, in the year 1767, similar
fissures were formed in mountains in Bohemia and Lu-
satia.
2. When the waters covered the surface of the
earth, the unequal weight of the mountains was sup¬
ported by their pressure j but when the waters retreat¬
ed, this pressure was removed, the equilibrium was de¬
stroyed, the unsupported side of the mountain separa¬
ted and sunk} and in this manner a fissure was
formed.
3. The evaporation of the moisture, after the re¬
treat of the waters, and the consequent diminution of
Vol. IX. Part II. f
LOGY.
601
Wear's
tier :>f
dyki nd
win
bulk by contraction of the substances which enter into Theories of
the composition of mountains, are also considered as the the Earth,
causes of fissures. ■ y
4. Fissures, too, derive their origin from other lo¬
cal and accidental causes, and especially from earth¬
quakes. In the year 1783, when Calabria was afflict¬
ed with this most dreadtul of all calamities which visit
the earth, mountains were separated, exhibiting fissures
similar to those which are now occupied by vertical
strata.
. The second part of the theory is employed in prov¬
ing that the empty spaces, occasioned by the operation
ot one or other ot the causes which have been enume¬
rated, were filled from above ; that the different sub¬
stances, of which the vertical strata are composed,
were held in solution by the waters which covered the
earth } and that they were precipitated, by different
chemical agents, according to the order of chemical af¬
finity, and deposited in the places which they now oc-
cupy. In support of the opinion, that these fissures were
filled from above, Werner adduces facts of angular and
rounded fragments of stones of various species, and orga¬
nized bodies, as marine shells and vegetables, having
been found in vertical strata, at the immense depth of
150 and 200 fathoms. It may be doubted, on good
grounds, whether this theory, supported by all the in¬
genuity and experience of its author, will account in a
satisfactory manner, for that regularity of position and
arrangement which are discovered in the vertical stra¬
ta} for, notwithstanding the seeming disorder which a
superficial vein may exhibit, they are not less regular
and uniform than the horizontal strata. And when our
researches are extended beyond the narrow bounds
within which they are at present limited, when we are
better acquainted with their relative positions and con¬
nexions, this uniformity and regularity will become
more conspicuous. It may be doubted whether the for¬
tuitous operation of such causes as have been stated,
be equal to the effect of the formation of the vertical
strata, as they now appear.
But, supposing that fissures were produced by some
of the causes which have been mentioned, few of these
causes could operate till the retreat of the waters left
the mountains uncovered. It was only then that the
mountains, by the inequality of height and density,
being left unsupported, separated, and sunk from their
former situation } it was then only that the process of
evaporation could take place, succeeded by diminu¬
tion of bulk and consequent contraction. In short,
none of the causes which have been stated, could have
any effect before the waters had retreated, excepting
earthquakes ; of the operation of which there is no
proof previous to that period. The materials which
compose the vertical strata, it is said, were formed by
deposition from the waters which covered the moun¬
tains, holding them in solution. But before the fissures
could be formed to receive these materials by precipi¬
tation and deposition, the waters bad retired. A se¬
cond deluge must therefore have happened, from the
waters of which the various substances which enter into
the composition of vertical strata have been deposited.
This the theory does not suppose to have taken place j
and, without such a supposition, it seems to be attended
with considerable difficulty. But another difficulty still ,
remains. It does not appear how the peculiarity of
4 G structure,
6o2
The ftr ie* of structure, which was mentioned in our account of whin
the Earth, dykes, Sect. II. of the last chapter, can he accounted tor
 -y-—’ |}y t|ie principles of this theory. It it be granted, tliat the
horizontal strata were formed in the humid way, the
materials of which they are composed must have been
precipitated from the waters which held them in so.u-
tion, by the laws of chemical affinity. But the verti¬
cal strata are supposed to have been formed in the same
manner, and according to the same process. Now,
this being the case, What is the reason that the verti¬
cal strata should exhibit a peculiarity of structure and
arrangement, different from the horizontal strata.
Some of the whin dykes which have been already de¬
scribed, are very remarkable for this singular structure,
especially those which assume the form of prismatic co¬
lumns. These columns are in the horizontal position j
and, excepting the latter circumstance, these dykes, in
every respect, resemble a basaltic stratum, in which the
columns are perpendicular. _ # .
More arguments might be adduced in opposition to
the theory of Werner j but we must hasten to conclude
this chapter, with mentioning a few of Mr Kirwan’s
106 peculiar opinions.
Kiman’t Among these, the manner in which he accounts for
theory of the unequal declivities ot the sides ol mountains, forms
the declivi-one 0f t|ie most conspicuous objects: and to this vye
wouutaing. pr>nc>Pa"y confine ourselves, and shall give it in
a ai g. ^ worjSj as extracted from his essay on the decli¬
vities of mountains, to which we were obliged in the
first section of Chap. II.
“ To assign the causes of this almost universal allot¬
ment of unequal declivities to opposite points, and
why the greatest are directed to the west and south,
and the gentlest, on the contrary, to the east and north,
it is necessary to consider,
“ 1. That all mountains were formed while covered
with water.
“ 2. That the earth was universally covered with
water at two different eras, that of the creation, and
that of the Noachian deluge.
“ 3. That in the first era we must distinguish two dif¬
ferent periods, that which preceded the appearance of
dry land, and that which succeeded the creation of fish,
but before the sea had been reduced nearly to its pre¬
sent level. During the former, the primeval moun-
tairts were formed $ and during the latter, most of the
secondary mountains and strata were formed.
“ 4. That all mountains extend either from east to
west, or from north to south, or in some intermediate
direction between these cardinal points, which need not
be particularly mentioned here, as the same species of
reasoning must be applied to them, as to those to whose
aspect they approach most.
“ These preliminary circumstances being noticed, we
are next to observe that, during the first era, this vast
mass of water moved in two general directions, at right
angles with each other, the one from east to west,
which needs not to be proved, being the course of tides
which still continue, but were in that ocean necessarily
stronger and higher than at present $ the other from
north to south, the water tending to these vast abysses
then formed in the vicinity of the south pole, as shewn
in my former essays. Before either motion could be
propagated, a considerable time must have elapsed.
“ Now the primeval mountains formed at the com-
GEOLOGY. Chap. It
mencement of the first era, and before this double di- Theor^ f ]
rection of the waters took place, must have opposed a theT*
considerable obstacle to the motion of that fluid in the VT"
course that crossed that of the direction of these moun¬
tains. Thus the mountains that stretch from north to
south must have opposed the motion of the waters from
east to west j this opposition diminishing the motion of
that fluid, disposed it to sufl’er the earthy particles with
which in those early periods it must have been impreg¬
nated, to crystallize or be deposited on these eastern
flanks, and particularly on those of the highest moun¬
tains, for over the lower it could easily pass j these de¬
positions being incessantly repeated at heights gradually
diminishing as the level of the waters gradually lower¬
ed, must have rendered the eastern declivities or des¬
cent, gentle, gradual, and moderate, while the western
sides receiving no such accessions from depositions, must
have remained steep and craggy.
“ Again, the primeval mountains that run from east
to west, by opposing a similar resistance to the course of
the waters from north to south, must have occasioned
similar depositions on the northern sides of these moun¬
tains, against which these waters impinged, and thus
smoothed them.
“ Where mountains intersect each other in an oblique
direction, the north-east side of one range being conti¬
guous to the south-west flanks of another range, there
the influx of adventitious particles on the north-east side
of the one, must have frequently extended to the south¬
west side of the other, particularly if that afflux were
strong and copious; thus the Erzgebirge oi Saxony,
which run from west to east, have their north-east sides
contiguous to the south-west side of the Riesengebirge
that separate Silesia from Bohemia, and hence these
latter are covered with the same beds of gneiss, &c.
as the northern sides of the Saxon, and thereby are
rendered smooth and gentle, comparatively to the op¬
posite side, which, being sheltei’ed, remains steep and
abrupt, which explains the seventh observation.
“ The causes here assigned explain why the covering
of adventitious strata on the highest mountains is gene¬
rally thinnest at the greatest height, and thickest to¬
wards the foot of the mountain ; for the bulk of the water
that contained the adventitious particles being propor¬
tioned to its depth, and the mass of earthy particles
with which it was charged being proportioned to the
bulk of the water that contained them, it is plain, that
as the height of water gradually decreased, the deposi¬
tions from it on the higher parts of the mountains must
have been less copious than on the lower, where they
must have been often repeated.
“ Hence, 2. granite mountains, generally the most
ancient, frequently have their northern or eastern sides
covered with strata of gneiss or micaceous schistus, and
this often with argillite or primeval sandstone, or lime¬
stone, these being either of somewhat later formation,
or longer suspendible in water.
“ Hence, 3. different species of stone are often found
at different heights of the same flank of a mountain,
according as the water which conveyed these species,
happened to be differently impregnated at different
heights. During the first era its depositions formed the
primitive stony masses ; after which the creation of fish,
limestone, sandstone, (piiddingstone) and secondary ar¬
gillites, in which piscine remains are found, were deposi¬
ted.
(ap. ni. geology.
Lie, ofted. But during the second era, that of the Noachian
iCarth. deluge, by reason of the violence and irregularity of its
603
aggression, the depositions were more miscellaneous, and
are found at the greatest heights ; yet in general they
may well be distinguished by the remains of land ani¬
mals, or of vegetables, or of both, which they present in
their strata (or at least by the impressions of vegetables
which they bear) as these must have been conveyed
after the earth had been inhabited. But mountains
regularly stratified bearing such remains, for instance
the carboniferous, .cannot be deemed to have been
formed in a period so tumultuous. During this deluge
the waters also held a different course, proceeding at first
from south to north, and afterwards in both opposite
directions, as shewn in treating of that catastrophe in
my second essay.
“ Hence, and from various contingent local causes, as
partial inundations, earthquakes, volcanoes, the erosion
of rivers, the elapsion of strata, disintegration, the dis¬
ruption of the lofty mounds by which many lakes were
anciently hemmed in, several changes were produced
in particular countries, that may at first sight appear,
though in reality they are not, exceptions to the opera¬
tions of the general causes already stated.
“Thusthe mountains of Kamtschatka hadtheireastern
flanks torn and rendered abrupt by the irruption of the
general deluge, probably accompanied by earthquakes.
And thus the Meissener bad its east and north flanks
undermined by the river Warre, as Werner has shewn ;
thus the eighth and sixteenth observations are accounted
for, as is the thirteenth by the vast inundations so fre¬
quent in this country, (1. Pallas, p. 172.), which un¬
dermined or corroded its east side, while the western
were smoothed by the calcareous depositions from the
numerous rivers in its vicinity.
“ Hence, 4. we see why on different sides of lofty
mountains different species of stones are found, as Pal¬
las and Saussure have observed (2. Sauss. 5 981.), a cir¬
cumstance which Saussure imagined almost inexplicable,
but which Dolomieu has since happily explained, by
shewing that the current which conveyed the calcare¬
ous substances to the northern, eastern, and north-eastern
sides of the Alps, for instance, was stopped by the
height of these mountains, and thus prevented from
conveying them to the southern sides, and thus the
north-eastern sides were rendered more gentle than the
opposite, (3. New Buz. p. 423.), conformably to the
theory here given.
Hence, 5. where several lofty ridges run parallel to
each other, it must frequently happen that the external
should intercept the depositions that do not surround
them, and thus leave the internal ridges steep on both
aides.
“ Hence, 6. low granitic or other primitive hills are
frequently uncovered by adventitious strata on all sides,
as at Phanet in the county bf Donegal, or are covered
on all sides; the impregnated waters either easily passing
over them, or stagnating upon them, according to the
greater or less rapidity of its course, and the obstacles
it met with.”
*M"'* Mr Kirwan’s theory of the formation of whin dykes,
is as follows.
He supposes that the dyke existed in the spot where
it is found previous to the formation of the horizontal
•trata j that, during the formation of the latter by de¬
position, their equal extension on each side of the dyke Eftrifc-
was obstructed by its height preventing the passage ofquatcs and
the current of waters; that the strata on that side of^0^ca,lO<;*-
the dyke which were first formed, occasioned a much ' 
more considerable pressure than on the side on which
the strata of later formation repose, and must have
pulled the upper and more moveable extremity of the
slip gradually towards the side on which there was least
piessure ; on that side it must therefore overhang: this
piessure being of earlier date than on the opposite side,
must have had a more considerable effect in depressing
each particular stratum, and forcing their integrant
particles into closer contact, than could have been pro¬
duced in those of later formation ; and consequently
the strata must be lower. The ingenious author has
added, with good reason, that he is not satisfied with
this explanation. It is undoubtedly quite incompatible
with the phenomena which it attempts to explain. For
it has been already observed, that the coal and conti¬
guous strata are, in every respect, the same on both
sides of a dyke, to whatever distance they may have
been elevated or depressed, which demonstrates clearly,
that their formation must have been coeval. But, be¬
sides, the same derangement takes place in a slip where
there is merely a solution of contiguity of the hox-izon-
tal strata, one side being only elevated or depressed
above or below the corresponding side from which it
has been detached without having a vertical stratum or
dyke interposed.
Chap. IV. Of Earthquakes and Volcanoes.
In the preceding chapters we have given a short ac¬
count of the materials which constitute the globe of
the earth ; we have taken a view of the relative position
and connexion winch subsist among these materials, so far
as they are known, and we have considered some of the
changes which are supposed to have taken place in their
arrangement and distribution, and some of the theories
which have been proposed to account for these changes.
We have hitherto contemplated nature in a state of
seeming repose, conducting her operations by a gradual
and silent process, and accomplishing the most beneficial
and wonderful effects, unheeded and unobserved. We
are now to take a view of those more terrible and sudden
changes which are exhibited in the devastation and ruin
which accompany the earthquake and the volcano; 
changes awful in the contemplation, but dreadful and
terrible in their tremendous effects. *
Many of the phenomena which accompany earth¬
quakes and volcanoes, are common to both. Earth¬
quakes are frequently the forerunners, and sometimes
the attendants, of volcanic eruptions ; but earthquakes
have often existed, and their terrible effects have been
severely felt, where no volcano was ever known.
In the present chapter, we propose to consider the
phenomena, history, and causes of earthquakes and vol¬
canoes, which will form the subjects of the two follow¬
ing sections. In the first we shall treat of earthquakes,
and in the second of volcanoes.
Sect. I. Of the Phenomena and History ofEarthquakes.
. PJaet*
Earthquakes have been felt in most countries ofwtier*
the world. There are, however, particular places eartbipMik««
4 G a which
tpi
6c4
G E O L
Earth- which seem to be more subject to this dreadful calami-
quakes and ty than ethers j and this does not seem to depend on
Volcanoes. any local circumstances, with regard to particular regi-
v ons of the earth. It may be observed in general, that
earthquakes are more frequent within the tropics ", but
there are places within the torrid zone, which are more
rarely visited by earthquakes than some of the more
temperate, or even the colder regions of the earth. In
the islands of the West Indies, and in some parts
of the American continent which lie between the
tropics, the earthquake is more frequently felt than
in most other regions of the earth. But the north¬
ern shores of the Mediterranean, the kingdom of Por¬
tugal, and some other places without the tropics, have
been oftener the scene of desolation, by the eflects of
the earthquake, than many of the islands and extensive
continents within the torrid zone. I1 rom this circum¬
stance in the history of earthquakes, it would appear
that they are not limited to particular regions, on ac¬
count of proximity to the equator or distance from it,
on account of insular situation or extent of continent.
Particular islands, however, and particular parts of
continents, have undoubtedly been eftener visited by
earthquakes than others. Of all the islands of the West
Indies, Jamaica has most frequently experienced their
dreadful effects. Indeed, scarcely a year passes, with¬
out several shocks of an earthquake being felt in that
island. Mexico and Peru in South America, are more
subject to earthquakes than the other regions of the
American continent. Portugal has been often shaken
to the very foundations, by terrible earthquakes, while
Spain, immediately adjoining, or, it may be said, in¬
cluding it, is, comparatively, almost exempted from
their effects. It has been observed, that earthquakes
have been less destructive in Italy than in Sicily, which
are in the immediate vicinity of each other, and are
both volcanic countries.
Observations on phenomena so awful and terrible,
can scarcely be expected to be very numerous. The
operation of the causes which produce them is too ra¬
pid, the effects are too sudden and unexpected, to be
rendered the subject of accurate or attentive philosophi¬
cal investigation ; or, perhaps, we might acknowledge
at once, that they are too extensive and too obscure for
the powers of man. They are beyond the grasp of the
human mind.
It has been already observed, that earthquakes are
more frequent in volcanic countries than in any others.
In these regions they are oftener dreaded and expected
than in other places. Where a volcano exists, and
when it has ceased to throw out flame and smoke for
any long period, shocks of earthquakes begin to be
dreaded. This has been very generally the case with
the principal volcanoes of the world, the events of
whose history have been recorded. An earthquake is
often the forerunner of an eruption, and the very first
ioo warning of its approach.
Phenomena Earthquakes are often preceded by long droughts,
which pre- The earthquake, however, does not immediately suc-
ceed the cessation of the drought, or the fall of rain.
Some electrical appearances are observed to take place
in the air, before the earthquake comes on. The au¬
rora borealis is frequent and brilliant, and bright me¬
teors are often seen darting from one region of the
cede and
accompany
them.
O G Y. Chap. I ,
heavens to another, or from the atmosphere to the £(lrt,,
earth. quakea’I
Before the shock comes on, the waters of the ocean
appear to be unusually troubled j without the efiectofU~'r
wind, or any perceptible cause, it swells up with great
noise. Fountains and springs are also greatly disturb¬
ed, and their waters are agitated and become muddy.
The air at the time of the shock has been observed to
be remarkably calm and serene, but afterwards it be¬
comes dark and cloudy.
The noise which accompanies the shock of an earth¬
quake is sometimes like that of a number of carriages,
driving along the pavement of a street with great ra¬
pidity. Sometimes it is like a rushing noise, similar to
that of wind, and sometimes it resembles the explosions
occasioned by the firing of artillery. The noise which
accompanied the earthquake, which was pretty general¬
ly felt over Scotland about three years ago, we recol¬
lect, resembled that of a heavy person walking rapidly,
and barefooted, through an adjoining room.
The effect of earthquakes on the surface of the earth
is various. Sometimes it is instantaneously heaved up
in a perpendicular direction, and sometimes assumes a
kind of rolling motion, from side to side. Sometimes
the shock commences with the perpendicular motion,
and terminates with the other.
Great openings or fissures are made in the earth by
the shock, and these in general throw out vast quanti¬
ties of water, but sometimes smoke and flame are also
emitted. Flame and smoke are often seen issuing
through the surface of the earth, even where no chasm
or fissures has been produced.
The effects of an earthquake on the ocean are not
less terrible than those on land. The sea swells up to
a great height; its waters sometimes seem to be entire¬
ly separated, and from the place of separation, currents
of air, smoke, and flame, are discharged. Similar ef¬
fects have been observed to take place in lakes, ponds,
and rivers. Their waters are thrown into great agita¬
tion, and are sometimes swelled up. Places in which
there was a considerable body of water, have become
dry land, and dry land has been converted into an ex¬
tensive lake by the shock of an earthquake.
The most terrible earthquake that has yet visited the
earth, has never been felt over its whole surface. Their
effects, however, extend to very distant regions, from
the centre or principal scene of desolation. The ex¬
istence of an earthquake is indicated much more exten¬
sively by water than by land. Where its effects have
not been at all perceived on dry land, the agitation
produced on the waters in the ocean, or in lakes and
rivers, has been often communicated to a very great
distance.
The duration of the shock of an earthquake rarely
exceeds a minute, and perhaps very few continue for
near that length of time. But the shocks are sometimes
repeated in rapid succession j and perhaps from the
effect on the senses, and the dread and alarm which are
thus occasioned, it is supposed that their duration is
much longer than it really is.
But as no general account of the phenomena which
accompany an earthquake, from the difficulty or scanti¬
ness of observation, can be complete, it will be render¬
ed much more intelligible and interesting, if we enter a
little
if* iv.
El.;. little more into the detail of the history of particular
^ !.ndearthquakes 5 ami in the account of some of them which
ol^es. we pr0p0se to lay before our readers, it will be found
that most of the appearances and efiects which have
been enumerated, were observed,
tike The first earthquake, the history of which we shall
now detail, happened in Calabria, in the year 1638.
This earthquake is rather to be considered as an excep¬
tion to what was said with regard to their not taking
place in the neighbourhood of a volcano, soon after an
eruption. The volcanoes in that vicinity had experien¬
ced violent eruptions a very short time before. E'ive
years before, there bad been an eruption of Mount Vesu¬
vius, and two years only had elapsed from the time that
a similar event had befallen ./Etna. This mountain, in¬
deed, at the very time, threw out a great body of smoke,
which seemed to cover the whole island, and entirely
concealed the shores from view. The air over the sea
at a little distance was calm and serene, and the surface
of the water was perfectly smooth. Seemingly without
any cause, it began to be slightly agitated, as happens
to the surface of water in a heavy shower of rain. A
dreadful noise succeeded, and the smell of sulphureous
vapours was perceived. The noise, like the rattling of
chariots, grew more frequent and loud, and the shock
at last was terribly felt, when the earth was heaved up,
or rolled in the form of waves.
This earthquake is particularly described by the ce¬
lebrated father Kircher. “ On the 24th of March,
(says he), we departed in a small boat from the harbour
of Messina in Sicily, and the same day arrived at the
promontory of Pelorus. Our destination was for the
city of Euphemia in Calabria, but unfavourable weather
obliged us to remain at Pelorus three days. Wearied
ftt length with delay, we determined to proceed on our
voyage, and although the sea seemed unusually agitat¬
ed, yet it did not deter us from embarking. As we
approached the gulf of Charybdis, the waters seemed
whirled round with such violence, as to form a large
hollow in the centre of the vortex. Turning my eyes
to Mount ./Etna, I saw it throw out huge volumes of
Ktnoke, which entirely covered the island. This awful
appearance, with the dreadful noise, and the sulphureous
smell which accompanied it, filled me with strong ap¬
prehensions that some terrible calamity was approaching.
The sea itself exhibited a very unusual appearance, its
agitation resembling that of the waters of a lake which
is covered with bubbles in a violent shower of rain.
My surprise was still increased by the calmness and
serenity of the weather j not a breeze stirred, not a
cloud obscured the face of the sky, which might he sup¬
posed to produce these dreadful commotions. I there¬
fore warned my companions, that the unusual phenome¬
na which we observed, were the forerunners of an earth¬
quake. Soon after we stood in for the shore, and land¬
ed at Tropaea but we had scarcely arrived at the
Jesuits college in that city, when a horrid sound, which
resembled the rattling wheels of an infinite number of
chariots, driven furiously along, stunned our ears. Soon
after a terrible shaking of the earth began j the ground
on which we stood seemed to vibrate, as if we were in
the scale of a balance, which continued waving. The
motion soon grew more violent j I could no longer keep
my legs, but was thrown prostrate upon the ground.
After some time had elapsed, when I had recovered
GEOLOGY. 6o5
from the consternation *, and finding that I was unhurt Earth-
amidnt the general crash, I resolved to make the best of quakes and
my way to a place of safety, and running as fast as I Volcanoes,
could, I reached the shore. I soon found the boat in v
which I had landed, as well as my companions ; and
leaving this scene of desolation, we prosecuted our voy¬
age along the coast. Next day we arrived at Rochetta,
where we landed, although the earth still continued in
violent commotion. But we had scarcely reached the
inn when we were again obliged to return to the boat.
In about half an hour we saw the greatest part of the
town, as well as the inn where we had stopped, levelled
with the ground, and most of the inhabitants buried in
its ruins. As we proceeded onward, we landed at
Lopezium, which is a castle about half way between
Iropaea and Euphemia, to which we were bound ; and,
here, w’herever I looked, nothing but scenes of ruin and
horror presented themselves. Towns and castles were
levelled with the ground, and Stromboli at the distance
of 60 miles threw out an immense body of flames, ac¬
companied with a noise which could he distinctly heard.
But our attention was quickly drawn from more remote
to present danger. The rattling sound which immedi¬
ately precedes an earthquake, again alarmed us; every
moment it seemed to grow louder and louder, and to
approach nearer the place on which we stood. A
dreadful shaking of the earth now began, so that be¬
ing unable to stand, my companions and I caught
hold of whatever shrub was next to us, to support our¬
selves. After some time the violent commotion ceased,
and we stood up, and proposed to prosecute our voyage
to Euphemia, which lay within sight ; but in the
meantime, while we were preparing ourselves, 1 turn¬
ed my eyes towards the city, but could see nothing
but a thick, black cloud, which seemed to rest on the
place. This appeared an extraordinary circumstance, as
the sky all round was calm and serene. We waited till
the cloud passed away, and then turning to look for the
city, it was totally sunk, and where it formerly stood,
nothing remained but a dismal and putrid lake.” S02
In the year 1693, an earthquake happened in Sicily, In Sicily hi
which not only shook the whole island, but also reached l693-
to Naples and Malta. Previous to the shock, a black
cloud was seen hovering over the city of Catania, which
was destroyed at this time. The sea began to be vio¬
lently agitated ; the shocks succeeded like the discharge
of a great number of artillery ; the motion of the earth
was so violent, that no persons could keep their legs.
Even those who lay on the ground were tossed from
side to side, as on a rolling billow ; high walls were
razed from their foundations, and were thrown to the
distance of several paces. Almost every building in
the countries which it visited was thrown down ; 54
cities and towns, besides a great number of villages,
were either greatly damaged, or totally destroyed. A-
mong those which we have already mentioned, was the-
city of Catania, one of the most ancient and flourishing
in the kingdom. After the thick cloud which remain¬
ed after the earthquake had dissipated, no remains of
this magnificent city could be seen. Of 18,900 inha¬
bitants, not fewer than 18,000 perished by this dreadful-
calamity.
The terrible earthquake which visited the island of in Jamaica
Jamaica in 1692, affords us another example of almost1692.
the whole of the phenomena which were enumerated
as
geology.
Chap. ]! ,
as the forerunners or attendants of earthquakes. It
was on the 7th of June, in that year, that tins dread-
ful calamity, which in two minutes totally destroyed
the town of Port Royal, on the south side of Jamaica,
and at that time the capital of the island, took place.
The effect of the shock on the surface was immediately
preceded by a hollow rattling noise, like that ot
thunder. The streets were heaved up like waves ot
the sea, and then instantly thrown down into deep pits.
All the wells discharged their waters with prodigious
agitation ; the sea burst its bounds, and deluged a small
part of the town which rvas not entirely overwhelmed.
The fissures produced in the earth were so great, that
one of the streets seemed twice as broad as formerly,
and in some places the earth opened and closed again
for some time. A great many of these openings were
seen at once. In some of them, the houses and inhabi¬
tants, and every thing that was near, were swallowed
up. Some persons were swallowed up in one of these
chasms, and what will appear most extraordinary, and
indeed almost incredible, were thrown out alive from
another. Whole streets sunk in some, and from others
an immense body ot water was projected high into the
air. Smells which were extremely offensive now suc¬
ceeded ; nothing but the distant noise of falling moun¬
tains was heard, and the sky, which before the shock
was still and serene, assumed a dull red colour.
The effects of this earthquake were not limited to
this spot. It was severely felt through the whole island,
which in many places sustained very material damage.
Indeed there were few houses which were not either in¬
jured or thrown down. In some places the inhabitants,
houses, trees, and whole surface, were swallowed up in
the same chasm; and what was formerly dry land was
left a pool of water. The wells in almost every corner
of the island, whatever was their depth, threw out their
water with great violence. The rivers were either en¬
tirely stopped, or ceased to flow for 24 hours ; and
many of them formed to themselves new channels. At
the distance of 12 miles from the sea, an immense body
of water spouted out from a gap which was formed in
the earth, and was projected to a great height in the
air. Such was the violence of the shock, that many
persons were thrown down on their faces, even in places
•where the surface of the ground remained unbroken.
It was observed that the shock was most severely felt
in the immediate vicinity of the mountains. Could this
arise from the greater pressure, and consequently the
greater resistance, or was it because the force which
produced these terrible effects existed near them ?
After the great shock which destroyed the town of
Port Royal, the inhabitants who escaped went on
board ships in the harbour, where many of them remain¬
ed for two months, during which time the shocks were
repeated, and were so frequent, that there were some¬
times two or three in the course of an hour. These
were still accompanied with the same rattling noise,
like that of thunder, or like the rushing noise occasion¬
ed by a current of air in rapid motion. They were
also attended with what are called brimstone blasts.
These, it is probable, were sulphureous vapours which
issued from the openings made by the earthquake.
The atmosphere, however, seemed to be loaded with
noisome vapours, for a very general sickness soon suc¬
ceeded, which in a short time swept off not fewer than £8Tt,
3000 persons. _ qnake»i,j
But of all the earthquakes, the history of which is on v°lcaj);
record, that which happened at Lisbon, in the yearv""^
1755, was by far the most extensive in its effects, and, ^
from its recent occurrence, will probably he deemedin 175; i
the most interesting. In the year 1750, several shocks
of earthquakes had been sensibly felt. The four follow-
jng years were remarkable for excessive drought. I he
springs which formerly yielded abundance of water,
were totally dried up and lost; the winds which chiefly
prevailed were from the north and north-east. During
this period also there were slight tremors of the earth •,
the seasons in 1755, were unusually wet, and the sum¬
mer, as the consequence of this, proved unusually cold.
But for the space of 40 days before the earthquake hap¬
pened, the sky was more clear and serene. On the last
day of October the face of the sun was considerably ob¬
scured, and a general gloom prevailed over the atmo¬
sphere. The day following (the 1st of November) a
thick fog arose, but it was soon dissipated by the heat of
the sun. Not a breath of wind was stirring 5 the sea
was perfectly calm, and the heat of the weather was
equal to that of June or July in this country. At 35
minutes after nine in the morning, without any previ¬
ous warning, excepting the rattling noise resembling
that of distant thunder, the earthquake came on with
short, quick vibrations, and shook the very foundation
of the city, so that many of the houses instantly fell.
A pause, which was indeed just perceptible, succeeded,
and the motion changed. The houses were then tossed
from side to side, like the motion of a waggon driven
violently over rugged stones. It was tins second shock
which laid great'part of the city in ruin, and, as might
.be expected, great numbers of the inhabitants were de¬
stroyed at the same time. Jhe whole duration of the
earthquake did not exceed six minutes. When it be¬
gan, some persons in a boat, at the distance of a mile
from the city, and in deep water, thought the boat had
struck on a rock, in consequence of the motion which
was communicated to it. At the same time they per¬
ceived the houses falling on both sides ot the n\er.
The bed of the Tagus was in many places raised to the
very surface of the water •, ships were driven from their
anchors or moorings, and were tossed about with great
violence } and the persons on board did not for some tune
know whether they were afloat or aground. A large
new pier with several hundreds of people upon it, sunk
to an unfathomable depth, and not one of the dead
bodies was ever found. The bar of the river was at
one time seen dry from side to side ; but suddenly the
sea came rolling in like a mountain, and in one pait of
the river the water rose in an Instant to th^ extraorcu-
nary height of 50 feet. At noon another shock hap¬
pened ; the walls of some houses that remained were
seen to open from top to bottom, near a foot wide, an
were afterwards so exactly closed, that scarcely any
mark of this injury remained.
But what was the most singular circumstance attend-tw*
ing this earthquake was, the prodigious extent tow ic #artiJ*K
its effects reached. At Colares, 20 miles from Lisbon, felt i-
and two miles from the sea, the weather was uncom-iww;
monly warm for the season, on the last day of Octo er.
About four o’clock in the afternoon, a fog arose which,
proceeding
,,1,. proceeding from the sea, covered the valleys. This was an
M ' _ - , # J OUl/IA
Vi loei after the wind shifting, the fog returned to the sea, col-
i and unusual occurrence at that season of the year; but soon
At( rto.
lected over its surface, and became very thick, and
dark ; and as the tog dispersed, the sea was violently
agitated, and with great noise. On the first of Novem¬
ber, at the dawn of day, the sky was fair and serene ;
about nine o’clock the sun was overclouded, and be¬
came dim. Half an hour after, the rattling noise like
that of chariots was heard ; and this soon increased to
such a degree, that it resembled the explosions of the
largest artillery. The shock of an earthquake was im¬
mediately felt, and was quickly succeeded by a se¬
cond and a third. In these shocks it was observed,
that the walls o( buildings moved from east to west.
I'rom some of the mountains flames were seen issuing,
somewhat resembling the kindling of charcoal accom¬
panied with a great deal of thick black smoke. The
smoke which arose from one mountain was at the same
time accompanied with noise, which increased with the
quantity of smoke. When the place from which the
smoke issued was afterwards examined, no signs of fire
could be perceived.
At Oporto, near the mouth of the river Douro, the
earthquake began at 40 minutes past nine. The sky
was quite serene when the hollow rattling noise was
heard, and it was immediately attended with a commo¬
tion of the earth. In the space of a minute or two,
the river rose and fell five or six feet, and continued
this motion for four hours. In some places it seemed
to open, and discharge great quantities of air. The sea
was also violently agitated, and indeed the agitation
was so great, to the distance of a league beyond the
bar, that it was supposed the discharge of air from that
place must also have been very considerable.
St Ubes, a sea-port town twenty miles south of
Lisbon, was entirely swallowed up by the repeated
shocks of this earthquake, and the immense surf of the
sea which was produced. Large masses of rock were
detached from the promontory at the extremity of the
town. This promontory consists of a chain of moun¬
tains composed of a very hard stone.
T-lie same earthquake was felt in almost every part of
Spain. The only places which escaped from its effects
were the provinces of Arragon, Catalonia, and Valen¬
cia. At Ayamonte, which is near the place where the
Guadiana falls into the bay of Cadiz, the earthquake
was not felt till a little before ten o’clock. It was
here also preceded by the hollow rattling noise. The
shocks continued with intervals, for 14 or 15 minutes,
and did very considerable damage. Scarcely half an
hour had elapsed from the time that the commotion
first began, when the sea, the river, and canals, rose
violently over their banks, and laid every place near
them under water. The sea rolled in in huge moun¬
tains, and carried every thing before it.
.T-he earthquake began at Cadiz some minutes after
nine in the morning, and lasted about five minutes.
The water in the cisterns under ground was so much
agitated, that it rose in the form of froth. About ten
nunutes after eleven, a huge wave was seen coming
from the sea, at the distance of eight miles, which was
Opposed not to be less than 60 feet high, and burst in
upon the city. The water returned with the same vio¬
lence with which it approached, and places which were
deep at low water were left quite dry. Similar wives w
co^mued, but gradually lessening, till the evening. ' unL'*
1 he earthquake was not felt at Gibraltar till after Vok,a
ten o dock. There it began with a tremulous motion '—-v—
of the earth, which continued for about half a minute.
A violent shock then followed; the tremendous motion
again commenced, and continued for five or six seconds,
and then succeeded a second shock, but less violent than
tiehrst lie whole time did not exceed two minutes:
ie earth had an undulating motion; some of the guns
on the batteries were seen to rise, and others to sink.
any people, seized with sickness and giddiness, fell
down. Some who were walking or riding, felt no
shock, but were attacked with sickness. The sea had
an extraordinary flux and reflux ; it ebbed and flowed
every 15 minutes; it rose six feet, and then fell sud¬
denly so low that a great many fish and small boats
were left on the shore.
The shock was felt at Madrid nearly at the same
ime as at Gibraltar. It continued for six minutes, and
ic same sickness and giddiness prevailed. It was not
. tll0f wll° walked smartly, or who were in car¬
nages and no accident happened excepting two per¬
sons who were killed by the fall of a stone cross from
the porch or a church.
Malaga, a sea-port town on the Mediterranean, ex¬
perienced a violent shock ; the bells were set a ringing
in the steeples, and the water of the wells overflowed,
and as suddenly retired. St Lucar, at the mouth of
the Guadalquiver, suffered much from a similar shock,
as well as from an inundation of the sea, which broke
in, and did great damage. St Seville, 16 leagues
above tins, a number of houses was thrown down ; the
celebrated tower of the cathedral, called La Giralda,
opened in the four sides; the waters were thrown into
violent agitation, and the vessels in the river were
driven on shore.
In Africa this earthquake was felt nearly as severely in awL
as m Europe. Great part of the city of Algiers was
destroyed. This happened about ten in the morning.
About the same time at Arzilla, a town in the king¬
dom of Fez, the sea suddenly rose with such impetuo¬
sity, that it lifted up a vessel in the bay, and forced it
on shore with such violence that it was broken to
pieces. A boat was also found within land, at the di¬
stance of two musket shots from the sea. At Fez and
Mequinez, many houses were thrown down, and num¬
bers of persons were buried in the ruins.
. Many people were destroyed at Morocco by the fall¬
ing of houses. Eight leagues from the city the earth
opened, and swallowed up a village with all its inha¬
bitants, to the number of 8,000 or 10,000, as well as all
their cattle. Soon after the earth closed, and they
were seen no more. The town of Sallee also suffered
gieatly; a third part of the houses were thrown down ;
the waters rushed into the streets with great violence,
and when they retired, they left behind them a large
quantity of fish. The earthquake began at Tangier at
ten in the morning; its whole duration was about ten
or twelve minutes. The sea came up to the walls with
great violence, and retired immediately with the same
rapidity, leaving behind a great quantity of fish. This
agitation of the water was repeated no less than 18
times, and continued till about six o’clock in the even¬
ing. It began at the same time at Tetuan, but its du-
ration ,
6o8
geology.
E„,h. ration was only about seven or eight minutes. Three of
q„rk“s and the shocks were so violent as to eXc,te great apprehen.
Volcanoes. 8;ons that the city would be destroyed. Simila
   were produced by the same earthquake at dittereu
places along the African shore of the Mediterranean.
In MadeiraP At the town of Funchal in Madeira, the first shock
led”*, of this earthquake was felt at 38 nunutes past nine It
West Indies was preceded by the rattling noise, which seemed to be
produced in the air*, the shock, it was supposed con¬
tinued for more than a minute; the earth moved with
a vibratory, undulating motion, and some of the vibra¬
tions increased greatly in force. The noise in the air
which accompanied the shocks, lasted some seconds alter
the motion of the earth had ceased. At three quarters
past eleven, the day being calm and serene, the sea re-
fired suddenly, then, without the least noise, rose with
a great swell, overflowed the shore, and entered the
citv. It rose 15 feet perpendicular above high-water
mark. Having thus fluctuated four or five times, it at
last subsided, and resumed its former stillness. In the
northern part of the island, the inundation was still
more violent. It first retired to the distance of 100
paces, and suddenly returning, overflowed the shore
broke down walls of magazines and storehouses, and
left behind it great quantities of fish in the streets ot a
village. At this place the sea rose only once beyond
the high-water mark, although it continued to fluctu¬
ate much longer before it entirely subsided than at I un-
Such were the effects of this earthquake, in those
places where it was accompanied with considerable da¬
mage. It was, however, perceptibly felt to a great dis¬
tance in every direction, either by a slight motion of
the earth, or by the agitation of the waters. At the
island of Antigua the sea rose to such a height as had
never been before known, and afterwards the water at
the wharfs which used to be six feet deep, was not more
than two inches. About two in the afternoon, the sea
ebbed and flowed at Barbadoes in a very unusual man¬
ner. It overflowed the wharfs, and rushed into the
streets. This flux and reflux continued till 10 at
night.
Shocks were distinctly felt in different parts of I ranee,
as at Bayonne, Bourdeaux, and Lyons, The waters
were also observed to be agitated in diflerent places, as
at Angouleme, and Havre de Grace, but with a less
degree of violence than some which have been men¬
tioned. At Angouleme, a subterraneous noise like
thunder was heard, and soon after a torrent of water,
mixed with red sand, was discharged from an opening
in the earth. Most of the springs in the neighbourhood
sunk, and continued dry for some time.
The effects of this earthquake were also very per¬
ceptible in many places of Germany. Throughout the
duchy of Holstein, the waters were greatly agitated,
particularly the Elbe and Trave. The water of a lake,
called Libsec, in Brandenburg, ebbed and flowed six
times in half an hour, and although the weather was
then perfectly calm, this motion was accompanied with
a great noise. A similar agitation took place in the
waters of the lakes called Mupelgast and Neizo, but
here there was also emitted a most offensive smell.
The sea was greatly agitated round the island of
Corsica, and many of the rivers of the island overflowed
their banks. The same earthquake was felt in the city
211
la France.
412
In Ger-
juany.
Chap, i 1
of Milan in Italy, and its neighbourhood. Turin in Sa- £ail
voy experienced a very smart shock. qnakeiL
Many of the rivers of Switzerland became all at V()lc( *
once muddy, although there had been no rain. The y 'l
lake of Neufchatel rose to the height of two feet above in <j” ^
its usual level, and continued at this height for a few land,
hours. The waters of the lake of Zurich were also
greatly agitated. _ _ ail 1
The commotion of the waters in Holland was stillU Hfjlj,
more remarkable. In the afternoon of the 1st of No¬
vember, the waters of the Rhine at Alphen, between
Leyden and Woerden, were so violently agitated,
that the buoys were broken from their chains, large
vessels parted from their cables, and smaller ones were
thrown upon the dry land. At 11 in the forenoon at
Amsterdam, when the air was perfectly calm, the wa¬
ters in the canals were thrown into great commotion, so
that boats broke loose from their moorings, chandeliers
were observed to vibrate in the churches, although it is
said no motion of the earth was perceptible. In the
forenoon, at Haarlem, not only the water in the rivers,
canals, &c. but, it is asserted, smaller quantities of fluids
contained in vessels, were greatly agitated, and some¬
times dashed over the sides of the vessels. This con-
tinned for about four minutes. Between 10 and 11 in
the forenoon, in some of the canals at Leyden, the wa¬
ters rose suddenly, and produced very perceptible un¬
dulations. ai
The effects of this earthquake extended as far north In Nw j,
as Norway and Sweden : many of the rivers and lakes&C’
in Norway were greatly agitated $ shocks were felt in
several of the provinces in Sweden, and commotions of
the waters, with the rivers and lakes, especially in
Dalecarlia, were observed. The river Dala suddenly
overflowed its banks, and as suddenly retired ; and at
the same time, a lake which is a league distant from it,
bubbled up with great violence. Several smart shocks
were felt at Fahlun, a town in Dalecarlia. “I
In many places of Great Britain and Ireland, theInBrl '
agitation of the waters was very perceptible. At Eaton
bridge in Kent, near a pond of an acre in extent, some
persons heard a sudden noise, which they supposed was
occasioned by something falling into the pond, for it
was then a dead calm, and ran to the spot, where they
saw the pond open in the middle, while the water
dashed over a perpendicular bank two feet high. This
motion was repeated several times, and still accompanied
with a great noise.
At Cobham in Surry, between 10 and 11 o’clock
A. M. a person was watering a horse at a pond, the
waters of which were derived from springs. At the
moment the animal was drinking, the water retired
from his mouth, and left the bottom of the pond dry.
It then returned with great violence, and when it re¬
tired, its progress was towards the south. About the
same time at Bushbridge, in the same county, while
the weather was remarkably calm, the waters of a ca¬
nal 700 feet long and 58 broad, were greatly agitated,
and this was accompanied with an unusual noise. A he
waters rose between two and three feet above the usual
level, in the form of a heap or ridge, extending 30
yards in length. This ridge then heeled towards the
north side, and flowed with great impetuosity over the
grass walk j it then returned to the canal, again heaped
up in the middle, and then heeled to the south side
r ’ with
p. IV. GEO
I,, with still greater violence, flowing ever the grass walk,
and and leaving several feet at the bottom of the canal cn
oes. the north side perfectly dry. These motions continued
w'"~"-*for 15 minutes, after which the waters resumed their
former tranquillity. During the agitation of the wa¬
ters, the sand and mud at the bottom were thrown up,
and mixed with them.
In Suffolk, the water of a pond at Dunstal rose
gradually for several minutes in the form of a pyramid,
and then fell down like a water-spout. In other ponds
in the same neighbourhood, the waters of which were
less agitated, there was a smooth flux and reflux from
the one extremity to the other.
At Earsycourt in Berkshire, about II o’clock, a
person standing near a fish pond, felt a violent tremb¬
ling of the earth, which continued for about a minute.
He observed immediately after, the water move from
the south to the north end of the pond, leaving the
bottom of the south end quite dry, to the extent of six
feet. It then returned, flowed at the south end, rose
three feet up the bank, and immediately after returned
to the north bank, where it rose to the same height.
Between the flux and reflux the waters formed a ridge
in the middle of the pond, 20 inches higher than the
level on each side, and boiled up with great violence.
Similar phenomena were observed about half after
ten, near Durham. A person was alarmed with a sud¬
den rushing noise, which seemed to proceed from a
pond. The water rose gradually up without any fluc¬
tuating motion, stood some inches higher than the usual
level; it then subsided and swelled again, and continued
in this manner rising and falling for the space of six or
seven minutes, rising four or five times in a minute.
The effects of this earthquake in Derbyshire excited
considerable alarm. At Barlborough, between 11 and
12 o’clock, in a boat-house on the west side of a large
body of water, called Pibley damy which is supposed
to cover not less than 30 acres of land, there was heard
a sudden and terrible noise j a swell of water proceed¬
ing from the south, rose two feet on the slope dam head
at the north end. It then subsided, but immediately
returned. The water continued thus agitated for 45
minutes, but became gradually less violent. At Eyam
bridge in the Peak, an overseer of the lead mines,
sitting in his room about 11 o’clock, felt a sudden shock,
by which the chair on which he sat was suddenly raised,
and some pieces of plaster were broken off from the
sides of the room. The commotion was so great that
he thought the engine shaft had fallen together, and he
ran out to see what was the matter, and found every
thing in safety. Some miners employed at the time
in a drift 120 yards deep, were greatly alarmed first
with one shock, and then with a second, which seemed
to be so violent as to make the rocks grind upon one
another. Three other shocks succeeded the two first
at intervals of a few minutes, and became gradually
weaker.
A little after 10 o’clock in the morning, the water
in a moat which surrounds Shireburn castle in Oxford¬
shire, exhibited a very unusual appearance. A thick
fog prevailed, the air was perfectly still, and the surface
of the water quite smooth. At one corner it was ob¬
served to flow towards the shore, and then again to re¬
tire ; and this flux and reflux continued for some time
Voi.. IX. Part II.
LOGY. fi09
quite regular. Every flux began slowly j but increased Earth-
m lts velocity till near its full height, when it rushed quakes and
with greiit impetuosity ; and having remained for a short Volcanoes,
time stationary, it ii.ci] retired, at first slowly, but at last '
it sunk with great rapidity. What will appear most
singular in this commotion of the water is, that it was
limited to one part of the moat. At a different corner
about 25 yards distant no motion could be perceived.
But in that part of the moat directly opposite to the place
where the motion of the water was first observed, the
water rose towards the shore at the same time as at the
other side. In a pond at a little distance the waters were
agitated in a similar manner, but the risings and sinkings
took place at different times from those in the moat.
On the evening of the same day, about three quarters
after six, and about the time of two hours ebb of the
tide, at White rock in Glamorganshire, a great body
of water rushed up, accompanied with great noise. It
was in such quantity that it floated two vessels not less
than 200 tons burden each, drove them from their
moorings, and carried them across the river. The
whole length of time of the rise and fall of this body of
water did not exceed 10 minutes, so that it seemed to
have burst from the earth at the spot where it appeared.
It seems singular, if the account of it be correct, that
on this spot the effects of the earthquake should be felt
at the distance of seven or eight hours from the time
it was felt in other parts of the island.
Ihe waters of the lakes in Scotland were also great* In Scot¬
ty agitated from the same cause. Half an hour after land,
nine in the morning, without the least breath of wind,
the water in Eoch Lomond rose suddenly and violently
against its banks. It immediately fell very low, again
returned to the shore, and in five minutes rose as high
as at first. This commotion continued till 15 minutes
after 10, with an alternate flux and reflux everv five
minutes. From this time, till 11 o’clock, the height
to which the water rose gradually diminished, till it re¬
sumed its former tranquillity. But each flux and re¬
flux continued for a period of five minutes as at first.
Here the violence of the shock was such, that a large
stone lying at some distance from the shore in shallow
water, was moved from its place and carried to dry land,
leaving a deep furrow in the ground along which it had
moved.
About the same time the waters of Loch Ness in the
north of Scotland exhibited also a very unusual agita¬
tion. About ten o’clock the river Oich, which falls
into the head of the loch, swelled very much, and ran
upwards from the loch with a high wave two or three
feet above its usual level. The motion of the wave was
in a direction contrary to that of the wind, and it pro¬
ceeded with great rapidity up the river for the space of
200 yards, broke on a shallow, and overflowed the
banks. It then returned gently to the loch. This eb¬
bing and flowing continued for about an hour, the
height of the waves gradually diminishing, till, about
11 o’clock, a wave higher than any of the former
broke with such violence on the bank on the side of the
river, that it ran upwards of 30 feet from the bank. Jl8
Between two and three o’clock in the afternoon, at in ireian(j
Kinsale in Ireland, when the weather was perfectly
calm and the tide nearly full, a great body of water
suddenly burst into the harbour, and with such vio-
4 H lence,
t
6i o
G E O L
Farlh. lence, that it broke the cables of two vessels, each
qnakes and moored with two anchors, and of several boats which
'Volcanoef. ]ay near the town. The vessels were wh-^eu round
'——r—— ge'verai times by an eddy formed -y, 'Uie water, and then
huYtieu back again wi^ the same rapidity as beiore.
These motions 'were repeated different times •, and
while the current rushed up along one side ot the har¬
bour it ran down with the same violence along the
other. The muddy bottom of the harbour was greatly
altered ; the mud was removed from some places and
deposited in others. At one place the height of the
water, where it was measured, was found to be live
feet and a half-, in other places it is said to have been
much higher, particularly where it flowed into the
market-place with such rapidity, that many persons had
not time to escape, but were immersed, knee deep, in
the water. These commotions extended several miles
up the river, and were most perceptible in shallow
places The alternate elevation and depression ot the
water continued about ten minutes, when the tide
returned to its usual level. In the evening, between
six and seven, the water rose again, but with less vio¬
lence than before, and continued to ebb and flow till
three next morning. The rise, of the waters was not
at first gradual, but, accompanied with a hollow noise,
rose six or seven feet in a minute, and rushed in like a
deluge, after which it as suddenly subsided.. Ihe wa¬
ters," too, became thick and muddy,.emitting, at the
same time a most offensive smell. Similar agitations
of the waters were observed all along the coast to the
westward of Kinsale.
Such were the phenomena of this earthquake, as
they were observed on land in the different places
which have been mentioned. Its effects were also se¬
verely felt at sea. A frigate off St Lucar received so
violent a shock, that it was supposed she bad struck the
ground. Another vessel in N. Lat. 36. 24. between
nine and ten in the morning, was so much shaken and
strained as if she had struck upon a rock. The seams
of the deck opened, and the compass was overturned.
The sensation experienced by some persons on board of
another vessel, which was then in N. Lat. 250.
Long. 40°. were such as if she had been suddenly raised
up and suspended by a rope. One person looking out
at the cabin window, thought he saw lanu about a mile
distant but when he reached the deck, no land was to
be seen. A strong current was observed crossing the
ship’s way to leeward. The current returned in about
a minute with great violence } and, at the distance 01
about a league, three craggy pointed rocks were.seen
throwing up water of various colours, and seemingly
resembling fire. This appearance terminated in a thick
black cloud, which arose heavily in the atmosphere.
Between nine and ten in the morning another ship,
40 leagues off St Vincent, received so violent a shock,
that the men on deck were thrown a foot and a half
above its surface, and the anchors, although tfcsy were
lashed down, bounced up. Immediately after the ship
sunk in the water so low as the main chains. On heav¬
ing the lead a great depth of water was found, and the
line was of a yellow colour, and gave out the smell of
sulphur. The first shock was the most violent 5 but
smaller ones were repeated for 24 hours.
The effects of this earthquake on springs were very re-
219
Effects at
On springs.
O G Y. Chap, i
markable, On tb“ “fifpTioon of the 31st of October, the Ear;
''"kier of a fountain at Colares was observed to be great-quake;,
ly diminished. On the morning of the 1st of Novem-
her, the day on which the earthquake happened, it be¬
came thick and muddy, but afterwards recovered its
usual quantity and limpidity. In some places springs
appeared where there had been formerly no water, and
continued afterwards to flow. At \ arge, on the river
Macaas, many springs of water burst forth at the time
of the earthquake, and some threw up their waters
mixed with sand of various colours, to the height of
18 or 20 feet. In Barbary, a stream of water, which
was as red as blood, burst forth from a mountain, v\lnch
was split in two. At Tangier all the fountains were
dried up during the whole of the day on which the
earthquake happened. The mineral waters ot Toplitz,
a village in Bohemia, which have been celebiated since
the year 1672, experienced a very remarkable change.
The principal hot spring had continued to flow from
the time it was discovered, of the same temperature and
the same in quantity. On the morning of the earth¬
quake, between II and 12 o’clock, the waters of this
spring increased so much in quantity, that all the baths
ran over in the space of halt an hour. A short time
before the water increased, it flowed from the spring
thick and muddy 5 and then having entirely stopped
for about a minute, it burst out with great violence,
carrying before it a great quantity of reddish ochre.
It afterwards became limpid, and flowed as formerly;
but in larger quantity, and of a higher temperature.
At Angouleme in France the earth opened in one place,
and discharged a great body of water, which was mix¬
ed with reddish sand. Most of the springs in the
neighbourhood sunk so low, that for some time it was
supposed they had become quite dry.
Such were the extraordinary effects of this terrible
Earthquake, which extended over a space not less than
four millions of square miles. Other earthquakes, al¬
though of more limited extent, have produced effects
rot less destructive, and particularly some of the earth-
ouakes which have visited Italy and Sicily in modern
times ; accounts of which have been drawn up with ac¬
curacy and attention. Some of these we shall now de-
One of the most calamitous earthquakes was thatEaitlj
which befel Calabria in the year 1783. Of this earth-g
ciuake Sir ‘William Hamilton, who, soon after the^
earthquake happened, visited the scenes of desolation
which it left behind, has drawn up a particular ac¬
count. He observes, that “ if on a map of Italy, and
with your compass on the scale of Italian miies, you
were to measure off 22, and then fixing the central
point on the city of Oppido, which seemed to be the spot
where the earthquake had exerted its. greatest force,
form a circle, the radius of which will be 22 miles,
you will then include all the towns, villages, &c.
have been utterly ruined, and the spots wuere. e
greatest mortality happened, and where there have been
the most visible alterations on the face of t*ie ear
Then extend your compass in the same scale t° f
miles, preserving the same centre, and form ano e
circle, you will include the whole country that ias a y
mark of having been affected by the earthqua e.
gradation was plainly observed in the damage one.jie
°
h- the buildings, as also in the degree of mortality, in pro-
and portion as the countries were more or less distant from
uoes. this supposed centre of the evil.”
This earthquake, it has been remarked, differed very
considerably from others in one circumstance, which was
this. Where it happened that two towns were situated
at the same distance from the centre, one of which was
placed on a hill, and the other on a plain, it was found
that the town on the lowest situation always sustained
the greatest damage from the shocks of the earthquakes
which are alluded to above.
That part of Oalabrja which most severely felt this
dreadful calamity, lies between the 38th and 39th de¬
grees of latitude, and the force of the earthquakes ex¬
tended from the foot of the Appenines called Monte
Dijo, Monte Sacro, and Monte Caulene, as far to the
westward as the Tyrrhene sea. By the shock of the
5th of February, every town, village, and farm-house
nearest to the mountains, whether situated on some part
of the elevated ground or on the plain, was left a heap
of ruins. In proportion to the distance from the centre,
as has been already hinted, the damage sustained was
more or less considerable. But even the more distant
towns and villages suffered greatly from the shocks
which happened on the 7th, 26th, and 28th of Fe¬
bruary, and on the 1st of March. From the time the
first shock came on, the earth continued in a constant
tremor j the shocks were felt with different degrees of
force in different parts of the provinces which were the
scene of this terrible calamity 5 and the motion was ei¬
ther in a whirling direction, as in a vortex, or horizon¬
tal, or pulsatory, the beatings proceeding from the bot¬
tom upwards. The apprehensions and alarms of the
miserable inhabitants were terribly increased by this va¬
riety of changing motions, dreading that every moment
the earth would open under their feet and swallow
them up. That part of Calabria which suffered from
this earthquake, was also drenched with long continued
and heavy rains, accompanied with frequent and furious
squalls of wind. These rains prevailed particularly on
the western side, where many fissures had appeared in
the mountains. Some mountains had been lowered
greatly, and others had been entirely swallowed up.
The roads were rendered impassable by the deep chasms
which were left by the shock ; valleys were filled up
by the parts of mountains which were split asunder j
the course of rivers was changed j springs were dried
up, and new springs burst out where none existed be¬
fore.
At Taureana in Farther Calabria, two houses, sur¬
rounded with extensive plantations of olive and mul¬
berry trees, situated in a valley, were removed by the
force of the earthquake, with all their trees, and car¬
ried to the distance of a mile; and on the spot where
they formerly stood, hot water burst from the earth,
and was projected to a considerable height into the air.
The water was mixed with sand of a reddish colour.
Some countrymen and shepherds, who were employed
in rural affairs near this spot, were swallowed up, with
their teams of oxen, and their whole flocks of goats
and sheep. The number of inhabitants who lost their
lives in this calamity, exceeded, according to some cal¬
culations, 32,000 j but it is supposed by others, that,
including strangers, the number was not less than
40,000.
LOGY. .
rr, • , . GI I
l ie inhabitants of the town of Scilla, on the first Earth
shock of the earthquake on the 5th of February, had quakes and
lied along with their prince to the sea shore for safety Volcanoes
and remained either on the strand or in boats near the
shore. In the night tune a tremendous wave overflow¬
ed the land to the distance of three miles from the shore
and, in its return, swept off near 3000 of the inhabitants’
.among whom was the prince. This water was said by
some to have been boiling hot, so that many of the
people were supposed to have been scalded with it. A
mountain, it is asserted, of 500 palms in height, and
1300 palms in circumference at its base, was detached
from the place where it stood, and carried to the dis-
tance of four miles. It was about the same time that
tiie hill on which the town of Oppido stood, and which
extended three miles in length, was split in twd, and
tilled up on each side the bed of a river. Two great
Jakes were formed by the current of the rivers being
stopped ; and, as they increased in extent, infected the
air with their putrid and noisome exhalations.
Sir William Hamilton, who was then resident at
Naples as ambassador from Britain, ivas indefatigable
in obtaining every kind of information with regard to
the effects of this earthquake. With this view he made
an extensive tour over those parts of the country which
had been visited by this calamity. Some of the accounts
which were first published seem to have been some¬
what exaggerated, either from the love of the marvellous
in those who framed them, or from the excessive alarms
of the surviving sufferers. On the 2d of May following
Sir William landed on the coast of Hither Calabria.
The effects of the earthquake were first perceived at
Cedraio. 1 he inhabitants bad quitted their houses,
but it did not appear that the town had sustained any
material damage. . Most of the inhabitants of St Lii-
cido were then living in barracks, and the baron’s
palace, as well as the church steeple, had suffered
greatly. He afterwards landed at the town of Pizzo
in Farther Calabria. This town stood on volcanic tufa.
It sustained great injury from the shock of the 5th Fe¬
bruary, but was completely destroyed by that of the
28th. Here be was informed, that Stromboli, a vol¬
canic mountain which is nearly opposite, and in full
view, but 50 miles distant, bad ejected much less mat¬
ter, and had thrown up less smoke, during the time of
the earthquakes, than it had done for many years be¬
fore. Even at this time slight shocks of earthquakes
were occasionally felt. One indeed happened the same
night. I he boat in which he slept received a smart
shock, and seemed to be lifted out of the water j but
this shock was unaccompanied with noise.
The town of Monteleone is situated on a hill which
overlooks some fine rich plains and the sea below.
These plains, formerly covered with numerous towns and
villages, now exhibited a gloomy scene of utter desola¬
tion. The town of Monteleone itself had not suffered
materially from the first shock on the 5th of February j
but it was considerably damaged by some of those which
took place afterwards. It was generally observed, that
the shocks of the earthquake came on with a rattling
noise, which seemed to proceed from the westward.
They usually began with a horizontal motion, and ter¬
minated with a whirling motion, during which most of
the buildings in the province were thrown down. It
was generally observed too, that previous to a shock the
4 H 2 clouds
6l 2
GEOLOGY.
Chap. }\\
clouds seemed to he unusnally still and motionless,
and tliat a shock quickly succeeded a heavy shower of
ram
Approaching the plain, it was observed, according to
the general remark made above, that the towns and
villages were more or less desolated in proportion to
their” vicinity to the plain. Of the town of Mileto,
Avhich stood in a bottom, not a house remained, bon-
ano and the noble Dominican convent presented a heap
of ruins. According to the same general remark, all
the buildings which stood upon the high grounds, the
soil of which is a gritty sandstone, sustained less da¬
mage than those situated in the plain, for the latter were
universally thrown down. The soil of the plain is a
sandy clay of various colours, and full of sea shells. It is
frequently intersected by rivers and torrents which have
formed wide and deep ravines. Passing through St
Pietro, a town in ruins, Sicily was seen and the sum¬
mit of Mount ./Etna, which at this time threw out a con¬
siderable quantity of smoke. In a swampy plain through
which he passed, Sir William examined a number of
small holes in the earth, of the shape of an inverted
cone. These holes were covered with sand as well as
the surrounding soil. During the earthquake of the
5th of February, water mixed with sand spouted up to
a considerable height from each of these openings.
The river, it was observed, before these fountains burst
out, was dried up 5 but soon after the waters returned,
and overflowed their banks. It appeared from more ex¬
tensive observation, that the same thing had uniformly
happened to all the other rivers in the plain during the
shock of the 5th of February. This has been ascribed
to the first impulse of the earthquake proceeding from
the bottom upwards, and this seemed to be the general
opinion. The surface of the plain then rising suddenly,
the rivers which are shallow naturally disappeared } and
the plain returning with violence to its former level,
the rivers returned and overflowed from the sudden de¬
pression of the boggy grounds, which would naturally
force out the water under their surface.
The town of Rosarno, and the duke of Monteleone’s
palace, was a heap of ruins ; six feet high of the walls
only remained. It was somewhat singular, that the on¬
ly building which escaped uninjured was the public jail.
At Laureana Sir William ascertained the truth of the
circumstance of the two tenements which were said to
have been removed from their situations. These stood
in a valley surrounded with high grounds. In the same
valley were observed hollows in the form of inverted
cones similar to those which he had formerly examined.
Between this place and the town of Polistene he did
not see a single house, after travelling four days through
a rich and beautiful country. Every thing presented
the most indescribable misery : the violence of the earth¬
quake was so great that all the inhabitants were buried
in an instant alive or dead in the ruins of their houses.
This town was situated between two rivers that were
occasionally subject to overflow their banks. Of six
thousand inhabitants, more than two thousand lost their
lives by the shock on the 5th of February.
The princess Gerace Grimaldi, with four thousand
of her subjects, perished at Casal Nuova on the same
day j some persons who were dug alive out of the ruins
observed, that they felt their houses fairly lifted up
without any previous warning. An inhabitant of this
town, being at that moment on a hill which overlooked Far(:
the plain, when he felt the shock turned round towards quaken 4
the town, but he could see nothing excepting a thick y°lcai:
white cloud of dust. So completely was this town de¬
stroyed, that no vestige of house or street remained j all
lay in the same confused heap of ruins. Other towns
had suffered in the same manner, and now exhibited the
same scene of desolation.
Terra Nuova suffered severely from the same earth¬
quake. It is situated between two rivers which had
formed deep and wide ravines in their course j one of
these was not less than 500 feet deep, and three quar¬
ters of a mile broad. In consequence of the great
depth of this ravine, and the violent motion of ths
earth, two large masses of the soil on which a great
part of the town, consisting of some hundred houses,
had been thrown into the ravine at the distance of half
a mile from the place where they formerly stood.
Many of the inhabitants who had been carried along
with their houses, were dug out of the ruins alive, and
even some of them escaped unhurt. Of 1600 inhabi¬
tants, 400 only remained alive. In other places in th#
same neighbourhood, great tracts of land had been re¬
moved and carried to a considerable distance, with all
their plantations and crops, which continued to grow
and thrive in their new situation as well as formerly.
The river here disappeared at the moment of the earth¬
quake ; but soon after returned, and covered the bottom
of the ravine to the depth of three feet. This water
was observed to be salt like that of the sea.
The whole town of Molochi di Sotto had been
thrown into the ravine, and a vineyard of many acrei
lay near it in an inclined situation, but had not suffered
any other injury. In several parts of the plain, the
soil, with all its trees and crops of corn, to the extent
of many acres, had sunk eight and ten feet below ths
level of the plain ; and in other places it had risen the
same height. The soil of this plain, it is to be ob¬
served, is composed of clay mixed with sand, which
readily assumes any form. jJ
Sir William next proceeded to Oppido, which, it willDestro *
be recollected, vras considered as the central point on^^1
which the greatest force of the earthquake was exerted.
This city stands on a mountain of gritstone of a reddish
colour. It is surrounded by two rivers, which run in a
deep ravine. It had been reported, that the mountain
on which the city stands, had been split in two, and
stopped up the course of the rivers j but it appeared on
examination, that huge masses of the plain on the edge
of the ravine, bad been detached into it, and had so
far filled it up, as to stop the course of the rivers, the
waters of which were collecting, and forming lakes to
a great extent. Part of the rock, it w'as found, on
which the city stood, was separated, and with several
houses upon it, was thrown into the ravine. Great
tracts of land, with plantations of vines and olives,
were transported from one side of the ravine to the other,
to a distance exceeding half a mile.
“ Having walked, (says Sir William), over the ruins
of Oppido, I descended into the ravine, and examined
carefully the whole of it. Here I saw, indeed, the
wonderful force of the earthquake, which has produced
exactly the same effects as those described in the ravine
at Terra Nuova, but on a scale infinitely greater. Hie
enormous masses of the plain detached from each side
of
p, IV. G E O I
1,. of the ravine, lie sometimes in confused heaps, forming
and real mountains, and having stopped the course of two
jes. r;vers (one of which is very considerable), great lakes
'~~J are already formed ; and if not assisted by nature or art
so as to give the rivers their due course, must infallibly
be the cause of a general infection in the neighbour¬
hood. Sometimes I met with a detached piece of the
surface of the plain (of many acres in extent) with the
large oaks and olive trees, with corn or lupins under
them, growing as well and in as good order at the bot¬
tom of the ravine, as their companions from whence
they were separated do on their native soil, at least 500
feet higher, and at the distance of about three quarters
of a mile. I met with whole vineyards in the same
order in the bottom, that had likewise taken the same
journey. As the banks ot the ravine from whence
these pieces came are now bare and perpendicular, I
perceived that the upper soil was a reddish earth, and
the under one a sandy white clay, very compact, and
like a soft stone. The impulse these huge masses re¬
ceived, either from the violent motion of the earth
alone, or that assisted with the additional one of the
volcanic exhalations set at liberty, seems to have acted
with greater force on the lower and more compact stra¬
tum than on the upper cultivated crust: fori constantly
observed, where these cultivated lands lav, the under
stratum of compact clay had been driven some hundred
yards farther, and lay in confused blocks ; and, as I
observed, many of these blocks were in a cubical form.
The under soil, having had a greater impulse, and leav¬
ing the upper in its flight, naturally accounts for the
order in which the trees, vineyards, and vegetation fell,
and remain at present in the bottom of the ravine.
“ In another part of the bottom of the ravine there
is a mountain composed of the same clay soil, and
which was probably a piece of the plain detached bv
an earthquake at some former period : it is about 250
feet high, and 400 feet diameter at its basis. This
mountain, as is well attested, has travelled down the
ravine near four miles ; having been put in motion by
the earthquake of the 5th of February. The abun¬
dance of rain which fell at that time, the great weight
of the fresh detached pieces of the plain which I saw
heaped up at the back of it, the nature of the soil of
which it is composed, and particularly its situation on
a declivity, account well for this phenomenon ; where¬
as the reports which came to Naples of a mountain
having leaped four miles, had rather the appearance of
a miracle. I found some single timber trees also with
a lump of their native soil at their roots, standing up¬
right in the bottom of the ravine, and which had been
detached from the bottom of the plain above mention¬
ed. I observed also, that many confused heaps of the
loose soil, detached by the earthquake from the plains
on each side of the ravine, had actually run like a volca¬
nic lava (having probably been assisted by the heavy
rain, and produced many effects much resembling those
of lava during their course down a great part of the
ravine. At Santa Christina, near Oppido, the like
phenomena have been exhibited, and the great force of
the earthquake of the 5th of February seems to have
been exerted on these parts, and at Casal Nuova, and
Terra Nuova.
The next places which were visited were the towns
, O G Y. 6,3
of Seminara and Palmi. Palm! is nearer the sea, and Earth-
had suffered most ; not fewer than 1400 of the inhabi-quake* aa4
tants having been destroyed. In the course of his tour Vo!*a,loci-
in this part of the country, he was informed that the ' 
sea was observed to be hot, and fire was seen issuing
from the earth.
At Reggio, although the shock had been much less
violent than in other places, no house was yet habitable.
During the earthquakes which visited this place in 1770
and 1780, near 17,000 inhabitants lived for several
months encamped in the fields, or in barracks.
Having examined the different places on the Cala¬
brian coast, which had suffered from this ter rible earth¬
quake, Sir William Hamilton sailed for Messina in
Sicily, to be informed of its effects there. He found
that the shock had been very violent, but far less so than
on the opposite shores. Many of the houses, even in the
lower part of the town, were standing, and some of them
had sustained little damage ; but in the more elevated
situations the shocks seemed to have had scarcely any
effect. This still corresponds with the general re¬
mark, which was already made. A striking instance
of this appeared in two convents, which are situated on
elevated places, and had suffered nothing from the
earthquakes which had afflicted the country for four
months. It was said that fire had been seen issuing
from fissures of the earth near the shore. The shock of
the earthquake on the jjth of February, seemed to pro¬
ceed from the bottom upwards; but the succeeding
shocks came on with a horizontal or whirling motion.
A remarkable circumstance with regard to fish, was
taken notice of at IMessina, and indeed the same thing was
observed along the coast of Calabria, where the effects of
the earthquake had been most severe. A small fish,
somewhat larger than the English white bait, but resem¬
bling it, and which usually lies at the bottom of the sea,
buried in sand, had remained for several oionths after
the commencement of the earthquakes, near the surface,
and was taken in great abundance to be the common
food of poor people. Before the earthquake, this fish
was extremely rare, and was considered as a great deli¬
cacy. After the earthquake, indeed, it was observed,
that fish of all kinds were found in greater abundance.
These earthquakes, of which we have now given
so detailed an account, continued for many months
afterwards ; tremulous motions of the earth continued
to be felt, and they were not perfectly settled even in
the year 1784.
The southern continent of America is often visited Earth-3
by earthquakes. In the year 1797, Peru was afflicted quake* i«
with this dreadful calamity, which perhaps in the ex- ^en,‘
tent of surface which experienced the dreadful shock,
exceeds that of any earthquake, the history of which is
on record. The following is a short account of tbia
earthquake by M. Cavanilles. “ In the midst, (says
he), of the most profound calm, there is frequently
heard a dreadful bellowing noise, the forerunner of
earthquakes, to which this part of the world is often
exposed. After the year 1791, this noise was frequent¬
ly heard in the neighbourhood of the mountain of
Tunguragua. Antonio Pineda and N6e, the two na¬
turalists employed in the expedition round the world,
when examining the declivity of this volcano, the lava
of which had been hardened more by the internal fir©
than
614-
Earth- than by the ardour of the sun, were struck with terror
quakes and by the horrible sound which they heard, and the heat
Volcanoes. they experienced. Pineda, that valuable mem-
s ^ her of society, whose premature death is still deplored
by the friends of science, foretold that a terrible erup¬
tion was preparing in the mountain ot lunguraguaj
and his conjectures were confirmed by the event. On
the 4th of February 1797,. at three quarters past seven
in the morning, the summit of the volcano was more
free from vapours than usual ; the interior part of the
mountain was agitated by frequent shocks, and the ad¬
jacent chains burst in such a manner, that in the space
of four minutes an immense tract of country was con¬
vulsed by an undulating movement. Never did history
relate the effects of an earthquake so extraordmaij,
and never did any phenomenon of nature produce more
misfortunes, or destroy a greater number of human be¬
ings. A number of towns and villages were destroy¬
ed in a moment : some of them, such as Riobamba,
Quero, Pelileo, Patate, Pillaro, were buried under the
ruins of the neighbouring mountains *, and others in the
jurisdictions of Harnbata, Latacunga, Guaranda, Rio-
bamba, and Alausi, were entirely overthrown. Some
sustained prodigious loss by the gulfs which were form¬
ed, and by the reflux of rivers intercepted in their
course by mounds of earth ; and others, though in part
saved, were in such a shattered slate as to threaten
their total ruin. The number of persons who perished
during the first and succeeding shocks is estimated at
16,000. At ten o’clock in the morning, and four in
the afternoon, the same day, (February 4.) after a
dreadful noise, the earth was again agitated with great
violence, and it did not cease to shake, though faintly,
for the whole months of February and March $ but, at
three quarters past two in the morning of the 5th of
April, the villages already ruined were again exposed
to such violent shocks as would have been sufficient to
destroy them. This extraordinary phenomenon was
felt throughout the extent of 140 leagues from east to
west, from the sea as far as the river Napo 5 and with¬
out doubt farther, for we are little acquainted with
these districts which are inhabited by the savages. The
distance north-east and south-west between Popayan and
Piura, is reckoned to he 170 leagues 5 but in the cen¬
tre of that district, I degree 16.6 from these places, is
situated the part totally destroyed, and which compre¬
hends 40 leagues from north to south between Guaran-
dam and Machache, and twenty leagues from east to
west. But, as if an earthquake alone had not been suf¬
ficient to ruin this fertile and populous country, another
misfortune, hitherto unknown, was added. The earth
opened, and formed immense gulfs j the summits of the
mountains tumbled down into the valleys, and from
the fissures in their sides there issued an immense quan¬
tity of fetid matter, which in a little time filled up
valleys a thousand feet in depth and six hundred in
Chap. 11
breadth. It covered the villages, buildings, and in- EartJ:
habitants 5 choked up the sources of the purest springs, quakesi 1
and being condensed by desiccation, in the course of a v°kar,
few days into an earthy and hard paste, it intercepted ^*1
the course of rivers, made them flow backwards for the
space of 87 days, and converted whole districts of dry
land into lakes. Very extraordinary phenomena, which
will doubtless be one day mentioned in history, occurred
during these earthquakes-, I shall, however, content my¬
self with mentioning only two of them. At the same
moment that the earth shook, the lake of Quirotoa,
near the village of Insiloc, in the jurisdiction of Lata¬
cunga, took fire, and the vapour which rose from it suf¬
focated the cattle and flocks that were feeding in the
neighbourhood. Near the village of Pelileo, a large
mountain named Moya, which was overturned in an in¬
stant, threw out a prodigious stream of the before-men¬
tioned thick fetid matter, which destroyed and covered
the miserable remains of that city. Naturalists will one
day find, in these ravaged countries,- objects worthy of
their researches. Fragments of the minerals and earths
of Tunguragua are about to he transported to Spain :
but it is not in such fragments that we ought to search
for the cause of these surprising phenomena } we must
visit the country itself, where this conflict of the ele¬
ments took place, and where the ruins it occasioned are
still to be seen (g).” S34
To the history of earthquakes now given, we shall
only add the following account of the earthquakes
which have taken place at Comrie in Perthshire, in
Scotland, which was communicated to the Royal So¬
ciety of Edinburgh, by Dr Finlayson, in a letter from
Mr Taylor.
“The earthquakes which have lately (January 1790)
taken place at Comrie (h) and its neighbourhood, are
certainly very deserving of attention. I shall therefore
cheerfully comply with your request, and give you as
particular a description as I can of such of them as have
been most remarkable. To give a particular account
of all the noises or concussions which, during the last
half year, have been heard or felt at Comrie, and with¬
in a short distance to the north, east, and west of that
village, is beyond my power, and would indeed be of
little use. With regard to these small concussions, it
will be sufficient to say, that many of them have some¬
times been observed to succeed one another in the space
of a few hours; that they take place in all kinds of
weather ; that they are thought by some people to pro¬
ceed from north-west to south-east, and by others, from
north-east to south-west; that they have not been ob¬
served to affect the barometer j that they do not extend
in any direction above three or four miles from Comrie •,
and that towards the south they are bounded by the
Earn, which is in the immediate vicinity of the village.
The same person, though bestowing the minutest atten¬
tion, is often uncertain whether they proceed from the
earth
geology.
(g) The volcano of Tunguragua occasioned an earthquake in 1557.
(h) Comrie is a village about 22 miles west of Perth, situated in the valley of Strathearn, and on the north
side of the river Earn, about four miles below the place where it issues from the lake. The remains of a Roman
camp on the opposite side of the river, have made the name of this village very well known to Scottish anti¬
quaries. »
1
p.iv.
Jj. earth or from the air, sometimes believing them to come
and from the one, and sometimes from the other; neither
ioes. jJq a]l agree with respect to the seat of any one of them.
—“ After the strictest inquiry, I find it impossible to de¬
termine with accuracy the date of any of the concus¬
sions which took place before the 2d of September last.
Some people in the neighbourhood of Killin assert posi¬
tively, that they heard unusual rumbling noises in the
month of May; but the impression which these noises
made was so faint, that they would probably have been
soon fox-gotten altogether, had they not been succeeded
by concussions of a less equivocal nature. Towards the
end of August, two or three shocks are said to have
been felt at Dundurn, Dunira Lodge and Comrie $ but
I have not been able to learn the precise day or hour
on which any of them happened. The truth is, the
concussions hitherto observed W’ere feeble, and the
minds of the people seem not to have been roused to
particular attention till the 2d of September. About
eleven o’clock that evening, a smart shock was felt at
Comrie. I myself heard here, for the first time, a rum¬
bling noise, which I took for that of a large table,
dragged along the floor above stairs, and which I pro¬
bably would never have thought of again, unless my
attention had been turned to it by the alarm which it
had excited in the neighbourhood. Many other fee¬
ble noises or concussions are said to have been observed
in Glen Leadnach and about Comrie during the months
of September and October. At this time, however, I
confess I was disposed to doubt the numerous reports of
earthquakes with which the country was filled, and to
ascribe them to the workings of an imagination, on
which the alarm of the 2d of September still continued
to be impressed.
“ On the 5th of November, a concussion took place
two or three minutes before six o’clock P. M. which
was too violent to be mistaken. Some compared the
noise which accompanied it to that of heavy loaded
waggons, dragged with great velocity along a hard
road or pavement, and thought that it passed under
their feet. To me it seemed as if an enormous weight
had fallen from the roof of the house, and rolled with
impetuosity along the floor of the rooms above j and it
must have made a similar impression on the servants, for
some of them instantly ran up stairs to discover what
had happened. Others were sensible of a tremulous
motion in the earth, perceived the flames of the candles
to vibrate, and observed the mirrors and kitchen uten¬
sils placed along the walls to shake and clatter. There
is also reason to believe that the waters in the loch of
Monivaird, in the near neighbourhood of Ochtertyre,
suffered unusual agitation, as the wild fowl then upon
the loch were heard to scream and flutter. The noise
on this occasion, as far as I can judge, did not last
above ten or twelve seconds. During the course of the
day, the mercury in the barometer rose and fell several
times, and at six o’clock it stood at 28? inches. The
sky was then perfectly serene, and hardly a breath of
wind was to be felt j but next morning, about six
o’clock, a violent tempest rose, which raged without
intermission for 24 hours.
“ At Glen Leadnach, Comrie and Lawers, this con¬
cussion was much more violent, and the noise that ac¬
companied it much more alarming. The inhabitants
of these places, and of Aberuchill and Dunira, declare,
615
that they perceived distinctly the earth heaving under Earth-
them, and the motion communicated to their chairs, quakes and
and other furniture. They imagined that the slates yolcanoe?..
and stones were tumbling from their houses, and many v'-—
of them ran out in the greatest trepidation, from the
notion, that the roofs were falling in. Even the do¬
mestic animals were alarmed, and contributed, by their
howls and screams, to increase the terrors of the people.
Though I have not been able to discover whether Loch
Earn was ever agitated by these concussions, there is
little doubt, that the river near Comrie was affected on
this occasion, as two men then on its banks heard the
dashing of its waters. This great shock was succeeded
by a number of those slighter rumbling noises which
have been already mentioned. Not less than 30 of
them were counted in the space of two hours after it
happened j but they did not extend above two miles to
the east, north, and west of Comrie.
“ On the 10th of November, at three o’clock P. M.
we had here another shock of much the same length,
violence, and extent, as that on the 5th. The mercury
in the barometer on this day was more stationary than
on the former, and at the time of the earthquake was
29 inches high. The weather was calm and hazy. It
was a market-day at Comrie; and the people, who
were assembled from all parts of the country, felt as if
the mountains were to tumble instantly upon their
heads. The hard-ware exposed for sale in the shops
and booths shook and clattered, and the horses crowd¬
ed together with signs of unusual terror.
“ About one o’clock P. M. of the 29th December,
we had another pretty smart shock, during a violent
storm of wind and rain, which continued the whole
day, and which was at its height during the time of
the earthquake. Indeed, as has been remarked al¬
ready, these concussions seem to have no dependence
on the weather. According to the accounts of those
who live nearest to the centre of the phenomena, rum¬
bling noises, like those above described, may be heard
in all states of the atmosphere.
“ Though I mention no more of these earthquakes,
you are not to conclude, that many more have not
taken place, and some of them perhaps equally violent
with those of the 5th and 10th of November. Several
shocks have happened during the stillness of the night,
which, even at this distance from Comrie, where their
centre seems to be, have been abundantly terrifying.
But the great resemblance, or rather the perfect simi¬
larity of their effects, and of the impression they make
on our minds, renders it unnecessary for me to trouble
you with a particular description of each of them.
“ The direction of all the noises or concussions I
have observed, great as well as small, appeared to be
in the same line from N. W. to S. E. Others describe
them as sometimes proceeding in that direction, and
sometimes as coming from N. E. to S. W. I have
not heard any other line of direction asci-ibed to
them.
“ Upoffthe fullest enquiry, I find, that these earth¬
quakes have been very limited in point of extent. The
greater shocks have been feebly felt at Loch Earn
head, about Killin, and at Ardonich, on the southern
bank of Loch Tay. They do not appear to have ex¬
tended farther eastward on that lake 5 and, what is
more remarkable, they had not been felt in Glen Al-
mond3
GEOLOGY,
6i6
geology.
55arlh mon^, or the small glen through winch the military
and road from Crieff to Tay-bridge passes. The farmer at
V olcanoes. j/^uehnafree, (which lies at the head of Glen Almond,
» and is separated from Glen Leadnach only by the
mountain Benechoni, over the northern side of which
his shepherds daily travel), has assured me, that neither
he, nor any of his people, have been at any time sen¬
sible of the least extraordinary noise or concussion.
Towards the east, the two first great shocks extended
to Monzie, Cultoquhey and Dollary, about seven miles
distant from Comrie. The shock of the 5th of No¬
vember reached still farther, and was felt, though but
faintly, at Ardoch and Drummond Castle towards the
S. E. In the direction of the south, however, the
banks of the Earn seem to be its general boundary, as
the noise of the most violent concussion was heard but
faintly at the manse of Comrie, and along the strath
on the south side of the river. The limits of the lesser
concussions, I am confident, do not extend above three
miles in any direction from their centre. They are
commonly observed at Eawers on the east 5 throughout
the whole of Glen Leadnach, at Dunira, Dalchonzie
and Aberuchill, on the north and west; and do not
reach so far as the manse, which is about three quarters
of a mile on the south of Comrie (1).”
In another communication, dated in 1793, from the
same gentleman, he observes, that “ there is no reason
to believe that these phenomena are yet come to an
end. After temporary intermissions, sometimes of se¬
veral months, they have returned, ever since their first
appearance in 1789, without any apparent difference
in their extent or force. The rumbling noises or
slighter concussions, as usual, are observed at Comrie,
in Glen Leadnach, and the places in their near neigh¬
bourhood ; the more violent extend to much the same
distance as formerly described. Having been only oc¬
casionally in that country since February 1791, I have
not been able to ascertain dates. On the 2d of Sep¬
tember 1791, at five minutes past five in the afternoon,
a slight shock was felt at Ochtertyre. The barometer
was not in order, on which account the weight of the
atmosphere could not be ascertained. Its electrical
state was tried by Saussure’s electrometer, but no indi¬
cation of any thing uncommon was perceived. Since
that period, shocks have been observed at different times
till within these few weeks past.
“ From this account, it will be observed, that all the
greater shocks have taken place in the season of autumn
or the beginning of winter ; that this has been now re-
Chap. />!
peated for more than four years ; and that those greater £a, ;
shocks have been succeeded at short intervals by rum-quay, J
bling noises or more feeble concussions. It has also been VoHei,
remarked, that they have in general been preceded or ^
followed by great rains or boisterous weather; but vari¬
ations in the weather take place so frequently in our cli¬
mate at that season of the year, that the connection be¬
tween them and the phenomena above described, is pro¬
bably altogether accidental.” J |
After the view which we have given of the pheno-Causal
mena and history of earthquakes, we now proceed toeartLj
the consideration of the causes, by the operation of^ualt: j
which, according to the speculations of philosophers,
these terrible convulsions of nature, which spread ruin
and desolation in some of the fairest portions of the
earth, are to be accounted for. Various opinions have
been formed, and various hypotheses have been propo¬
sed, for the explanation of these dreaded phenomena.
According to some of the ancient philosophers, subter¬
raneous clouds existed in the internal cavities of the
earth, and these bursting into lightning, shook and de¬
molished the vaults which contained them. This was u|
the opinion of Anaxagoras. It was supposed by others, accor::
that earthquakes were owing to the falling in of im-1®1*1* •
mense arched roofs, which confined subterraneous fires ;Ci*aU
the vaults or arches being weakened by the constant
burning of these fires. Some ascribed earthquakes to
the vapour of water which was produced, and greatly
rarefied, by means of internal fires ; while others, among
whom was Epicurus and some of the peripatetic phi¬
losophers, sought for the explanation of the phenomena
of earthquakes, in the explosion of certain inflammable
substances, which were exhaled from the internal cavi¬
ties of the earth. 11
Some of the modern philosophers, as Gassendi, Kir-^
cher, Varenius, Des Cartes, and others, have adopted
the last hypothesis, according to which it is supposed,
that there are immense cavities in the earth, communi¬
cating with each other. Some of these cavities contain
water, and others contain vapours and exhalations,
arising from bituminous, sulphureous, and other in¬
flammable substances. These combustible materials
being kindled by some subterraneous spark, or by some
actual flame, proceeding through narrow fissures from
without, or by the heat evolved during the mixture of
different substances, and the formation of new ones,
produce commotions on the surface of the earth, ac¬
cording to the extent of the cavities, and the quantity
and active nature of the inflamed matter. Those who
support
(1) “ The tract within which the concussions described in this letter appear to have been confined, is a space
of a rectangular form, which extends from east to west along the north side of the Earn about 22 miles in length,
by a little more than five in breadth ; reckoning the utmost length from about Monzie to the head of Loch Tay,
and the breadth from a little south of the Earn northward to the ridge which separates the branches of that river
from those of the Almond. The whole of this tract is mountainous, except toward the eastern extremity, wher«
it joins the low country, and on the banks of the river Earn on the south. It is intersected by narrow glens or
valleys, the most considerable of which is Glen Leadnach, where the centre of the concussions seems to be place .
The mineralogy of this part of the country has not hitherto been accurately examined; but it is known in general,
that the stone is the primary schistus, and in some places granite; that no mineral veins, nor any hot springs, have
been found in it, and that no volcanic appearances have been observed. In the valleys, among the mountains,
iron ore, of the kind that is called bog ore, is said to abound. Dr Hutton has remarked, that the line wmc
terminates this tract on the south-east, seems to be nearly the same with that where the primary strata sink under
the surface, and are covered by the secondary or horizontal strata. Note by Mr Playfair”
| Of :on-
Eton:
(|ip. IV. GEO
,tli- support this hypothesis think, that it receives illustra-
g^jsand tion from a common experiment of mixing together
Mnoes. iron filings and sulphur, and burying them in°the earth ;
#jj' and in consequence of the chemical action of these sub-
stances on each other, and the elastic vapours thus pro-
; 3 duced, the shaking of the earth is effected.
A different hypothesis has been proposed by Dr
Woodward. ^According to this hypothesis, water is
continually raised by means of subterraneous heat, from
the abyss which he supposes to occupy the centre of
the earth, to furnish rain and dew. Obstructions may
take place in this process of nature, and whenever this
happens a swelling and commotion are occasioned by
the heat in the waters of the abyss. This force is at
the same time exerted against the incumbent strata, and
thus the agitation and concussion, with the other phe¬
nomena which accompany earthquakes, are produced.
Another hypothesis, different from any of these, has
been proposed by M. Amontons, of which the follow¬
ing explanation is given. The atmosphere being taken
at 45 miles high, and the density of the air increasing
in proportion to the absolute height of the superincum¬
bent column of fluid, it is shewn that at the depth of
43,528 fathoms below the surface of the earth, the air
is but one-fourth lighter than mercury. But this depth
is only about one seventy-fourth of the semidiameter of
' the earth. The immense sphere beyond this depth, the
diameter of which is 6,451,538 fathoms, may perhaps
be only filled with air: this air must be here greatly
condensed, and heavier than the heaviest bodies with
which we are at present acquainted. It is found by
experiment, that the more air is compressed, the more
do equal degrees of heat increase its elastic force, and
the more capable it becomes of producing violent ef¬
fects. As, for instance, the temperature of boiling wa¬
ter increases the elasticity of the air beyond its natural
force in temperate climates, by a quantity equal to
one-third of the weight with which it is pressed. Hence
it is concluded, that a degree of heat which on the
surface of the earth produces only a moderate effect
may occasion violent convulsions by the rarefaction of
the denser air at great depths ; but if it be considered
that this condensed air may be exposed to much higher
degrees of heat than that of boiling water, the elastic
force of the air thus produced, and assisted by the great
weight of a high column, may be more than sufficient
to convulse and break up the solid orb of 43,528
fathoms, the weight of which, comparing it with that
of the included air, would be trifling.
These hypotheses, however insufficient they may ap¬
pear for explaining in a satisfactory manner the phe¬
nomena of earthquakes, were generally adopted till a-
bout the middle of the 18th century, when the know¬
ledge of electricity began to be cultivated and extend¬
ed. This principle was applied successively in the ex¬
planation of many natural phenomena, and, among o-
thers, the phenomena of earthquakes were ascribed to
the same principle. An earthquake which was felt at
London in the month of March 1749, directed the at¬
tention of philosophers to this explanation. The first
who made this attempt, we believe, was Dr Stukeley,
who had been much occupied about that time with
electrical experiments. The consideration^of the phe¬
nomena which accompanied this earthquake, led him
to suppose that it could not be occasioned by vapours
VOL. IX. Part II. 7 ^ f
LOGY.
617
>•
generated in the cavities of the earth, or by any pro- Earl},
c«s l.ke fermentanon, „hid, elastic flaijs are form-quake. Md
ed and disengaged, to which such effects could be a-Volcanoes.
scribed. He is of opinion, that no evidence has yet ^  
been brought to establish the probability of the exist¬
ence of extensive cavities within the earth. On the
contrary, he thinks there is good reason to presume,
that it is in a great measure solid, so that there is little
space for those changes which are supposed to he effect-
ec within the cavities, to take place. Coal pits, he
adds which have been frequently known to be on fire,
ami for a great length of time, never exhibited any of
the phenomena which accompany an earthquake on the
surface of the ground above.
Tbe earthquake which visited London and other
p aces of Britain, in March 1749, was felt in a circuit
ot 30 nines diameter j but there was no eruption of fire
or vapour, and it was unattended with smoke or smell,
f rom this consideration alone, of tbe extent of surface
which felt the effects of tbe earthquake, he supposes
that it could not be ascribed to tbe expansive force of
subterraneous vapours ; for, be observes, small fire-balls
W'lncb are exploded in the air, emit a sulphureous smell
to the distance of several miles. Now, it cannot be
imagined, that so prodigious a force, acting instanta¬
neously, on so great an extent of ground, should nei¬
ther break the surface, nor indicate its presence either
by the sight or smell. But if this effect is to be ascribed
to fermentation, this process is not instantaneous : it con¬
tinues many days, and the evaporation of such a quan¬
tity of inflammable matter would require a long space
of time. Such an effect, therefore, can only be account¬
ed for on electrical principles, the operation of which is
always instantaneous.
If earthquakes were occasioned by vapours and sub¬
terraneous fermentations, explosions and eruptions, such
processes would entirely destroy springs and fountains
wherever they had once existed. This, however, is con¬
trary to what happens, for although springs are stopoed
or otherwise changed, previous to an earthquake, or a-
bout the time it happens, they very often recover their
f ormer state. In the great earthquake which happened
A. L). 17, m Asia Minor., and which shook a mass of
eaitii 300 miles in diameter, and destroyed 13 areat
cities, neither the springs nor the face of the country
received any injury. J
If it be considered, that a subterraneous power capa¬
ble of moving 30 miles in diameter, as in tbe eaith-
quake mentioned above, which happened at London
must exist and operate at least 15 or 20 miles under
the. surface, tbe hypothesis of earthquakes being oc¬
casioned by tbe force of vapours will be found totally
inapplicable, because this force must move an inverteel
cone of solid earth, the base of which is 30 miles in dia¬
meter, and tbe axis 15 or 20. This is an effect which
is impossible to any known natural power, excepting that
of electricity.
But besides, no subterraneous explosion can account
for the singular effects of an earthquake on ships that
are far out in the ocean. It has been already observed,
that they seem as if they struck on a rock, or as if some
solid body struck against their bottom. Even fishes, it
is found, are particularly affected by the shock of an
earthquake; but a subterraneous explosion could only
produce on the water a gradual swell. It could not
4 I communicate
6i8
Eartli-
qsiakes and
Volcanoe;.
G E O L
communicate to it that impulse hy which it produces
effects, as if it were a stone projected with great force
against solid bodies.
From the consideration of all these circumstances,
Dr Stukeley is of opinion, that the phenomena of earth¬
quakes can only be satisfactorily explained on electrical
principles. He was particularly led to this opinion by
directing his attention to the phenomena which accom¬
panied the earthquakes which took place in England in
1749 and 1750. For five or six months previous to
this time, the weather had been unusually warm •, the
wind was from the south and south-west, and there had
been no rain, so that the earth was particularly prepared
to receive an electrical shock. Hie flat country of Lin¬
colnshire had suffered greatly from extreme drought,
and hence, as dry weather is favourable to electricity,
earthquakes and other similar phenomena are more fre¬
quent in southern regions of the world. Before the
earthquake at London, all vegetables had been unusual¬
ly premature, and it is well known how much electri¬
city quickens vegetation. About the same time the
aurora borealis had been very frequent. A very short
time before the earthquake, it had exhibited unusual
colours, and its motions were to the south, contrary to
the ordinary direction. From these circumstances an
earthquake was predicted by Italians and others who
had been accustomed to the appearances which precede
them. During this year, too, meteors of different kinds,
as fire-balls, lightnings, and coruscations, had been com¬
mon •, and particularly it was observed in the night pre¬
ceding the earthquake, and early in the morning on
the day on which it happened, that coruscations were
very frequent. In these circumstances nothing was
wanting to produce an earthquake, according to this
hypothesis, but the touch of a non-electric body. This
body must be derived from the air or atmosphere ; hence
it is inferred, that if a non-electric could discharge its
contents upon any part of the earth, in this prepared
and highly electrical state, a violent commotion or
earthquake must be produced j and as the discharge
from an excited tube produces a shock on the human
body, so the discharge of electric matter from an ex¬
tent of many miles of solid earth, must produce an
earthquake. The rattling, uncouth noise which attends
it, is to be ascribed to the snap which is occasioned by
the contact.
Before the earthquake alluded to came on, a black
cloud suddenly covered the atmosphere to a great ex¬
tent ; the discharge of a shower, according to this hy¬
pothesis, probably occasioned the shock j and as the
electrical snap precedes die shock, a sound was observed
to roll from the Thames towards Temple-bar, before
the motion of the houses ceased. This noise, which is
generally the forerunner of earthquakes, it is supposed
can only be accounted for on the principles of electri¬
city. The contrary to this would take place, were these
phenomena owing to subterraneous eruptions. The
dames and sulphureous smells which accompany earth-
qnakes, might, it is thought, be more easily accounted
for on the same principles, than by eruptions from the
bowels of the earth. The sudden concussion, too, seems
to be produced by a motion which could only he ex¬
cited by electricity, not proceeding from any convul¬
sion in the interior parts of the earth, but from a uni¬
form vibration along its surface, like that of a musical
O G Y. Chap, d
string, or like the vibratory motion of a glass, when eI
the edge is rubbed with the finger. From the circum-quakj 1
stance that earthquakes are chiefly fatal to places near
the sea coasts, along the course of rivers, and elevated ' .
situations, a farther proof is derived, that they depend
on the operation of electricity. The course or direc- |
tion which the earthquake above alluded to took, af¬
fords an illustration of this point. Another argument
in favour of the electrical hypothesis is drawn from the
effects of the earthquake, or the state of the weather
at the time, on persons of weak or nervous constitu¬
tions. To some these disorders proved at that time
fatal *, and its effects, in general, were similar to those
of artificial electricity.
A similar hypothesis was proposed by Beccaria, to Of 4 a.
account for the phenomena of earthquakes, lie sup-da-
poses that the electric matter to which these phenome¬
na are owing, is lodged deep in the earth, and that it
is this matter discharged from the earth, to restore the
equilibrium or deficiency which the clouds in the atmo¬
sphere have sustained during thunder storms, hy giving
out their electrical matter to another part of the earth.
This, he supposes, is confirmed by the noise resembling
thunder, and the flashes of lightning which are perceived
during earthquakes. _ d |
Dr Priestley proposes to construct, on the princi-OfPiW
pies of Stukeley and Beccaria, an hypothesis which heky. j |
thinks will explain the phenomena in a more satisfac¬
tory manner. For this purpose he supposes the electric
matter to be some way or other accumulated on one
part of the surface of the earth, and on account of the
dryness of the season, not easily to diffuse itself.. It
may, as Beccaria supposes, force its way into the high¬
er regions of the air, forming clouds in its passage out
of the vapours which float in the atmosphere, and oc¬
casion a sudden shower, which may farther promote
the passage of the fluid. The whole surface thus un¬
loaded will receive a concussion like any other conduct¬
ing substance, on parting with or receiving a quantity
of the electric fluid. The rushing noise will likewise
sweep over the whole extent of the country j and upon
this supposition also, the fluid, in its discharge from the
country, will naturally follow the course ol the rivers,
and also take the advantage of any eminences, to faci¬
litate its ascent into the higher regions of the air. In
making some experiments on the passage of the electri¬
cal fluid over water, he observed that it produced a tre¬
mulous motion, and therefore he concludes that it must
receive a concussion resembling that which is given to
the waves of the sea by an earthquake. To try this
still farther, he immersed his hands in water, while an
electrical flash passed over its surface, and he felt »
sudden concussion, like that which is supposed to at-
fect ships at sea during an earthquake. Ihe impulse,
which was felt in different parts of the water, was
strongest near the place where the explosion was made.
“ Pleased with this resemblance of the earthquake,
he observes, I endeavoured to imitate that great natu¬
ral phenomenon in other respects 5 and it being frosty
weather, I took a plate of ice, and placed two sticks
about three inches high on their ends, so that they wou
just stand with ease •, and upon another part of the ice
I placed a bottle, from the cork of which was suspend¬
ed a brass ball with a fine thread. Then making the
electrical flash pass over the surface of the ice, which ^
(
»p. IV. GEO
Lth- did with a very loud report, the nearer pillar fell down,
f s and while the more remote stood, and the ball which had
tnoes. jiung nearly still, immediately began to make vibra-
tions, about an inch in length, and nearly in a right line
from the place of the flash.
“ I afterwards diversified this apparatus, erecting
more pillars, and suspending more pendulums, some¬
times upon bladders stretched on the mouth of open
vessels, and at other times on wet boards swimming in
a vessel of water. This last method seemed to answer
the best of any j for the board representing the earth,
and the water the sea, the phenomena of them both
during an earthquake may be imitated at the same time ;
pillars, &c. being erected on the board, and the elec-
t of trie flash being made to pass, either over the board, over
the water, or over them both
The ingenious Dolomieu proposes to account for
these phenomena on different principles. On this sub¬
ject he makes the following observations with regard
to the earthquakes which desolated Calabria in 1783,
and the causes by which they were produced. “ The
sea, says he, during the earthquakes of 1783, had little
share in the shocks on the main land. The mass of wa¬
ter experienced no general movement, or fluctuation,
or oscillation j the waves did not rise above their or¬
dinary limits. Those which on the night of the 5th
February beat against the coast of Sicily, and which
afterwards covered the point of the Faro of Messina,
were only the effects of a particular cause. The fall
of a mountain into the sea raised the waters, which re¬
ceived an undulating motion, as happens always in
similar cases. The undulation reached from the point
of Sicily beyond the cape of Rosacolmo, extending
in length along the coast which runs to the south ; but
always with a decrease in elevation as it was more re¬
mote from Sicily. Whatever inquiries the author has
made, lie has not been able to discover, in all the de¬
tails which have been given him, any proofs of the ex¬
istence of electrical phenomena ; no spark, no disen¬
gagement of the electrical fluid, which the Neapo¬
litan naturalists wish to assign as the cause of earth¬
quakes.
“ The state of the atmosphere was not the same in
the whole range of earthquakes. While the tempests
and the rain seemed to have conspired with them for
the destruction of Messina, the interior part of Calabria
enjoyed very fine weather. A little rain fell in the
plain in the morning of the 5th of February ; but the
sky was clear during the rest of the day. This month
and that of March were not only pretty serene, but
likewise warm. There were some storms and rain $
but they were the natural attendants of the season.
“ The moving force seems to have resided under
Calabria itself, since the sea which surrounds it had no
share in the oscillations or vibrations of the continent.
This force seems also to have advanced along the ridge
of the Apennines in ascending from the south to the
north. But what power in nature is capable of pro¬
ducing such effects P I exclude electricity, which can¬
not accumulate continually during the course of a year,
in a country surrounded with water, where every thing
conspires to place this fluid in equilibrio. Fire remains
to be considered. The element, by acting directly
upon the solids, can only dilate them j then their ex¬
pansion is progressive, and cannot produce violent and
LOGY. 619
instantaneous movements. When fire acts upon fluids, Eanli-
such as air and water, it gives them an astonishing ex- quakes ami
pansion ; and we know that then their elastic force is Volcanoes.
capable of overcoming the greatest resistances. These ' v '
appear the only means which nature could employ to
operate the effects we speak of: but in all Calabria
there is no vestige of a volcano ; nothing to point out
any interior combustion ; no fire concealed in the centre
ol mountains, or under their base ; a lire which could
not exist without some external signs. The vapours
dilated, the air rarefied by a heat constantly active,
must have escaped through some of the crevices or
clefts formed in the soil 5 they must have formed
currents. Both flame and smoke must have issued by
some one or other of these passages. These once opened,
the pressure would have ceased ; the force not meeting
with any more resistance, would have lost its effect; and
the eartiiquake could have no longer continued. None
of these phenomena took place : we must then renounce
the supposition of a combustion acting directly under
Calabria. Let us see whether, having recourse to a fire
at some distance from this province, and acting upon it
only as an occasional cause, we shall be able to explain
all the phenomena which have accompanied the shocks.
Let us take for example y£tna in Sicily, and suppose
large cavities under the mountains of Calabria j a sup¬
position which cannot be refused. It is certain that
immense subterraneous cavities do exist, since ^Etna, in
elevating itself by the accumulation of its explosions,
must leave in the heart of the earth cavities proportion¬
ed to the greatness of the mass.
“ The autumn of 1782 and the winter of 1783 were
very rainy. The interior waters, augmented by those
of the surface, may have run into those caverns which
form the focus of iEtna : there they must have been
converted into vapour capable of the highest degree of
expansion, and must have pressed forcibly against every
thing which opposed their dilatation. If they found
canals to conduct them into the cavities of Calabria,
they could not fall to occasion there all the calamities
of which I have given the description.
“ If the first cavity is separated from the second by
a wall (so to speak) or some slight division, and this
separation is broken down by the force of the elastic
vapour, the whole force will act against the bottom
and sides of the second. The focus of the shocks will
appear to have changed place, and become weaker in
the space which was agitated most violently by the first
earthquake.
“ The plain, which was undoubtedly the most slender
part of the vault, yielded most easily. The city of
Messina, placed upon low ground, experienced a shock
which the buildings on higher grounds did not. The
moving force ceased at once as suddenly as it acted
violently. When, at the periods of the 7th of February
and the 28th of March, the focus appeared changed,
the plain scarce suffered any thing. The subterraneous
noise, which preceded and accompanied the shocks,
appeared always to come from the south-west, in the
direction of Messina. It seemed like thunder under
ground, which resounded beneath vaults.
“ If iEtna, then, has been the occasional cause of
the earthquakes, it has also prepared, for some time, the
misfortunes of Calabria, by gradually opening a pas¬
sage along the coast of Sicily to the foot of the Neptu-
4 I 2 nian
620
GEOLOGY.
for during the earthquakes of 1780, of the islands.
Kart.li- ri‘an monnta'n5
quakes and which disturbed Messina the whole summer, they felt,
Volcanoes, for the whole length of that coast, horn .Taormina evrii
1 ~v—t0 the Faro, considerable shocks •, but near tbe villages
of Alii and Fiume de Nisij which are situated about tbe
middle of that line, shocks so violent were experienced,
that they dreaded lest the mouth ot a volcano should
open. Each shock resembled the effort ot a mine that
had not strength to make an explosion. It appears, that
then the volcano opened a free passage for the expan¬
sion of its vapours, and that they have since circulated
without restraint j since in the year 1783 the earth¬
quake was almost nothing upon that part of Sicily, at
the time that Messina buried under its ruins the half
of its inhabitants.”
Ascribed to By others the phenomena of earthquakes have been
the force ofascribed to the iorce ol vapour or steam, which, no
steam. doubt, is an agent sufficiently powerful, if it is confined
so, that its prodigious elastic force may be exerted j
but it is denied by those who oppose this hypothesis,
that earthquakes, though very frequent in regions
where subterranean fires are really known to exist, as
in volcanic countries, always happen in such places, and
therefore water cannot he converted into vapour. But,
besides, it is well known, that this vapour, even admit¬
ting the possibility of its production in subterranean ca¬
vities would he re-converted into water, the moment it
came in contact with a cold body, which would deprive
it of the principle of heat, in combination with which
water assumes the form of vapour.
Many objections might have been made to the
hypotheses which have been proposed to account for
earthquakes. Many of these will probably occur to
the attentive reader, who is a little acquainted with the
nature and properties of the agents by which they are
supposed to he produced ; hut whatever may be the
cause of these extraordinary phenomena, it appears that
it is very far from being clearly ascertained. Perhaps
all the agents which have been stated as the cause of
earthquakes, may have some influence in contributing
to the effect, and many operate at different times, and
in different circumstances.
! -id.
::
Chap.
Volcanoes exist also in the American Eai|
continent, and in many of the islands which have been quake;
discovered in the South seas. Volca
Almost all volcanoes are in the immediate vicinity of
th e sea. Mount J auras, m the interior of Asia, and^reJ
seme of the volcanoes in the Andes, are the only ex-near ;
ceptions to this. sea,
Another general remark which may he made with 2 cj
regard to volcanoes is, that they always occupy the tops^'l
of mountains. No volcano was ever found bursting outmouri(
in plains. The existence of volcanoes at the bottom
of the ocean seems to be an exception •, but it is to he
observed, that these are also in the peaks of mountains,
which have been raised up from great depths at the
bottom of the ocean.
The first symptom of an approaching eruption is an^j^
increase of the smoke, if smoke has been emitted, in fair0f a:
weather. This smoke is of a whitish colour j but, aftertion,
some time, black smoke is observed to shoot up in the
midst of the column of white smoke. These appearances
are usually accompanied with explosions. The black
smoke is then followed, at a shorter or longer distance
of time, by a reddish-coloured flame. Showers of stones
are afterwards thrown out, and some of them are pro¬
jected to great heights in the air, which shews that the
force by which they are impelled is very great. Along
with these, ashes are likewise ejected. These pheno¬
mena, which daily increase in frequency and violence,
are also usually preceded and accompanied by earth¬
quakes, and hollow noises from the bowels of the earth,
something like those that precede earthquakes unaccom¬
panied with volcanic eruptions. The smoke, flame, and
the quantity of stones and ashes, increase, and the stones
are at last thrown out red hot.
The smoke which issues from the crater has been
observed to be sometimes in a highly electrified state.
The ashes are strongly attracted, and carried up along
with the smoke to great heights in the atmosphere,
forming a dense black column of vast height and size.
Flashes of lightning are seen darting in a zig-zag direc-
i> i
tion, through the column of smoke and ashes j and this
Sect. II. Of Volcanoes.
VoLCAXOES exist in almost every part of the world,
in every from the north to the south pole. Uecla in Iceland,
part of the and a volcano which has been observed in Terra del
*35
Volcanoes
world.
135
Number of
them.
Fuego, at the termination of the southern continent of
America, nearly comprehend the extremities of the
globe ; and having mentioned these boundaries, it is
unnecessary to observe, that they exist in all climates.
The number of volcanoes at present known, is not
less than 100. The volcanoes of Europe are well
known : these are Vesuvius in Italy, ./Etna in Sicily,
and Hecla in Iceland. To these may be added the
volcanoes in the iEolian or Lipari islands on the coast
of Italy, of which Stromholi is remarkable for having
thrown out flames, without the eruption of other volca¬
nic matter, for more than 2000 years. In Asia there
is a volcano on Mount Taurus j five in Kamtschatka,
10 in the islands of Japan ; one in the peak of Adam
in the island of Ceylon ; four which have been observed
in Sumatra •, and some others in different parts of the
Asiatic continent or islands. There are also some
volcanoes on the African continent, as well as in some
lightning is sometimes attended with thunder. But
from some observations which have been made, this
thunder and lightning are seemingly less intense than
atmospheric electricity. When these terrible appear¬
ances have continued for four or five months, or fora
longer or shorter time, according to the nature of the
eruption, the lava begins to flow. This is a current of
melted matter, which sometimes boils over the top, and
sometimes, when the mountain is high, as is the case
with .iFtna, bursts out at the side, and makes a passage
for itself. The period of the duration of the eruption
is very different. Sometimes it continues to flow, at
intervals, for the space of several w'eeks. _ J
The matters ejected from volcanoes are lavas, whichj^att,
are either more or less consolidated ; ashes, slags of dif-throw!S*
ferent kinds, and stones which have undergone little of TOr
or no fusion. For an account of the nature and pro¬
perties of volcanic productions, see MINERALOGY.
Stones have been projected into the air from Mount
AEtna, to the height of 7000 feet. A stone which
was ejected from Vesuvius, measured 12 feet long, and
45 feet in circumference ; and even larger masses have
been thrown out from ^tna.
Water has been frequently ejected from volcanoes.
Cip.IV. GEO
. ILh. This water is sometimes cold, and sometimes hot. E-
? Isandruptions of water have taken place, both from Vesu-
V vius and iEtna. At one time salt water was ejected
s|ii ' from Mount Vesuvius. Different opinions have been
held concerning the origin of this water, or its con¬
nexion with the volcano. This is founded on the cir¬
cumstance already taken notice of in the general re-
j ( mark which was made, that almost all volcanoes are in
the vicinity of the sea.
It seems to be a singular circumstance in the history
of volcanoes, that when once eruptions have commen¬
ced, they follow each other in rapid succession ; and
at other times that they cease for a long period. From
the year 1447, iEtna ceased to throw out any fire till
the year 1536, when a terrible eruption took place,
accompanied with smoke, flame, ashes, and burning
stones. This conflagration continued to rage with great
violence for many weeks. The following year a river
swelled and overflowed its hanks to a great distance ;
furious squalls of wind succeeded, after which there
was a terrible eruption from ./Etna. The torrents of
flaming and fused matter which flowed out, destroyed
towns, villages, and vineyards, to a great extent. Af¬
ter the conflagration, the summit of the mountain fell
in with a dreadful crash. For 100 years after this pe¬
riod, the eruptions seemed to observe some kind of re¬
gularity, returning periodically every 25 and 30 years.
From the year 1686 to 1755, the same year on which
the earthquake at Lisbon happened, for more than half
a century, /Etna enjoyed profound repose.
The first considerable eruption of Vesuvius, the ac¬
count of which is recorded in history, happened in the
year 79 of the Christian era. It was this eruption
which destroyed Herculaneum and Pompeii; but this
was not the first eruption of this mountain, for the
streets of these cities have been since discovered to be
paved with lava. Since that time, 30 different erup¬
tions have taken place. There was a very remarkable
one in 1538.
Sibt.
ne
It would appear that volcanoes seem to become quite
_extinct, and are rekindled. Some of the Roman writ¬
ers, as Diodorus Siculus, Vitruvius, and others, speak
-of V esuvius only as having been a volcano. After this
period it burnt for icco years, and again became ex¬
tinct, from 1136 to 1506. Pools of water bad col¬
lected in the crater, and woods were growing on its
sides, and even in the crater itself. Vesuvius has now
burnt for three centuries past, as furiously as ever j but
particularly, during the i8tb century. Of 29 eruptions
which have taken place from Vesuvius, since the reign
of Titus, half of the number have happened in the 18th
century.
Beside the volcanoes, the history of which we have
now briefly detailed, volcanoes are known to exist at
the bottom of the ocean. These are distinguished by
the name of submarine volcanoes. Excepting in situa¬
tion, so far as the history of submarine volcanoes is
known, they resemble the volcanoes on land. It would
appear that they exist in the tops of mountains at the
bottom of the ocean, and eject immense burning mas¬
ses of matter in whirlwinds of ashes and pumice, with
prodigious torrents of lava. Submarine volcanoes are
either very few in number, or the places where they
exist have not been ascertained. Those that are cer¬
tainly known are at Santorin, the Azores, and Ice-
LOGY. ' - 62i
End The island of Santorin, formerly called Thera Eartfa_
and St Irene, was denominated by the Greeks, in al-quakes and
1 us ion to its origin, Kapivu, or “ burnt.” According to Volcanoes,
j. liny, there is a tradition, that it arose out of the sea, v™ *
at a very remote but unknown period.
Without going far hack into history, to inquire con¬
cerning the early eruptions of this volcano, we shall
mention some of a later date, the existence of which is
better ascertained. In I457> an eruption took place,
at which time ashes and red-hot rocks were ejected,
with a great quantity of lava. This event, with the
date of it, is recorded on a marble stone, erected near
the gate of tort Scarus, in Santorin. An eruption
also took place 10^1570. This produced a new island,
called the Little Kanunoi. In 1630, the agitations of
the volcanoes continued for the greater part of a year.
Smyrna and Constantinople were incommoded with the
ashes, which rushed from the ocean in whirlwinds of.
flame. The same volcano opened again in 1707. The
Little Kaminoi, mentioned, was increased, and it is now
more than three leagues in circumference. A violent
eruption took place in 1767, which shook the earth
greatly for some days, and raised the sea in such a
manner, as to excite apprehensions of the destruction
of the islands in the neighbourhood. A thick black
smoke darkened the air, which w'as so infected with a
strong smell of sulphur, that many persons and animals
were suffocated by it. Black ashes resembling gun¬
powder were dispersed around, and torrents of flame
issuing from the sea, and waving above it, to the height
of several feet, lighted, at intervals, the horrid scene.
At the end of 10 or 12 days the eruption began to be
more moderate ; and a new island which had been
thrown up was discovered. When it was examined,
many parts of it were still burning ; but the next day,
those whom curiosity had drawm to the spot, were com¬
pelled to betake themselves to flight. They felt the
new soil moving; in some parts it rose, and sunk in
others. 'Ihe earth, sea, and sky, soon resumed their
formidable appearance ; the boiling sea changed co¬
lour ; flames in rapid succession issued as from a fur¬
nace, but accompanied with ashes and pumice. The
frightful noise of subterranean thunders was heard ; it
seemed as if enormous rocks, darting from the bottom
of the abyss, beat against the vaults above it, and were
alternately repelled and thrown up again. The repeti¬
tion of their blows seemed to be distinctly heard. Some
of them finding a passage, were seen flying up red hot
into the air, and again falling into the sea from which
they had been ejected. Masses were produced, held
together for some days, and then disappeared. In this
general disorder, large portions of the Little-Kaminoi
were swallowed up. Meanwhile the labour of the vol¬
cano look a larger surface. Its ejections became pro¬
digiously abundant, and a new island was seen forming.
By successive additions continued for near four months,
it made a junction with that produced in June. From
the colour of its soil it was named the Black Island. It
is larger than the Little Kaminoi, and is separated from
it by a narrow strait. After frequent alarms for seve¬
ral months, the volcano opened again on the ijth of
April in the following year ; but the eruption was on¬
ly for a moment, when it threw out a multitude of
burning rocks, which fell at the distance of two
miles.
Similar
622 G E O L
tt Similar submarine volcanoes have been observed near
quakes and the island of St Michael, one of the Azores or Western
Volcanoes. Islands in the Atlantic ocean. In the year 1030, near
     the island of St Michael, where the sea was known to
be 120 feet deep, there arose, after an agitation of se¬
veral weeks, an island about six miles round. It was
again swallowed up in about the same space of time
that had elapsed during its formation. In the year
1691, this volcano was in great agitation for a month.
It convulsed the whole island of bt Michael, and by
the heat and violent commotion of the sea, as well as
by the eruption of flames, ashes, and pumice, occasioned
great damage ; but in this case no island appeared.
Similar eruptions were known in 1720, and in 1757*
During the latter eruption, some of the islands were
shaken to their foundations.
After this account of submarine volcanoes, of their
effects, and of the islands formed by them, it would
be unnecessary to enter into any detail of the subma¬
rine volcano which threw up an island off the coast
of Iceland, in the year 1783* Ibis island, the exist¬
ence of which seemed to'be fully ascertained, was
again swallowed up in the ocean, and was seen no
s4, more.
Mud toI- Volcanoes of a very diflerent kind have been de-
caaoes. scribed. The volcanoes to which we allude, have re¬
ceived the name of mud volcanoes, from ejecting a great
quantity of mud. These, however, are similar to those
which have been already described, in having volcanic
motions and convulsive eruptions. The first volcano
of this kind which was discovered is in the island of
Sicily, near a place called Maccalouba, between Ar-
ragona and Girgenti. It is in a hill of a conical
shape, truncated at the top, and 150 feet high. The
summit is a plain, half a mile round, and the whole
surface is covered with thick mud. The depth of the
mud, which is supposed to be immense, is unknown.
There is not the slightest appearance of vegetation upon
it. In the rainy season the mud is much softened ; the
surface is even, and there is a general ebullition over
it, which is accompanied with a very sensible rumbling
noise. In the dry season, the mud acquires greater
consistency, but without ceasing its motion. The plain
assumes a form somewhat convex \ a number of little
cones are thrown up, which rarely rise to the height
of two feet. Each of them has a crater, where a black
mud is seen in constant agitation, and incessantly emit¬
ting bubbles of air. With these the latter insensibly
rises, and as soon as the crater is full of it, it disgorges.
The residue sinks, and the cone has a free crater until
a new emission.
This hill is sometimes subject to alarming convul¬
sions. Earthquakes are felt at the distance of two or
three miles, accompanied with internal noises, resem¬
bling thunder. These increase for several days, and
terminate in an eruption of a prodigious spout of mud,
earth, and stones, which rises two or three hundred feet
into the air. This explosion is repeated twice or thrice
in the course of 24 hours. Some years pass over with¬
out any eruption, but it generally happens that the erup¬
tions continue yearly for five years successively. An
eruption from this mud volcano took place in 1777*
Phenomena somewhat similar have been described by
Pallas, which he observed partly in the peninsula of
the Kercha, the boundary of Europe to the south-east
a
O G Y. Chap. I
of Little Tartary, now Taurida, and partly in the island Eaii
of Taman, which is separated from Kercha only by quakl
one of the mouths of the river Cuban. The island of VoM
Taman is situated in Asia. These places, he observes,
are in flat countries where there are few hills, and those
very little raised above the level of the sea. The whole
is covered with beds of slime, mixed with sand, with
some beds of marl and sea-shells. From this he con¬
cludes that no real volcanic pit can exist here. Copious
springs of petroleum are found in several places, and al¬
so pools or svphons of various dimensions, through most
of which a briny mud is disgorged in bubbles. Pallas
observed several of these pools, both in the peninsula
and in Taman. The last eruption which took place,
he observes, was in 1794. This was the greatest and
most copious that had been known. It proceeded from
the top of a hill at the north point of Taman. The
place where the new gulf opened was a pool, where the
snow and rain water usually remained for a long time.
The explosion came on with a noise like that of thun¬
der, and with the appearance of a mass of fire in the
form of a sheaf. This lasted only for about half an
hour, and it was accompanied with a thick smoke 5 but
the ebullition which threw up part of the liquid mud,
continued till the next day, after which the mud ran
slowly in streams down the hill. The mud discharged
was of a soft clay, of a bluish ash colour, every where
of the same nature, and mixed with brilliant sparks of
mica, with a small quantity of marl, calcareous and
sandy fragments of schistus, which seemed to have been
torn from their beds.
Pallas supposes that a very deep coal mine had
been for ages on fire, under Kercha and Taman, and
that the sea having accidentally broken into the burn¬
ing cavities of the mine, the expansion produced by
the water converted into steam, and the struggle of the
different aeriform substances to get free, forced the up¬
per beds, broke them in pieces, and formed a passage
to themselves. The vapours, as they escaped, carried
the mud along with them. But others have supposed
that these phenomena are not produced by fire \ that
the appearance of the sheaf of fire must have been ex¬
traneous, or, that it was only a quantity of inflammable
air, which exploded when it came to the surface; or,
perhaps it was altogether an illusion, from the appear¬
ances of the vapours which were emitted.
An account is given of a singular phenomenon, some¬
what similar to the above, which was observed in 1711,
at Bosely, near Wenlock, in Shropshire. After a great
hurricane, the inhabitants were awakened in the middle
of the night by commotions of the earth, which were
accompanied with noise. Some persons went to an
eminence from which the noise proceeded, and they saw
water oozing through the turf, while at the same time
inflammable air was emitted. The water was not hot.
This continued for some time, but at last it ceased to
throw out any inflammable air for some years, previous
to the year 1746, when a second eruption took place,
attended with similar circumstances.
We shall not dwell longer on the history of volca¬
noes. For a particular account of the most remarkable
eruptions of the principal volcanoes in the world, the
reader is referred to the history given under iETNA,
Hecla, and Vesuvius. We shall now proceed to
state some of the opinions and conjectures of philoso¬
phers,
rcJ 1
:! >. IV. GEOL
jtb. pliers with regard to the cause of these extraordinary
Jj mid phenomena.
Volcanic eruptions have been ascribed to the action
of the waters of the sea, bursting in upon an immense
quantity of fused or burning matter j to the action of
central fires, and to the decomposition of different sub¬
stances, by which a great quantity of heat and inflam¬
mable substances is produced.
Water, according to some philosophers, is absolutely
necessary for the formation of volcanoes. This opinion
is supported by the circumstance of almost all volca¬
noes being near the sea. According to this opinion, they
were all formed under the surface of the waters of the
ocean. The first explosion at the formation of a vol¬
cano, it is supposed, was preceded by an earthquake.
The first eruptions would be extremely violent, and im¬
mense quantities of matter would be ejected. Torrents
of lava would continue to be discharged for a long
series of ages, and thus the foundations of the burning
mountain are laid in the bottom of the ocean. But it
becomes a question, in wdiat way the internal fire was
preserved from extinction by the incumbent waters of
the ocean ? To this M. Houel replies, that the fire
having disposed the substances in fusion to make an
eruption, next laid open the earth, and emitted as much
matter as it could discharge, with a force sufficient to
overcome the resistance of the column of water, which
would oppose its ascent} but as the strength of the fire
diminished, the matter discharged was no longer ex¬
pelled beyond the mouth •, but, by accumulating there,
soon closed up the orifice. Thus, only small orifices
would be left sufficient for giving vent to the va¬
pours of the volcano, and from which only small bub¬
bles of air could ascend to the surface of the water, un¬
til new circumstances, such as originally gave occasion
to the eruption of the volcano, again took place in the
bowels of the earth, and produced new eruptions, either
through the same or other mouths. The appearance of
the sea over the new formed volcano, in its state of tran¬
quillity, would then be similar to what it is betwixt the
islands of Basilizzo and Pariaria. Columns of air bub¬
bles are there ascending at the depth of more than 30
feet, and burst on their arriving at the surface. This
air would continue to disengage itself with little disturb¬
ance as long as it issues forth only in small quantity,
until, at the very instant of explosion, when prodigious
quantities, generated in the burning focus, would make
their way at once, and the same phenomena which
originally took place would again make their appear¬
ance.”
A volcano, while under water, cannot act precisely
as it does in the open air. Its eruptions, though equal¬
ly strong, cannot extend to so great a distance. The
lava accumulates in greater quantity round the crater 5
the sand, ashes, and pozzolana are not carried away
by the winds, but are deposited around its edges, and
prevent the marine substances which are driven that
way by the waters from entering. Thus they agglome¬
rate with these bodies, and thus a pyramidal mount is
formed of all the materials together.
In this manner M. Houel supposes that the mountain
Was gradually raised out of the sea by the accumulation
of lava, &c. at every eruption, and that the cavern of
the volcano was gradually enlarged, the lava being dri¬
ven down into the bottom of the cavern by the continued
O G Y.
62
action of the stones which the volcano is constantly Earth¬
throwing up j that it was there fused, and at last thrown quakes and
out at the top of the mountain to accumulate on its sides. ^o-caa0€S-
M. Houel’s opinion about the volcanic fire we shall give ' 
in his own words.
“ We cannot form any idea of fire subsisting alone,
without any pabulum, and unconnected with any other
principle. We never behold it but in conjunction with
some other body, which nourishes and is consumed by it.
The matter in fusion, which issues from the focus, is but
the incombustible part of that which nourishes the fire,
and into the bosom of which that active principle pene-
tiates in search of pabulum. But as the fire acts only
in proportion to the facility with which it can dissolve
and evaporate, I am of opinion, that it is only the bot¬
tom of the volcano on which it acts 5 and that its ac¬
tion extends no farther than to keep these substances
which it has melted in a constant state of ebullition.
I hat fusible matter being discharged from the mouth
ol the volcano, and hardening as it is gradually cooled
by the action of the air, produces that species of stones
which are distinguished by the name of lavas< This
lava, even when in the focus, and in a state of fluidity,
must also possess a certain degree of solidity, on account
of the gravity and density of its particles. It therefore
opposes the fire with a degree of resistance which irri¬
tates it, and requires, to put it into a state of ebullition,
a power proportioned to the bulk of the mass.
“ That quantity of matter, when dissolved by the ac¬
tion of the fire, must constantly resemble any other thick
substance in a state of ebullition. Small explosions are
produced in various parts over the surface of every
such substance while in a state of ebullition ; and, by
the bursting of these bubbles, a great number of small
particles are scattered around. This is the very pro¬
cess carried on in the focus of a volcano, though on
a scale immensely more large ; and the vast explosions
there produced expel every body which lies in their
way with the utmost violence ; nor is there any piece
of lava which falls down from the upper part of the
arch, of weight sufficient to resist this violent centrifu¬
gal force.
“ The pabulum by which the internal fire is support¬
ed, M. Houel thinks to be substances contained in
the mountain itself, together with bitumen, sulphur, and
other inflammable materials, which may from time to
time flow into the focus of the volcano in a melted state
though the subterraneous ducts, and the explosions ha
ascribes to water making its way in the same manner.
The water is converted into steam, which fills the cavern
and pushes the melted lava cut at the crater $ this opi¬
nion is corroborated by the copious smoke which always
precedes an irruption. But, combined with the water,
there is always a quantity of other substances, whose
effects precede, accompany, or follow the eruptions, and
produce all the various phenomena which they display.
The eruption of water from -/Etna in the year 1775
proceeded undoubtedly from this cause. The sea, or
some of the reservoirs in iEtna or the adjacent moun¬
tains, by some means discharged a vast quantity of
W'ater into the focus of the volcano. That water
was instantly resolved into vapour, which filled the
whole crater, and issued from the mouth of the crater*
As soon as it made its way into the open atmosphere, it
was condensed again into water, which streamed dnwn
tfaftr
624
G E O L
Earth- the siiles of the mountain in a dreadful and destructive
quakes and torrent.”
Volcanoes. Others have attempted to account for the existence
k“ v ^ of volcanic fire, on the supposition that it is derived
from central fires, and to these it is supposed that vol¬
canoes act the part of chimneys ; while others are of
opinion that they are owing to the chemical decompo¬
sition of different substances, by which inflammable
matters are evolved, with a great deal of heat, and hy
means of the latter the combustible materials are kin¬
dled, and exhibit the phenomena which are thus pro¬
posed to be accounted for. .
M. Patrin is one of the latest naturalists who, with
the assistance of modern chemistry, has attempted to
account for the phenomena of volcanoes on the princi¬
ples of this science. lor a full view of his theory, or
rather of his fanciful conjectures on this subject, we
+ Hist.Nat. fiiust refer the reader to the work itselff. But the fol-
de Mineral. ]oWinrr is a recapitulation of the principles on which he
tom- v- gives this explanation. All volcanoes, he observes,
in a state of activity, are in the vicinity of the sea, and
are never found but in those places where sea salt is
abundant. The volcanoes of the Mediterranean ab¬
stract the salt which the waters of the ocean hold in
solution, and are constantly pouring in by the straits of
Gibraltar. The strata of primitive schistus are the
great laboratories in which volcanic matters are prepa¬
red, by a constant circulation of different fluids j but,
according to this theory, these strata contribute no part
of their own substance. They suffer no waste in the
process.
The sphere of the activity of volcanoes may he far
extended in these strata, but they have no other outlet
beside spiracles, by which the gaseous substances es¬
cape, of which one part is dissipated in the atmosphere,
and the other becomes concrete by its combination with
oxygen. The concretion of these fluids is supposed to
be analogous to the concretion of the primitive matters
of the globe, according to the theory of La Place •, and
the elective attractions determine, in the same way, the
formation of stony crystals. _ _ i
Volcanic eruptions are proportioned, in regard to
their violence and duration, to the extent of the strata
of schistus in which the volcanic fluids are accumulated.
These fluids are,
1. Muriatic acid, which carries off the oxygen from
the metallic oxides of the schistus.
2. The oan/gen of the atmosphere, which constantly
replaces in the metals that which was carried oft' by the
muriatic acid.
3. Carbonic acid gas, which the water absorbs from
the atmosphere, and conveys to the schistus, which al¬
ways abounds in carbone.
4. Hydrogen, which proceeds from the decomposition
of water. A part of this hydrogen is inflamed by elec¬
tric explosions •, the other united to carbonic acid forms
oil, which becomes petroleum by its combination with
sulphuric acid ; and it is to this petroleum that the bit¬
terness of sea water is owing.
5. The electric fluid, which is attracted from the at¬
mosphere by the metals contained in the schistus. Sul¬
phur seems to he the most homogeneous portion of this
fluid, which has become concrete. Phosphorus is a
modification of it, and it contributes to the fixation of
oxygen. The sulphur formed in the schistus by means
O G Y. Chap.l/j
of the electric fluid, combines with the oxygen, and Eatl
forms sulphuric acid, which decomposes the sea salt.
6. The metalliferous fluid. This forms the iron in 7°^ ;i-
lavas. It is the origin of metallic veins, and the co- ' ]
louring principle of organized bodies. This substance
in its undecomposed state affords iron, but by decom- 1 j
position it produces other metals. It is conjectured to
be one of the principles of muriatic acid, and it contri¬
butes, along with phosphorus, to fix oxygen under an
earthy form.
7. The last of the volcanic fluids is azotic gas. To || 3
this gas is owing the formation of the masses of carbo¬
nate of lime which are ejected by Vesuvius, and of the
calcareous earth contained in lavas.
Such are the materials with which the author pro¬
poses to form the different substances which are produ¬
ced in volcanoes, and by the operation of which be
proposes to explain the phenomena of volcanic erup¬
tions. Our readers will probably agree with us in
thinking, that the present slate of chemical science,
even with the assistance of such hypothetical substances
as the metalliferous fluids, is yet inadequate to give any
degree of support to such opinions, even in the form of
conjecture. We shall therefore dismiss it without far¬
ther remark. 341 I
We shall now conclude this subject with some inter-9^ .
esting observations by M. de Luc, on the nature of the110!18 n
strata in winch volcanic tires exist. thestil.
“ Volcanoes, he observes, have been more numerous
on the surface of our continents, when they were under
the waters of the ancient sea; and as this class of moun¬
tains, raised by subterranean fires, manifest themselves
still on the shores of the present sea, and in the middle
of its waters, it is of importance to geology and the
philosophy of the earth to obtain as just ideas of them
as possible.
“ 1 have attended a great deal to this subject from
my own observations ; and I have shown, at different
times, the errors into which several geologists and na¬
turalists, in treating of it, have fallen.
“ This class of mountains, in particular, requires that
we should see them, that we should behold them during
their eruptions, that we should have traced the progress
of their lava, and have observed closely their explosions;
that we should have made a numerous collection of the
matters which they throw up under their different cir¬
cumstances, that we might afterwards be able to study
them in the cabinet, and to judge of their composition
according to the phenomena which have been observed
on the spot.
“ This study is highly necessary when we apply it to
geology and the philosophy of the earth, in order that
we may avoid falling into those mistakes which make
us ascribe to subterranean fires what does not belong to
them, or which leads us to refuse them what really be¬
longs to them.
“ We read in the Journal de Physique for January
1804, under the title, On the Cause of Volcanoes, the
following assertions :
‘ What is the nature of the matters which maintain
these subterranean fires ? We have seen that Chimbo¬
razo, all these enormous volcanoes of Peru, and the
Peak of Teneriffe, are composed of porphyry.
‘ The Puy-de-D6me is also composed of porphyry, as
well as the Mont tl’Or and the Cantal.
‘ iEtna,
w
ip-IV- ' GEOLOGY,
■th- ‘ ^tna, Soifatara, and Vesuvius, are also of the por-
sand phyry kind.
noes, < these facts prove that the most considerable volca¬
noes with which we are acquainted are of porphyry.’
“ This opinion, that the tires of volcanoes have their
centres in such or such a rock, and that their lavas are
produced from these rocks, has always appeared to me
not to.be founded on any certain data. Opinions also
on this subject have varied ; some having placed the
origin of lava in horn rock, others in granite or schist,
and at present it is assigned to porphyry.
I have always been of opinion that nothing certain
could be determined in regard to this point. °It ever
remains uncertain whether the seat of the matters of
which lava is formed be in compact rocks, or in strata
in the state of softness, pulverulent, and muddy.
“ Those who see lava issue from a volcano in its state
of fusion and incandescence, and in its cooling, are con¬
vinced that the nature of every thing is changed, that
it exhibits a paste in which nothing can be known, ex¬
cept the substances which the volcanic fires have not
reduced to fusion.
“ But these substances contained in the paste of lava,
and those which are the most numerous, show us, that
the strata from which they proceed cannot be similar to
those exposed to the view, nor even to the most profound
strata to which we can penetrate.
“ Admitting the hypothesis, that the strata from
which the lavas proceed are in a pulverulent and mud¬
dy state, containing elements of all these small crystals,
one may conceive how they are formed there, insulated,
grouped, or solitary, and are found then in the lava in
that state of insolution.
“ The fragments of natural rocks thrown up by Ve¬
suvius are not of the same kind as the matters of which
the lava is composed. Most of these fragments are
micaceous rocks with laminae of greater or less size,
and of a kind of granite called syenite. I have found
some composed of white quartzy rock j it is found some¬
times of calcareous rock.
ii The most probable idea that can be formed in re¬
gard to the origin of these fragments is, that they have
been carried from the borders of the strata through
which the lava, that comes from great depths, has
opened for itself a passage. These fragments are car¬
ried to. the surface of the lava as far as the bottom of
the chimney of the crater, whence they have been
thrown out by explosions, mixed with fragments sepa¬
rated, or rather torn, from the lava ; for it is not by
the lava that they have been brought forth to view, but
by explosions.
“ Some of these fragments of natural rocks have not
been attacked by the fire; others have more or less $
which, depends, no doubt, on the place which they
occupied in the volcano, and on the time which they
lemained in it. I he most of the latter have retained
at their surface a crust of lava, and this crust contains
substances which are not the same as that of the frag¬
ment it covers.
“ On Vesuvius the strata pierced by eruptions are
lower than the surface of the soil j in Auvergne and
several places of Germany they are above ; for this rea¬
son there are seen there in their place schists or Granites.
Vol. IX. Part II. k +
which the eruptions have broken to form for themselves
a passage.
“ No volcano rests on natural strata : they sometimes
show themselves on the exterior ; but they have been
opened by eruptions, and their edges have remained in
their place.
“ The focus of no volcano exists or has existed in the
cone which appears above the surface of the ground.
They have been raised by eruptions, which, proceeding
from great depths, have thrown them up through the
upper strata.. When it is said, therefore, that the vol¬
canic mountains of Auvergne rest on granite, this is a
mistake, and an incorrect expression has been used by
those who have not formed a just idea of the phenome¬
non. Lava may have flowed upon granite or any other
rock, and rested upon it 5 but this is never the case
witb the volcano itself: its bases are below all the rocks
visible.
“ is from the bosom even of the lava, when in a
state of fusion in the interior of the volcano, that all
the explosions proceed. In that state of fusion they
contain all the matters which produce fermentations,
and the disengagement of expansible fluids.
“ I have been enabled to ascertain this on Vesuvius
as far as was possible. The continual noise which was
beard through the two interior mouths of the crater
which I had before my eyes, was that of an ebullition,
accompanied with inflammable vapours, and the gerbts
of burning matters which they threw up at intervals
were separated pieces of the lava in its state of fusion.
I saw.several of them in the air change their form, and
sometimes become flat on the bodies which they struck
or embraced in falling. And among the most apparent
of these fragments there are always a multitude of small
ones of the size of peas and nuts, and still smaller ones,
which show at their surface, by their asperities, all the
characters of laceration.
“ The name of scot'ice has been given to these frag¬
ments, to distinguish them from compact lava, though
their composition be the same as that of the hardest la¬
va.; and it is for want of reflecting properly on this
point that it has been said that it is the compact part
only that we must observe, in order to judge of their
nature. The pieces which I took from the flowing lava
with an iron hook, have at their surface the same lacera¬
tions and the same asperities as the fragments thrown up
by explosions, and both contain the same substances.
“ This separation, by tearing off the parcels of the
lava, effected by fermentations and explosions which
proceed from their bosom, serves to explain those co¬
lumns, sometimes prodigious, of volcanic sand, which
rise from the principal crater. When seen with a mag¬
nifying glass, this sand exhibits nothing but lava redu¬
ced very small, the particles of which, rough with in¬
equalities, have the bright black colour and the varnish
of recent lava.
“ Parcels of substances which exist in our strata, such
as fragments of quartz, scales of mica, and crystals of
feldspar, are found sometimes in lava. Similar matters
must no doubt be disseminated in the composition of our
globe, without there being reason to conclude that the
strata from which they proceed are the same as the ex¬
terior strata. It is neither in the granites, the porphy-
4 K ries,
6 25
Earth¬
quakes and
Voicanoe?.
626
GEOLOGY.
Chap.
Earth- rics, nor the horn rock, and still less in the schists and
quakes arid calcareous rocks, that the schorls of volcanoes, the leu-
Volcanoe*. cites, and perhaps olivins, will be found. These sma.l
' /—«»' crygta]s are brought to view hy the lava, otherwise they
would be unknown to us. ...
“ These lavas contain a great deal of iron, which
they acquire neither from the granite nor porphyries.
Might not one see in the ferruginous sand which is
found in abundance on the borders of the sea near
Naples, and in the environs of Rome, specimens of
that kind of pulverulent etr&ta from which lava pro-
“ I have here offered enough to prove that it cannot
be determined that lava proceeds from strata similar to
those with which we are acquainted. The operations
of volcanoes, those vast laboratories of nature, will
always remain unknown to us, and on this subject our
conjectures will always be very uncertain.
“ What is the nature of that mixture which gives
birth to these eruptions, that produce lava and throw
up mountains ? What we observe as certain is, that
the introduction of the water of the sea is necessary to
excite these fermentations, as containing marine acid,
and other salts, which, united to the sulphuric acid, the
bases of which are contained in abundance in the sub¬
terranean strata, determine these fermentations, which
produce the disengagement of tire and other fluids, and
all the grand effects that are the consequence^
Several naturalists have believed, and still believe,
that fresh or rain water is sufficient for this purpose ;
hut they are mistaken : this opinion is contradicted by
every fact known. To be convinced of this, nothing
is necessary but to take a short view of them. I have
done it several times, as it is necessary to consider them
often. I shall here enumerate the principal ones :—
No burning mountain exists in the interior part of the
earth 5 and all those which still burn are, without ex¬
ception, in the neighbourhood of the sea, or surround¬
ed by its waters. Among the deliquescent salts de¬
posited by the smoke of volcanoes, we distinguish chiefly
the marine salt, united to different bases. Several of
the volcanoes of Iceland, and Hecla itself, sometimes
throw up eruptions of water, which deposit marine salt
in abundance. No extent of fresh water, however vast,
gives birth to a volcano. These facts are sufficient to
prove that the concurrence of sea-water is absolutely
necessary to excite those fermentations which produce
volcanoes.
“ I shall here repeat the distinction I have already
made between burnt-out volcanoes and the ancient vol¬
canoes, that I may range them in two separate classes.
“ When we simply give the name of burnt-out or ex¬
tinguished volcanoes to volcanic mountains which are in
the middle of the continents, it is to represent them as Eaw
having burnt while the land was dry, and inhabited asquakesijj
it is at present *, which is not a just idea. These vol-Voleaii/
canoes have burnt when the land on which they are'
raised was under the waters of the ancient sea, and none
of them have burnt since our continents became dry. It
is even very apparent that most of them were extinct
before the retreat of the sea, as we find by numerous
examples in the present sea.
“ Those which I denominate extinct volcanoes are
such as no longer burn, though surrounded by the sea,
or placed on the borders of it. They would still burn,
were not the inflammable matters by which they were
raised really exhausted and consumed. Of this kind
is the volcano of Agde, in Languedoc. Of this kind
also are many of the volcanic islands which have not
thrown up fire since time immemorial.
“ M. Humboldt, in his letters written from Pern,
speaks of the volcanoes which he visited, but what he
says is not sufficiently precise to enable us to form a just
idea of them. He represents Chimborazo as being
composed of porphyry from its bottom to its summit,
and adds, that the porphyry is 1900 toises in thickness ;
afterwards, he remarks, that it is almost improbable
that Chimborazo, as well as Pichincha and Antisana,
should be of a volcanic nature : ‘ The place by which
we ascended, (says he), is composed of burnt and scori¬
fied rock, mixed with pumicestone, which resembles all
the currents of lava in this country.’
“ Here are two characters very different. If Chim¬
borazo be porphyry from the top to the bottom, it is
not composed of burnt and scorified rocks, mixed with
pumicestone } and if it be composed of burnt rocks, it
cannot be porphyry. This expression, burnt and scori¬
fied rocks, is not even exact, because it excites the idea
of natural rocks, altered in their place by fire, and they
are certainly lava which has been thrown up by the
volcano. But the truth must be, that Chimborazo,
and ail the other volcanoes of Peru, are composed of
volcanic matters, from their base at the level of the sea
to the summit.
“ I have just read in the Annales du Museum d'1 Hi¬
st oire Naturelle*, a letter of the same traveller, written#H° a
from Mexico, on his return from Peru, where, speak¬
ing of the volcanoes of Popayan, Paste, Quito, and
the other parts of the Andes, he says, ‘ Great masses of
this fossil (obsidian) have issued from the craters; and
the sides of these gulfs, which we closely examined,
consist of porphyry, the base of which holds a mean be¬
tween obsidian and pitchstone (pechstein).' M. Hum¬
boldt therefore considers obsidian, or black compact
glass, as a natural fossil or rock, and not a volcanic
glassf.” tJow
Minn,
N° 93-
INDEX.
PLATE CCXXXIX
-F/la. 8.
WArWiilaM Sculp -'
It
A.
£ RASTER described, N° 67
gypseous, 85
imtori's theory of earthciuakes, 229
In -daloid described, 72
in nony, ores of, enumerated, 170
ir \ic, ores of, enumerated, 175
B.
5(i H described, __ _ 100
Werner’s opinion respecting,
Note (f) p. 600.
5fl fid's theory of earthquakes, 231
ftufithy ores of, enumerated, 168
5r i'« described, Note (c) p. 556.
examples of, 49
Btf »«V remarks on mountains, 117
theory of the earth, 184
objections to, 185
gtorf’* theory of the earth, 101
Cfc,
Cifl
Csc.
indurated,
slate, described,
C.
88
where found, 89
9°
91
32
_ 104
;eneral circumstances attending, 105
rhere found, 106
nines of France, 107
England, 108
trata at Newcastle, table of, p. 566
"Whitehaven, table of, 568
ovey, described, no
Co^, ores of, enumerated, 171
ores of, enumerated, 164
D.
Rsinetherie's remarks on the decli¬
vities of mountains, 119
flo/ neds theory of earthquakes, 233
account of, 142
names of, 143
course of, 144
inclination of, 145
extent of, 146
thickness of, 147
materials of, 148
whin, peculiar structure of, 149
E.
Ew quakes, account of, 198
where most prevalent, 199
phenomena preceding
and accompanying, 200
at Calabria, in 1635, re¬
lation of, 201
in Sicily, 202
GEOLOGY.
INDEX.
Earthquakes, in Jamaica, N° 203
at Lisbon, 204
felt at Colares, 205
at Oporto, 206
destroys St Ubes, 207
felt in Spain, 208
in Africa, 209
in Madeira, 210
in France, 211
in Germany, 212
in Switzerland, 213
in Holland, 214
in Norway, 215
in Britain, 216
effects of, at sea, 219
in Calabria, in 1783, 221
destruction of Op-
pido, by, 222
in Peru, 223
in Scotland, 224
causes of, 225
according to
the ancients, 226
according to
the moderns, 227
theory of, by Wood¬
ward, 228
by Amontons, 229
by Stukeley, 230
by Beccaria, 231
by Priestley, 232
by Dolomieu, 233
ascribed to the force of
steam, 234
627
F.
86
87
109
in
Fluor spar described,
where found,
Fossils, vegetable,
animal,
G.
Geognosy, definition of, 1
Geology, definition and object of, ib.
division of, 2
importance of, 3
to naturalists, 4
miners, 5
landed proprietors, 6
Christians, 7
difficulties attending the study
of, not insurmountable, 8
principal improvers of, 9
method of studying, 10
Gneiss described, 24
where found, 25
metals found in, 26
Gold, ores of, enumerated, 161
Granite described, 18
its different states, 19
Granite, stratified, instances of, N® 20
where found, 21
decay of, 22
metals found in, 23
Gray wacke described, 68
slate described, ib.
where found, 69
rich in metals, 70
Greenstone described, 74
Gypsum described, 79
common, 81
lenticular, ib.
crystallized, 82
fibrous, 83
stalactitic, 84
H. *
Herman's remarks on mountains, 118
Hornblende slate described, 40
metals found in, 41
Hornstone described, 37
HoueVs theory of volcanoes, 244
Hutton'1 s theory of the earth, 188
objections to, 189
I.
Jasper described, 33
where found, 36
Iron, ores of, enumerated, 165
Ironstone, argillaceous, described, 97
Islands formed by submarine volcanoes, 242
K.
Kirxoan's remarks on the declivities
of mountains, 114—124
theory of do. 296
of dykes, 197
L.
Lead, ores of, enumerated, 166
Limestone, granular, described, 54
where found, 55
metals found in, 56
secondary, described, 64
where found, 65
metals found in, 66
Lithomarga, 92
Luc's (de) observations on the strata
in the neighbourhood of
volcanoes, 245
M.
Mangatiese, ores of, enumerated, 173
Marl described, 96
Materials composing the earth,
general distribution of, 12
division of, 17
Mercury, ores of, enumerated, 162
Molybdena, where found, 174
4K2
Mountains,
628
Mountains, definition of? Na 112
chains of, 113
declivities of, 124
Kirwan’s observations on, 114
, steep side of, faces the low
country, 1*5
western side of, steepest, 116
remarks on, hy Bulfon, 117
by Herman, 118
by Delame-
therie, Up
south and south-east sides
of, the steepest, 120
account of, in Europe, 122
in Asia, 123
in America, 124
height of, table of, p. 57^
course of, N° 126
structure of, 127
primary and secondary,
how distinguished, 128
equatorial, not the highest, 129
Uralian, course of, 131
Altaic, course of, 232
Alpine, 133
Asiatic, 134
southern, 136
of North America, 137
England, 138
Scotland, 140
Ireland, 141
N.
Nickel, ores of, enumerated,
Northwich, salt mines at,
O.
Ores, metallic, enumerated,
of platina,
gold,
mercury,
silver,
copper,,
iron,
lead,
tin,
bismuth,
zinc,
antimony,
cobalt,
nickel,
manganese,
molybdena,
arsenic,
tungslefn,
uranium,
titanium,
tellurium,
GEOLOGY.
p.
Fatrin's theory of volcanoes,
Pitchstone described,
where found,
Platina, where found.
Porphyry described,
where found,
metals found in,
schistose,
Priestley's theory of earthquakes,
Puddingstone,
Q*
Quartz described,
where found,
no metals found in,
S.
Salt rock described,
where found,
mines at Northwich,
Sandstone described,
argillaceous,
where found,
siliceous,
Schistus, micaceous, described,
where found,
N° 244
38
39
160
44
45
46
47
232
50
30
ib.
31
172
103
I59—T 79
160
161
162
Ii63
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
J75
176
177
178
*79
101
102
103
75
76
77
78
27
28
metals found in, 29
argillaceous, described, 32
where found, 33
metals found in, 34
siliceous, described, 61
where found, 62
Syenite described, 51
where found, 52
metals found in, 53
Silver, ores of, enumerated, 163
Slate, 94
clay, 93
Strata of the earth, 13
horizontal and vertical, 14
derangement of, 15
in general regular, 16
in various parts of Europe, ta-
ble of, p. 573
Stukeleifs theory of earthquakes, N° 230
T.
Tellurium, ores of, enumerated, 179
Theories of the earth, object of, 180
of Burnet, 181
of Woodward, 182
ofWhiston, 183
of BufFon, 184
objections to, 185
of Whitehurst, 186
Theory of Hutton,
objections to,
of Werner, |
T171, ores of, enumerated,
Titanium, ores of, enumerated,
Toadstone described,
Topaz rock described.
Trap, primitive, described,
where found,
metals found in,
secondary, described, 1
globular,
Tungsten, ores of, enumerated,
u.
Uranium, ores of, enumerated,
V.
V°ins, metallic, account of,
distinction of, j
perpendicular, ' j
two kinds of, (
course of,
inclination of,
thickness of, 1
pipe, described,
flat, described, 1
Volcanic fluids,
Vilcanoes exist almost in every part of
the world,. tj
number of,
all near the sea, f
all on the tops of moun¬
tains,
symptoms of the eruption
of,
matters thrown out by, i
become extinct, and are re¬
kindled,
submarine^ .:
of mud, |
causes of, discussed,
W.
Wacke described,
Werner's theory of the earth,
objections to, •
opinion on the formation of
basalt, Note (f) p. 600.
theory of veins,
Whinstone,
Whiston's theory of the earth,
Whitehurst's theory of the earth, 11
objections to, 1
Woodward's theory of the earth, ■'
Z.
objections to, 187 Zinc, ores of, enumerated,
geomanc
GEO
[ 629 1
GEO
GLaney. ^EOMANCY, Geomantia, a kind of divination, to cast little pebbles on the ground and therre fn f
w — performed by means of a number of little points, or dots, their conjectures ; instead of the points afterwards IT
j] made on paper at random ; and considering the var.'mrs use of. points afteiwaids made—v '
made on paper at random : and considering the various
lines and figures which those points present; and thence
forming a pretended judgment of futurity, and deciding
any question proposed.
The word is formed of the Greek y», terra, “ earth j”
and “ divination 5” it being the ancient custom
. 1 blydore \1rg1l defines geomancy a kind of divina¬
tion performed by means of clefts or chinks made in the
ground ; and takes the Persian Magi to have been the
inventors thereof.
GEOMETRY.
INTRODUCTION.
Iiiiiae- '"THERE is reason to believe that geometry, as well
^ ig‘ , t as mo3t ot the other sciences, was first cultivated
| in Egypt j and, according to some authors, it had its
origin in the necessity there was of assigning to the in¬
habitants every year their particular shares of land :
for as the country was annually overflowed by the Nile,
it has been taken for granted (perhaps without good
reason), that the land-marks would be obliterated, and
the possessions rendered undistinguishable from one
another. Such is said to have been the origin of land-
measuring, the form under which geometry was first
known, and from which it has taken its name $ for geo¬
metry literally signifies the measuring of the earth.
The historian Herodotus refers the origin of geome¬
try to the time when Sesostris intersected Egypt by
numeious canals, and divided the country among the
inhabitants j and this account of the beginning of the
science has been considered by some as very probable.
From Egypt geometry was carried into Greece by
j • Thales of Miletus about 600 years before the Christian
sera. This celebrated philosopher is said to have made
numerous discoveries in geometry ; and in particular
to have first observed that any angle in a semicircle is
a right angle ; a discovery which gave,him great joy,
and lor which he thanked the muses by a sacrifice.
Among the disciples of Thales were Anaximander
and Anaxagoras: the first of these wrote an elemen¬
tary treatise or introduction to geometry, the earliest
of which there is any mention in history ; and the last
is said to have attempted the quadrature of the circle,
a problem which has baffled the skill of mathematicians
of every age.
Pythagoras followed Thales,- and had the merit of
discovering one of the most beautiful and important pro¬
positions of the whole science, namely, that the square
of the hypothenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to
the squares of the two other sides. He is said to have
been so transported with joy at this discovery, that he
sacrificed a hundred oxen to the gods as a testimony of
his gratitude. The truth of this anecdote has however
been doubted, on account of the philosopher’s moderate
fortune and religious opinions concerning the transmi¬
gration of sonls. *
Zenodorus is the earliest of the geometers whose
writings have reached modern times, a part of them
having been preserved by Theon, in his commentary
on Ptolemy. J
, Hippocrates of Chios cultivated geometry, and dis¬
tinguished himself by the quadrature of the curvilineal
space contained between half the circumference of one
circle, and the fourth part of the circumference of
another circle, their concavities being both turned the
same way, and Hie radius of the former to that of the
latter as 1 to V2. He also wrote elements of geome¬
try which are now lost.
The founding of the school of Plato forms one of the
earliest and most important epochs in the history of
geometry 3 for to that philosopher we are said to he
indebted (or the discovery of the Geometrical Analysis,
by which the science has been greatly extended, and
which is indeed absolutely necessary for the resolution
of problems of a certain degree of difficulty.
1 he Conic Sections, and the theory of Geometrical
Loci, are commonly reckoned among the improvements
which geometry received from his disciples; and there
is reason to suppose that these, as well as many other
important discoveries which we have not room here to
enumerate, were first suggested by the attempts of the
geometers of the Platonic school to resolve two cele¬
brated problems, namely, to trisect, or divide into
three equal parts, a given angle; and to construct a
cube which should be the double of another cube ;
which last problem Hippocrates had shewn to be equi¬
valent to the finding of two mean proportionals between
two given lines. The esteem in which Plato held the
science of geometry is fully evinced by the following
inscription over the door of his school: Let no one enter
here that is ignorant of geometry.
The science of geometry was likewise cultivated in
all its branches by the philosophers of the Alexandrian
school, among whom Euclid claims, in a particular
manner, our attention. This celebrated mathematician
lived about 300 years before the Christian sera, and
probably studied geometry at Athens under the disciples
of Plato. From Greece he went to Alexandria, allur¬
ed thither no doubt by the fame of the celebrated
school of that city, and by the favours conferred by the
first Ptolemy upon learned men. He composed ele¬
ments of geometry in a systematic form, comprehend¬
ing jn them such propositions belonging to the first
principles of the science as had been discovered by
mathematicians previous to his time. This work has
had the singular good fortune to preserve the highest re¬
putation in all ages and in all countries where science
has been cultivated, and it has served as the ground¬
work of innumerable other treatises, few of which, if
any, have excelled it. Many commentaries have been
written on it, and it has been translated into almost all.
the
G E O M
the European and Oriental languages. Euclid is like¬
wise known to have written other works on geometry :
of these we have his Data, which may be regarded as a
continuation of his elements j and an account of a work
of his on porisms (see Porisms) preserved in the writ¬
ings of Pappus, but which has suffered so much Irom
time as to be almost unintelligible.
After Euclid, lived Archimedes, who cultivated and
improved all the branches of the mathematics known
at that period, and in a particular manner geometry.
He was the first that found nearly the ratio of the dia¬
meter of a circle to its circumference, and he squared
the parabola. He likewise wrote treatises on the Sphere
and Cylinder, on Spirals, on Conoids and Spheroids,
besides others on mixt Mathematics. He also extend¬
ed and improved the Geometrical Analysis, the prin¬
ciples of which had been established in the school of
Plato. Many of the writings of Archimedes have been
lost 5 but such as remain prove him to have been one of
the greatest geometers that ever lived, and indeed the
Newton of antiquity.
Apollonius of Perga was nearly contemporary with
Archimedes, that is, he flourished about the end of the
second century before the Christian eera. He studied
geometry in the Alexandrian school under the successors
of Euclid, and he greatly extended the theory of the
conic sections (see introduction to Conic Sections).
He also composed treatises on different parts of Geome¬
trical Analysis, but of these only one has come down
to us entire it is entitled de sectione rationis, and was
discovered in the Arabic tongue, from which it has
been translated into Latin by Dr Halley. Such accounts
however are preserved in the mathematical collections of
Pappus of his other treatises, that several of them have
been restored by modern mathematicians. We may
mention in particular his treatises de Locis Flams, de
Sectione Spatii, de Sectione Detcrminata, de Tactioni-
bus, each of which is divided into two books.
Having mentioned Archimedes and Apollonius, by
far the most illustrious mathematicians of the period in
which they lived, we shall pass over several others who
contributed nothing to the improvement of the science,
and therefore are but little known to us. We shall
however briefly notice Theodosius, who lived about 50
years A. C. and who is the author of a work on
Spherics, which is considered as one of the most valu¬
able of the books on the ancient geometry.
Pappus and Theon of Alexandria deserve to be men¬
tioned as among the most celebrated of the commen¬
tators and annotators on the ancient geometry. We
are particularly indebted to Pappus (who lived about
the middle of the fourth century) for our knowledge of
various discoveries and treatises of the ancient geome¬
ters, which, but for the account he has given of them
in his mathematical collections, would have been for
ever lost to mathematicians of modern times.
Proclus, the head of the Platonic school at Athens,
cultivated mathematics about the middle of the fifth
century ; and although it does not appear that he made
any discoveries in the science, yet he rendered it some
service by his example and instruction. He wrote a
commentary on the first book of Euclid, which con¬
tains many curious observations respecting the history
and metaphysics of mathematics.
We have now briefly noticed the principal epochs in
3
E T R Y.
the history of geometry, and the most celebrated men Introdu;
who have contributed to its improvement from the tiofe
earliest periods of history to the end of the fifth cen-"■y^"
tury *, but long before this time the sera of discovery
seems to have been past, and the science on the decline.
Still however the Alexandrian school existed, and ifi
was possible that a Euclid or an Apollonius might again
arise in that seminary. But the taking of Alexandria
by the Arabs in the year 641 gave a death-blow to
the sciences, not only in that capital, but throughout
the whole Greek empire. The library, a treasure of
infinite value, was burnt, and the stores of learning
which had been accumulating for ages were annihilated
for ever.
Although by this unfortunate event the sciences suf¬
fered an irreparable loss, it must be attributed to the
fanaticism of the new religion which the conquerors had
adopted, rather than to national ignorance or barbarity j
for before that period, the sciences, when on the decline
in Greece, had found an asylum among them, and abouS
120 years after the death ef Mohammed they again
took them under their protection.
The Arabs translated the greater part of the works
of the Greek geometers, and chiefly those introductory
to astronomy. They even began to study the more
sublime geometry of the ancients j for Apollonius's
Conic Sections became familiar to them, and some of
the books of that work have only reached us in an
Arabic version. They gave to Trigonometry its pre¬
sent simple and commodious form, and greatly sim¬
plified its operations by the introduction of sines instead
of the chords of double arcs, which had been formerly
used.
After geometry, as well as its kindred mathematical
sciences, had remained for several centuries under the
protection of the Arabs, it was again received into
Spain, Italy, and the rest of Europe, about the year
1400. Among the earliest writers on the subject af¬
ter this period, were Leonardus Pisanus, and Lucas
Paciolus or de Burgo.
The limits within which we must necessarily confine
this sketch of the history of the science, will not, how¬
ever, allow us to enumerate all the improvements which
it has received since the restoration of letters in Europe j
for a list of the names of those who have contributed
more or less to its extension, would include almost every
mathematician of note from the time of Leonardus Pi¬
sanos to the present day.
The writings of the ancient geometers have been
assiduously sought after, and held in great repute; for
it appears that as far as they carried some of tbeis
theories, they left but little room for improvement,
and of this remark we think the writings of Euclid,
of Archimedes, and of Apollonius, afford remarkable
instances. Euclid’s elements of geometry have been
considered, at least in this country, as one of the best
books that could be put into the hands of the mathe¬
matical student, particularly that edition of its first six
and eleventh and twelfth books which was given to the
world by the late Dr Simson. An excellent system of
geometry, comprehending the first six books of the il¬
lustrious ancient, together with three supplementary
books, has of late years been published by Mr Professor
Playfair, of the University of Edinburgh. We be¬
lieve no modern system has excelled that of Euclid
Si
I. G E O M
(B. (as restored to its original purity by Dr Simson) in
jiples. respect of logical accuracy and systematic arrangement.
There is one, however, which we must particularly
mention on account of its great excellence, and the use
E T it Y. 631
we have made of it in the system we are now to present First
to our readers. It is that of Mr Legendre, which we Principles,
consider as the most complete and extensive that has —v—^
yet appeared.
SECT. I. THE FIRST PRINCIPLES.
Definitions.
I. GEOMETRY is a science which treats of the pro¬
perties and relations of quantities having extension,
and which are called magnitudes. Extension is dis¬
tinguished into length, breadth, and thickness.
II. A Point is that which has position, but not mag¬
nitude.
III. A Line is that which has only length. Hence
the extremities of a line are points, and the intersec-
ticyis of one line with another are also points.
IV. A Straight or Right Line is the shortest way
from one point to another.
V. Every line which is neither straight, nor compo-
sed of straight lines, is a Curve Line. Thus AB is a
le' straight line, x\CDB is a line made up of straight
lines, and AEB is a curve line.
VI. A Superficies, or Surface, is that which has only
length and breadth. Hence the extremities of a super¬
ficies are lines, and the intersections of one superficies
with another are also lines.
VII. A Plane Superficies is that in which any two
points being taken, the straight line between them lies
wholly in that superficies.
VIII. Every superficies which is neither plane nor
composed of plane superficies, is a Curve Superficies.
IX. A Solid is that which has length, breadth, and
thickness. Hence the boundaries of a solid are super¬
ficies j and the boundary which is common to two so¬
lids, which are contiguous, is a superficies.
X. A Plane Rectilineal Angle is the inclination of two
straight lines to one another, which meet together, but
are not in the same straight line. The point in which
the lines meet one another is called the Vertex of the
angle.
% When there is only one angle at a point, it may be
expressed by the letter placed at that point 5 thns the
angle contained by the lines EF and EG may be called
the angle E ; if, however, there be several angles, as at
B, then each is expressed by three letters, one of which
is the letter that stands at the vertex of the angle, and
the others are the letters that stand somewhere upon
the lines containing the angle, the letter at the vertex
being placed between the other two. Thus the angle
contained by the lines BA and. BD is called the angle
ABD or DAB.
Angles in common with other quantities admit of
addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division.
Thus the sum of the angles ABC and DEC is the
angle ABC ; the difference of the angles ABC and
y, ABD is the angle DBC.
^ ^ XI. When a straight line standing on another straight
line makes the adjacent angles equal to one another,
each of them is called a Right Angle, and the straight
line which stands on the other is called a Perpendicular
to it. ’Ilitis, if DC meet AB, and make the angles
ACD, DCB equal to one another; each of them is a
right angle, and DC is a perpendicular to AB.
XII. An Obtuse Angle is that which is greater than a Fig. 4.
right angle, and an Acute Angle is that which is less than
a right angle. Thus ABC being supposed a right angle,
DBC is an obtuse angle, and EBC an acute angle.
XIII. Parallel Straight Lines are such as are in the Fig. 5.
same plane, and which being produced ever so far both
ways, do not meet.
XIV. A Plane Figure is a plane terminated every
where by lines.
If the lines be straight, the space which they en-Fig.
close is called a Rectilineal figure, or a Polygon, and
the lines themselves constitute the Perimeter of the
polygon.
XV. When a polygon has three sides (which is the
smallest number it can have) it is called a Triangle ;
when it has four, it is called a Quadrilateral; when >
it has five, a Pentagon; when six, a Hexagon, &c.
XVI. An Equilateral triangle is that which has Fig, 7. S. 9.
three equal sides (fig. 7.) ; an Isosceles triangle is that
which has only two equal sides (fig. 8.) ; and a Sca¬
lene triangle is that which has all its sides unequal
(fig. 9.).
XVII. A. Right-angled triangle is that which has Fi8*
a right angle ; the side opposite to the right angle is
called the Hypothenuse. Thus in the triangle ABC,
having the angle at B a right angle, the side AC is the
hypothenuse.
XVIII. An Obtuse-angled triangle is that which has Fig. 9. n.
an obtuse angle, (fig. 9.) ; and an acute-angledtxvd.x\g[v
is that which has three acute angles (fig. 11.).
XIX. Of quadrilateral figures, a. square h that which I2-13”
has all its sides equal, and all its angles right angles*^ I5‘
(fig. 12.). A Rectangle is that which has all its angles
right angles, but not all its sides equal, (fig. 13.). A
Rhombus is that which has all its sides equal, but its an¬
gles are not right angles, (fig. 14.). A Parallelogram,
or Rhomboid, is that which has its opposite sides paral¬
lel (fig. 15.). A Trapet&oid is that which has only
two of its opposite sides parallel, (fig. 16.).
XX. A Diagonal is a straight line which joins the S9-
vertices of two angles^ which are not adjacent to each
other; such is AC.
XXI. An Equilateral Polygon is that which has all
its sides equal; and an Equiangular Polygon is that
which has all its angles equal. If a polygon be both
equilateral and equiangular, it is called a Regular Po¬
lygon.
XXII. Two polygons are equilateral between them¬
selves, when the sides of the one are equal to the sides
of the other, each to each, and in the same order; that
is, when in going about each of the figures in the same
direction, the first side of the one is equal to the first
side of the other; the second side of the one is equal to
the
GEOMETRY.
First the second side of the other ; the third to tne third, and
Principles, so on. The same is to be understood of two polygons
which are equiangular between themselves.
Explanation of Terms.
An Axiom is a proposition, the truth of which is evi¬
dent at first sight.
A Theorem is a truth which becomes evident by a pro¬
cess of reasoning called Demonstration.
A Problem is a question proposed, which requires a
solution. _ i • t
A Lemma is a subsidiary truth employed in the
demonstration of a theorem, or the solution of a prob-
lem’ .
The common name of Propositions given indxfterent-
Jy to theorems, problems, and lemmas.
A Corollary is a consequence which follows from one
or several propositions.
A Scholium is a remark upon one or more proposi¬
tions that have gone before, tending to show their con¬
nection, their restriction, their extension, or the man¬
ner of their application.
A Hypothesis is a supposition made either in the enun¬
ciation of a proposition, or in the course of a demon¬
stration.
Explanation of Signs.
That the demonstrations may be more concise, we
shall make use of the following signs borrowed from
Algebra; and in employing them we shall take for
granted that the reader is acquainted with at least the
manner of notation and first principles of that branch of
mathematics.
To express that two quantities are equal the sign is
put between them; thus A =: B, signifies that the quan¬
tity denoted by A is equal to the quantity denoted by B.
To express that A is less than B, they are written
thus ; A B.
To express that A is greater than B, they are written
thus ; A B.
The sign -f- (read plus) written between the letters
which denote two quantities, indicates that the quanti¬
ties are to be added together ; thus A-f-B means the
sum of the quantities A and B.
The sign — (read minus) written between two let¬
ters, means the excess of the one quantity above the
other ; thus A—B means the excess of the quantity
denoted by A above the'quantity denoted by B. The
signs -j- and — will sometimes occur in the same ex¬
pression ; thus A-j-C—D means that 1) is to be sub¬
tracted from the sum of A and C, also A—D-f-C
means the same thing.
The sign X Pl*t between two quantities means their
product, if they be considered as numbers} but if they
be considered as lines, it signifies a rectangle having
these lines for its length and breadth } thus A X B
means the product of two numbers A and B ; or else
a rectangle having A and B for the sides about one of
its right angles. We shall likewise indicate the pro¬
duct of two quantities, in some cases, by writing the
letters close together •, thus m A will he used to express
the product of m and A, and so on with other expres¬
sions, agreeable to the common notation in algebra.
2
Sectfl
The expression A* means the square of the quantity yj, 1
A, and A3 means the cube of A } also PQB, and PQ* PrincjJ
mean, the one the square, and the other the cube, of a W~Y ^
line whose extremities are the points P and Q.
On the other hand the sign f indicates a root to
be extracted } thus ^A X B means the square root of
the product of A and B.
Axioms. h
x. Two quantities, each of which is equal to a third,
are equal to one another.
2. The whole is greater than its part.
3. The whole is equal to the sum of all its parts.
4. Only one straight line can be drawn between two
points.
5. Two magnitudes, whether they he lines, sur¬
faces, or solids, are equal, when, being applied the one
to the other, they coincide with one another entirely,
that is, when they exactly fill the same space.
6. All right angles are equal to one another.
Hotc.—The references are to he understood thus:
(7.) refers to the 7th proposition of the section in which
it occurs ; (4. 2.) means the 4th proposition of the 2d
section } (2. cor. 28. 4.) means the 2d corollary to the
28th proposition of the 4th section.
Theorem I.
A straight line CD, which meets with another I?
AB, makes with it two adjacent angles, which,
taken together, are equal to two right angles.
At the point C let CE be perpendicular to AB.
The angle ACD is the sum of the angles ACE, ECD }
therefore, ACD-[-BCD is the sum of the three angles
ACE, ECD, BCD. The first of these is a right
angle, and the two others are together equal to a right
angle } therefore, the sum of the two angles ACD,
BCD, is equal to two right angles.
Cor. i. If one of the angles is a right angle, the
other is also a right angle.
Cor. 2. All the angles ACE, ECD, DCF, FCB,^^
at the same point C, on the same side of the line AB,
are taken together, equal to two right angles. For
their sum is equal to the two angles ACD, DCB.
Theorem II.
Two straight lines which coincide with each other
in two points, also coincide in all their extent,
and form but one and the same straight line.
Let the points which are common to the two hne3pig, ip,
he A and B j in the first place it is evident that they
must coincide entirely" between A and B 5 otherwise,
two straight lines could be drawn from A to B, which
is impossible (axiom 4.). Now let us suppose, if possi¬
ble, that the lines when produced separate from each
other at a point C, the one becoming ACD, and the
other ACE. At the point C let CF he drawn, so as
to make the angle ACF a right angle } then, ACE be¬
ing a straight line, the angle FCE is a right angle
(1. cor. I.) } and because ACD is a straight line, the
]. I.
GEOMETRY.
at angle I? CD is also a right angle, therefore the angle
iples. FCE is equal to FCD, a part to the whole, which is
'impossible ; therefore the straight lines which have the
common points A, B cannot separate when produced,
therefore they must form one and the same straight
line.
Theorem III.
angles shall coincide exactly, the one with the other j
therefore they are equal (ax. 5.).
Cor. Hence it follows, that the bases, or third sides
BC, EF of the triangles are equal, and the remaining
angles B, C of the one are equal to the remaining
angles E, F of the other, each to each, namely, those
to which the equal sides are opposite.
633
First
Principles.
If two adjacent angles ACD, DCB make together
two right angles, the two exterior lines AC,
CB, which form these angles, are in the same
straight line.
Foil if CB is not the line AC produced, let CE be
that line produced, then, ACE being a straight line,
the angles ACD, DCE are together equal to two right
angles (1.) ; but, by hypothesis, the angles ACD,
DCB are together equal to two right angles, therefore
ACD-J-DCB =: ACDDCE. From these equals
take away the common angle ACD, and the remaining
angles DCB, DCE are equal, that is, a part equal to
the whole, which is impossible, therefore CB is the line
AC produced.
Theorem IV.
If two straight lines AB, DE cut'each other, the
vertical or opposite angles are equal.
For since DE is a straight line, the sum of the
angles ACD, ACE is equal to two right angles (1.),
and since AB is a straight line, the sum of the angles
ACE, BCE is equal to two right angles, therefore the
sum ACD-J-ACE is equal to the sum ACE-f-BCE;
from each of these take aw’ay the same angle ACE,
and there remains the angle ACD equal to its opposite
angle BCE.
In like manner, it may be demonstrated, that the
angle ACE is equal to its opposite angle BCD.
Cor. x. From this it appears, that if two straight
lines cut one another, the angles they make at the
point of their intersection are, together, equal to four
right angles.
Cor. 2. And hence all the angles made by any num¬
ber of lines meeting in one point are, together, equal
to four right angles.
Theorem V.
:: Two triangles are equal, when they have an
angle, and the two sides containing it of the
one equal to an angle, and the two sides com-
taining it of the other, each to each.
Let the triangles x\BC, DEE h ave the angle A
equal to the angle D, the side AB equal to DE, and
the side AC equal to DF; the triangles shall be equal.
For if the triangle ABC be applied to the triangle
DEE, so that the point A may be on D, and the line
AB upon DE, then the point B shall coincide with
E, because AB=DE $ and the line AC shall coincide
with DF, because the angle BAC is equal to EDF 5
and the point C shall coincide with F, because AC=r
DF j and since B coincides with E, and C with F,
the line BC shall coincide with EF, and the two tri-
Vol. IX. Fart II. f
Theorem VI.
Two triangles are equal, when they have a side, Fig. 23,
and the two adjacent angles of the one equal to
a side, and the two adjacent angles of the other,
each to each.
Let the side BC be equal to the side EF, the angle
B to the angle E, and the angle C to the angle F,
the triangle ABC shall be equal to the triangle DEF.
For if the triangle ABC he applied to the triangle
DEF, so that the equal sides BC, EF may coincide j
then because the angle B is equal to E, the side BA
shall coincide with ED, and therefore the point A shall
he somewhere in ED ; and because the angle C is
equal to F, the side CA shall coincide w'ith FD, and
therefore the point A shall be somewhere in FD; now
the point A being somewhere in the lines ED, and
FD, it can only be at D their intersection ; therefore
the two triangles ABC, DEF must entirely coincide,
and be equal to one another.
Cor. Hence it appears that the remaining angles
A, D of the triangles are equal, and the remaining
sides AB, AC of the one are equal to the remaining
sides DE, DF of tiie other, each to each, viz. those to
which tiie equal angles are opposite.
Theorem VII.
Any two sides of a triangle are together greater fr 22.
than the third.
For the side BC, for example, being the shortest
way between the points B, C, (def. 4.) must be less
than BA-f AC.
Theorem VIII.
If from a point O, within a triangle ABC, there Fig. 23.
be drawn straight lines OB, OC to the extre¬
mities of BC one of its sides, the sum of these
lines shall be less than that of AB, AC the two
other sides.
Let BO be produced to meet CA in D; because
the straight line OC is less than OD-j-DC, to each of
these add BO, and BO-fOC^lBO-FOD + DC; that
is BO-fOC^BD + DC.
Again, since BD^lBA-j-AD, to each of these add
DC and we have B D-{-DC^iB A-{-AC, hut it has
been shewn that BO + OC^lBD + DC, much more
then is BO-}-OC^BA-j-AC.
Theorem IX.
If two sides AB, AC of a triangle ABC are equal Fig. 24.
to two sides DE, DF of another triangle DEF, Fi>'- 2i-
each to each ; but if the angle BAC contained Flg’26’
4 L by
634
First
Principles.
Fig. 24.
Fig. as-
Fig. 26.
Fig. »2.
Fig. 27.
G E O M
by the former is greater than the angle EDF
contained by the latter ; the third side BC of the
first triangle shall be greater than the third side
EF of the second.
Suppose AG drawn so that the angle CAGniD,
take AG=DE and join CG; then the triangle GAC
is equal to the triangle EDF, (6.) and therejore
GC=EF. Now there may he three cases, according
as the point G falls without the triangle BAG, or on
the side BC, or within the same triangle.
Case I. Because GC^iGI -f- IC, and AB^l
AI + 1B, (7.) therefore GC + AB-^GI-J-Al-f-IC
+ IB, that is GC-f-AB-^AG + BC, from each of
these unequal quantities take away the equal quantities
AB, AG, and there remains GCaeiL.BC, therefore
EF^lBC. __
Case II. If the point G fall upon the side BE,
then it is evident that GC, or its equal EF, is less than
BC. . ,. ,
Case III. Lastly, if the point G fall within the
triangle BAC, then AG + GC-cilAB-{-BC, (8.)
therefore, taking away the equal quantities AG, AB,
there remains GC^lBC or EF^lBC.
Cor. Hence, conversely, if El be less than BC, the
angle EDF is less than BAC ; for the angle EDF can¬
not be equal to BAC, because then (5.) EF would be
equal to BC ; neither can the angle EDF be greater
than BAC, for then (by the theor.) EF would be greater
than BC.
Theorem X.
Two triangles are equal, when the three sides of
the one are equal to the three sides of the other,
each to each.
Let the side AB=rDE, AC=:DF, and BCrrEF $
then shall the angle A=D, B=E, C=F.
For if the angle A were greater than D, as the sides
AB, AC, are equal to DE, DF, each to each, it would
follow, (9.) that BC would be greater than EF, and if
the angle A were less than the angle D, then BC would
be less than EF j but BC is equal to EF, therefore the
angle A can neither be greater nor less than the angle
D, therefore it must be equal to it. In the same man¬
ner it may be proved, that the angle B=E, and that
the angle C=:F.
Scholium.
It may be remarked, as in Theorem V. and The¬
orem VI. that the equal angles are opposite to the
equal sides.
Theorem XI.
In an isosceles triangle the angles opposite to the
equal sides are equal to one another.
Let the side AB=AC, then shall the angle C=B.
Suppose a straight line drawn from A the vertex of
the triangle to D the middle of its base j the two tri¬
angles ABD, ACD have the three sides of the one
equal to the three sides of the other, each to each,
namely AD common to both, AB=AC, by hypothesis,
E T R Y. Sect, j
andBD=DC,by construction,therefore(preced.theor.) Fir.
the angle B is equal to the angle C. PrincfJJ
Cor. Hence every equilateral triangle is also equian-' vji
gular.
Scholium.
From the equality of the triangles ABD, ACD, it
follows, that the angle BADrzDAC, and that the
angle BDA=ADC j therefore these two last are right
angles. Hence it appears, that a straight line drawn
from the vertex of an isosceles triangle to the middle
of its base is perpendicular to that base, and divides
the vertical angle into two equal parts.
In a triangle that is not isosceles, any one of its three
sides may be taken indifferently for a base ; and then its
vertex is that of the opposite angle. In an isosceles
triangle, the base is that side which is not equal to the
others.
Theorem XII.
If two angles of a triangle are equal, the opposite f,v, ,}
sides are equal, and the triangle is isosceles.
Let the angle ABCzzACB, the side AC shall be
equal to the side AB. For if the sides are not equal,
let AB be the greater of the two j take BDrzrAC, and
join CD j the angle DEC is by hypothesis equal to
ACB, and the two sides DB, BC are equal to the two
sides AC, BC, each to each j therefore the triangle
DBC is equal to the triangle ACB j (5.) but a part
cannot be equal to the whole ; therefore the sides AB,
AC cannot be unequal, that is, they are equal, and the
triangle is isosceles.
Theorem XIII.
Of the two sides of a triangle, that is the greater Fig. vj,
which is opposite to the greater angle ; and con¬
versely, of the two angles of a triangle, that is
the greater which is opposite to the greater
side.
First, let the angle C^B, then shall the side AB
opposite to C be greater than the side AC opposite to
B. Suppose CD drawn, so that the angle BCD~B;
in the triangle BDC, BD is equal to DC, (12.) hut
AD-fDC^AC, and AD+DC=AD-}-DB=AB,
therefore ABt^AC.
Next, let the side AB^AC, then shall the angle
C opposite to AB, be greater than the angle B, opposite
to AC. For if C were less than B, then, by what has
been demonstrated, AB^AC, which is contrary to
the hypothesis of the proposition, therefore C is not less
than B : and if C were equal to B, then it would iol-
low that AC=AB, (12.) which is also contrary to the
hypothesis j therefore C is not equal to B, therefore it
is greater.
Theorem XIV.
From a given point A without a straight line DE,Fig-3c
no more than one perpendicular can be drawn
to that line.
For suppose it possible to draw two, AB and AC ;
i| I. G E O M
; i produce one of them AB, so that BF=AB, and join
Pni, Les. CF. The triangle CBF is equal to the triangle ABC,
^ — for the angle CBF is a right angle, as well as CBA,
and the side BFrzB A $ therefore the triangles are equal,
(5.) and hence the angle BCF=BCAj but the angle
BCA is by hypothesis a right angle •, therefore the
angle BCF is also a right angle; hence AC and CF
lie in a straight line, (3.) and consequently two straight
lines ACF, ABF may be drawn between two points,
A,F, which is impossible, (ax. 4.) therefore it is equally
impossible that two perpendiculars can be drawn from
the same point to the same straight line.
Theorem XV.
Fig, 1 If from a point A, without a straight line, DE, a
perpendicular AB be drawn upon that line, and
also different oblique lines AE, AC, AD, &c.
to different points of the same line.
First, The perpendicular AB {hall be shorter than
any one of the oblique lines.
Secondly, The two oblique lines AC, AE, which
meet the line DE on opposite sides of the per¬
pendicular, and at equal distances BC, BE from
it, are equal to one another.
Lastly, Of any two oblique lines AC, AD, or AE,
AD, that which is more remote from the per¬
pendicular is the greater.
Produce the perpendicular AB, so that BFrrBA,
and join FC, FD.
1. The triangle BCF is equal to the triangle BCA;
for the right angle CBFrzCBA, the side CB is com¬
mon, and the side BF=rBA, therefore the third side
CF=AC, (5.) but AF^iAC-}-CF, (7.) that is
2 AB^iaAC; therefore AB^lAC, that is, the per¬
pendicular is shorter than any one of the oblique lines.
2. If BE=BC, then, as AB is common to the two
triangles ABE, ABC, and the right angle ABEzrABC,
the triangles ABE, ABC shall be equal, (5.) and
AE= AC.
3. In the trianale DFA, the snm of the lines AD,
DF is greater than the sum of AC, CF, (8.) that is,
2 AT)z^2 AC ; therefore AD'^'AC, that is, the
oblique line, which is more remote from the perpendi¬
cular, is greater than that which is nearer.
Cor. 1. The perpendicular measures the distance of
any point from a straight line.
Cor. 2. From the same point, three equal straight
lines cannot be drawn to terminate in a given straight
line ; for if they could be drawn, then, two of them
would be on the same side of the perpendicular, and
equal to each other, which is impossible.
E T R Y. 635
oblique lines DA, DB are equally distant from the First
perpendicular, they are equal to one another (15.), Principles,
therefore every point in CD is equally distant from the —v—*
extremities of AB.
2. Let E be a point out of the perpendicular ; join
EA, EB, one of these lines must cut the perpendicular
in F; join BF, then AF=BF, and AE=BF-f FE;
but BF-f-FE’^’BE, (7.) therefore AEt^BE, that
is, E any point out of the perpendicular is at unequal
distances from the extremities of AB.
Theorem XVII. pjate
CCXLI.
Two right-angled triangles are equal, when the Fig-3*-
hypothenuse and a side of the one are equal to
the hypothenuse and a side of the other, each
to each.
Let the hypothenuse AC=DF, and the side
AB = DE ; the triangle ABC shall be equal to DEF.
The proposition will evidently be true (10.) if the re¬
maining sides BC, EF are equal. Now, if it be possible
to suppose that they are unequal, let BC be the greater,
take BG=EF, and join AG ; then the triangles ABG,
DEF, having the side AB=DE, BG=EF, and the
angle B=:E, will be equal to one another (5.), and will
have the remaining side AGnrDF; but by hypothesis
DF=AC ; therefore AGrrAC ; but AG cannot be
equal to AC (15.), therefore it is impossible that BC
can be unequal to EF, and therefore the triangles
ABC, DEF are equal to one another.
Theorem XVIII.
Two straight lines AC, ED, which are perpendi-Fig. 33.
cular to a third straight line AE, are parallel to
each other.
For if they could meet at a point O, then two per¬
pendiculars OA, OE, might be drawn from the same
point O, to the straight line AE, which is impossible
(m-). m
In the next theorem, it is necessary to assume ano¬
ther axiom, in addition to those already laid down in
the beginning of this section.
Axiom.
7. If two points E, G in a straight line AB are fig. 34.
situated at unequal distances EF, GH from another
straight line CD in the same plane, these two lines,
when indefinitely produced, on the side of the least
distance GH, will meet each other.
Theorem XVI.
If from C, the middle of a straight line AB, a per¬
pendicular CD be drawn to that line. First,
Every point in the perpendicular is equally
distant from the extremities of the line AB.
Secondly, Every point without the perpendi¬
cular is at unequal distances from the same ex¬
tremities, A B.
1. Let D be any point in CD, then, because the two
Theorem XIX.
If two straight lines AB, CD be parallel, the per-
pendiculars EF, GH to one of the lines, which
are terminated by the other line, are equal, and
are perpendicular to both the parallels.
For if EF and GH, which are perpendicular to CD,
were unequal, the lines AB, CD would meet each
other (by the above axiom) which is contrary to the
supposition that they are parallel. And if EF, GH be
4 L 2 not
63^
First n°t perpendicular to AB, let EIv be perpendicular to
Principles. EF, meeting GH in K; then because EK and ill are
v~—' perpendicular to EF, they are parallel (18.), and there¬
fore, by what has been just shewn, the perpendiculars
EF, KH, must be equal ; but by hypothesis EF—GH,
tlierefore KH=GH, which is impossible ; therefore EL
is perpendicular to AB •, and in the same way it may
he shewn that G'M is perpendicular to AB.
Cor. Hence it appears, that through the same point
E, no more than one parallel can be drawn to the saiae
straight line CD.
Theorem XX.
Fig. 36. Straight lines AB, EF, which are parallel to the
same straight line CD, are parallel to each
other.
For let HKG he perpendicular to CD, it will also
be perpendicular to both AB. and EF (19O, therefore
these last lines are parallel to each ether..
Theorem XXX.
Fig. 37. If a straight line EF meet two parallel straight
lines AB, CD, it makes the alternate angles
AEF, EFD equal.
Let EH and GF be perpendicular to CD, then
these lines will be parallel (18.), and also at right
angles to AB (19.), and therefore EH and GE are
equal to one another (19.), therefore the triangles
FGE, FHE, having the side FGrrHE, and GErzFH,
and FE common to both, will be equal ; and hence the
angle FEG will be equal to EEH, that is, FEA will
be equal to EFD.
Cor. I. Hence if a straight line KL intersect two
parallel straight lines AB, CD, it makes, the exterior
angle KEB equal to the interior and opposite angle
EFD on the same side of the line. For the angle
AEF=KEB, and it has been shewn that AEFrrEFD j
therefore KEBrzEFD.
Cor. 2. Hence also, if a straight line EF meet two
parallel straight lines AB, CD, it makes the two inte¬
rior angles BEE, EFD on the same side togetlver, equal
tp two right angles. For the angle AEF has been
shewn to be equal to EFD, therefore, adding the angle
FEB to both, AEF + FEB=;EFD-FFEB ; but
AEF-f-FEB is equal to two right angles, therefore
the sum EFD-J-FEB is also equal to two right angles.
Sect,
Cor. If a straight line EF intersecting two other Fi(
straight lines AB, CD, makes the exterior angle GEB PrinJj
equal to the interior and opposite angle EFD on the ' 
same side 5 or the two interior angles BEF, EFD on
the same side equal to two right angles •, in either case
the lines are parallel. For, if the angle GEB —EFD,
then also AEF=EFD, (4.). And if BEF+EFD^
two right angles, then, because BFF-f*AEF—two
right angles (l.), BEF-pEFDrrBEF-j-AEF, and
taking BEF from both, EFDzzAEF, therefore (by
the theorem) in each case the lines are parallel.
Theorem XXIII.
If a side AC of a triangle ABC be produced to-Fig, --
wards D, the exterior angle BCD is equal to
both the interior and opposite angles BAG,
ABC.
Let CE he parallel to AB, then the angle B—BCE,
(21.) and the angle A=ECD, (1 cor. 21.) therefore
B + A= BCE+ECDzrBCD.
Cor. The exterior angle of a triangle is greater than
either of the interior opposite angles.
Theorem XXIV.
The three interior angles of a triangle ABC taken 4C
together are equal to two right angles.
For if AC he produced to D, then A-{-B=i:BCD,
(23.) *, to each of these equal quantities add ACB, then
shall A+B-f-ACB—BCD-f BCA 5 but BCD+BCA
—two right angles, (i.) therefore A^'B-j-ACB—two
right angles.
Cor. I. If two angles of one triangle be equal to
two angles of another triangle, each to each y the
third angle of the one shall be equal to the third angle
of the other, and the triangles shall be equiangular.
Cor. 2. If two angles of a triangle, or their sum,
be given, the third angle may be found, by subtracting
their sum from two right angles.
Cor. 3. In a right-angled triangle, the sum of the
two acute angles is equal to a right angle.
Cor. 4. In an equilateral triangle, each of the
angles is equal tp the third part of two right angles, or
to two thirds of one right angle.
Theorem XXV.
GEOMETRY.
Theorem XXII.
FigoE If a straight line EF, meeting two other straight
lines AB, CD, makes the alternate angles
AEF, EFD equal, those lines shall be parallel.
For if AE is not parallel to CD, suppose, if possible,
that some other line KE can be drawn through E, pa¬
rallel to CD ; then the angle KEF must be equal to
EFD (21.), that is (by hypothesis), to AEF, which is
impossible 5 therefore, neither KE, nor any other line
drawn through E, except AB, can be parallel to CD.
3.
The sum of all the interior angles of a polygon is Fig. 41
equal to twice as many right angles wanting
four as the figure has sides.
Let ABCDE be a polygon y. from appoint F within
it.draw straight lines to all its angles, then the polygon
shall be divided into as many triangles as it has sides;
but the sum of the angles of each triangle is equal to
two right angles, (24.) therefore the sum of all the
angles of the triangles is equal to twice as many right
angles as there are triangles, that is, as the figure has
sides j, but the sum of all the angles of the triangles is
sji. n. GEO M
|ie equal to tlie sum of all the angles of the polygon, toge-
' ther with the sum of the angles at the point F, which
last sum is equal to four right angles, (2 Cor. 4s) there¬
fore the sum of all the angles of the polygon, together
with four right angles, is equal to twice as many right
angles as the figure has sides, and consequently the sum
of the angles of the polygon is equal to twice as many
right angles, wanting four, as the figure has sides.
Cor. The four interior angles of a quadrilateral are
taken together equal to four right angles.
Theorem XXVI.
^ 2. The opposite sides of a parallelogram are equal,,
and the opposite angles are also equal.
Draw the diagonal BD j the two triangles ADB,
DBC have the side BD common to both, and AB,
DC being parallel, the angle ABDrrBDC (21.) also
AD, BC being parallel, the angle ADBrrDBC, there¬
fore the two triangles are equal (6.), and the side AB,
opposite to the angle ADB, is equaLto DC, opposite to
the equal angle DBC. In like manner the third side
AD is equal to the third side BC, therefore the oppo¬
site sides of a parallelogram are equal.
In the next place, because of the equality of the same
triangles, the angle A is equal to the angle C, and also
the angle ADC composed of the two angles ADB,
BDC is equal to the angle ABC composed of the
angles CBD, DBA ; therefore the opposite angles of"
a parallelogram are also equal.
E T R Y.
I
Theorem XXVII.
If the opposite sides of a quadrilateral ABCD' are fK 4!"
equal, so that. AB-DC, and AD—BC ; then *
the equal sides are parallel, and the figure is a
parallelogram.
Draw the diagonal BD. The two triangles ABD,
CDB have the three sides of the one equal to the three
sides of the other, eacli to each, therefore the triangles
are equal (10.) ; and t!>e angle ADB, opposite to AB,
is equal to DBC opposite to DC, therefore the side AD
is parallel to BC (22.). For a similar reason AB is
parallel to DC j therefore the quadrilateral ABCD is
a parallelogram.
Theorem XXVIII.
If two opposite sides AB, DC, of a quadrilateral Fig-42*
are equal and parallel, the two other sides are
in like manner equal and parallel; and the
figure is a parallelogram.
Draw the diagonal BD. Because AB is parallel
to CD, the alternate angles ABD, BDC are equal,
(21.) ; now the side AB=DC, and DB is common to
the triangles ABD, BDC, therefore these triangles are
equal, (5.) and hence the side AD—BC, and the angle
ADB=DBC, consequently AD is parallel to BC,
(22.) therefore the figure ABCD is a parallelogram.
637
Of the
Circle.
SECT. II. OF THE CIRCLE.
Definitions.
Fig. . I. A Circle is a plane figure contained by one line
which is called the circumference^ and is such, that all
straight lines drawn from a certain point within the
figure to the circumference, are equal to one another.
And this point is called the centre of the circle.
II. Every straight line CA, CE, CD, &c. drawn
from the centre to the circumference, is called ^radius
or semidiameter; and every straight line, such as AB,
which passes through the centre, and is terminated both
ways by the circumference, is called a diameter.
Hence it follows that all the radii of a circle are
equal, and all the diameters are also equal, each being
the double of the radius.
III. An Arch ot a circle is any portion of its cir¬
cumference, as FHG.
The chhrd or subtense of an arch is the straight line
FG which joins its extremities.
IV. A Segme?it of a circle is the figure contained by,
an arch, and its chord. If the figure be the half of
the circle it is called a Semicircle.
Note. Every chord corresponds to two arches, and
consequently to two segments j but in speaking of these,
it is always the smallest that is meant, unless the con¬
trary he expressed.
V. A Sector of a eircle is the figure contained by
an arch DE and the two radii CD, CE, drawn to the
extremities of the arch. If the radii be at right angles
ta eaefi other it is called a Quadrant.
VI. A straight line is said to be placed or applied in*
a circle, when its extremities are in the circumference piate
of the circle as FG. CCXLIIL
VII. A rectilineal figure is said to he inscribed in a fii- ll5-
circle when the vertices of all its angles are upon the
circumference of the circle j in this case the circle is
said to be circumscribed about the figure.
VIII. A straight line is said to touch a circle, or to
be a tangent to a circle, when it meets the circumference
in one point only g such, for example, is BD, fig. 49.
The point A which is common to the straight line and
circle, is called the Point of Contact.
IX. A polygon is said to be described or circum- Fig. *18.
scribed about a circle when all its sides are tangents to
the circle ; and in this case the circle is said to be in¬
scribed in the polygon.
Theorem I.
Plate
CGXLI.
Any diameter AB, divides the circle and its cir- fig. 43.
cumference into two equal parts.
For if the figure AEB be applied to AFB, so that
the base AB may be common to both, the curve line
AEB must fall exactly upon the curve line AFB y
otherwise there would he points in the one or the other
unequally distant from the centre, which is contrary to
the definition of a circle.
Theorem
638
of the Theorem II.
Circle-
<-—^ Every chord is less than the diameter.
Fig. 44-
Let the radii CA, CD be drawn from the centre to
the extremities of the chord AD ; then the straight
line AD is less than AC-f-CD, that is AD-<ilAB.
Theorem III.
A straight line cannot meet the circumference of
a circle in more than two points.
For if it could meet it in three, these three points
would be equally distant from the centre, and there¬
fore three equal straight lines might be drawn from the
same point to the same straight line, which is impossi¬
ble (2 cor. 15. 1.).
Theorem IV.
Fig. 45. In the same circle, or in equal circles, equal arches
are subtended by equal chords, and, conversely,
equal chords subtend equal arches.
If the radius AC be equal to the radius EO, and
the arch AMD equal to the arch ENG} the chord
AD shall be equal to the chord EG.
For the diameter AB being equal to the diameter
EF, the semicircle AMDB may be applied exactly
upon the semicircle ENGF, and then the curve line
AMBD shall coincide entirely with the curve line
ENGF, but the arch AMD being supposed equal to
ENG, the point D must fall upon G, therefore the
chord AD is equal to the chord EG.
Conversely, if the chord AD=EG, the arch AMD
is equal to the arch ENG.
For if the radii CD, OG be drawn, the two trian¬
gles ACD, EOG have three sides of the one equal to
three sides of the other, each to each, viz. ACrrEO,
CD=OG and ADr=:EG, therefore these triangles are
equal, (10. I.) and hence the angle ACDzzEOG.
Now if the semicircle ADB be placed upon EFG, be¬
cause the angle ACDrzEOG, it is evident that the
radius CD will fall upon the radius OG, and the point
D upon G, therefore the arch AMD is equal to the
arch ENG.
Theorem V.
Fig- 45* In the same circle, or in equal circles, the greater
arch is subtended by the greater chord, and,
conversely, (if the arch be less than half the cir¬
cumference) the greater chord subtends the
greater arch.
For let the arch AH be greater than AD, and let
the chords AD, AH, and the radii CD, CH be drawn.
The two sides AC, CH, of the triangle ACH, are
equal to the two sides AC, CD, of the triangle ACD j
and the angle ACH is greater than ACD •, therefore
the third side AH is greater than the third side AD,
(9. 1.) therefore the chord which subtends the greater
arch is the greater. Conversely, if the chord AH be
greater than AD, it may be inferred (cor. 9. 1.) from
the same triangles that the angle ACH is greater than
Sect, if
ACD, and that thus the arch AH is greater than oft!
AD. _ CirclJI
Note. Each of the arches is here supposed less than '""““V’l;
half the circumference j if they were greater, the con¬
trary property would have place, the arch increasing as
the chord diminishes.
Theorem VI.
The radius CG, perpendicular to a chord ABjFig^g
bisects the chord (or divides it into two equal
parts), it also bisects the arch AGB subtended by
the chord.
Draw the radii CA, CB ; these radii are two equal
oblique lines in respect of the perpendicular CD, there¬
fore they are equally distant from the perpendicular
(15. 1.) that is AD=DB.
In the next place, because CG is perpendicular to
the middle of AB, every point in CG is at equal di¬
stances from A and B, (16. 1.) therefore, if GA, GB
be drawn, these lines are equal, and as they are the
chords of the arches AG, BG, the arches are also
equal. (4.).
Scholium.
Since the centre C, the middle D of the chord AB,
and the middle G of the arch subtended by that chord,
are three points situated in the same straight line per¬
pendicular to that chord j and that two points in a
straight line are sufficient to determine its position j it
follows, that a straight line which passes through any
two of these points must necessarily pass through the
third ; and must be perpendicular to the chord. It also
follows, that a perpendicular to the middle of a chord
passes through the centre, and the middle of the arch
subtended by that chord.
Theorem VII.
If three points A, B, C, be taken in the circum-Fig.47.
ference of a circle, no other circumference which
does not coincide with the former, can be made
to pass through the same three points.
Let the chords AB, BC be drawn, and let OD,
OF be drawn from the centre, perpendicular to, and
consequently bisecting those chords. The centre of
every circle passing through A and B must necessarily
be somewhere in the perpendicular DO, (last theor.)
and in like manner the, centre of every circle passing
through B and C, must be somewhere in the perpen¬
dicular OF, therefore the centre of a circle passing
through A, B, and C, must be in the intersection of
the perpendiculars DO, FO 5 and consequently can on¬
ly be at one and the same point O ; therefore, only one
circle can be made to pass through the same three points
A, B, C.
Cor. One circumference of a circle cannot intersect
another in more than two points, for if they could have
three common points they would have the same centre,
and consequently would coincide with each other.
Theorem VIII.
Two equal chords are equally distant from the Fig-43*
centre ^
geometry.
S t II.
the centre; and of unequal chords, that which is
: nearer the centre is greater than that which is
^ more remote.
Let the chord AB=DE, suppose the chords hi-
sected by the perpendiculars CF, CG, from the centre,
and draw the radii CA, CD. The right-angled tri¬
angles CAF, CDG have equal hypothenuses CA, CD ;
the side AF (zr^AB) of the one is also equal to the
side DG (=£DE) °f the other, therefore, their re¬
maining sides CF, CG (which are the distances of the
chords from the centre) are equal (17. 1.).
Next let the chord AH be greater than DE ; the
arch AKH shall be frreater than DME. Upon the
arc!) AKH take ANB equal to DME $ draw the
chord AB, and suppose COE' drawn from the centre
perpendicular to AB, and Cl perpendicular to AH.
It is evident that CFt^CO, and (15. 1.) CO^CI ;
much more then is CF^CI ’, but CF=CG, because
the chords AB, DE are equal; therefore CGt^CI ;
that is, the chord nearer the centre is greater than that
which is farther from it.
Theorem IX.
Fi?.The perpendicular BD, drawn at the extremity of
a radius CA, is a tangent to the circle.
For any oblique line CE is greater than the perpen¬
dicular CA, (15. 1.) therefore the point E is without
the circle ; therefore the line BD has but one point A
common with the circumference, and consequently it is
a tangent to the circle. (Def. 8.).
Scholium.
Through the same point A, only one tangent, AD,
can be drawn to the circle. For if it be possible to
draw another, let AG be that other tangent; draw
CF perpendicular to AG ; then CF shall be less than
CA, (!5. 1.) therefore F must be within the circle ;
and consequently AF when produced must necessarily
meet the circle in another point besides A ; therefore
it cannot be a tangent.
Theorem X.
%S If BC, the distance of the centres of two circles,
be less than the sum of their radii; and also the
greater radius less than the sum of the distance
of their centres and the lesser radius ; the two
circles intersect each other.
E'or that the circles may intersect each other in a
point A, it is necessary that the triangle ABC be pos¬
sible ; therefore, not only must CB be less than CA
+AB, but also the greater radius AB must be less
than AC + CB j (7. I.) and it is evident, that as of¬
ten as the triangle ABC can be constructed, the cir¬
cumferences described on the centres B, C, shall inter¬
sect each other in two points A, D.
Theorem XI.
£ 5* If the distance CB of the centres of two circles
639
be equal to the sum of the radii CA, BA, the ofthe
circles shall touch each other externally. circle.
It is evident that they have a common point A ;
but they cannot have more 5 for if they had two, then
the distance of the centres must necessarily be less than
the sum of the radii.
Theorem XII.
If the distance CB of the centres of two circles Fig.
be equal to the difference of the radii, the two
circles shall touch each other internally.
In the first place, it is evident that the point A is
common to them both ; they cannot, however, have
another ; for that this may happen, it is necessary that
the greater radius AB be smaller than the sum of the
radius AC and the distance CB of the centre, (10.)
which is not the case.
Cor. Therefore, if two circles touch each other, ei¬
ther internally or externally, their centres and the point
of contact are in the same straight line.
Theorem XIII.
In the same circle, or in equal circles, equal an- Fig. 54.
gles ACB, DCE, at the centres, intercept up- &
on the circumference equal arches AB, DE.
And, conversely, if the arches AB, DE are
equal, the angles ACB, DCE are equal.
First, if the angle ACB be equal to DCE, the
one angle may be applied upon the other j and as the
lines contmning them are equal, it is manifest that the
point A will fall upon D, and the point B upon E ; .
thus the arch AB will coincide with, and be equal to >
the arch DE.
Next, if the arch AB be equal to DE, the angle
ACB is equal to DCE 5 for if the angles are not
equal $ let ACB be the greater ; and let ACI be taken
equal to DCE j then, by what has been already demon-
strated, the arch AI=DE j but by hypothesis AB=
DE ; therefore, AI=:AB which is impossible; there¬
fore the angle ACBrzDCE.
Theorem XIV.
The angle BCD at the centre of a circle is double Fig. 55.
the angle BAD at the circumference, whenFig-5^
both stand on the same arch BD.
First let the centre of the circle be within the an-
gle B AD ; draw the diameter AE. The exterior an- 5' J
gle BCE ofthe triangle BCA is equal to both the in¬
ward and opposite angles BAC, CBA ; (23. 1.) but the
triangle BCA being isosceles, the angle BACrrCBA ;
therefore the angle BCE is double ofthe angle BAC.
For the same reason, the angle DCE is double of the
angle DAE, therefore the whole angle BCD is double
of the whole angle BAD.
Suppose in the next place that the centre is with-Fig. 56.
out the angle BAD ; then, drawing the diameter AE,
it may be demonstrated, as in the first case, that the
angle ECD is double ofthe angle EAD, and that the
angle
GEOMETRY.
Theorem XVII.
640
Oi' Propor¬
tion.
Fig. 57.
Fig. 58.
57-
Fis
ss.
Fig- 59-
GEOMETRY.
antfle ECB, a part of the first, is double the angle
EAB a part of the other-, therefore the remaining an¬
gle BCD is double the remaining angle BAD.
Theorem XV.
All angles BAD, BFD in the same segment BAT’D
of a circle are equal to one another.
If the segment he greater than a semicircle, from
the centre C draw CB and CD then the angles BAD
and BED being (by last theorem) each equal to hall
13CD, they must be equal to one another. # .
But if the segment BAED be less than a semicircle,
let K he the intersection ot BI1 and AD $ then, the
triangles ABIT and EDIT having the angle AHB of
the one equal to FIT!) of the other, (4. !•) and ALH
—EDIT, (by case 1.) will have the remaining angles
of the one equal to the remaining angles of the other j
that is the angle BAHnEIFD, or BAD=BED.
Theorem XVI.
The opposite angles of any quadrilateral figure
ABCD described in a circle are together equal
to two right angles.
Draw the diagonals AC, BD ; because the angle
ABC—ACD, and CBDmCAD, (last theor.) the sum
ABD + CBD=ACD+CAD;orABC=ACD+CADi
to each of these equals add ADC, and ABC-j-ADCrr
ACD 4-CAD-{-ADC; but the last three angles being
the angles of the triangle ADC, are taken together equal
to two right angles, (24. 1.) therefore ABC-fADCrr
two right angles. In the same manner, the angles BAD,
BCD may be shewn to be together equal to two right
angles.
Sect. I j
Of Pro}- '
tiou I
In a circle, the angle BAD in a semicircle is aj^v-j
right angle, but the angle ABD in a segment r's’6: |
greater than a semicircle is less than a right an¬
gle ; and the angle AED in a segment less
than a semicircle is greater than a right angle.
Let C he the centre, join CA, and produce BA to
E. Because CB = CA, the angle CAB=:CBA ;
(11. 1.) and because CD—CA, the angle CAI)
=CDA, therefore the whole angle BAD=CBA
4-CDA-, but these two last angles are together equal
to DAE, (23. 1.) therefore the angle BADrzDAF;
and hence each of them is a right angle.
And because ABD-fADB is a right angle, therefore
ABD, an angle in a segment greater than a semicircle,
is less than a right angle.
And because ABDE is a quadrilateral in a circle,
the opposite angles B and E are equal to two right an¬
gles (last theor.), but B is less than a right angle-, there¬
fore the angle E, which is in a segment less than a se¬
micircle, is greater than a right angle.
Theorem XVIII.
The angle BAG contained by AC, a tangent, and Fig. 61,.
AB, a chord drawn from the point of contact,
is equal to any angle ADB in the alternate seg¬
ment of the circle.
Draw the diameter AE, and join DE. The angles
EAC, EDA, being right angles, (last theor.) are
equal to one another ; and ot these, EAB, a part of
the one, is equal to EDB, ’a part of the other (15.)
therefore the remainder, BAC, of the former is equal
^to the remainder, BDA, ot the latter.
SECT. III. OE PROPORTION.
Definitions.
I. When one magnitude contains another a certain
number of times exactly, the former is said to be a mu/-
iiple of the latter, and the latter a pai't of the former.
II. When several magnitudes are multiples of as
many others, and each contains its parts the same
number of times, the former are said to be equimulti¬
ples of the latter, and the latter like parts of the former.
III. Betwixt any two finite magnitudes of the same
kind there subsists a certain relation in respect to quan¬
tity, which is called their ratio. The two magnitudes
compared are called the terms of the ratio, the first the
antecedent, and the second the consequent.
IV. If there be four magnitudes, or quantities, A, B,
C, D, and if A contain some part of B just as often
as C contains a like part of D, then, the ratio of A to
B is said to he the same with (or equal to) the ratio of
C to D.
It follows immediately from this definition, that if A
contain B just as often as C contains D, then the ratio
of A to B is equal to the ratio of C to D -, for in that
case it is evident that A will contain any part of B just
as often as C contains a like part of D.
V. When two ratios are equal, their terms are called
proportionals.
To denote that the ratio of A to B is equal to
the ratio of C to D, they are usually written thus,
A : B :: C : D, or thus, A : B=:C : D, which is read
thus j A is to B as C to D ; such an expression is call¬
ed an analogy or a proportion.
VI. Of four proportional quantities, the last term is
called fourth proportional to the other three taken in
order.
VII. Three quantities A, B, C, are said to be pro¬
portionals, when the ratio of the first A to the se¬
cond B is equal to the ratio of the second B to the
third C. _ ^
VIII. Of three porportional quantities, the middle
term is said to he a mean proportional between the
other two, and the last a third proportional to the first
and second.
IX. Quantities are said to be continual proportionals,
when the first is to the second, as the second to the
third, and as the third to the fourth, and so on.
X. When there is any number of magnitudes
A, B, C, D, of the same kind, the ratio of the first A
to the last D is said to be compounded of the ratio cf
A
G E O M
01 jpor- A to B, and of the ratio of B to C, and of the ratio of
I in. C to D.
XI. If three magnitudes A, B, C, be continual pro¬
portionals; that is, if the ratio of A to B be equal to
the ratio of B to C; then the ratio of the first A to
the third C is said to be duplicate of the ratio of the first
A to the second B. Hence, since by the last defini¬
tion the ratio of A to C is compounded of the ratio of
A to B and of B to C, a ratio which is compounded
of two equal ratios is duplicate of either of them.
XII. If four magnitudes A, B, C, D be continual
proportionals, the ratio of the first A to the fourth I) is
said to be triplicate the ratio of the first A to the second
B. Hence a ratio compounded of three equal ratios
■is triplicate of any one of them.
XIII. Ratio of Equality is that which equal magni¬
tudes bear to each other.
The next four definitions explain the names given by
geometers to certain ways of changing either the order
or magnitude of proportionals, so that they still continue
to be proportional.
XIV. Inverse Ratio is when the antecedent is made
the consequent, and the consequent the antecedent.
See Theor. 3.
XV. Alternate proportion is when antecedent is com¬
pared with antecedent, and consequent with consequent.
See Theor 2.
XVI. Compounded ratio is when the sum of the an¬
tecedent and consequent is compared either with the
antecedent, or with the consequent. See Theor. 4.
XVII. Divided ratio is when the difl’erence of the
antecedent and consequent is compared either with the
antecedent or with the consequent. See Theor. 4.
Axioms.
1. Equal quantities have each the same ratio to the
same quantity; and the same quantity has the same ra¬
tio to each of any number of equal quantities.
2. Quantities having the same ratio to one and the
same quantity, or to equal quantities, are equal among
themselves ; and those quantities, to which one and the
same quantity has the same ratio, are equal.
3. Ratios equal to one and the same ratio are also
equal, one to the other.
4. If two quantities be divided into, or composed of
parts that are equal among themselves, or all of the
same magnitude, then will the whole of the one have
the same ratio to the whole of the other, as the num¬
ber of parts in the one has to the number of equal parts
in the other.
Theorem I.
Equimultiples of any two quantities have to each
other the same ratio as the quantities them¬
selves.
E T R Y. 64,
(Ax. 4O then, if a; be put for one of those equal parts, OfPropor-
we have tion.
A=px, Bzry x,
and consequently, multiplying both by the same num¬
ber m,
m K—mp ,r, m B=:m q x,
or, which is evidently the same,
m A=p X m s, m B—q X m x.
Hence it appears that m A contains the quantity mx
as a part /1 times; and that mB contains the same
quantity q times ; therefore the ratio of m A to B
is the same as the ratio of the number p to the number
q (Ax. 4.) ; but the ratio of A to B is also equal to
the ratio of^ to y, (by hypothesis), therefore the ratio
of m A to tn B is equal to the ratio of A to B
(Ax. 3.).
Cor. Hence like parts of quantities have to each
other the same ratio as the wholes : that is, — : — ; ;
m m ' '
A : B ; for A and B are equimultiples of — and
m
B_
m *
Theorem II.
If four quantities of the same kind be proportion¬
als, they shall also be proportionals by alterna¬
tion.
Lex A, B, C, D be four quantities, of the same
kind, and let A : B : : C : 1) ; then shall A : C ::
B : D.
Let the equal ratios of A to B, and of C to D, be
the same as the ratio of the number yi to the number
q; then A will contain p such equal parts as B con¬
tains y, (Ax. 4.) and C will, in like manner, contain
p such equal parts as D contains q; let each of the
equal parts thus contained in A and B be .v, and let
each of those contained in C and D be y, then
A~p x, B=qx, C—py, Dzzqy.
Now as A=p x, and C=zpy; it is manifest that A
and C are equimultiples of andy, therefore the ratio
of A to C is equal to the ratio of a? toy, (1.) and as
Bzryj?, and l)~yy, B and H are in like manner
equimultiples of x and y ; therefore the ratio of B to
D is equal to the ratio of .r toy; therefore the ratio of
A to C is equal to the ratio of B to D.
Cor. If the first of four proportionals be greater
than the third, the second is greater than the fourth ;
and if the first be less than the third, the second is less
than the fourth.
Theorem III.
Let A and B be any two quantities, and, m being
put to denote any number, let m A, m B be equimul¬
tiples of those quantities, m A shall have to w B the
same ratio that A has to B.
Let the ratio of A to B be equal to the ratio
of one number p to another number y, that is, let
A contain p such equal parts as B contains y,
Vol. IX. Part II. f
If four quantities be proportionals, they are also
proportionals by inversion.
Let A : B :: C : D; then shall B : A :: D : C.
For let the equal ratios of A to B, and of C to D,
be the same as the ratio of the number p to the number
y, then as B will contain q such equal parts as A con-
4 M tains
642 G E O M
Of Propar- (aiiis p (Ax. 4*)r B will be to A as q is to/), and as
turn. J) will contain q such equal parts as C contains /), JJ
1   ' wi|l be to C also as q to /), therefore the ratio oi B to
A is equal to the ratio of D to C (Ax. 30*
Theorem IV.
If four quantities be proportionals, they are also
proportionals by composition, and by division.
Let A : B :: C
also
IJtL1 A ^ ^ . D, then will
A+B : A::C+D : C,andA+B : B :: C+B : I) *,
A—B : A::C—D:D,andA—B: B :: C—D : D.
Let us suppose, as in the two preceding theorems,
that the ratios of A to B, and of C to D, are each
equal to the ratio of the number p to the number y, so
that A contains p such equal parts as B contains y,
and C contains p such equal parts as D contains q;
and let x as before denote each of the equal parts con¬
tained in A and B, and y each of the equal parts con¬
tained in C and D } then, since
A—px, Ji=qx, C=py.
therefore A + B=/).'rq-yarr=(/)-|-y)'V>
C+D=py+qy=(p+q')!/-
Now as A-fB contains xp+q times, and A contains ,
the same quantity p times, and B contains it q times,
(by the 4th axiom),
A-{-B : A :: p-\-q • P, and A-f-B ; B t: p-\-q : y,
and as C + D contains y/)-}-y times, and C contains
it p times, and D contains it q times,
C-fD : C :: /)+y : /), and C+D : D :: /)+y : y.
Thus it appears that the ratios of A-f-B to A, and of
C-j-D to C, are equal to the same ratio, namely, that
of p-\-q to p ; therefore (Ax. 3.) A-j-B : A :: C-f-
D : C. It also appears that the ratios of A-f-B to B,
and C -]-1) to D are each equal to the ratio of
•o-\-q to qi therefore (Ax. 3.) A-f-B : B :: C-f-
D : D.
In the same manner the second part of the theorem
may be proved, namely, that
A—B : A :: C—D : C and A—B : B :: C—D : D.
Theorem V.
If four quantities be proportionals, and there be
taken any equimultiples of the antecedents,
and also any equimultiples of the consequents ;
the resulting quantities will still be propor¬
tionals.
Let A : B :: C : D, and m A, m C he any equi¬
multiples of the antecedents, and ?i B, tj D any equi¬
multiples of the consequents *, then m A : w B ::
w C : n D.
The quantities />, <7, x and y being supposed to ex¬
press the same things as in the foregoing theorems j be¬
cause
A=px, Bz=ya-, C=py, D=ryy,
therefore, multiplying the antecedents by the number
vi, and the consequents by
E T R Y. Sect.
m kzzntpx, « B~« qx, c
mQtzzmpy, n\)=zriqy,
and hence the ratio of w A to « B is equal to the ra¬
tio of the number nip to the number n q, (Ax. 4.)
and the ratio of m C to « D, is equal to the same ra¬
tio of mp to nq, therefore (Ax. 3.) mA : «B ::
77/ C : « B.
Theorem VI.
If there be any number of quantities, and as many
others, which, taken two and two, have the
same ratio; the first shall have to the last of the
first series the same ratio which the first of the
other series has to the last.
First, let there be three quantities A, B,C, A, B, C,
and other three H, K, L, and let A : B :: H, K, L
H : K, and B t C :: K : L, then will A : C :: H : L.
For let the equal ratios of A to B, and of H to K,
be the same with the ratio of a number p to another
number q, so that x and y being like parts of A and
H, and also like parts of B and K, as in the former
theorems,
Azxpx, B=qx, H=py, K=yy.
Also let C contain q equal parts, each equal to v, and
let L contain q equal parts, each equal to %, so that
C=ry v, \j~q %,
then because B : C :: K : L, that is, qx : qv :: qy :
qz, and qx and qv are equimultiples of x and v,
also qy and qz are equimultiples ofy and z, therefore
(1. & Ax. 3.) x : v ::y : z, hence (by last theorem)px :
qv py : that is, (because A~p x, C—q v, H
=zpy, L=y z) A : C :: H : L.
Next, let these four quantities, A, B, 
C, B, and other four H, K, L, M, A, B, C, D,
such, that A : B :: H : K, and B : C :: H, K, L, M.
K ; L, and C : B :: L : M, then will
A : B : : H : M.
For, because A : B :: H : K, and B : C :: K : L ;
therefore, by the first case, A : C :: H : L; and be¬
cause C : B :: L : M, therefore by the same case,
A : B :: H : M. The demonstration applies in the
same manner to any number of quantities.
Cor. Hence it appears, that ratios compounded of
the same number of like or equal ratios are equal to
one another.
Note.—-When four quantities are proportionals in the
manner explained in this theorem, they are said to be
so from equality of distance; and it is usual for mathe¬
matical writers to say that they are so, ex cequali or ex
(Equo.
Theorem VII.
If there be any number of quantities, and as many
others, which taken two and two in a crofs or¬
der have the same ratio ; the first shall have to
the last of the first series the same ratio which
the first has to the last of the. other series.
& t. in-
pLirticms First, let there he three quantities A, B,
ofjiuurcs. C, and other three H, K, L, such that A :
Ri “B :: K : L, and B : C :: H : K j then will
A : C :: H : L.
For let the equal ratios of A to B, and of K to L
be equal to the ratio of the number p to the number q,
so that as before.
A~p x, Bzzqx, K.z=py, Xi—qy,
Also, let C be supposed to contain q equal parts,
each equal to as, and let H contain p equal parts, each
equal to vt so that
C—qx, I r ;
Then, because B : C :: H : K, that is, q x : q z ::
pv\py ; therefore (i. & Ax. 3.) x '.xwv \y, and con¬
sequently (5.) px •. qz pv : .yy, that is (becausepx
=A, q z=C, p uz=H, qy—\j) A : C :: H : L.
Next, let there be four quantities
A, B, C, D, and other four H, K, L, M
such, that A : B :: L : M, and B : C ::
K : L, and C : D :: H : K, then will A : D :: H :
M; for because A : B :: L : M, and B : C :: K : L 5
by the foregoing case A : C :: K : M $ and again
because C : D :: H : K; therefore, by same case, A :
D :: H : M. The demonstration applies in the same
manner to any number of quantities.
Note.—In this theorem, as in the last, the four quan¬
tities A, D, H, M, are said to be proportionals from
equality of distance; but because in this case the pro¬
portions are taken in a cross order, it is common to say,
that they are so, ex eequali, in proportione perturbata,
or ex cequo inversely.
Theorem VIII.
If to the two consequents of four proportionals
there be added any two quantities that have the
same ratio to the respective antecedents, these
sums and the antecedents will still be propor¬
tionals.
Let A : B :: C : D
and A : B' :: C : D'
(where B' and D' denote two quantities distinct from
those denoted by B and D) j then will
A : B + B':: C : D + D'.
For since A : B :: C : D, by inversion, (3.) B : A ::
D : C, but A : B' :: C : D', therefore (6.) B : B' ::
1) : D', r.nd by composition, (4.) and inversion B :
B-fB':: D : D-j-D', and since A : B :: C : D 5
therefore (6.) A : B-j-B' :: C : D-j-D'.
Cor. 1. If instead of two quantities B', D', there be
any number B', B", &c. and D', D", &c. which ta-
643
ken two and two have the same ratio to the antecedents Proportions
A, C, that is, if of Figures.
A : B :: C : D, ' 'f~~t
A : B':: C : D',
A : B":: C : D" j
then will A : B-f B'-f-B" :: C : C + D'+D".
For since A : B-j-B':: C : D-j-D' (bv the theor.)
and A : B" :: C : D",
therefore, by the proposition,
A : B+B'+B" :: C : D+D'+D".
Cor. 2. If any number of quantities of the same
kind be proportionals, as one of the antecedents is to
its consequent, so is the sum of all the antecedents to
the sum of all the consequents.
Let A : B :: C : D :: E : F,
then because A : A :: B : B,
and A : C :: B : D,
and A : E :: B : F $
therefore, A : A + C-f-E :: B : B + D-J-F } and by
alternation,
A : B :: A+C+E : B-fD+F.
In treating of proportion we have supposed that the
antecedent contains some part of the consequent a cer¬
tain number of times exactly, which part is therefore
a common measure of the antecedent and consequent.
But there are quantities which cannot have a common
measure, and which are therefore said to be incommen¬
surable; such, for example, are the sides of two squares,
one of which has its surface double that of the other.
Although the ratio of two incommensurable quanti¬
ties cannot be expressed in numbers, yet we can always
assign a ratio in numbers which shall be as near to that
ratio as we please. For let A and B be any two quan¬
tities whatever, and suppose that x is such a part of A
that Azzp x ; then if q denote the number of times that
x can be taken from B, and d the remainder, we have
JSzzq x-[-d, and q xzzJS—d; and because^ : q :: px :
qx, therefore/) : y :: A : B—d. Now as d is less than
x, by taking x sufficiently small d may be less than any
proposed quantity, so that B—d may differ from B by
less than any given quantity ; therefore two numbers
p and q may always be assigned, such, that the ratio of
p to q shall the same as the ratio of A to a quantity
that differs less from B than by any given quantity,
however small that quantity may be.
Hence we may conclude, that whatever has been de¬
livered in this section relating to commensurable quan¬
tities, may be considered as applying equally to such as
are incommensurable.
GEOMETRY.
A, B, C,
H,K, L.
A, B, C, D,
H, K, L, M.
SECT. IV. THE PROPORTIONS OF FIGURES.
Definitions.
I. Equivalent Figures are such as have equal sur¬
faces.
Two figures may be equivalent, although very dis¬
similar ; thus a circle may be equivalent to a square,
a triangle to a rectangle, and so of other figures.
We shall give the denomination of equal figures to
4 M 2 those
644 , ,
Proportions those which, being applied the one upon the other, to¬
ot’Figures. incide entirely j thus, two circles having the same ra-
  v  dins are equal *, and two triangles having three sides ot
the one equal to three sides of the other, each to each,
are all equal. , . .
II. Two figures are similar, when the angles ot the
one are equal to the angles of the other, each to each ;
and the homologous sides proportionals. 1 he homolo¬
gous sides are those which have the same position m the
two figures ; or which are adjacent to the equal angles.
The angles themselves are called homologous angles.^
Two equal figures are always similar, but similar
figures may be very unequal. _
HI. In two different circles, similar sectors, similar
arches, similar segments, are such as correspond^ to
I'ig. 61. equal angles at the centre. Thus the angle A being
equal to the angle O, the arch BC is similar to the arch
BE, and the sector ABC to the sector ODE, &c.
rig. 63. IV. The Altitude of a parallelogram is the perpen-
Plate dicular which measures the distance between the oppo-
CCXLII. gjte sjjes or |ja8es AB, CD.
Fig. 64. V. The Altitude of a triangle is the perpendicular
AD drawn from the vertical angle A upon the base
BC. .'
Fig. 65. VI. The Altitude of a trapezoid is the perpendicu¬
lar EF drawn between its two parallel bases AB, CD.
VII. The Area and the surface of a figure are terms
of nearly the same signification. The term area, how¬
ever, is more particularly used to denote the superficial
quantity of the figure in respect of its being measured,
or compared with other surfaces.
✓ Theorem I.
Fig. 66. Parallelograms which have equal bases and equal
altitudes are equivalent.
Let AB be the common base ot the parallelograms
ABCD, EBAF, which being supposed to have the
same altitude, the sides DC, FE opposite to the bases
will lie in DE a line parallel to AB. Now, from the
nature of a parallelogram, AD=BC, and AI = BE }
for the same reason DC~AB, and bE^AB j there¬
fore, DC=:FE, and taking away DC and FE from the
same line DE, the remainders CE and DF are equal ;
hence the triangles DAF, CBE have three sides of the
one equal to three sides of the other, each to each ; and
consequently are equal (10. I.). Now if from the qua¬
drilateral ABED, the triangle ADF be taken away,
there will remain the parallelogram ABEF; and it
from the same quadrilateral ABED, the triangle CBE,
equal to the former, be taken away, there will remain
the parallelogram ABCD ; therefore the two parallelo¬
grams ABCD, ABEF, which have the same base, and
the same altitude, are equivalent.
Cor. Every parallelogram is equivalent to a rect¬
angle of the same base and altitude.
Theorem II.
rio. 6 Every triangle ABC is the half of a parallelogram
ABCD, having the same base and altitude.
For the triangles ABC, ACD are equal (28. I.).
Cor. 1. Therefore a triangle ABC is the half of a
rectangle BCEF of the same base and altitude.
Sect. IW’
Cor. 2. All triangles having equal bases, and equal pro'noJ| s
altitudes, are equivalent. of Fig,|
Theorem III.
Two rectangles of the same altitude are to each Fig- «vj|
other as their bases.
Let ABCD, AEFD be two rectangles, which have
a common altitude AD ; the rectangle ABCD shall
have to the rectangle AEFD the same ratio that the
base AB has to the base AE.
Let the base AB have to the base AE the ratio of
the number p (which we shall suppose 7.) to the num¬
ber q (which may be 4.) that is, let AB contain p (7.)
such equal parts as AE contains q (4.), then, if per¬
pendiculars be drawn to AB and AE at the points of
division, the rectangles ABCD and AEED will be di¬
vided, the former into/), and the latter into q rectangles,
which will be all equal (1.) for they have equal bases,
and the same altitude $ thus the rectangle ABCD will
also contain p such equal parts as the rectangle AEFD
contains q ; therefore the rectangle ABCD is to AEFD
as the number p to the number q (Ax. 4. 3.), that is,
as the base AB to AE.
Theorem IV.
Any two rectangles are to each other as the pro-pjgi -J
ducts of any numbers proportional to their sides.
Let the numbers m, n, p, q, have among themselves
the same ratios that the sides of the rectangles ABCD,
AEFG have to each other j that is, let AB contain m
such equal parts, whereof AD contains n, and AE
contains p, and AF contains y ; then shall ABCD:
AEFG w m n : p q.
Let the rectangles be so placed that the sides AB,
AE may be in a straight line, then AD and AG will
also lie in a straight line (3. 1.). Now (3.)
ABCD : AEHD :: AB : AE :: m : p,
but m \ p v. nm \ np, 3.)
therefore ABCD : AEHD :: nm \ np.
Again, AEHD : AEFG :: AD 1 AG n : q;
but n : q :i p n : p q ;
therefore, AEHD : AEFG :: p n : p q
and it was shewn that
ABCD : AEHD :: nm : np orp n,
therefore, (6. 3.) ABCD : AEFG :: m n : p q»
Scholium.
Hence it appears, that the product of the base by the
altitude of a rectangle may be taken for its measure,
observing that by such product is meant that of the
number of linear units in the base by the number ot
linear units in the altitude. This measure is however
not absolute, but relative, for it must be supposed, that
in comparing one rectangle with another, the sides of
both are measured by the same linear unit, lor ex¬
ample, if the base of a rectangle A be three units,
and its altitude TO, the rectangle is represented by
2x10 or 30; this number considered by itself has no
meaning,
GEOMETRY.
/
GEOMETRY.
Sc IV.
pro, lionsmeaning, but if we have a second rectangle B, the base
of i'Ire*, of which is twelve units, and altitude seven, this second
— —'rectangle shall be represented by the number 12X7 or
84, and hence it may be concluded that the two rect¬
angles are to each other as 30 to 84 ; therefore, if in
estimating any superficies the rectangle A be taken for
the measuring unit, the rectangle B shall have for its
absolute measure that is, it shall be |4 superficial
units.
It is more common, as well as more simple, to take
for a superficial unit a square, the side of which is an
unit in length j and then the measure which we have
regarded only as relative becomes absolute ; for ex¬
ample the number 30, which is the measure of the
rectangle A, represents 30 superficial units or 30
squares, each having its side equal to an unit. To il¬
lustrate this, see fig. 72.
Theorem V.
Fig-f1 The area of any parallelogram is equal to the pro¬
duct of its bafe by its altitude.
For the parallelogram ABCD is equivalent to the
rectangle FBCE, which has the same base BC, and
the same altitude AO (Cor. 1.) $ but the measure of
the rectangle is BCxAO, (4.) therefore the area of
the parallelogram is BCxAO.
Cor. Parallelograms having the same base, or equal
b^ses, are to each other as their altitudes j and parallelo¬
grams having the same altitude are to each other as
their bases j for in the former case put B for the com¬
mon base and A and A' for the altitudes, then the
areas of the figures are B x A and B x A'; and it is
manifest that B X A : B X A' :: A : A'; and in the
latter case, putting A for the common altitude, and B
and B' for the bases, it is evident that B X A : B'X \
:: B : B'.
Theorem VI.
M The area of a triangle is equal to the product of
its base by the half of its altitude.
For the triangle ABC is half of the parallelogram
ABCD, which has the same base BC, and the same al¬
titude AO (2.), but the area of the parallelogram is
BCx AO (5.), therefore that of the triangle is i BC
X AO, or BC X t AO.
Cor. Two triangles of the same altitude are to each
othei as their bases ^ and two triangles having the same
base are to each other as their altitudes.
Theorem VJI.
The area of a trapezoid ABCD is equal to the
product of its altitude EF by half the sum of its
parallel sides AB, CD.
Through the point I, the middle of BC, draw KL
paiallel to the opposite side AD, and produce DC to
meet KL. In the triangles IBL, ICK, IB is equal to
1C by construction, and the angle CIK=BIL, and the
angle ICK=IBL (21. I.) therefore these triangles are
equal $ and hence the trapezoid ABCD is equivalent
to the parallelogram ALKD, and has for its measure
^XEF. But AL_.DK, and because the triangle Proportions
is equal to the triangle the side BljznOISk.j of Figures*
therefore AB-f-CD=rAL-f-DK=r2AL •, hence AL r—'
is half the sum of the parallel sides AB, CD ; and as
the area of the trapezoid is equal to FE X AL, it is also
equal to EE X -tCD).
Theorem VIII.
If four straight lines AB, AC, AD, AE, be pro- Fig. 6P.
portionals ; the rectangle ABLE, contained by
the two extremes, is equivalent to the rectangle
ACGD contained by the means. And con¬
versely, if the rectangle contained by AB, AE,
the extremes, be equivalent to the rectangle
contained by AC, AD the means, the four lines
are proportionals.
Let the rectangles be so placed as to have the com¬
mon angle A, and let BE, DG intersect each other in
H. Because the rectangles ABHD, ACGD have the
same altitude AD,
ABHD : ACGD :: AB : AC; (3.),
and because the rectangles ABHD, ABFF have the
same altitude AB, for the same reason
ABHD : ABFE :: AD : AE ;
but by bypothesis AB : AC :: AD : AE, therefore
(Ax. 3. 3.) ABHD : ACGD :: ABHD : ABFE,
therefore (Ax. 2. 3.) the rectangle ACGD—ABFE.
Next suppose that the rectangle ACGD=ABFE •
then ABHD : ACGD :: ABHD : ABFE, (Ax 1. aA
but ABHD : ACGD :: AB : AC, (3.) and ABHD :
ABFE :: AD : AE, therefore AB : AC :: AD : AE.
Cor. If three straight lines be proportionals, the
rectangle contained by the extremities is equal to the
square of the mean ; and if the rectangle contained by
the extremes be equal to the square of the mean, the
three straight lines are proportionals.
Theorem IX.
If four straight lines be proportionals, and also Fig‘ 7°-
other four, the rectangles contained by the cor¬
responding terms shall be proportionals ; that is,
if AB : BC :: CD : DE, and BF : BG :: DH :
DI, then shall rectangle AF : red. BM :: red.
CH : red. DQ.
lor in BG and DI, produced if necessary, take
Bb —BF, and DH—DH, and let FP be parallel to
BC, and HN to DE; then (3.)
reel. AF : red. BP :: AB : BC,
and red. CH : red. DN :: CD : DE ;
but AB : BC :: CD : DE, (by hypothesis) therefore,.
red. AF : red. BP :: red. CH : red. DN;
now (3.) red. BP : red. BM :: BF : BG, and red.
DN : red. DQ :: DH : DI; but BF : BG :: DH.:
DI, (by bypoth.) therefore,
red. BP : red. BM :: red. DN : red. DQ ;
but
646
I’ro par lions
of Figures.
Fig. 74.
Fig 75-
Fig. ?5.
GEOMETRY.
Sect!
but it has been shewn that
rect. AF : rect. BP :: reel. CH : red. DN,
therefore (6. 3.)
rect. AF : rect. BM :: rect. GH : rect. DQ.
Cor. Hence the squares of four proportional straight
lines are themselves proportionals.
Theorem X.
If a straight line AC be divided into any two parts
at B, the square made upon the whole line AC
shall be equal to the squares made upon the two
parts AB, BC, together with twice the rect¬
angle contained by those two parts : which may
be expressed thus, ACI=AB2-J-BC2-i-2AB x^C.
Suppose the square ACDE to be constructed ; take
AFirAB, draw FG parallel to AC, and BH parallel
to CD.
The square ACDE is made up of four parts; the
first ABIF is the square upon AB, because AF=rAB $
the second IDGH is the square upon BC,for AC=AE,
and AB—AF, therefore AC—AB^rAE—AF, that
is BC=EF; but BC=IG, and EF=DG, (26. 1.)
therefore IGDH is the square upon BC, and the re¬
maining two parts are the two rectangles BCGI,
FEHI, which have each for their measure AB X BC,
therefore the square upon AC is equal to the squares
upon AB and BC, and twice the rectangle AB X FC.
Theorem XI.
If a straight line AC be the difference of two
straight lines AB, BC *, the square made upon
AC shall be equal to the excess of the two
squares upon AB and BC above twice the rect¬
angle contained by AB and BC ; that is,
AC*=AB2-j-BC*—2AB x BC.
Construct the square ABIF, take AE=AC, and
draw CG parallel to BI, and HK parallel to AB $ and
complete the square EFLK. The two rectangles
CBIG, GLKD have each AB X BC for their measure j
and if these be taken from the whole figure ABILKEA,
that is from AB*+BC2, there will remain the square
ACDE, that is, the square upon AC.
Theorem XII.
The rectangle contained by the sum and the dif¬
ference of two straight lines is equal to the dif¬
ference of the squares upon those lines j that is,
(AB+BC) x (AB—BC)=AB*—BC2.
Construct upon AB and AC the squares ABIF,
ACDE produce AB,so that BK=rBC, and complete
the rectangle AKEE. The base AX of the rectangle
is the sum of the two lines AB, BC j and its altitude
AE is the difference of the same lines; therefore, the
rectangle AXLE—(AB-f-BC) (AB—-BC); but tbe
same rectangle is composed of two parts ABHE+BHLX,
of which, BHLX is equal to the rectangle EDGE,
3
for BH=DE, and BX=FE; therefore, AKLE=:p,0fi
ABHE-f-EDGF; but these two parts constitute the onj
excess of the square ABIF above the square DHIG, V,"H
the former of which is the square upon AB, and the
latter the square upon BC, therefore (AB + BC) x
(AB—BC) = AB*—BC2.
Theorem XIII.
The square upon the hypothenuse of a right-angled Fig j
triangle is equal to the sum of the squares upon
the two other sides.
Let ABC be a rigbt-angled triangle; having form¬
ed the squares upon its three sides, draw a perpendicu¬
lar AD from the right angle upon the bypotbenuse,
and produce it to E, and draw the diagonals AF, CH.
The angle ABF is evidently tbe sum of ABC and a
right angle, and the angle HBC is also the sum of
ABC and a right angle; therefore the angle ABFr:
HBC; now AB=BH, for they are sides of the same
square, and BC = BF for the same reason, therefore the
triangles ABF, HBC have two sides, and the included
angle of the one equal to two sides and the included
angle of the other, each to each, therefore the triangles
are equal (5. 1.) but the triangle ABF is the half of
the rectangle BDEF (which for brevity’s sake we shall
call BE) because it has the same base BF, and tbe
same altitude BD, (2.) and the triangle HBC is in like
manner half of the square AH, for the angles BAC,
BAL being both right angles, CA and AL constitute
a straight line parallel to BH, (3. 1.) and thus the
triangle HBC, and the square AH have the same base
HB, and the same altitude AB ; from which it follows
that the triangle is half of the square (2). It has now
been proved that the triangle ABF is equal to the tri¬
angle HBC; and that the rectangle BE is double of
the former, and the square AH double of the latter;
therefore the rectangle BE is equal to the square.AH.
It may he demonstrated in like manner that the rect¬
angle CDEG, or CE, is equal to the square AI; bat
the rectangles BE, CE make up the square BCGF,
therefore the square BCGF upon the hypothenuse is
equal to the squares ALHB, AXIC upon the other
two sides.
Theorem XIV.
In a triangle ABC, if the angle C is acute, the pig.;
square of the opposite side AB is less than the
squares of the sides which contain the angle C;
and if AD a perpendicular be drawn to BC
from the opposite angle, the difference shall be
equal to twice the rectangle BCxCD ; that is,
AB\=AC2-f CB*—2BC x CD.
First. Suppose AD to fall within the triangle, then
BD = BC—CD, and consequently (11.) BD2=:BC* +
CD2—2BC xCD ; to each of these equals add AD1;
then, observing that BD*-}-B)A2=:BA*, and CD‘-f-
DA*=CA2,
AB*=:BC2+CA3—2BC x CD.
Next, suppose AD to fall without the triangle, so
that BD=CD—BC, and therefore BD2=CD‘-f
BC1—2BC X CD, (11.) to each of these add AD1 as
V be for,
iIV'
j 'jn* before, anti we get
K AB*=BC2+CA»-
fig-
»2BCxCD.
Theorem XV.
GEOMETRY. ^
therefore, because of the common ratio in the two pro-Proportions
portions, we have (Ax. of Figures.
AD : DB :: AE
In a triangle ABC, if the angle C is obtuse, the
square of the opposite fide AB is greater than
the sum of the squares of the sides which con¬
tain the angle C; and if AD a perpendicular
be drawn to BC from the opposite angle, the
difference shall be equal to twice the rectangle
BC x CD, that is,
AB2= A C*-f BC2-f 2EC x CD
EC.
Cor. Hence Iw composition AB : AD •* AC • AF-
and AB : BD :: AC : CE.
Theorem XVIH.
Conversely, if two of the sides AB, AC of a tri-Fig. Sr.
angle are divided proportionally by the straight
line DE, fo that AD : DB :: AE : EC, then
shall the line DE be parallel to the remaining:
side BC. 8
For BD=BC-bCD, and therefore (iO.) BD*—
BC^-f CD^aBCxCD j to eacli of these equals add
AD2, then, observing that AD2-4-DB*:=AB*, and
AD2+DC*=AC»,
AB*=BC2-f-CA2 + 2BCxCD.
Scholium.
It is only when a triangle has one of its angles a
right angle, that the sum of the squares of two of its
sides ean be equal to the squares of the third side ; for
if the angle contained by those sides be acute, the sum
of their squares is greater than the square of the oppo¬
site side, and if the angle be obtuse, that sum is less
than the square of the opposite side.
Theorem XVI.
If a straight line AE be drawn from the vertex of
any triangle ABC to the middle of its base BC ;
the sum of the squares of the sides is equal to
twice the square of half the base, and twice
the square of the line drawn from the vertex
to the middle of the base ; that is, AB’-j-AC^
2BE*-f 2 AE* ;
Draw AD perpendicular to BC, then
AB2=BE*+EA2—2BExED, (14.)
and AC2=CE*-f-EA2-|-2 CE XED, (15.)
I or if DE is not parallel to BC, suppose some
other line DO to be parallel to BC 5 then, AB : BD ::
AC : CO (17.) j and since by hypothesis AD : DB
AE : EC, and consequently, by composition, AE :
BD :: AC : CE, therefore, AC : CO :: AC : CE;
theiefore, CO—CE (2Ax.3.) which is impossible;
therefore DO is not parallel to BC.
Cor. If it be supposed that BA : AD :: CA :
AE, still DE will be parallel to BC j for by division
BD : AD :: CE : AE, this proportion being the
same as in the Theorem, the conclusion must be the
same.
Theorem XIX.
A straight line AD, which bisects the angle BAG Fig. s«.
of a triangle, divides the base BC into two seg¬
ments proportional to the adjacent sides BA,
AC ; that is, BD : DC :: BA : AC.
Through the point C draw CE parallel to AD, so
as to meet BA produced. In the triangle BCE, the .
line AD is parallel to one of its sides CE, therefore
BD : DC :: BA : AE j now the triangle CAE is
isosceles, for, because of the parallels AD, CE, the
angle ACE=DAC, and the angle A£C=BAD,
(21. 1.) but by hypothesis DAC—BAD ; therefore
ACErrAEC ; and consequently AEzzAC, (12. 1.)
therefore, substituting AC instead of AE in the above
proportion, it becomes BD : DC :: BA : AC.
therefore, by adding equals to equals, and observing
that BErrCE, and theiefore BE2=:CEZ, and 2 BE X
ED=T2CExED,
AB* + AC2=2 BE24-2 AE*.
Theorem XVII.
Fig, < A straight line DE drawn parallel to one of the
sides of a triangle ABC divides the other two
sides AB, AC proportionally, fo that AD : DB
:: AE : EC,
Join BE and CD. The triangles BDE, CDE,
having the same base DE, and the same altitude, are
equivalent, (2) and the triangles ADE, BDE, having
the same altitude, are to one another as their bases, (6.)
that is, ADE : BDE :: AD : DB; the triangles ADE,
CDE, having also, the same altitude, are to one ano¬
ther as their bases; that is, ADE : CDE :: AE : EC,
but the triangle BDE has been proved equal to CDE;
Theorem XX.
If two triangles be equiangular, their homologous Fig. S4.
sides are proportional, and the triangles are
similar.
Let ABC, CDE he two equiangular triangles
which have the angle BACrrCDE, ABCrrDCE’
and ACB = B4EC ; the homologous sides, or the sides
adjacent to the equal angles, shall be proportional; that
is, BC : CE :: AB : CD :: AC : DE.
Place the homologous sides BC, CE in the same
direction, and produce the sides BA, ED, till they
meet in F. Because BCE is a straight line, and the
angle BCA is equal to CED, the lines CA, EF are
parallel, (22. 1.) and in like manner, because the angle
ABCrrDCE, the lines BF, CD are parallel; there¬
fore the figure ACDF is a parallelogram, and hence
AFrrCD, and CA=DF (26. 1.). In the triangle
BFE the line AC is parallel to the side FE, therefore
BC:
648 G E O 1M
Proportions BC: CE :: BA : AF ; or since AF=CD, BC : CE ::
of Figures. BA : CD. Again, in the same triangle, because CD
» is parallel to the side BE, BC : CE :: FD : DE, or,
since FD=AC, BC : CE :: AC : DE ; having now
shewn that BC : CE :: BA : CD, and that BC :
CE :: AC : DE, it follows that BA : CD :: AC :
DE ; therefore the equiangular triangles BAC, CDE
have their homologous sides proportional, and hence
(def. 2.) the triangles are similar.
Scholium.
It is manifest, that the homologous sides are opposite
to the equal angles.
Theorem XXL
rig. 83. if two triangles have their homologous sides pro¬
portional, they are equiangular and similar.
Suppose that BC : EF :: AB : DE :: AC :: DF j
then shall A=l), B=E, C=:F. At the point E
make the angle FEGzrB, and at the point F make
EFG=C; then the third angle G shall be equal to
the third angle A, and the two triangles ABC, GEF
shall be equiangular ; therefore, by the last theorem
BC : EF :: AB : GE ; but bv hypothesis BC : EF ::
AB : DE, therefore GErrDE (Ax. 2. 3.). In like
manner, because by the same theorem BC : EF ::
CA : FG ; and by hypothesis BC : EF :: CA : FD j
therefore FGrrFD 5 but it was shewn that EG=:ED,
therefore, the triangles GEF, DEF, having the sides
of the one equal to those of the other, each to each,
are equal, but, by construction, the triangle GEF is
equiangular to ABC therefore also the triangles DEF,
ABC are equiangular and similar.
Theorem XXII.
Fig. 85. Two triangles which have an angle of the one
equal to an angle of the other, and the sides
about these angles proportional, are similar.
Let the angle A=rD, and let AB : DE :: AC :
DF, the triangle ABC is similar to DEF. Take
AGrzDE, and draw GH parallel to BC, then the
angle AGHrrABC, (21. 1.) therefore the triangle
AGH is equiangular to ABC, and consequently (20.)
AB : AG :: AC : AH ; but by hypothesis AB :
DE :: AC : DF, and by construction AGrrDE,
therefore AHrzDF; the two triangles AGH, DEF
are therefore equal, (5. 1.) but the triangle AGH is
similar to ABC, therefore DEF is similar to ABC.
Theorem XXIII.
Fig. s<k In a right-angled triangle, if a perpendicular
AD be drawn from the right angle upon the
hypothenuse, then,
1. The triangles ABD, CAD on each side of the
perpendicular are similar to the whole triangle
BAC, and to one another.
2. Each side AB or AC is a mean proportional
between the hypothenuse BC, and the adjacent
segment BD or DC.
5
E T R Y. Sect. /
3. The perpendicular AD is a mean proportional prop (
between the two segments BD, DC. of i j
1. The triangles BAD, BAC have the common
angle B ; besides, the right angle BAC is equal to the
right angle BDA, therefore the third angle BAD of
the one, is equal to the third angle BCA of the other;
therefore, these triangles are equiangular and similar j
and in the same manner it may be shewn, that the tri¬
angle DAC is equiangular and similar to BAC; there¬
fore the three triangles are equiangular and similar to
each other.
2. Because the triangle BAD is similar to the tri¬
angle BAC, their homologous sides are proportional.
Now the side BD of the lesser triangle is homologous
to the side BA of the greater, because they are oppo¬
site to the equal angles BAD, BCA ; in like manner
BA, considered as a side of the lesser triangle, is homo¬
logous to the side BC of the greater, each being oppo¬
site to a right angle ; therefore, BD : BA :: BA : BC.
In the same manner it may be shewn that CD : CA ::
CA : CB, therefore each side is a mean proportional
between the hypothenuse and the segment adjacent to
that side.
3. By comparing the homologous sides of the two
similar triangles ABD, ACD, it appears that BD :
DA :: DA : DC ; therefore the perpendicular is a
mean proportional between the segments of the hypo¬
thenuse.
Theorem XXIV.
Two triangles, which have an angle of the one Fig. S'
equal to an angle of the other, are to each other
as the rectangles of the sides which contain the
equal angles; that is, the triangle ABC is to
the triangle ADE, as the rectangle ABxAC
to the rectangle AD x AE.
Join BE ; because the triangles ABE, ADE have
a common vertex E, they have the same altitude,
therefore ABE : ADE :: AB : AD, (Cor. to 6.);
but AB : AD :: AB x AE : ADx AE, (3.) there-
fore,
ABE : ADE :: AB x AE : ADxAE.
In the same manner it may be demonstrated that
ABC : ABE :: AB x AC : AB x AE ;
Therefore (6.3.) ABC: ADE :: AB x AC: AD X AE.
Cor. Therefore the two triangles are equivalent, if
the rectangle AB X AC~AD X AE, or (8.) it AB :
AD :: AE : AC, in which case, the. sides about the
equal angles are said to be reciprocally proportional.
Scholium.
What has been proved of triangles is also true of
parallelograms, they being the doubles of such tri¬
angles.
Theorem XXV.
Two similar triangles are to each other as the Fig 8S
squares of their homologous sides.
Let
;t. IV. G E O M
irtions X^ET the angle A~D, the angle BisEj and there-
gures. fore the angle CrrF,
then (20.) AB : DE r: AC : DFj
now AB : DE :: AB : DE,
for the two ratios are identical, therefore (9.)
AB* : DE* :: ABxAC : DExDFj
but ABC : DEF :: AB x AC : DE x DF, (24.)
therefore ABC : DEF :: AB2 : DE*, (Ax. 3. 3.)
therefore the two similar triangles ABC, DEF, are
to each other as the squares of the homologous sides
AB, DE, or as the squares of any of the other homo¬
logous sides.
E T R Y. 649
and so on if there be more triangles j hence, from this Proportions
senes of equal ratios, it follows (2. cor. 8. 3.) that of Figures.
ABC+ACD + ADE, or the polygon ABCDE, is'    
to FGH+FHI-fFIK, or the polygon FGHIK, as
one of the antecedents ABC is to its consequent FGH,
or as AB2 to IG2; therefore, similar polygons are
to each other as the squares of their homologous
sides.
Cor. 1. If three similar figures have their homolo¬
gous sides equal to the three sides of a right-angled
triangle, the figure having the greatest side shall be
equal to the two others } for these three figures are
pioportional to the squares of their homologous sides,
and the square of the hypolhenuse is equal to the
squares of the other two sides.
Theorem XXVI.
Similar polygons are composed of the same num¬
ber of triangles which are similar and similarly
situated.
In the polygon ABCDE, drawn from one of the
angles A the diagonals AC, AD to all the other
angles. In the polygon FGHIK, draw in like man¬
ner from the angle F, homologous to A, the diagonals
EH, FI to the other angles.
Because the polygons are similar, the angle ABC is
equal to its homologous angle FGH (Def. 2.) also the
sides AB, BC are proportional to FG, GH, so that
AB : FG :: BC : GH, therefore the triangles ABC,
FGH are similar (22.); therefore the angle BCA—GHF,
and these being taken from the equal angles BCD, GHI,
the remainders ACD, FHI are equal; but the triangles
ABC, FGH being similar, AC : FH :: BC : GH,
besides, because of the similarity of the polygons, BC :
GH :: CD:: HI; therefore AC : FH :: CD : HI; now
it has been already shewn that the angle ACDirFHI,
therefore the triangles ACD, FHI are similar (22.).
It may be demonstrated in the same manner that the
remaining triangles are similar, whatever be the num¬
ber of sides of the polygon ; therefore two similar poly¬
gons are composed of the same number of triangles,
similar to each other, and similarly situated.
Theorem XXVII.
The perimeters of similar polygons are as the ho¬
mologous sides, and the polygons themselves,
are as the squares of the homologous sides.
For, since by the nature of similar figures AB ;
FG :: BC : GH :: CD : HI, &c. therefore,
(2. cor. 8. 3.) ABq-BC-fCD, &c. the perimeter of
the first figure, is to FG-f-GH-f-HI, &c. the perime-
tei of the second, as the side AB to its homologous
side FG.
Again, because the triangles ABC, FGH are simi-
lar, ABC : FGH :: AC" : FH- (25.), in like man-
ner ACD : FHI :: AC2 : FH2, therefore,
Cor. 2. Similar polygons have to each other the
duplicate ratio of their homologous sides. For let L
be a third proportional to the homologous sides AB,
FG, then (def. IT. 3.) AB has to L the duplicate ra¬
tio of AB to FG; but AB : L :: AB* : AB xB
(3.), or, since AB x L=FG*, (cor. to 8.) AB : L ::
All : FG* :: ABCDE : 1 GHIK, therefore the figure
ABCDE has to the figure I GHIK, the duplicate
ratio of AB to FG.
Theorem XXVIH.
The segments of two chords AB, CD, which cutFi<,. 55.
each other within a circle, are reciprocally pro-
portional, that is AO : DO :: CO ; OB.
Join AC and BD; and because the triangle AOC,
BOD have the angles at O equal (4. 1.), and the’
angle ArrD and the angle CrrB (15. 2.) the tri¬
angles are similar ; therefore the homologous sides are
proportional, (20.) that is, AO : DO :: CO : BO.
Cor. Hence AOxBOzzCOxDO, (8.) that is,
the rectangle contained by the segments of the one
chord is equal to the rectangle contained by the seg¬
ments of the other.
Theorem XXIX.
If from a point O without a circle, two straight Fig. 90.
lines be drawn, terminating in the concave arch
BC ; the whole lines shall be reciprocally pro¬
portional to the parts of them without the cir¬
cle, that is OB : OC :: OD : OA.
Join AC, BD ; then the triangles OAC, OBD
have the common angle O, also the angle B=C
(I5* therefore the triangles are similar, and the
homologous sides are proportional, that is, OB • OC
OD : OA.
Cor. Therefore (8.) OA X OB= OC X OD, that
is, the rectangles contained by the whole lines, and the
parts of them without the circle, are equal to one ano¬
ther.
Theorem XXX.
ABC : FGH :: ACD : FHI.
By the same manner of reasoning,
ACD : FHI:: ADE : FIK,
Vol. IX. Part II.
If from a point O without a circle a straight line Fig. 9i.
OA be drawn touching the circle, and also a
straight line OC cutting it, the tangent shall be
a mean proportional between the whole line
4 N which
f
Oi
0
Problems.
G E O M
which cuts the circle, and the part of it without
the circle, that is, OC : OA :: OA : OD.
For if AC, AD be joined, the triangles OAD,
OCA, have the angle at O common to both, also the
angle ACD or ACO is equal to DAO (18. 2.), there¬
fore the triangles are similar (20.), and consequently
CO : OA :: OA : OD.
Cor. Therefore (cor. to 8.) COxOD—OA , that
is, the square of the tangent is equal to the rectangle
contained by the whole line which cuts the circle, and
the part of it without the circle.
Theorem XXXI.
3>j0 9a In the same circle, or in equal circles, any angles
ACB, DEF are to each other as the arches AB,
DF of the circles intercepted between the lines
which contain the angles.
E T R Y.
Sect. T
Suppose the arch AB to have to the arch DF the
ratio of the number p to the number q ; then the archv—-y
AB being supposed divided into equal parts A g, g b,
h B, the number of which is p, the arch DF shall con¬
tain q equal parts D k, kl, 1m, mn, nF, each of which
is equal to any one of the equal parts into which AB
is divided. Draw straight lines from the centres of
the circles to the points of division, these lines will di¬
vide ACB into p angles and DEF into q angles, which
are all equal (13. 2.) therefore, the angle ACB has to
the angle DEF the ratio of the number p to the num¬
ber q, which ratio is the same as that of the arch AB
to the arch DF.
Cor. Hence it appears that angles may be measured
and compared with each other by means of arches of
circles described on the vertices of the angles as centres,
observing, however, that the radii of the circles must
be equal.
SECT. V. PROBLEMS.
Tig- 94-
Problem I.
Plate To bisect a given straight line AB •, that is, to di-
ceXLUL vide it into two equal parts.
•Sg. 93-
From the points A and C as centres, with any radius
greater than the half of AB, describe arches, cutting
each other in D and D on each side of the line AB.
Draw a straight line through the points D, D, cutting
AB in C j the line AB is bisected in C.
For the points D, D, being equally distant from the
extremities of the line AB, are each in a straight line
perpendicular to the middle of AB, (16. I.), therefore
the line DCD is that perpendicular, and consequently
C is the middle of AB.
Problem II.
To draw a perpendicular to a given straight line
BC, from a given point A in that line.
Take the points B and C at equal distances from A’,
and on B and € as centres, with any radius greater
than BA, describe arches, cutting each other in D $
draw a straight line from A through D, which will he
the perpendicular required. For the point D, being at
equal distances from the extremities of the line BC,
must he in a perpendicular to the middle of BC (16. 1.),
therefore AD is the perpendicular required.
Problem HI.
To draw a perpendicular to a given line, BD,
from a given point A without that line.
On A as a centre, with a radius sufficiently great,
describe an arch, cutting the given line in two points B,
D j and on B and D as centres, with a radius greater
than the half of BD, describe two arches, cutting each
2
Tiz- PS-
other in E j draw a straight line through the points A
and E, meeting BD in C j the line AC is the perpen¬
dicular required.
For the two points A and E are each at equal di¬
stances from B and D ; therefore, a line passing
through A and E is perpendicular to the middle of
BD, (16. 1.).
Problem IV.
At a given point A, in a given line AB, to make^jj
an angle equal to a given angle K.
On K as a centre, with any radius, describe an arch
to meet the lines containing the angle K, in L and I;
and on A as a centre, with the same radius, describe an
indefinite arch BO; on B as a centre, with a radius
equal to the chord LI, describe an arch, cutting the
arch BO in D ; draw AD, and the angle DAB shall
be equal to K.
For the arches BD, LI having equal radii and equal
chords, the arches themselves are equal (4. 2-.), there¬
fore the angles A and K are also equal (13. 2.).
Problem V.
To bisect a given arch AB, or a given angle C. Fjg. &
First. To bisect the arch AB, on A and B as
centres, with one and the same radius, describe arches
to intersect in D ; join CD, cutting the arch in E, and
the arch AJE shall be equal to EB.
For, since the points C and D are at equal distances
from A, and also from B, the line which joins them
is perpendicular to the middle of the chord AB
(16. 1.), therefore, the arch AB is bisected at E,
(6. 2.).
Secondly. To bisect the angle C j on C as a centre,
with any distance, describe an arch, meeting the lines
containing the angle in A and R) then find the point
it. V. G E O M
Jilems. ^ 38 ^ef°re> an^ the line CD will manifestly bisect the
u..—bangle C, as required.
Scholium.
By the same construction we may bisect each of the
arches AE, EB ; and again we may bisect each of the
halves of these arches, and so on } thus by successive
subsivisions, an arch may be divided into four, eight,
sixteen parts, &c.
Problem VI.
r,, :S. Through a given point A, to draw a straight line
parallel to a given straight line BC.
E T R Y.
Problem IX.
To find the centre of a given circle, or of a cir-Fi-. iq
cle of which an arch is given.
Take any three points A, B, D, in the circumfer¬
ence of the circle, or in the given arch, and having
drawn the straight lines AB, BD, bisect them by the
perpendiculars EG, FH; the point C where the per- '
pendieulars intersect each other is the centre of the
circle, as is evident from Theorem VI. sect. 2.
Scholium.
On A as a centre, with a radius sufficiently large,
describe the indefinite arch EO ; on E for a centre,
with the same radius, describe the arch AF j in EO
take ED equal to AF, draw a line from A through
D, and AD will be parallel to BC.
For if AE be joined, the angle EAD is equal to
AEB (13. 2.), and they are alternate angles, there¬
fore AD is parallel to BC, (22. 1.).
By the very same construction a circle may be found
that shall pass through three given points A, B, C ; or
that shall be described about a given triangle ABC.
Problem X.
To draw a tangent to a given circle through a Fig. rot.
given point A. 103.
Problem VII.
P,v s. To construct a triangle, the sides of which may be
equal to three given lines A, B, C.
Take a straight line, DE, equal to one of the given
lines A j on D as a centre, with a radius equal to
another of the lines B, describe an arch j on E as a
centre, with a radius equal to the remaining line C, de¬
scribe another arch, cutting the former in F ; join DF
and EF, and DEF will be the triangle required, as is
sufficiently evident.
Scholium.
It is necessary that the sum of any two of the lines
be greater than the third line (7. j.).
Problem VIII.
Fig, 0> To construct a parallelogram, the adjacent sides
of which may be equal to two given lines A, B,
and the angle they contain equal to a given
angle C.
Draw the straight line DE=A j make the angle
GDE=:C, and take DG~B j describe two arches,
one on G as a centre, with a radius GF=DE, and the
other on E, with a radius EFrrDG, then DEFG
shall be the parallelogram required.
For by construction the opposite sides are equal,
therefore, the figure is a parallelogram, (27. 1.) and
it is so constructed, that the adjacent sides and the
angle they contain have the magnitudes given in the
problem.
Cor. If the given angle be a right angle, the figure
will be a rectangle; and if the adjacent sides be also
equal, the figure will be a square.
If the given point A be in the circumference
(fig. 102), draw the radius AC $ and through A,
draw AD perpendicular to AC, and AD will be a
tangent to the circle, (9. 2.). But if the given point A
be without the circle, (fig. 103.) draw AC to the cen¬
tre, and bisect AC in O, and on O as a centre, with
OA or OC as a radius, describe a circle which will cut
the given circle in two points D and D'; join AD
and AD', and each of the lines AD, AD', will be
a tangent to the circle.
For, draw the radii CD, CD', then each of the
angles ADC, AD'C is a right angle, (17. 2.) j there¬
fore AD and AD' are both tangents to the circle
(9. 2.).
Cor. The tangents AD, AD' are equal to one
another, (17. 1.)
Problem Xl.
To inscribe a circle in a given triangle ABC. Fig. 104.
Bisect A and B any two angles of the triangle by
the straight lines AO, BO, which meet each other in
O j from O draw OD, OE, OF, perpendiculars to its
sides j these lines shall be equal to one another.
For in the triangles ODB, OEB, the angles ODB
=OEB, and the angle OBD=:OBE; therefore the
remaining angles BOD, BOE, are equal; and as the
side DB is common to both triangles, they are equal to
one another, (6. 1.), therefore the side OD=OE;
in the same manner it may be demonstrated, that OD
“OF j therefore the lines OD, OE, OF, are equal to
one another, and consequently a circle described on O
as a centre, with OD as a radius, will pass through E
and F j and as the sides of the triangle are tangents to
the circle, (9. 2.) it will be inscribed in the triangle.
Problem XII.
Upon a given straight line AB, to describe a seg-Fig. 105.
4 N 2 ment
652
Problems. ment of a circle that may contain an angle equal
v—' to a given angle C.
Produce AB towards D, and at the point B make
the angle DBE equal to the given angle C j draw BO
perpendicular to BE, and GO perpendicular to the
middle of AB, meeting BO in O j on O as a centre,
with OB as a radius, describe a circle, which will pass
through A, and AMB shall be the segment required.
For since FE is perpendicular to BO, FE is a tan¬
gent to the circle, therefore the angle EBD (which is
equal to C by construction) is equal to any angle
AMB in the alternate segment, (18. 2.).
Problem XIII.
Fig. 106. To divide a straight line, AB, into any propofed
Fig. 107- number of equal parts *, or into parts having to
each other the same ratios that given lines have.
First, Eet it be proposed to divide the line AB,
(fig. 106.) into five equal parts. Through the extre¬
mity A draw an indefinite line AG, take AC of any
magnitude, and take CD, DE, EF, and IG, each
equal to AC, that is, take AG equal to five times
AC •, join GB, and draw Cl parallel to GB, the line
AI shall be one-fifth part of AB, and AI being taken
five times in AB, the line AB shall be divided into
five equal parts.
For since Cl is parallel to GB, the sides AG and
AB are cut proportionally in C and I •, but AC is the
fifth part of AG ; therefore AI is the fifth part of AB.
Next, let it be proposed to divide AB (fig. 107.) in¬
to parts, having to each other the ratios that the lines
P, Q, R, have. Through A draw AG, and in AG
take AC=P, CD=Q, DE=zR; join EB, and draw
Cl and DK parallel to EB ; the line AB shall be
divided as required.
For, because of the parallels Cl, DK, EB, the parts
AI, IK, KB, have to each other the same ratios that
the parts AC, CD, DE have, (17. 4.) which parts are
by construction equal to the given lines P, Q, 11.
Problem XIV.
Fig r s. To find a fourth proportional to three given lines,
A, B, C.
Draw two straight lines DE, DF, containing any
angle j on DE take DArrA, and DB=B, and on
DF take DC—C; join AC, and draw BX parallel to
AC j then, BX shall be the fourth proportional re¬
quired.
For, because BX is parallel to AC, DA : DB ::
DC : DX (17. 4.) that is, A : B :: C : DX, there¬
fore DX is a fourth proportional to A, B, and C.
Cor. The same construction serves to find a third
proportional to two lines A and B j for it is the same
as a fourth proportional to the lines A, B, and C.
Problem XV.
Fig. 100. To find a mean proportional between two straight
lines, A, B.
Upon any straight line DF take DE=A, and EF
Sect, |j
r=B •, and on DF as a diameter describe a semicircle prob!f?
DCF} draw EG perpendicular to DF, meeting the ry
circle in G ; the line EG shall be the mean proportional
required.
For, if DG, EG, be joined, the angle DGF is a
right angle, (17. 2.) therefore, in the right-angled tri¬
angle DGF, GE is a mean proportional between DE
and EF, (23. 4.).
Problem XVI.
To divide a given straight line AB into two parts, Fig. u-J
fo that the greater may be a mean proportional
between the whole line and the other part.
At B, one of the extremities of the line, draw BC
perpendicular to AB, and equal to the half of AB y
on C as a centre, with CB as a radius, describe a cir¬
cle ; join AC, meeting the circle in D ; make AFrr
AD, and AB shall be divided at F in the manner re¬
quired.
For since AB is perpendicular to the radius, it is a
tangent to the circle (9. 2.), and if AC be produced to
meet the circle in E, AB : AF :: AE: AB, (30. 4.) and
by division, AB—AF : AF :: AE—AB ; AB ; but
AB—AF—BF, and since DE=2BC=AB1 therefore
AE—AB=AD=AF, therefore BF : AF :: AF :
AB.
Scholium.
When a line is divided in this manner it is said to be
divided in extreme and mean ratio.
Problem XVII.
To make a square equivalent to a given parallelo-Fig. in
gram or to a given triangle. fig-^3
First, Let ABCD he a given parallelogram,
(fig. 112.) the base of which isAB, and altitude DE j
find XY a mean proportional between AB and DE,
(by problem 15.) and XY shall be the side of the
square required.
For since by construction AB : XY :: XY : DE,
therefore, XY2=AB xDE (8. 4.) = parallelogram
ABCD (5. 4.).
Next, let ABC be a given triangle (fig. 113.) BC
its base, and AD its altitude j find XY a mean pro¬
portional between half the base and the altitude, and
XY shall be the side of the square required.
For since 4BC : XY :: XY: AD ; therefore (S. 4.)
XY,z=4BC X AD—triangle ABC (6. 4.).
Problem XVIII.
Upon a given line EF, to construct a rectangle Fig. m
EFGX equivalent to a given rectangle ABCD.
Find a fourth proportional to the three lines EF,
AB and AD 5 (by problem 14.) draw EX, perpendi¬
cular to EF, and equal to that fourth proportional,
and complete the rectangle EFGX, which will have
the magnitude required.
For since EF : AB :: AD : EX, therefore (8. 4*)
EE xEX=AB X AD, that is, the rectangle EFGX
is equal to the rectangle ABCD.
geometry.
Problem
IMi:. V. G E O M
3l|—^ Problem XIX,
rig I. To make a triangle equivalent to a given polygon
ABODE. 76
First, draw the diagonal CE, so as to cut off the
triangle CDE ; draw DG parallel to CE, to meet AE
produced in G; join CG, and the given polygon
ABCDE shall be equivalent to another polygon ABCG
which has one side fewer.
For since DG is parallel to CE, the triangle CGE
is equivalent to the triangle CDE, (2. cor. 2. 4.) to
each add the polygon ABCE, and the polygon
ABCDE shall be equivalent to the polygon ABCG.
In like manner, if the diagonal CA be drawn into
BF parallel to CA, meeting EA produced, and CF
be joined, the triangle CFA is equivalent to the tri¬
angle CBA, and thus the polygon ABCDE is trans¬
formed to the triangle CFG.
In this way a triangle may be found equivalent to
any other polygon, for by transforming the figure into
another equivalent figure that has one side fewer, and
repeating the operation, a figure will at last be found
which has only three sides.
Scholium.
As a square may be found equivalent to a triangle,
by combining this problem with Prob. XVII. a square
may be found equivalent to any rectilineal figure what¬
ever.
Problem XX.
P], Upon a given line FC to construct a polygon simi-
ccii. lar to a given polygon ABCDE.
Fij.!'
Draw the diagonals AC, AD ; at the point F,
make the angle GFHrrBAC, and at the point G,
make the angle FGHrrABC; thus a triangle FGH
will be constructed similar to ABC. Again, on FH
construct in like manner a triangle Fill, similar to
ADC and similarly situated ; and on FI construct a
triangle FKI similar to AED and similarly situated ;
and these triangles FGH, FHI, FIK, shall form a po¬
lygon FGHIK similar to ABCDE (26. 4.)«
Problem XXI.
To inscribe a square in a given circle.
[ Draw two diameters AC, BD, so as to intersect
each other at right angles ; join the extremities of the
diameters A, B, C, D, and the figure ABCD shall be
a square inscribed in the circle.
For the angles AOB, BOC, &c. being all equal, the
chords AB, BC, CD, DA are equal; and as each of
the angles of the figure ABCD is in a semicircle, it is
a right angle, (17. 2.) therefore the figure is a square.
Problem XXII.
%ut To inscribe a regular hexagon and also an equila-
lateral triangle in a given circle.
From any point A in the circumference, apply AB
E T B Y.
and BC each equal to AO the radius; draw the three
diameters AD, BE, CF, and join their adjacent ex¬
tremities by the lines AB, BC, &c. and the figure
ABCDEF thus formed is the hexagon required.
For the triangles AOB, BOC being by construc¬
tion equilateral, each of the angles AOB, BOC is
one-third ot two right angles, (4. cor. 24. 1.) and
since AOB-j-BOC-f- COD ~ two right angles, therefore
COD one third of two right angles, therefore the
three angles AOB, BOC, COD, are equal, and as
these are equal to the angles AOF, FOE, EOD,
the six angles at the centre are all equal ; therefore,
the chords AB, BC, CD, DE, EF, FA are all equal ;
thus the figure is equilateral. It is also equiangular,
for the angles FAB, ABC, &c. are in equal seg¬
ments, each having for its base the chord of two-sixths
of the circumference, therefore, the angles, A, B, &c.
are equal (15. 2.).
If straight lines he drawn joining A, C, E, the ver¬
tices of the alternate angles of the hexagon, there will
be formed an equilateral triangle inscribed in a circle;
as is sufficiently evident.
Scholium.
As the form of reasoning by which it has been shewn
that an equilateral hexagon inscribed in a circle is also
equiangular, will apply alike to any equilateral poly¬
gon : it may be inferred that every equilateral polygon
inscribed in a circle is also equiangular.
Problem XXIII.
To inscribe a regular pentagon in a given circle. Fig- 117.
Draw any radius AO, and divide it into two parts
AF, FO, such, that AO : OF :: OF: AF ; (16.)
from A place AG in the circumference equal to OF ;
join OG, and draw the chord AHB perpendicular to
OG, the chord AB shall be a side of the pentagon re¬
quired.
Join GF, and because AO : OF :: OF : AF, and
that AG —OF, therefore, AO : AG :: AG : AF ;
now the angle A is common to the two triangles OAG,
GAF, and it has been shewm that the sides about the
angle in the two triangles are proportionals ; therefore
(22. 4.) the triangles are similar, and the triangle
AOG being isosceles, the triangle AGF is also iso¬
sceles, so that AG = GF; hut AG = FO, (by construc¬
tion) therefore, GF=FO, and the angle FOGrrFGO,
and FOG + FGO — 2FOG; hut AFG = FOG -j-
FGO, (23. I.) and AFG — FAG, therefore FAGr;
2 FOG; hence in the isosceles triangle AOG, each of
the angles at the base is double the vertical angle
AOG, therefore the sum of all the angles is equal to
five times the vertical angle AOG ; but the sum of all
the angles is equal to two right angles, (24. 1.) there¬
fore the angle AOG is one fifth of two right angles,
and consequently AOB 2 AOG zr two-fifths of two
right angles equal one-fifth of four right angles, there-
fore the arch AB is one-fifth of the whole circumfer¬
ence. If we now suppose straight lines BC, CD, DE,
to be applied in the circle each equal to AB, the
chord of one-fifth of the circumference, and AE to be
joined, the figure thus formed will be an equilateral
pentagon, and it is also equiangular (Schol. 22.).
Problem
654
Of the
Quadrature
of the
Circle.
Problem XXIV.
GEOMETRY. Sect. |
angles TOH=NOH ; now B is the middle of the Of; j
arch TN, therefore OH passes through B ; and in the^uad
Having given ABCD, See. a regular polygon in¬
scribed in a circle, to describe a regular polygon
of the same number of sides about the circle.
Draw GH a tangent to the circle at T the middle
of the arch AB ; do the same at the middle of each of
the other arches BC, CD, Sec. these tangents shall
form a regular polygon GHIX., See. described about
the circle.
Join OG, OH, &c. also OT and ON. In the tri¬
angles OTH, ONH, the side OT=ON, and OH is
common to both, and OBH, ONH, are right angles,
therefore the triangles are equal (17* 10 an(i ^ie
same manner it appears that I is in the line OC produ-
ced, &c. Now because OT bisects the arch AB it is <
perpendicular to the chord AB (6. 2.), therefore GH
is parallel to AB (9. 2. and 18. I.), and HI to BC,
therefore the angle GHO—ABO, and IHQ—CBO,
and hence GHI = ABC j and in like manner it ap¬
pears, that HIKirBCD, &c, therefore the angles of
the circumscribed polygon are equal to those of the
inscribed polygon. And because of the parallels, GH :
AB :: OH : OB, and HI : BC :: OH : OB, there¬
fore, GH : AB :: HI : BC; but AB—BC ; there¬
fore GH=HI. For the same reason HIzrlK, &c,
therefore, the polygon is regular, and similar to the in¬
scribed polygon.
SECT. VI. OE THE QUADRATURE OE THE CIRCLE.
Axiom.
Fig. 1*0. IF ABC be an arch of a circle, and AD, CD be
two tangents at its extremities, intersecting each other
in D ; the sum of the tangents AD, DC is greater
than the arch ABC.
Fig. 118. Cor. Hence the perimeter of any polygon described
about a circle, is greater than the circumference of the
circle.
Proposition I. Theorem.
Fig. 119. Equilateral polygons, ABCDEF, GHIKLM, of
the same number of sides inscribed in circles
are similar, and are to one another as the squares
of the radii of the circles.
As each of the polygons is by hypothesis equilateral,
it will also be equiangular (Schol. 22. 5.). Let us
suppose, for example, that the polygons are hexagons j
then, as the sum of the angles is the same in both, viz.
eight right angles (25. 1.), the angle A will be one-
sixth part of eight right angles, and the angle G will
be the same j therefore An:G ', in like manner B=H,
CrrrK, &c. and as the figures are equilateral, AB :
GH :: BC : HI :: CD : IK, &c. therefore (2. def. 4.)
the figures are similar. Draw AO, BO, GP, HP to
the centres of the circles j then, because the angle
AOB is the same part of four right angles that the arch
AB is of the whole circumference •, and the angle
GHP the same part of four right angles that GH is of
the whole circumference (13. 2.) the angles AOB,
GPH are each the same part of four right angles 5
therefore they are equal •, the isosceles triangles AOB,
GPH are therefore similar, (22. 4.) and consequently
AB : GH :: AO : GP, therefore (9. and 27. 4.) po¬
lygon ABCDEF : polygon GHIKLM :: AOa : GP*.
Prop. II. Theorem.
Fig. i*r. A circle being given, two similar polygons may be
found, the one inscribed in the circle, and the
other described about it, which shall differ from
each other by a space less than any given space.
Let AG be the side of a square equal to the given
space ; and let ABG be such an arch of the given cir¬
cle, that AG is its chord. Bisect the fourth part of
the circumference, (5. 5.) then bisect one of its halves,
and proceed in this manner, till, by repeated bisec¬
tions, there will at length be found an arch AB less
than AG. As the arch thus found will be contained
in the circumference a certain number of times exactly,
its chord AB is the side of a regular figure inscribed in
the circle; apply lines in the circle, each equal to AB,
thus forming the regular figure ABC, &c. and describe
a regular figure DEF, &c. of the same number of sides
about the circle. Then, the excess of the circumscri¬
bed figure above the inscribed figure shall be less than
the square upon AG. For draw lines from D and E
to O the centre ; these lines will pass through A and
B (241 5.) ; also, a line drawn from O, to H the
point of contact of the line DE, will bisect AB, and
be perpendicular to it 5 and AB will be parallel to
DE. Draw the diameter AL, and join BL, which
will be parallel to HO (18. 4.). Put P for the cir¬
cumscribed polygon, and p for the inscribed polygon;
then, because the triangles ODH, OAK are evidently
like parts of P and p, T* : p :: ODH : OAK (1. 3.) j
but the triangles ODH, OAK being similar, ODH :
OAK :: OH* OK* (25. 4.), and on account of
the similar triangles OAK, LAB, OA* or OH* :
OK* :: LA* : LB* (20. and 9. 4.); therefore, P ::
LAa : LBa, and by division and inversion, P : P—p ::
LA3 : LA*—LB*, or AB*; but LAE, that is, the
square described about the circle, is greater than the
equilateral polygon of eight sides described about the
circle, because it contains that polygon, and for the
same reason the polygon of eight sides is greater than
the polygon of sixteen sides, and so on ; therefore LA*
•^'P, and as it has been proved that P : P-—p:: LA*:
ABa, of which proportion, the first term P is less than
the third LA*; therefore (2. 3.) the second P—f is
less than the fourth AB*, but AB'^lAG8, therefore
F—P^lAG>.
Cor. 1. Because the polygons P and p differ from
one another more than either of them differs from the
circle, the difference between each ol them, and the
circle, is less than the given space, viz. the square of
AG. And therefore, however small any space may
be,
So VI.  
0 e be, a polygon may be inscribed in the circle, and ano-
[aJiure ther described about it, each of which shall differ from
the circle by less than the given space.
, Cor. 2. A space which is greater than any polygon
that can be inscribed in a circle, but which is less than
any polygon that can be described about it, is equal to
the circle itself.
Prop. III. Theorem.
The area of any circle is equal to a rectangle con¬
tained by the radius, and a straight line equal
to half the circumference.
GEOMETRY. g55
. Cor. 2. A circle described .with the hypothenuse of a of the
rig it-angled triangle as a radius, is equal to two circles Quadrature
described with the other two sides as radii. Let the sides of lhe
of the triangle be a, b and the bypothenuse ht and let the CircIe-
circles described with these lines as radii be A, B and H. ’'““"V——'
because A : H :: a2 : h*
and B : H ; h*,
therefore A + B : H :: : h% (8. 3.)
but (13.4.), therefore A-{-B=:H.
Prop. V. Problem.
Let ABC, &c. he any equilateral polygon inscrib¬
ed in the circle, and DEF, &c. a similar polygon de¬
scribed about it j draw lines from the extremities of
AB and DE a side of each polygon to O the centre ;
and let OKH be perpendicular to these sides. Put P
for the perimeter of the polygon DEF, &c. and p for
the perimeter of the polygon ABC, &c. and n for the
number of the sides of each. Then, because n X |DE
=4P, «XiDExOH=fPxOH, but «xfDEx
OH=«X triangle DOE = polygon DEF, &c. there¬
fore, fP x OH = polygon DEF, &c.; and in like
manner it appears, that £y>xOK= polygon ABC,
&c. Now let Q denote the circumference of the
circle, then, because and OH-^OK, there¬
fore fQ x OHT^-fp x OK, that is iQxOH is great¬
er than the inscribed polygon. Again, because fQ
-^fP (axiom), therefore X OH^ifP x OH, that
is> i Q X OH is less than the circumscribed polygon:
Thus it appears that |Qx OH is greater than any po¬
lygon inscribed in the circle, but less than any polygon
described about it j therefore, -£Qx OH is equal to the
circle (2.).
Prop. IV. Theorem.
Fig, i! The areas of circles are to one another as the
squares of their radii.
Let ABCDEF and GHIKLM be equilateral po¬
lygons of the same number of sides inscribed in the cir¬
cles, and OA, PG their radii; and let Q be such a
space, that AO* : GP* circle ABD : Q ; then, be¬
cause AO* : GP2 :: polygon ABCDEF : polygon
GHIKLM, and AO* : GP* :: circle ABE ; Q, there¬
fore polygon ABCDEF : polygon GHIKLM :: cir¬
cle ABE : Q; but circle ABE'^’polygon ABCDEF,
therefore Q'^' polygon GHIKLM ; that is, Q is
greater than any polygon inscribed in the circle GHL.
In the same manner it is demonstrated that Q is less
than any polygon described about the circle GHL j
therefore Q is equal to the circle GHL (2.). And
because AO2 : GP4 :: circle ABD : Q, therefore
AO* : GP2 :: circle ABE : circle GHL.
Cor. 1. The circumferences of circles are to one ano¬
ther as their radii. Put M for half the circumference
of the circle ABE, and N for half the circumference
of GKL j then, circle ABE : circle GHL :: AO* :
GP2; but |Mx AO= circle ABE, also jNxGP—
circle GHL, (3.) therefore -jMX’AO : fNxGP ::
AO* : GP*, and by alternation ^MxAO : AO2::
iNxGP : GP2, therefore (3. 4.) : AO :: *N :
GP, and again by alternation fM : fN :: AO : GP,
therefore M ; N :: AO ; GP.
Having given the area of a regular polygon inscrib-Fig. **:,
ed in a circle, and also the area of a similar po¬
lygon described about it; to find the areas of
regular inscribed and circumscribed polygons,
each of double the number of sides.
Let AB be the side of the given inscribed polygon,
and EF parallel to AB that of the similar circumscrib¬
ed polygon, and C the centre of the circle ; if the chord
AM, and the tangents AP, BQ be drawn, the chord
AM shall be the side of the inscribed polygon of double
the number of sides; and PQ or 2 PM that of the simi¬
lar circumscribed polygon. Put A for the area of the
polygon, of which AB is a side, and B for the area of
the circumscribed polygon ; also a for the area of the
polygon of which AM is a side, and b for the area of the
similar circumscribed polygon; then A and B are by
hypothesis known, and it is required to find a and b.
I. The triangles ACD, ACM, which have a com¬
mon vertex A, are to one another as their bases CD,
CM; besides, these triangles are to one another as the
polygons, of which they form like parts, therefore A: <7 ::
CD : CM. The triangles, CAM, CME, which have a
common vertex M, are to each other as their bases CA,
CE; they are also to one another as the polygons a and
B, of which they are like parts; therefore, <1 : B :: CA :
CE ; hut because of the parallels DA, ME, CD : CM
:: CA : CE ; therefore, A : n :: a : B; therefore, the
polygon c, which is one of the two required, is a mean
proportional between the two known polygons A and-
B, so that Q—sJA X B.
II. The triangles CPM, CPE, having the same alti¬
tude CM, are to one another as PM to PE. But as-
CP bisects the angle A1CE, PM : PE :: CM : CE
(19. 4.) :: CD : CA :: A : a/ therefore, CPM :
CPE :: A : a; and consequently CPM-4-CPE, or
CME : CPM :: A + a : A, and CME : 2 CPAI ::
A-fa : 2 A; hut CAIE and 2 CPM, or CMPA, are
to one another as the polygons B and b, of which they
are like parts; therefore, A-f a : 2A B : A Now-
the polygon a has been already found, therefore by this
last proportion the polygon b is determined t that is,
b~ 2 A X B
A-fa
Prop. VI. Problem.
To find nearly the ratio of the circumference o£
a circle to its diameter.
Let the radius of the circle m, then,, the sides o£
the inscribed square being the hypothenuse of a right-
angled triangle of which-the radii are the sides, (see
fig, .
6$6
geometry.
ficr. II r.) the area of the Inscribed square will be 2 •,
(12. a.) and the circumscribed square, being the square
of the diameter, will be 4. Now, retaining the notation
of last problem, if we make A=2 and 6=4, the formulae
a=:VA^B,b=-t4^ gives us 0=2.8284271, &c.
the area of the inscribed octagon, and ^=3^3137085,
&c. the area of the circumscribed octagon. By substi¬
tuting these numbers In the formulae, instead of A and
B, we shall obtain the areas of the inscribed and circum¬
scribing polygons of 16 sides 5 and thence we may find
those of 32 sides, and so on as in the following table:
N° of sides. Ins. Polygons.
4 2.0000000
8 2.8284271
36 3.0614674
32 3.1214451
64 3*i365485
128 3.1403311
256 3.1412772
512
1024 3.1415729
2048
4096 3.1415914
8192 3.1415923
16384 3.1415925
32768 3.1415926
Cir. Polygons.
4.0000000
3-3i37o85
3.1825979
3.1517249
3.1441184
3.1432236
3-I4I7504
3.1416221
3.1416025
3.i4i5928
3-14i5927
3.1415926
Hence.it appears that the areas of a regular polygon of
32768 sides inscribed in the circle, and of a simi-
Sect. 'I lt
lar polygon described about it, differ so little from
each other, that the numbers which express them are
the same as far as the eighth decimal place. And as
the circle is greater than the one polygon, and less than
the other, its area will be nearly 3.1415926. But the
area is the product of the radius and the half of the cir¬
cumference j therefore, the radius being unity, half the
circumference is 3.1415926 nearly j and the radius is
to half the circumference, or the diameter is to the cir¬
cumference, nearly as 1 to 3.1415926.
Scholium.
In this way the ratio of the diameter to the circum¬
ference may be found to any degree of accuracy ; but
neither by this, nor any other method yet known, can
the ratio be exactly determined.
Archimedes, by means of inscribed and circum¬
scribed polygons of 96 sides, found that the diameter is
to the circumference as 7 to 22, nearly, which ratio is
nearer to the truth than can be expressed by any smaller
numbers; and Metius found it to be more nearly as
j 13 to 355. Both of these expressions are convenient
on account of the smallness of the numbers, but later
mathematicians have carried the approximation to a
much greater degree of accuracy. Thus, it has been
found that the diameter being 1, the circumference is
greater than 3.1415926535897932, but less than the
same number having its last figure increased by unity}
and some have even had the patience to carry the ap¬
proximation as far as the 150th place of decimals.
SECT. VII.
Definitions.
I. A straight line is perpendicular, or at right angles,
to a plane, when it is perpendicular to every straight
line meeting it in that plane. The plane is also per¬
pendicular to the line.
II. A 1 ine \s parallel to a plane, when they cannot
meet each other, although both be produced. I he
plane is also parallel to the line.
III. Parallel planes are such as cannot meet each
other, though produced.
IV. It will be demonstrated (Theor. 3.) that the com¬
mon section of two planes is a straight line } this being
premised, the inclination of two planes is the angle con¬
tained by two straight lines drawn perpendicular to the
line, which is their common section, from any point in
it, the one perpendicular being drawn in the one plane,
and the other in the other plane.
This angle may be either acute or obtuse.
V. If it be a right angle the two planes are perpen¬
dicular to each other.
VI. A solid angle is that which is made by the meet¬
ing of more than two plane angles, which are not in
the same plane, in one point. Thus the solid angle
S is formed by the plane angles ASB, BSC, CSD,
DSA.
Theorem I.
One part of a straight line cannot be in a plane
and another part above it.
For from the definition of a plane (7. def. I.) it is
manifest that if a straight line coincide with a plane in
two points it must be wholly in the plane.
Theorem II.
Two straight lines which cut each other in a plane piat
determine its position} that is, the plane can co- ccxi
incide with these lines only in one position.
Det the straight lines AB, AC cut each other in
A } conceive a plane to pass through AB, and to be
turned about that line, till it pass through the point C}
and this it can manifestly do only in one position ; then,
as the points A and C are in the plane, the whole line
AC must be in the plane} therefore there is only one
position in which the plane can coincide with the same
two lines AB, AC.
Cor. Therefore a triangle ABC, or three points
A, B, C not in a straight line, determine the position
of a plane.
Theorem III.
If two planes AB, CD intersect each other, theirfig. 1
intersection is a straight line.
Det E and F be two points in the line of common
section, and let a straight line EF be drawn between
them } then the line EF must be in the plane AB,
\geometry.
(7. def^ 1.) and the same line must also be in the same
plane CD, therefore it must be the common section of
them both.
Theorem IV.
If a straight line AP is perpendicular to two
straight lines PB, PC at P the point of their
intersection; it will also be perpendicular to the
plane MN, in which these lines are.
Draw any other line PQ in the plane MN, and
from Q any point in that line draw QD parallel to
PB ; make DC=DP •, join CQ, meeting PB in B •
and join AB, AQ, AC. Because DQ is parallel to
PB, and PDrzDC ; therefore BQ=QC, and BC is
bisected in Q : Hence in the triangle BAC,
AB2-f AC*=2 AQ*-f.2 BQ*, (16. 4.)
and in the like manner, in the triangle PBC,
PBi + PC*-2PQ* + 2CQ2j
BC or BD is perpendicular to the plane passing through
the lines AD and PD, or AP and DE ; hence BD is
perpendicular to DE, but PD is also perpendicular to
JJfc., (19. 1.) therefore DE is perpendicular to the two
lines DP, DB j and therefore it is perpendicular to
the plane MN passing through them.
Cor. 1. Conversely, if the straight lines AP, DE
are perpendicular to the same plane MN, they are pa¬
rallel ; for if not, through D draw a parallel to AP;
this parallel will be perpendicular to the plane MN*
(by the theorem) therefore, from the same point D
two perpendiculars may be drawn to a plane, which is
impossible (4.).
Cor. 2. Two straight lines A and B which are pa¬
rallel to a third line C, though not in the same plane,
aie parallel to each other. For suppose a plane to be
perpendicular to the line C, the lines A and B parallel
to this perpendicular are perpendicular to the same
plane ; therefore, by the preceding corollary, they are
parallel between themselves.
therefore, taking equal quantities from equal quantities,
that is, subtracting the two last quantities, which are put
equal to each other, from the two first, and observing
that as APB, APC are by hypothesis right-angled tri¬
angles, AB*—BP*=:AP% and AC*—CP2—AP*, we
have
AP2 4- AP*= 2 AQ!—2 PQS,
and therefore AP*=:AQ*—PQ*, or AP2-fPQ*=: AQ* •,
therefore the triangle APQ is right-angled at p’
(schol. 15. 4.) and consequently AP is perpendicular
to the plane MN (Def. 1.).
Cor. 1. The perpendicular AP is shorter than any
oblique line AQ, therefore t measures the distance of
tlie point A from the plane.
Cor. 2. From the same point P in a plane no more
than one perpendicular can be drawn. For if it be pos¬
sible that there can be two perpendiculars, conceive a
plane to pass through them, ami to intersect the plane
MN in the straight line PQ 5 then these perpendicu¬
lars will be in the same plane, and both perpendicular
to the same line PQ, at the same point P in that line,
which is impossible.
It is also impossible that from a point without a plane
two perpendiculars can be drawn to the plane $ for if
the straight lines AP, AQ could be two such perpendi¬
culars, then the triangle APQ would have two right
angles, which is impossible.
Theorem V.
If a straight line AP be perpendicular to a plane
MN, every straight line DE parallel to AP is
perpendicular to the same plane.
Let a plane pass through the parallel lines AP, DE,
and intersect the plane MN in the line PD ; through
D draw BC at right angles to PD ; take DCr=DB,
and join PB, PC, AB, AC, AD. Because DBzrDC,
therefore PB~PC ; (cor. 4. 1.) and because AP is per¬
pendicular to the plane MN, so that APB, APC are
right angles, AB=AC, (cor. 5. 1.) therefore ABC is an
isosceles triangle ; and since its base BC is bisected at
D, BC is perpendicular to AD j (schol. ir. 1.) but by
construction BC is perpendicular to PD ; therefore (4.)
VoL. IX. Part II. I
Theorem VI.
Two planes MN, PQ, perpendicular to the same Fig. 127
straight line AB, are parallel to each other.
For, if they can meet each other, let O be a point
common to both, and join OA, OB; then the line
AB, which is perpendicular to the plane MN, must be
perpendicular to AO, a line drawn in the plane MN
from the point in which AB meets that plane. For
the same reason AB is perpendicular to BO ; there¬
fore OA, OB are two perpendiculars drawn from the
same point O, to the same straight fine AB, which is
impossible.
Theorem VII.
The intersections EF, GH of two parallel planes r* I28.
MN, PO with a third plane FG, are parallel.
For if the lines EF, GH, situated in the same plane,
are not parallel, they must meet if produced ; there¬
fore, the pianes MN, PQ, in which they are, must also
meet, which is contrary to the hypothesis of their being
parallel.
Theorem VIII.
Any straight line AB, perpendicular to MN, one Fig
of two parallel planes MN, PO, is also perpen- ' 7'
dicular to PQ the other plane.
From B draw any straight line BC in the plane
PQ, and let a plane pass through the lines AB, BC,
and meet the plane MN in the line AD, then AD
will be parallel to BC, (7.), and since AB is perpen¬
dicular to the plane MN, it must be perpendicular to
the line AD, therefore it is also perpendicular to BC;
(19. 1.) hence (Def. I.) the line AB is perpendicular
to the plane PQ.
Theorem IX.
Parallel straight lines EG, FH, comprehended be-jr;,,. I1?
tween two parallel planes MN, PQ, are equal.
Let a plane pass through the lines EG, FH, and
4 O meet
653
G E O M
meet the parallel planes in EF and GH ; then EF
and GH are parallel (7.) as well as EG and i tl J
therefore, EGHF is a parallelogram, and Er
Cor. Hence two parallel planes are everywhere at
the same distance from each other. For, it Ei and
GH are perpendicular to the two planes, they are pa¬
rallel, (I. cor. 5.) therefore they are equal.
Theorem X.
Fig. ,2 0. If two straight lines C A, E A, meeting one another,
be parallel to two other lines DB, FB, that meet
one another, though not in the same plane with
the first two} the first two and the other two
shall contain equal angles, and the plane passing
through the first two shall be parallel to the
plane passing through the other two.
Take AC=:BD, AEztBF, and join CE, DF, AB,
CD, EF. Because AC is equal and parallel to BD,
the figure ABDC is a parallelogram 5 therefore, CD
is equal and parallel to AB. For a similar reason EL
is equal and parallel to AB j therefore also CE is equal
and parallel to DF (2 cor. 5. and 28. I.) therefore
the triangles CAE, DBF are equal, (10. I.) hence the
angle CAE~DBF.
In the second place, the plane ACE is parallel to
the plane BDF : For suppose that the plane parallel to
BDI", passing through the pomt A, meets the lines CD,
EE in any other points than C and E, (for example in
G and H), then (9.) the three lines AB, GD, FIT
are equal j but the three lines AB, CD, EF have been
shewn to be equal j therefore, CD^GD, and LIT—
EL", which is absurd, therefore the plane ACE is pa¬
rallel to BDF.
Theorem XI.
Fig. 130. If a straight line AP be perpendicular to a plane
MN, any plane APB, passing through AP, shall
be perpendicular to the plane MN.
Let BC be the intersection of the planes AB, MN j
if in the plane MN the line DE be drawn perpendicular
to BP, the line AP, being perpendicular to the plane
MN, shall be perpendicular to each of the straight lines
BC, DE y therefore the angle APD is a right angle •,
now PA and PD are drawn in the planes AB, MN
perpendicular to their common section, therefore
(5. Def.) the planes AB, MN are perpendicular to
each other.
Scholium.
When three straight lines, such as AP, BP, DP, are
perpendicular to each other, each is perpendicular to
the plane of the two other lines.
Theorem XII.
Fig. 130. If the plane AB is perpendicular to the plane MN ;
and in the plane AB a straight line PA be
drawn perpendicular to BP, the common inter¬
section of the planes, then shall PA be perpen¬
dicular to the plane MN.
For, if in the plane MN, a line PD be drawn per¬
pendicular to PB, the angle APD shall be a right an¬
gle, because the planes are perpendicular to each other,
therefore, the line AP is perpendicular to the two
E T R Y. Sect. II,
lines PB, PD, therefore it is perpendicular to their
plane MN.
Cor. If the plane AB be perpendicular to the plane
MN, and from any point P, in their common inter¬
section, a perpendicular he drawn to the plane MN; this
perpendicular shall be in the plane AB ; for if it is not,
a perpendicular AP may be drawn in the plane AB
to the common intersection BP, which will be at the
same time perpendicular to the plane MN; therefore,
at the same point P, there may be two perpendiculars
to a plane NM, which is impossible (4.).
Theorem XIII.
If two planes AB, AD are perpendicular to a third, Fig , j
their common intersection AP is perpendicular
to the third plane.
For, if through the point P, a perpendicular be
drawn to the plane MN, this perpendicular shall be in
the plane AB, and also in the plane AD, (cor. 12.)
therefore it is at their common intersection AP.
Theorem XIV.
If two straight lines be cut by parallel planes, they Fig. \. I
shall be cut in the same ratio.
Let the line AB meet the planes MN, PQ, RS in
A, E, B ; and let CD meet them in C, F, D, then
shall AE : EB :: CF : FD. For draw AD meeting
the plane PQ in G, and join AC, EG, GF, BD j the
lines EG, BD, being the common sections of the plane
of the triangle ABD and the parallel planes PQ, RS,
are parallel (7.), and in like manner it appears, that
AC, GF are parallel j therefore AE : EB (:: AG :
GD) :: CF : FD.
Theorem XV.
If a solid angle be contained by three plane an-Fig.'!, j
gles, the sum of any two of these is greater
than the third.
It is evidently only necessary to demonstrate the
theorem, when the plane angle which is compared with
the sum of the other two is greater than either of
them y for, if it were equal to or less than one of them,
the theorem would be manifest : therefore let S be a
solid angle formed by three plane angles ASB, ASC,
BSC, of which ASB is the greatest. In the plane
ASB make the angle BSD=:BSC ; draw any straight
line ADB, and having taken SC=SD, join AC, BC •,
the triangles BSC, BSD having two sides, and the in¬
cluded angle of the one equal to twTo sides, and the in¬
cluded angle of the other, each to each, are equal (5. !•)*
therefore BE~BC j now AB^lAC-f-BC, therefore,
taking BD from the first of these unequal quantities,
and BC from the second, we get AD^lAC ; and as
the triangles ASD, ASC have SD“SC, and SA com¬
mon to both, and AD^lAC, therefore (9. 1.) the
angle ASD^ASC j and, adding DSB to the one,
and CSB to the other, ASB^lASC-j-BSC.
Theorem XVI.
If each of two solid angles be contained by three Fig. 3
plane
H|t. VIII. G E O M
olids Plane angles equd to one another, each to each,
Jtedby
the planes in which the equal angles are, have
the same inclination to one another.
Let the angle ASB=DTE, the angle ASC
=DTF, and the angle BSC=ETF 5 the two pi anes
ASB, ASC, shall have to each other the same inclina¬
tion as the two planes DTE, DTF.
Take A any point in SA, and in the two planes
ASB, ASC, draw AB and AC perpendiculars to AS,
then (def. 4.) the angle BAC is the inclination of
these planes ; again, take TD=SA, and in the planes
TDE, TDF draw DE and DF perpendiculars to TD,
and the angle EDF shall be the inclination of these
other planes; join BC, EF. The triangles ASB,
DTE have the side AS=zDT, the angle SAB=:TDE
and ASBrrDTE, therefore the triangles are equal,
and thus AB—DE, and SB=TE : In like manner it
appears that the triangles ASC, DTF are equal, and
therefore, that ACrrDF, and SCrrTF. Now the
triangles BSC, ETF, having BS=TE, SC=TF, and
E T R Y. 659
the angle BSCrrETF, are also equal, and therefore Of Solids
BC=EF; but it has been shewn that ABrrDE, and bounded by
that ACzrDF; therefore the triangles BAC, EDF l>,fUies-
are equal, and consequently the angle BACrzEDF ; ' v"
that is, the inclination of the planes ASB and ASC is
equal to the inclination of the planes DTE and DTF.
In the same manner it may be proved that the other
planes have the same inclination to one another.
Scholium.
If the three plane angles which contain the solid
angles, are equal each to each, and if besides the angles
are also disposed in the same order in the two solid
angles, then these angles when applied to one another
will coincide, and be equal. But if the plane angles
be disposed in a contrary order, the solid angles will
not coincide, although the theorem is equally true in
both cases. In this last case the solid angles are called
Symmetrical angles.
SECT. VIII. OE SOLIDS BOUNDED BY PLANES.
Definitions.
Theorem I.
I. A Soliu is that which has length, breadth, and
thickness.
II. A Prism is a solid contained by plane figures,
of which two that are opposite are equal, similar, and
parallel; and the others are parallelograms.
To construct this solid, let ABCDE be any poly-
Fir, 4. gon : if in a plane parallel to ABC there be drawn
straight lines FG, GH, HI, &c. equal and parallel to
the sides AB, BC, CD, &c. so as to form a polygon
FGHIK equal to ABCDE, and straight lines AF,
EG, CH, &c. be drawn, joining the vertices of the ho¬
mologous angles in the two planes; the planes or faces
ABGF, BCHG, &c. thus formed will be parallelo¬
grams j and the solid ABCDEFGHIK contained by
these parallelograms and the two polygons, is the prism
itself.
III. The equal and parallel polygons ABCDE,
FGHIK are called the Bases of the prism, and the
distance between the bases is its Altitude.
IV. When the base of a prism is a parallelogram,
Fij. and consequently the figure has all its faces parallelo¬
grams, it is called & parallelepiped. A parallelepiped
is rectangular when all its face are rectangles.
V. A Cube is a rectangular parallelepiped contained
six equal squares.
VI. A Pyramid is a solid contained by several
planes, which meet in the same point A, and terminate
in a polygonal plane BCD.
VII. The polygon ABCDE is called the Base of
the pyramid; the point S is its Vertex ; and a perpen¬
dicular let fall from the vertex upon the base is called
its Altitude.
VIII. Two solids are similar, when they are con¬
tained by the same number of similar planes, similarly
situated, and having like inclinations to one another.
PI*
CQy.
by
Two prisms are equal when the three planes which
contain a solid angle of the one are equal to
the three planes which contain a solid angle
of the other, each to each, and are similarly si¬
tuated.
Plate
CGXL1V.
Fig. 134.
Let the base ABCDE be equal to the h&SQ abode,
the parallelogram ABGF equal to the parallelogram
abgf and the parallelogram BCHG equal to the
parallogram bchg; the prism ABCI shall be equal
to the prism abci.
For let the base ABCDE be applied to its equal the
base abode, so that they may coincide with each
other; then, as the three plane angles which form the
solid angle B are equal to the three plane angles which
form the angle b, each to each, viz. ABCn# b c
ABGzzra bg, and GBCzrg b c, and as these angles are
similarly situated, the solid angles B and b are equal
(15. 7.) therefore the side BG shall fall upon the side
bg ; and because the parallelograms ABGF, abgf&tt
equal, the side FG shall fall upon its equal f g; in like
manner it may be shewn, that GH falls upon g h,
therefore the upper base FGHIK coincides entirely
with its equal fg hik, and the two solids coincide with
each other, or occupy the same space, therefore the
prisms are equal.
Scholium.
A prism is entirely determined, when its base
ABCDE is known, and its edge BG is given in mag¬
nitude and position ; for if through the point G, GF be
drawn equal and parallel to AB, and GH equal and
parallel to BC, and the polygon FGHIK be describ¬
ed equal to ABCDE ( 20. 5.), it is evident that the
4 O 2 points
660 GEO M
Of Solids points FKI will have determinate positions ; therefore
bounded by any two prisms constructed with the same data cannot
Planes. unequal.
Theorem II.
In any parallelepiped the opposite planes are equal
and parallel.
From the nature of the solid (4. def.) the bases
ABCD, EFGH are equal parallelograms, and their
sides are parallel, therefore the planes AC, F.G are
parallel; and because AD is equal and parallel to BC,
and AE is equal and parallel to BE, the angle DAE
rrCBF, and the plane DAE is parallel to the plane
CBF, (10. 7.) therefore also the parallelogram DAEH
is equal to the parallelogram CBFG. It may in like
manner be demonstrated, that the opposite parallelo¬
grams ABFE, DCGH are equal and parallel.
Cor. Hence, in a parallelepiped, any one of the six
planes which contain it may be taken for its base.
Theorem III.
Pig. 136. The plane BDHF, which passes through two pa¬
rallel opposite edges BF, DH, of a parallele¬
piped AG, divides it into two triangular prisms
ABDHEF, GHFBCD, equal to one another.
For the triangles ABD, EFH, having their sides
equal and parallel, are equal, and the lateral faces
ABFE, AD HE, BDHF are parallelograms 5 there¬
fore the solid ABDHEF is a prism ; for like reasons
the solid GHFBCD is a prism. Again, because the
plane angles which contain the solid angle at G are
equal to those which contain the solid angle at A, viz.
the angle EGH^DAB, FGC = DAE, and HGC
rrBAE, the planes in which these angles are have the
same inclination to one another, (16. 7.) ; as, however,
these angles are not disposed in the same order, but in
a contrary order, (he solid angles cannot be made to
coincide with one another, and consequently the prisms
cannot lie proved equal by superposition, as in Theo¬
rem I. Their < quality may however he established by
reasoning thus:
The inclination of each of any two adjacent faces of
a prism to the base, and the length of an edge being
given, the prism is evidently restricted to one determi¬
nate magnitude ; and it will evidently have the same
magnitude whichsoever of the two sides of the base it
may stand upon j that is, whether it be constructed
above or below the base. Now if the upper base FGH
of the one prism be applied to the lower base DAB of
the other, so that the sides FG, GH, FH may be upon
the sides DA, AB, DB equal to them, then the prism
GHFBCD will have the position ABDHEF'5 and
the two faces ABF'E' of ADH'E' of the prism below
the base will have each the same inclination to it, as
the equivalent faces ABFE, ADHE of the prism above
the base j and the edge AE' is equal to the edge AE ;
therefore the conditions which determine the magni¬
tude of both prisms are identical, and consequently the
prisms are equal.
E T R Y. Sect. V. [j
Theorem IV.
If two parallelepipeds AG, AL have a common
base ABCD, and have their upper bases in the
same plane, and between the same parallel11£‘ rj ]
straight lines EK, HL, the two parallelepipeds
are equivalent to each other.
Because AE is parallel to BF, and HE to GF,
the angle AEIrrBFK, HEI = GFK, and HEA
= GFB } of these six angles the three first form the
solid angle E, and the three others form the solid
angle F j therefore since the plane angles are equal
each to each, and similarly situated, the solid angles E
and F are equal. Now if the prism AEIDHM he
applied to the prism BFKCGL, so that their bases
AEI, BFK, which are equal, may coincide with each
other, then, because the solid angle E is equal to the
solid angle F, the side EH shall fall upon FG, and
this is all that is necessary to prove that the two prisms
coincide entirely, for the base AEI ami the edge EH
determine the prism AEM, and the base BFK and the
edge FG determine the prism BEL; therefore the prisms
are equal. But if from the solid AEL, the prism AEM
be taken away, there will remain the paralldopiped
AIL ; and if from the same solid AEL, the prism
BEL be taken away, there will remain the parallele¬
piped AEG ; therefore the parallelepipeds AIL, AEG
are equivalent to each other.
Theorem V.
Parallelepipeds upon the same base, and having the>.,
same altitude, are equivalent'to one another.
Let ABCD be the common base of the two paral¬
lelepipeds AG, AL, which, because they have the
same altitude, will have their upper bases in the same
plane ) then, because EE and AB are equal and parallel,
as also IK and AB ; EF is parallel to IK, (cor. 2. 5. 7.)
for a similar reason GF is parallel to LK. Let the
sides EF, IIG, as also the sides LK, 1M, be pro¬
duced, so as to form by their intersections the parallelo¬
gram NOPQ ; it is manifest that this parallelogram is
equal to each of the bases EFGII, IKLM. Now, if
we suppose a third parallelepiped, which, with the same
lower base ABCD, has for its upper base NOPQ, this
third parallelepiped will be equivalent to the parallele¬
piped AG, (4.) for the same reason the third parallele¬
piped will he equivalent to the parallelopipeds AL)
therefore the two parallelopipeds AG, AL, which have
the same base and the same altitude, are equivalent to
one another.
Theorem VI.
Any parallelepiped AG is equivalent to a r^t-pig ,
angular parallelepiped, having the same altitude, 14c.
and an equivalent base.
At the points A, B, C, D, let AI, BK, CL, DM,
be drawn perpendicular to the plane ABCD, and ter¬
minating in the plane of the upper base 5 then, IK,
KL,
or $
butim],
PU,
Fig.li
VIIT» O E O M
JLid* KL, LM, MI, being joined, a parallelepiped AL will
jy il by thus be formed, which will manifestly have its lateral
□L*. faces AK, BL, CM, DI rectangles J and if the base
ut AC is also a rectangle, the solid AL will be a rect¬
angular parallelopiped equivalent to the parallelepiped
AG. But if ABCD is not a rectangle, (fig. 140.)
draw AO and BN perpendicular to CD, and OQ and
NP perpendicular to DC, meeting ML in Q and P •
the solid ABNOIKPQ will manifestly be a rectangu¬
lar parallelopiped, which will be equal to the parallelo¬
piped AL, for they have the same base ABKI, and
the same altitude, viz. AO j therefore the rectangular
parallelopiped AP is equivalent to the parallelopiped
AG, (fig. 139.) and they have the same altitude, and
the base ABNO of the former is equivalent to the base
ABCD of the latter.
E T R Y. 66l
in IQ, thus forming a third parallelopiped AQ, which Of Solids
be compared with each of the parallelepipeds AG, bounded h,
atVutt 6 tW0 S0^S having the same base Planes.
AD HE, are to each other as their altitudes AB, AO, v f
(8.) and, in like manner, the two solids AQ, AK,’
having the same base A OLE, are to each other as
their altitudes AD, AM ; that is,
sol. AQ
sol. AK
solid AG
sol. AQ,
but AB : AO base AC
and AD : AIM:: base AP
AB
AD
AO
AM}
base AP (3. 4.)
base AN,
therefore,
Theorem VII.
Fij 14. Any section NOPQR of a prism, made by a
plane parallel to its base ABCDE, is equal to
the base.
For the parallels AN, BO, CP contained between
the parallel planes ABC, NOP are equal (9. 7.) ; and
thus all the figures ABON, BCPO, &c. are parallelo¬
grams ; hence the side ON=AB, OPrrBC, PQ—CD,
&c. also, the equal sides are parallel, therefore, the
angle ABC = NOP, the angle BCD =r OPQ, &c.
therefore the two polygons ABCDE, NOPQR,’ have*
their sides and angles equal, each to each ; therefore,
they are equal.
Theorem Vllf.
Two rectangular parallelepipeds AG, AL, which
have the same base ABCD, are to each other as
their altitudes AE, AI.
cc:
sol. AG : sol. AQ :: base AC : base AP,
sol. AQ ; sol. AK base AP : base AN,
therefore (7. 3.)
sol. AG. sol. AK :: base AC : base AN.
Theorem X.
Rectangular parallelopipeds are to each other as Fi£r I4J
the products of the numbers proportional to" ^
their bases and altitudes, or as the products of
the numbers proportional to their three dimen¬
sions.
-kET AG be a parallelepiped, tbe three dimensions
of winch are expressed by the lines AB, AD, AE, and
A/L another parallelopiped the dimensions of which are
expressed by the lines AO, AM, AX. Let the two
sohds AG, AZ be so placed that their surfaces may
have a common angle BAE } produce such of the
planes as are necessary so as to form a third parallelopi-
ped AK, having the same altitude as the parallelopi¬
ped AG. By the last proposition
Suppose that the altitudes AE, AI are to each
bther as the numbers p and 7, so that AE will contain
P such equal parts as AI contains q. Let AE and AI
be divided into p and q equal parts respectively, and
let planes pass through the points of division parallel to
the base ABCD ; thus the parallelopiped AG will be
divided into p solids, which will also he parallelopipeds
having equal bases (7.) and equal altitudes, there¬
fore they will he equal among themselves } and in like
manner the parallelopiped AL will he divided into q
tqual solids ; and as each of the solids in AG is equal
to. each of the solids in AL, the parallelopiped AG
will contain p such equal parts as the parallelopiped AL
contains q ; therefore the parallelopiped AG will be to
the parallelopiped AL as the number p to tbe number
7, that is, as AE the altitude of the former to AI the
altitude of the latter.
Theorem IX.
Two rectangular parallelopipeds AG, AK, which
have the same altitude AE, are to each other as
their bases ABCB, AMNO.
Let the two solids be placed, the one by the side 0
n\jrrrer’ aS rePresented ’n tl,e figure, and let the plam
UNKL be produced, so as to meet tbe plaue DCGL
sol. AG : sol. AK :: base AC : base AN,
and by the last theorem but one,
sol. AK : sol. AZ :: AE : AX,
but, considering the bases AC, AN as measured by
numbers, as also the altitudes AE, AX, J
base AC : base AN :: A¥.xbase AC : AMy^base AN
and AE : AX :: AExbase AN : KXybase AN
therefore,
sol. AG : sol. AK :: AE xBase AC : AE Xbase AN,
sol. AK : sol. AZ :: AE xBase AN : AXybase AN,
therefore, (7. 3.)
sol. AG : sol. AZ :> AE X base AC : AXxbase AN }
which proportion, by substituting for the bases AC,
AN their numerical values AB X AD and AOxAM
becomes
sol. AG : *0/. AZ :: AB x AD X AE : AO x AM x AX,
Scholium,
Hence it appears that the product of the base of a
rectangular parallelopiped by its altitude or the product
of its three dimensions, may be taken for its numerical
measure 5
662
of Solids measure j audit is upon this principle that all other
bounded by solids are estimated. When two parallelepipeds are coro-
Plane.'. pared together by means of their bases and altitudes,
' v ~ their bases must be considered as measured by the same
geometry.
Sect. VI.
Theorem XII.
Similar prisms are to one another as the cubes
and their altitudes by the same linear their homologous sides.
Of Sot
bounded*1
Plan«
r1-—Y-i
'Fig.i4
superficial unit, and their altitudes by me same .me*,
unit; thus if P and Q denote two parallelepipeds, and
the base of P contains three such equal spaces as that
of Q contains four-, and the altitude of P contains two
such equal lines, as that of Q contains five, then,
P : Q :: 3X2 : 4X5 :: 6 : 20- .
If all the dimensions of each solid are used in compar¬
ing them together, then the same linear unit
must be
employed in estimating all the dimensions of both so¬
lids 5 thus, if the length, breadth, and height of the
solid P be four, three, and six linear units, respectively;
and those of Q, seven, two, and five of the same unit j
then P : Q :: 4X3X6: 7 X 2X 5 := 72 : 7°- . ,
As lines are compared together by considering now
often each contains some other line taken as a measur¬
ing unit, and surfaces by considering how often each
contains a square whose side is that unit; so solids may
be compared, by considering how often each contains
a cube, the side or edge of which is the same linear
unit. Accordingly, the dimensions of the parallelepi¬
peds P and Q being as we have just now supposed, the
proportion P : Q :: 72 : 70 may be considered as indi¬
cating that P contains 72 such equal cubes as Q con¬
tains 70. _ . . .
The magnitude of a solid, its bulk, or its extension,
constitutes its solidity, or its content; thus we say, that
the solidity or the content of a rectangular paraljelopi-
ped is equal to the product of its base by its altitude}
or to the product of its three dimensions.
Theorem XI.
The solidity of any parallelepiped, or in general
of any prism, is equal to the product of its base
by its altitude.
1. Any parallelepiped is equivalent to a rectangu¬
lar parallelepiped of the same altitude, and an equiva¬
lent base (6.) j and it has been shewn, that the solidity
of such a parallelepiped is equal to the product of its
base and altitude.
2. Every triangular prism is the half of a parallele¬
piped of the same altitude, but having its base double
that of the prism (3.) j therefore, the solidity of the
prism is half that of the parallelepiped, or it is half
the product of the base of the parallelepiped by its al¬
titude, that is, it is equal to the product of the base of
the prism by its altitude.
3. Any other prism may be divided into as many
triangular prisms as the polygon which forms its base
can be divided into triangles, but the solidity of each
of these is equal to the product of its base by their com¬
mon altitude •, therefore, the solidity of the whole prism
is equal to the product of the sum of all their bases by
the common altitude, or it is equal to the product of
the base of the prism, which is the sum of them all, by
its altitude.
Cor. Two prisms having the same altitude are to
each other as their bases j and two prisms having the
same base are to each other as their altitudes.
3
Let AG, IP he two similar prisms, of which AB,
IK are two homologous sides, the prism AG is to the
prism IP as the cube of AB to the cube of IK. Let
E and N be two homologous angles of the prisms, and
ES, NV perpendiculars to the planes of their bases j
join 1>T j take IRrrAE, and in the plane INY draw
PtT perpendicular to IV j then RT shall be perpendi¬
cular to the plane IL (n. and 12. of 7.), also RT
shall be equal to ES j for if the solid angles A and I
were applied the one to the other, the planes which con¬
tain them would coincide (schol. 16. 7.), and the point
E would fall upon the point R, and therefore the per¬
pendicular ES would coincide with the perpendicular
RT (2. cor. 4. 7.). Now the content of a prism being
the product of its base by its altitude (11.), it follows
that prism AG : prism IP :: ESx^«-^ AC :: NY X
base ILj but base AC : base IL :: ABa : IK“ (27* 4*)
and therefore considering the lines expressed by num¬
bers, ES X base AC or RT X base AC : NY x bate
IL :: RT X AB* : NV x IX2 (5. 3.) therefore prism
AG: prism IP :: RTx ABa : NV XIX*; but RT :
NV :: RI or AE : NI (20. 4.) :: AB : IK (def. of
sim. figs.), and consequently RTx AB* : NV X IX* ::
AB* : IX3 (5. 3.) } therefore prism AG : prism IP :’
AB3: IK3.
Cor. Similar prisms are to one another in the tripli¬
cate ratio of the homologous sides. For let Y and Z
be two such lines that AB : IX :: IK : Y :: Y : Z,
then the ratio of AB to Z is triplicate the ratio of AB
to IK (12. def. 3.). Now, since AB : IK :: IK : Y,
therefore AB2 : IK2 :: IK* : Y*, (9. 4.) and, multi¬
plying the antecedents by AB, and consequents by
IK, AB3: IK3 :: ABxIX2 : IKXY* :: ABxIX :
Y*, but Y*=IKx Z (8. 4.) ; therefore AB3 : IK3 ::
AB X IK : IK X Z :: AB : Z, but prism AG : prism
IP :: AB3 : IK3, therefore prism AG : prism IP:: AB :
Z, which last ratio is triplicate the ratio of AB to IK.
Theorem XIII.- a
If a triangular pyramid ABCD be cut by a plane Fig.
bed parallel to its base, the section b edis si¬
milar to the base BCD.
For because the planes bed, BCD are parallel, their
intersections be, BC with a third plane BAC are pa¬
rallel (7. 7.) ; and, for a like reason, cd is parallel to
CD, and dbio DB ; therefore the angle b c rf=BCI),
c d 3=CDB, and d b c=rDBC (10. 7.) j hence the tri¬
angles £ erf, BCD are equiangular, and consequently
similar.
Cor. 1. If two triangular pyramids ABCD, EFGH,
which have equal bases, and equal altitudes, be cut by
planes b c d,fgh that are parallel to the bases, and at
equal distances from them, the sections are equal. lor
conceive the bases of the pyramids to be in the same
plane, then their vertices will be in a plane parallel to
their bases, and the sections, b cd,fgh will also be in
a plane parallel to their bases, therefore, AB : Kb ::
EF :
ct VIII. G E O M
fSoli(]g EF : E/(I4. 7.)> but because tlie the triangles ABC,
tided by A ^ c are similar, AB : A b :: BC : be, and, in like
'lane*, manner EF : E/ :: FG : fg, therefore, BC : be ::
«-y—'FG : fg, and BC2 : b c* :: FG* : fg* (9. 4.) ; but
BC2 : be1 :: triangle BCD : trian. bed, and FG* :
fg1 :: trian. FGH : trian. fgh (25. 4.) ; therefore,
trian. BCD : trian. bed :: trian. FGH : trian. f g h,
but trian. BCDrr^n'ora. FGH (by hyp.) therefore
trian. b c d~ trian. fg h.
Scholium.
It is easy to see that what is here demonstrated of
triangular pyramids, is equally true of polygonal pyra¬
mids having equal bases and altitudes.
Theorem XIV.
I, 145. A series of prisms of the same altitude may be cir¬
cumscribed about any pyramid ABCD, such that
the sum of the prisms shall exceed the pyramid
by a solid less than any given solid Z.
Let Z be equal to a prism standing on the same base
with the pyramid, viz. the triangle BCD, and having
for its altitude the perpendicular drawn from a certain
point E in the line AC upon the place BCD. It is
evident that CE multiplied by a certain number m
will be greater than AC; divide CA into as many
equal parts as there are units in m, and let these be
CF, FG, GH, HA, each of which will be less than
CE. Through each of the points F, G, H, let planes
be made to pass parallel to the plane BCD, making
with the sides of the pyramid the sections FPQ, G11S,
HTU, which will be all similar to one another, and
to the base BCD (13.). From the point B draw in the
plane of the triangle ABC the straight line BK paral¬
lel to CF, meeting FP produced in K. In like man¬
ner, from D draw DL parallel to CF, meeting FQ in
L; join KL, and it is plain that the solid KBCDLF
is a prism. By the same construction let the prisms
PM, HO, TV be described. Also let the straight
line IP, which is in the plane of the triangle ABC be
produced till it meet BC in h ; and let the line MQ
be produced till it meet DC in g. Join hg, then hQ^g
QFP is a prism ; and is equal to the prism PM
(cor. 11.). In the same manner is described the prism
S equal to the prism HO, and the prism q U equal
to the prism TV. The sum, therefore, of all the in¬
scribed prisms A Q, S and 9 U is equal to the sum
of the prisms PM, liO and TV, that is, to the sum of
all the circumscribed prisms except the prism BL;
wherefore, BL is the excess of the prisms circumscribed
about the pyramid above the prisms inscribed within it.
But the prism BL is less than the prism which has the
triangle BCD for its base, and for its altitude the per¬
pendicular from E upon the plane BCD, which prism
is, by hypothesis, equal to the given solid Z ; therefore
the excess of the circumscribed above the inscribed
prisms is less than the solid Z. But the excess of the
circumscribed prisms above the inscribed is greater
than their excess above the pyramid ABCD, because
ABCD is greater than the sum of the inscribed prisms ;
much more therefore is the excess of the circumscribed
prisms above the pyramid less than the solid Z. A se¬
ries of prisms of the same altitude has therefore been
E T R Y. 663
circumscribed about the pyramid ABCD exceeding it Of Solids
by a solid less than the given solid Z. bounded by
Planes.
Theorem XV. —'
Pyramids that have equal bases and altitudes are Fig- m*-
equal to one another.
Let ABCD, EFGH be two pyramids that have
equal bases BCD, FGH, and also equal altitudes; the
pyramid ABCD is equal to the pyramid EFGH.
If they are unequal, let the pyramid EFGH exceed
the pyramid ABCD by the solid Z. Let a series of
prisms of the same altitude be circumscribed about the
pyramid ABCD that shall exceed it by a solid less than
Z, (14.) and let another series equal in number to the
former, and having all the same altitude, be described
about the pyramid EFGH ; then, because the pyramids
have equal altitudes, the altitude of each of the prisms
described about the one pyramid is equal to the altitude
of each of the prisms described about the other py¬
ramid ; therefore the sections of the pyramids which
are the bases of the corresponding prisms will be at
equal distances from the bases of the pyramids, and
hence these sections will be equal; (1. cor. 13.) and
because the prisms have all the same altitude, the cor¬
responding prisms will be equal, and the sum of the,
prisms described about the pyramid ABCD will be
equal to the sum of the prisms described about the
pyramid EFGH. Let the pyramid EFGH be denot¬
ed by P, and the pyramid ABCD by p, and put Q
for the sum of the prisms described about P, and q for
the prisms described about p : Then by hypothesis
Z=P—p, and by construction Z^^y—p, therefore
P—p^q—p, and consequently P’T^y ,• but it has
been shewn that ^nrQ, therefore P-^Q, that is, the
pyramid EFGH is greater than the sum of the prism
described about it, which is impossible, therefore the
pyramids ABCD, EFGH are not unequal, that is,
they are equal.
Theorem XVL
Every prism having a triangular base may be di- Fig. 147.
vided into three pyramids that have triangular
bases, and that are equal to one another.
Let ABC, DEF be the opposite bases of a trian¬
gular prism. Join AE, EC, CD ; and because ABED
is a parallelogram, of which AE is the diameter, the
triangle ADE is equal to the triangle ABE ; there¬
fore the pyramid of which the base is the triangle
ADE and vertex the point C, is equal to the pyramid
of which the base is the triangle ABE, and vertex
the point C. But the pyramid of which the base is
the triangle ABE and vertex the point C, that is the
pyramid ABCE, is equal to the pyramid DEFC,
(15.) for they have equal bases, viz. the triangles
ABC, DFE, and the same altitude, viz. the altitude
of the prism ABCDEF. Therefore, the three pyra¬
mids ADEC, ABEC, DFEC are equal to one another;
but these pyramids make up the whole prism ABCDEF;
therefore, the prism ABCDEF is divided into three
equal pyramids.
Ccr. I. From this it is manifest that every pyra¬
mid
664 G E O M
Of Cylin- niitl is the tliird part of a prism which has the same
dm, <'oncs, base dnd the same altitude with it; for if the base
and the 0f jbe prism be any other figure than a triangle, it
, Sphere. raay. ^ jnt0 prisms having triangular bases.
E T II Y. Sect, n
Cor. 2. Pyramids having equal altitudes are to one OfCjlin
another as their bases; because the prisms upon the dm, Cor;
same bases, and of the same altitude, are to one another ai)d thi
as their bases. Sphere
SECT. IX. OE CYLINDERS, CONES, AND THE SPHERE.
Definitions.
I. A Cylinder is a solid figure described by the revo¬
lution of a right-angled parallelogram about one of its
sides, which remains fixed.
The Axis of the cylinder is the fixed straight line
about which the parallelogram revolves.
The Bases of the cylinder are the circles described
by the two revolving opposite sides of the parallelo¬
gram.
II. A Cone is a solid figure described by the revo¬
lution of a right-angled triangle about one of the sides
containing the right angle, which side remains fixed.
The Axis of the cone is the fixed line about which
the triangle revolves.
The Base of the cone is the circle described by that
side containing the right angle which revolves.
III. A Sphere is a solid figure described by the re¬
volution of a semicircle about a diameter.
The Axis of a sphere is the fixed line about which
the semicircle revolves.
The Centre of a sphere is the same with that of the
semicircle.
The Diameter of a sphere is any straight line which
passes through the centre, and is terminated both ways
by the superficies ol the sphere.
IV. Similar cones and cylinders are those which
have their axes and diameters of their bases propor¬
tional.
Theorem I.
•Tig. *43. If from any point E in the circumference of the
base of a cylinder ABCD, a perpendicular EF
be drawn to the plane of the base AEB, the
straight line EF is wholly in the cylindric super¬
ficies.
Let HG be the axis, and AGHD the rectangle,
which by its revolution describes the cylinder. Because
HG is perpendicular to AG in every position of the
revolving rectangle, it is perpendicular to the plane of
the circle described by AG; and because AD, the line
which describes the cylindric superficies, is parallel to
GH, it is also perpendicular to the plane of that circle.
(5. 7.). Now when by the revolution of the rectangle
AGHD the point A coincides with the point E, the
line EF will coincide with AD, and thus will be whol¬
ly in the cylindric superficies ; for otherwise two per¬
pendiculars might be drawn to the same plane, from
the same point, which is impossible (2 cor. 4. 7.).
Theorem II.
Fig. 149. A cylinder and a parallelepiped having equivalent
bases and the same altitude are equal to one ano¬
ther.
5
Let ABCD be a cylinder, and EF a parallelepiped
having equivalent bases, viz. the circle AGB and the
parallelogram EH, and having also equal altitudes ; the
cylinder ABCD is equal to the parallelepiped EF. If
not, let them be unequal ; and first let the cylinder be
less than the parallelepiped EF; and from the paral¬
lelepiped EF let there be cut off a part EQ by a plane
PQ parallel to NF, equal to the cylinder ABCD.
In the circle AGB inscribe the polygon AGKBLM
that shall differ from the circle by a space less than
the parallelogram PH, (1 cor. 2. 6.) and cut off from
the parallelogram EH a part OR equal to the polygon
AGKBLM, then it is manifest that the parallelogram
OR is greater than the parallelogram OP, therefore the
point R will fall between P and N. On the poly¬
gon AGKBLM let an upright prism be constituted
of the same altitude with the cylinder, which will there¬
fore be less than the cylinder, because it is within it;
(1.) and if through the point R a plane RS parallel to
NF he made to pass, it will cut off the parallelepiped
ES equal to the prism AGBC, because its base is
equal to that of the prism, and its altitude is the same.
But the prism AGBC is less than the cylinder ABCD,
and the cylinder ABCD is equal to the parallelepi¬
ped EQ, by hypothesis ; therefore, ES is less than EQ,
and it is also greater, which is impossible. The cy¬
linder ABCD therefore is not less than the parallele¬
piped EF; and in the same manner it may be shewn
not to be greater than EF, therefore they are equal.
Theorem III.
If a cone and cylinder have the same base and the pig< j
same altitude, the cone is the third part of the
cylinder.
Let the cone ABCD, and the cylinder BFKG
have the same base, viz. the circle BCD, and the same
altitude, viz. the perpendicular from the point A upon
the plane BCD; the cone ABCD is the third/part
of the cylinder BEKG. If not, let the cone ABCD
be the third part of another cylinder LMNO having
the same altitude with the cylinder BFKG; but let the
bases BCD, LIM be unequal, and first let BCD be
greater than LIM. Then, because the circle BCD is
greater than the circle LIM, a polygon may be in¬
scribed in BCD that shall differ from it less than LIM
does, (l. cor. 2. 6.) and which therefore will be great¬
er than LIM. Let this be the polygon BECFD;
and upon BECFD let there be constituted the pyramid
ABECFD, and the prism BCFKHG. Because the
polygon BF.CFD is greater than the circle LIM, the
prism BCFKHG is greater than the cylinder LMNO,
for they have the same altitude, but the prism has the
greater base. But the pyramid ABECFD is the third
part of the prism BCFHG (16. 8.) ; therefore it is
greater
pect IX. G E O M
O/Cy'iin- greater than the third part of the cylinder LMNO
jlers,Cones,Now the cone ABECFD is by hypothesis the third
¥IN0- '^refore, the pyramid
   ABECFD is greater than the cone ABCD, and it is
also less, because it is inscribed in the cone, which is
impossible. Therefore the cone ABCD is not less
i than the third part of the cylinder BFKG. And in
the same manner, by circumscribing a polygon about
the circle BCD, it may be shewn, that the cone ABCD
is not greater than the third part of the cylinder BFKG •
therefore, it is equal to the third part of the cylin¬
der. J
Theorem IV.
i5t. If a hemisphere and cone have equal bases and
altitudes, a series of cylinders may be inscribed
in the hemisphere, and another series may be cir¬
cumscribed about the cone, having all the same
altitudes with one another, and such that their
sum shall differ from the sum of the hemi¬
sphere and the cone by a solid, less than any
given solid. J
Let ADB be a semicircle, of which the centre is C
and let CD be at right angles to AB; let DB and DA
be squares described on DC, draw CE, and let the fi¬
gure thus constructed revolve about DC: then the qua¬
drant BCD will describe a hemisphere havino- C for its
centre, and the triangle CDE will describe a cone
having its vertex at C, and having for its base the cir¬
cle described by DE, equal to that described by BC
which is the base of the hemisphere. Let W be a
given solid, a series of cylinders may be described in
the hemisphere ADB, and another described about the
cone EC1, so that their sum shall differ from the sum
of the hemisphere and cone, by a solid less than the
solid W.
Upon the base of the hemisphere let a cylinder be
constituted equal to W, and let its altitude be CX.
Divide CD into such a number of equal parts, that
each of them shall be less than CX ; let these be CH,
HG, GI and ED. Draw FN, GO, HP parallel to
OB, meeting the circle in K, L, and M, and the
straight line BE in Q, II, and S. Draw K f, Lg, M/,
perpendicular to GO, HP, and CB ; and draw Qy,’
Hr, Ss, perpendicular to the same lines. It is evident
that the figure being thus constructed, if the whole re¬
volve about CD, the rectangles Ff, Gg, H//, will de¬
scribe cylinders that will be circumscribed by the hemi¬
sphere BDA ; and that the rectangles DN, F q, G r,
H.y will also describe cylinders that will circumscribe*
the cone ICE. Now it may be demonstrated, as was
done of the prisms inscribed in a pyramid (14. 8.), that
the hemisphere exceeds the sum of all the cylinders de¬
scribed within it, by a solid less than the cylinder ^e-
nerated by the rectangle HB, that is, by a solid less
than \V. In the same manner it may be demonstrated,
tliat the sum of the cylinders circumscribing the cone*
ICE is greater than the cone by a solid less than the
cylinder generated by the rectangle DN, that is, bv a
solid less than _W. Therefore, since the sum of the
cylinders inscribed in the hemisphere together with a
solid less than W, is equal to the hemisphere ; and
Vol. IX, Part II. 4
. T R Y- 665
since the sum of the cylinders described about the cone or r,t;n
is equal to the cone together with a solid less than W} ders, Cones
adding equals to equals, the sum of all the cylinders a«d the
together with a solid less than W is equal to the hemi-. sl,here-
sphere and cone together with a solid less than W • ^ ^
therefore, the difference between the whole of the cy!
finders, and the sum of the hemisphere and the cone
is equal to the difference of two solids, each of which
is less than W ; but this difference must also be less
than VY ; therefore the difference between the two se¬
nes of cylinders, and the sum of the hemisphere and
cone is less than the given solid W.
Theorem V.
The same things being supposed as in last theorem, Fig. ict.
the sum of all the cylinders inscribed in the he¬
misphere, and described about the cone, is equal
to a cylinder having the same base and altitude
with the hemisphere.
For, the same construction being supposed as in last
theorem let L be the point in which GO meets the
circle ADB then because CGL is a right angle, if
OB be joined, the circles described with the radii CG
and GL are equal to the circle described with the ra¬
dius CL or GO (2. cor. 4. 6.). Now CG=GR, be¬
cause CD=DE, therefore, the circles described by the
revolution of the radii GR and GL about the point
G are together equal to the circle described by the re¬
volution of the radius GO about the same point G j
therefore also the cylinders that stand upon the two first
of these circles having the common altitude GH are
equal to the cylinder which stands upon the remaining
crcie, and which has the same altitude GH. The cy¬
linders described by the revolution of the rectangles
Gg and Gr are therefore equal to the cylinder de¬
scribed by the rectangle GP. And as the same may be
shewn of all the rest, the cylinders described by the
rectangles H//, Gg, I f, and by the rectangles H s,
G/, r q, DN, are together equal to the cylinder de¬
scribed by DB, that is, to the cylinder having the same
base and altitude with the hemisphere.
Theorem VI.
Every sphere is two-thirds of the circumscnbingTij. r«r.
cylinder.
Let the figure be constructed as in the two last the-
oren.s, and if the hemisphere described by the quadrant
BLC be not equal to two-thirds of the cylinder described
by the rectangle BD, let it be greater by the solid \\\
Then as the cone described by CDE is one-third of the
cylinder described by BD, the cone and the hemisphere
together will exceed the cylinder by W. But that cylin¬
der is equal to the sum of all the cylinders described bv
the rectangle H//, Gg, Ff, Us, G r, Fq, DN; there¬
fore, tne hemisphere and the cone added together ex¬
ceed the sum of all these cylinders by tlie°solid W,
which is absurd ; for it has been shewn (4.) that the he¬
misphere and the cone together differ from the sum of
these cylinders by a solid less than YV. The hemisphere
is therefore equal to two-thirds of the evlinder de-
4 scribed
666
Of Cvliti scribed by tbe rectangle BD ; and therefore tlie whole
derr,Cone*, sphere is two thirds of the cylinder descr.bed by twice
and the t}Je rectangle BD, that is, to two-thirds of the circum-
. sPhere- , scribing cylinder.
GEOMETRY. Sect. 1}|
We here conclude the Elements of Geometry, Their of Cylim
application, constituting what is sometimes called der*,Com
Practical Geometry, will be given under the article
Mensuration.  y
Euclid.
Book I.
Geometry.
Fheor. Sect.
Prop. 4.
5-
6.
8.
I3*
14.
I5*
16.
17-
r8.|
19-f
20.
21.
24.7
25*3
26
27
28
29.
30,
5- I-
11. 1.
12. 1.
10. 1.
1. 1.
3- I*
4. 1.
23. 1.
24. 1.
13'
7-
8.
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
1
9. 1.
6. 1.
22. 1.
:}
37-1
21. 1
20. 1
23
24
25
28. 1
26. 1
11
Euclid.
Book I.
Pr.41.
47*
48. {
Geometry.
Theor. Sect.
Euclid.
Book III.
2. 4.
13* .4-
scholium
15- 4-
Book II. Theor. Sect
Geometry.
Theor. Sect
Pr. 4.
5-
7-
12.
I3*
Book III.
Theor. Sect
Pr. 3.
1. 4.
2 cor. to
2. 4.
f
"4
14
15
16.
20.
21.
22.
26.
27
Pr. 28.7
29-3
31*
32*
35’v
36.1
10.
12.
11.
I5*
T4*
:}
6. 2.
cor.
7. 2.
12. 2.
II. 2.
8. 2.
2. 2.
8. 2.
9. 2.
14. 2.
15. 2.
16. 2.
13. 2.
Book Y.
Pr. 4.
12.
li-
itS.
i74
19.3
22.
23-
24.
4. 2.
17. 2.
18. 2.
28. 4.
29. 4.
30. 4.
Theor. Sect
5-
8.
1.
2.
4-
6.
7-
8.
Euclid. Geometry.
Book YI. Theor. Sect
Pr
Book VI.
Theor. Sect
. j
cor.
5* 4-
cor.
6. 4-
•4
3-
4-
5-
6.
8.
14.5
15-1
i6.|
i7-l
19
2o.j
3!-{
33-
17-
18.
IQ.
20.
21.
22.
23-
Book XI.
4-
4-
4-
4-
4-
4-
4-
cor.
24. 4-
8. 4.
25- 4-
26. 4.
27. 4-
1 cor.
27. 4.
31* 4'
Fheor. Sect
Pr. 1.
3-
4-
8.
1. 7
3- 7'
4. 7'
1 cor.
5- 7
5- 7
Euclid. Geometry.
Book XI. Iheor. Sect
>{
I,
13
J4.
i5-
16.
17-
18.
19.
20.
24.
25-
28.
29
3°
3
32
33
2 cor.
5- 7-
10. 7.
2 cor.
10.
7-
I4*
11.
13-
20.
2.
8. 8.
3- 8.
4. 8.
5. 8.
9. 8.
12. 8.
Book XIF. Theor. Sect
Pr. I.
2.
7*
10.
1. 6.
4. 6.
16. 8.
3- 9-
G E O
George. GEORGE I. II. and III. kings of Great Britain,
"""Y ' George I. the son of Ernest Augustus, duke of
Brunswick Eunenburgh, and elector of Hanover, suc¬
ceeded to the throne of Great Britain in 1714* i” vir*
tue of an act of parliament, passed in the latter part
of the reign of King William III. limiting the succes¬
sion of the crown, after the demise of that monarch,
and Queen Anne (without issue), to the princess Sophia
of Hanover, and the heirs of her body, being Prote¬
stants. George H. the only son of the former, suc¬
ceeded him in 1727, and enjoyed a long reign of glory -,
dying amidst the most rapid and extensive conquests
in the 77th year of his age. He was succeeded by his
grandson George III. our late sovereign. For par¬
ticulars, see Britain, N° 374“"7oi»
G E G
George, or Knights of St George, lias been the de- oecr
nomination of several military orders, whereof that of'—nr
the Garter is one of the most illustrious. See GARTER,
and St George, below.
King George's Islands, are two islands in the South
sea, lying in W. Long. 144- 5^- 8- Lat. 14- 28.
were first discovered by Commodore Byron in 1765*
and were since visited by Captain Cook in 1774- Com¬
modore Byron’s people had an encounter with the in¬
habitants, which proved fatal to some of the natives 5
but Captain Cook was more fortunate. A lieutenant
and two boats well-armed were sent on shore by Cap¬
tain Cook $ and landed without opposition. As soon
as the gentlemen landed, the islanders embraced them
by touching noses, a mode of civility used in New ^ea*
M^/b Wit /y <rr///pS
GEO
Ceargp.
hi i.
list.
ii.
N-
lanil, which is 900 leagues distant, and the only place
-1 besides this where the custom has been observed to pre¬
vail. Notwithstanding this ceremony, however, very
little real friendship seemed to take place on the part
of the islanders. They crowded about the boats as the
people were stepping into them, and seemed in doubt
whether they should detain them or let them go j at last,
however, not thinking themselves sufficiently strong,
they seemed contented with their departure, and assisted
them in pushing off their boats ; hut some of the most
turbulent threw stones into the water, which fell very
near them, and all seemed to glory that they had
as it were driven them off. The British brought oft’
five dogs of a white colour with fine long hair, with
which the island seemed to be plentifully supplied.
These they purchased with small nails, and some ripe
bananas which had been brought from the Marquesas.
On this island Mr Forster found a kind of scurvy-
grass, which the natives informed him they were wont
to bruise and mix with shell fish j after which, they
threw it into the sea whenever they perceived a shoal of
fish. This preparation intoxicates them for some time ;
and thus they are caught on the surface of the water
without any other trouble than that of taking them
out. The name of this plant among the natives is
enow. The largest island, which they call Tiookea, is
something of an oval shape, and about 10 leagues in
circuit; the other island, which lies two leagues to the
westward of Tiookea, is four leagues long from north¬
east to south-west, and from three to five miles broad.
The soil of both is extremely scanty ; the foundation
consists of coral, very little elevated above the surface
of the water.
CrEORGE, St, or George of Cappadocia; a name
whereby several orders, both military and religious, are
denominated. It took its rise from a saint or hero
famous throughout all the East, called by the Greeks
M.tysi\cft%£lv£, q. d. great mat'tyr.
On some medals of the emperors John and Manuel
Comneni, we have the figure of St George armed, hold¬
ing a sword or javelin in one hand, and in the other a
buckler, with this inscription j an O, and therein a little
P
A, and FE—FIOC, making O AFIOS TEOPriOZ, O
O
holy George. He is generally represented on horseback,
as being supposed to have frequently engaged in com¬
bats in that manner. He is highly venerated through¬
out Armenia, Muscovy, and all the countries which ad¬
here to the Greek rite: from the Greek, his worship
has long ago been received into the Latin church ; and
England and Portugal have both chosen him for their
patron saint.
Great difficulties have been raised about this saint
or hero. His very existence has been called in ques¬
tion. Dr Heylin, who wrote first and most about him,
concluded with giving him entirely up, and supposing
him only a symbolical device ; and Dr Pettingal has
turned him into a mere Basilidian symbol of victory.
My Pegg, in a paper in the Archaeologia *, has at¬
tempted to restore him. And, finally, Mr Gibbon f
has sunk him into an Arian bishop in the reigns of
Constantius and Julian.—The bishop alluded to,
George the Cappadocian^ was so suruamed, according
to our author, from his parents or education j and was
C 667 1
GEO
horn at Epiphama in Cilicia, in a fuller’s shop. ‘‘From
this obscure and servile origin he raised himself by the
talents of a parasite : and the patrons, whom he as¬
siduously flattered, procured for their worthless depen¬
dent a lucrative coanmission or contract, to supply
the army with bacon. His employment was mean :
he rendered it infamous. He accumulated wealth by
the basest arts of fraud and corruption j but his mal¬
versations were so notorious, that George was com¬
pelled to escape from the pursuits of justice. After
this disgrace, in which he appears to have saved his
fortune at the expence of his honour, he embraced, with
real or aftected zeal, the profession of Arianism. From
the love, or the ostentation, of learning, he collected
a valuable library of history, rhetoric, philosophy, and
theology ; and the choice of the prevailing faction pro¬
moted George of Cappadocia to the throne of Athana¬
sius.” His conduct in this station is represented by
our historian as polluted by cruelty and avarice, and
his death considered as a just punishment for the enor¬
mities of his life, among which Mr Gibbon seems to
rank his “ enmity to the gods.”
The immediate occasion of his death, however, as
narrated by ecclesiastical writers, will not probably
appear calculated to add any stain to his memorv.
1 here was in the city of Alexandria a place in which
the heathen priests had been used to offer human sacri¬
fices. This place, as being of no use, Constantius gave
to the church of Alexandria, and George the bishop
gave orders for it to be cleared, in order to build a
Christian church on the spot. In doing this they dis¬
covered an immense subterraneous cavern, in which
the heathen mysteries had been performed, and in it
were many human skulls. These, and other things
which they found in the place, the Christians brought
out and exposed to public ridicule. The heathens,
provoked at this exhibition, suddenly took arms and
rushing upon the Christians, killed many of them with
swords, clubs and stones: some also they strangled,
and several they crucified. On this the Christians pro¬
ceeded no farther in clearing the temple j but the hea¬
thens, pursuing their advantage, seized the bishop as
he was in the church, and put him in prison. The
next day they despatched him j and then fastening the
body to a camel, he was dragged about the streets all
day, and in the evening they burnt him and the camel
together. This fate, Sozomen says, the bishop owed
in part to his haughtiness while he was in favour with
Constantius, and some say the friends of Athanasius
were concerned in this massacre j but he ascribes it
chiefly to the inveteracy of the heathens, whose super¬
stitions he had been very active in abolishing.
This George, the Arian bishop of Alexandria,
was a man of letters, and had a very valuable library,
which Julian ordered to be seized for his own use j
and in his orders concerning it, he says that many of
the books were on philosophical and rhetorical sub¬
jects, though many of them related to the doctrine
of the impious Galileans (as in his sneering contemp¬
tuous way he always affected to call the Christians).
‘ These books (says he) I could wish to have utterly
destroyed j but lest books of value should be destroy¬
ed along with them, let those also be carefully sought
for.’
But Mr Gibbon gives a different turn to the affair
4 P 2 of
Gtorge.
GEO [ 668 ] GEO
George, of George’s murder, as well as relates it with differ-
——v —ent circumstances. “ The Pagans (says he) excited
his devout avariceand the rich temples of Alexan¬
dria were either pillaged or insulted by the haughty
prelate, who exclaimed, in a loud and threatening
tone, ‘ How long will these sepulchres he permitted
to stand ?’ Under the reign of Constantins, he was
expelled by the fury, or rather by the justice of the
people : and it was not without a violent struggle,
that the civil and military powers of the state could
restore his authority, and gratify his revenge. The
messenger who proclaimed at Alexandria the accession
of Julian, announced the downfal of the archbishop.
George, with two of his obsequious ministers, Count
Diodorus and Darcontius master of the mint, was ig-
nominiously dragged in chains to the public prison.
At the end of 24 days, the prison was forced open by
the rage of a superstitious multitude, impatient of the
tedious forms of judicial proceedings. The enemies of
gods and men expired under their cruel insults j the
lifeless bodies of the archbishop and his associates were
carried in triumph through the streets on the back of a
camel; and the inactivity of the Athanasian party was
esteemed a shining example of evangelical patience.
The remains of these guilty wretches were thrown
into the sea $ and the popular leaders of the tumult
declared their resolution to disappoint the devotion of
the Christians, and to intercept the future honours of
these martyrs, who had been punished like their pre¬
decessors, by the enemies of their religion. The fears
of the Pagans were just, and their precautions ineffec¬
tual. The meritorious death of the archbishop obli¬
terated the memory of his life. The rival of Atha¬
nasius was dear and sacred to the Ax-ians, and the seem¬
ing conversion of those sectaries introduced his worship
into the bosom of the Catholic church. The odious
stranger, disguising every circumstance of time and
place, assumed the mask of a martyr, a saint, and a
Christian hero j and the infamous George of Cappado¬
cia has been ti’ansformed into the renowned St George
of England, the patron of arms, of chivalry, and of the
Garter.”
Knights of St George. See Garter. There have
been various other orders under this denomination, most
of which are now extinct; particularly one founded by
the emperor Frederic III. in the year 1470, to guard
the frontiers of Bohemia and Hungary against the
Turks ; another, called St George of Afama, founded
by the kings of Arragon j another in Austria and Ca-
rinthia ; and another in the republic of Genoa, still
subsisting, &c.
Religious of St George. Of these there are divers
orders and congregations 5 particulaidy canons regular
of St George in Alga, at Venice, established by au¬
thority of Pope Boniface IX. in the year 1404. The
foundation of this order was laid by Bartholomew Co-
lonna, who preached in 1396, at Padua, and some
other villages in the state of Venice. Pope Pius V.
in 1570, gave these canons precedence of all other re¬
ligious. Another congregation of the same institute in
Sicily, &c.
St George del Mina, the capital of the Dutch
settlements on the Gold coast of Guinea, situated
seven or eight miles west of Cape-coast castle the capi¬
tal of the British settlements there. W. Long. 5'. and Geore
N. Lat. 50. ’ yi-i
St George, a fort and town of Asia, in the penin¬
sula on this side the Ganges, and on the coast of Coro¬
mandel, belonging to the British ; it is otherwise called
Madras, and by the natives Chilipatatn. It fronts the
sea, and has a salt water river on its back side, which
hinders the fresh water springs from coming near the
town, so that they have no good water within a mile of
them. In the rainy seasons it is incommoded by inun¬
dations ; and from April to September, it is so scorch¬
ing hot, that if the sea bi’eezes did not cool the air,
there would be no living there. There are two towns,
one of which is called the White Town, which is walled
round, and has several bulwarks and bastions to defend
it: it is 400 paces long and 150 broad, and is divided
into regular streets. Here are two churches, one for
the Protestants, and the other for the Papists j as also
a good hospital, a town hall, and a prison for debtors.
They are a corporation, and have a mayor and aider-
men, with other proper officers. The Black Town
is inhabited by Gentoos, Mahometans, and Portuguese
and Armenian Christians, and each religion has its
temples and churches. This, as well as the White
Town, is ruled by the English governor and his coun¬
cil. The diamond mines are but a week’s journey
from this place, which renders them pretty plentiful,
but there are no lai’ge ones since that great diamond
was procured by Governor Pitt. This colony produces
very little of its own growth or manufacture for fo¬
reign markets, and the trade is in the hands of the Ar¬
menians and Gentoos. The chief things the British'
deal in, besides diamonds, are calicoes, chintz, mus¬
lins, and the like. In 1794 the population of the town
was estimated at 300,000. Their rice is brought hy
sea from Gangam and Orixa, their wheat from Surat
and Bengal, and their fire wood from the islands of
Diu j so that an enemy, with a superior force at sea,
may easily distress them. The houses of the White
Town are built with biick, and have lofty rooms and
flat roofs. The houses in the White Town have all
gi’een Venetian windows, and are surrounded by gai'-
dens. The Black Town consists chiefly of thatched
cottages. The military power is lodged in the gover¬
nor and council, who axe also the last resort in civil
causes. The company have two chaplains, who offi¬
ciate by turns. They never attempt to make proselytes,
but leave that to the Popish missionaries. The salaries
of the Company’s writers are vei'y small : but if they
have any fortune of their own, they may make it up
by trade j which must generally be the case, for they
commonly grow rich. It was taken by the French
in 1764, who restored it at the peace of Aix-la-Cha-
pelle.
St George's, the largest of the Bermuda or Summer
islands. W. Long. 65. 10. N. Lat. 32. 30.
Cross oj St George, a red one in a field argent, .
which makes part of the British standard.
George, a lake in America in the state of New
York, about 35 miles long, and from one to seven
broad. There ai’e some beautiful islands in it, the
largest of which is about two miles broad, commanding
a delightful and very extensive prospect. There are
manifest traces of a large town of the aborigines, and
George
B
Georgia-
GEO [669
the island itself appears to have been the favourite re¬
sidence of an Indian prince. It lies to the south of
Lake Champlain, and its waters lie about 100 feet
"'higher. It abounds with fishes of a superior quality,
such as the Oswego bass, and speckled trouts of consi¬
derable magnitude. The French at one period called
it Lake Sacrament, as they were at the trouble to bring
from it their water for sacramental purposes, to the
churches they had planted in Canada.
GEORGETOWN, the name of several towns in
America, such, for instance, as Georgetown in Mary¬
land, about 65 miles S. W. of Philadelphia 5 George¬
town in the county of Lincoln, and district of Maine,
lying on both sides of Kennebeck river, 148 miles
S. W. of Philadelphia, where the Roman Catholics
have a very flourishing college : it is the name of a
village in Fayette county, Pennsylvania, where a num¬
ber of boats are annually built j and of a post town in
the district of the same name, where the Episcopalians,
Baptists, and Methodists, have each a place of worship.
It is also the name of a port of entry in South Caro¬
lina, situated on the Sampit river, 12 miles from the
sea. It has a flourishing academy, where orphans and
poor children are educated gratis.
GEORGIA, a country of Asia, bounded on the
north by Circassia, on the east by Daghestan and
Shirvan, on the south by Armenia, and on the west
by the Euxine or Black sea ; comprehending the
greatest part of the ancient Colchis, Iberia, and Alba¬
nia. About the etymon of the name of this country,
wuthors are not agreed. The most probable opinion
is, that it is a corruption by softening of Kt/rgza,
from the river Kurj* whence also it is supposed that
the inhabitants are called by the Persians indifferent¬
ly Gurgi and Kuigi; and the country Kurgistan and
Gurgistan : It is divided by a ridge of mountains into
eastern and western j the former of which is again sub¬
divided into the kingdoms of Caket, Carduel or Cax*-
thuel, and Goguetia j and the latter into the provin-
cess of Abcassia, Mireta or Imeretia, and Guriel. An¬
other division is into Georgia Proper, Abcassia, and-
Mingrelia. A third division will be afterwards men¬
tioned.
“ Georgia, (says Sir George Chardin) is as fertile a
country as can be seen j the bread is as good here as
in any part of the world} the fruit of an exquisite fla¬
vour and of different sorts : no place in Europe yields
better pears and apples, and no place in Asia better
pomegranates. The country abounds with cattle, ve¬
nison, and wild fowl of all sorts : the river Kur is well
stocked with fish j and the wine is so rich, that the king
of Persia has always sonte of it for his own table. The
inhabitants are robust, valiant, and of a jovial temper;
great lovers of wine, and esteemed very trusty and
faithful ; endowed with good natural parts, but, for
want of education, very vicious. The women are ge¬
nerally so fair and comely, that the wives and concu¬
bines of the king of Persia and his court are for the
most part Georgian women. Nature has adorned them
with graces nowhere else to be met with : it is im¬
possible to see them without loving them j they are of
a good size, clean limbed, and well shaped. Another
traveller, however, of no mean character, thus expresses
himself with respect to the women :; “ As to the Geor¬
gian women, they did not at all surprise us; for we
] GEO
expected to find them perfect beauties. They are, in¬
deed no way disagreeable ; and may be counted beau-1
ties, if compared with the Curdes. They.have an air
of health that is pleasing enough; but, after all, they
are neither so handsome nor so well shaped as is re¬
ported. Those who live in the towns have nothing
extraordinary more than the others ; so that I may, I
think, venture to contradict the accounts that have
been given of them by most travellers.”
This country formerly abounded with great cities, as
appears not only from its history, but from the ruins of
many of them still visible, which show that they must
have been very large, opulent, and magnificently built.
These were all destroyed by the inundations of northern
barbarians from Mount Caucasus, as the Alans, Huns,
Suevi, and some others, so much noted in history for
their strength, courage, ami conquests.
The latest division of this country is into nine pro¬
vinces ; five of which were subject to the famous prince
Heraclius, forming what is commonly called the king¬
dom of Georgia ; and four were under the dominion of
David, composing the kingdom or principality of Ime¬
retia. See Imeretia.
This whole country is so extremely beautiful, that
some fanciful travellers have imagined they had here
found the situation of the original garden of Eden.
The hills are covered with forests of oak, ash, beech,
chesnuts, walnuts, and elms, encircled with vines,
growing perfectly wild, hut producing vast quantities
of grapes. From these is annually made as much wine
as is necessary for the yearly consumption ; the re¬
mainder is left to rot on the vines. Cotton grows
spontaneously, as well as the finest European fruit
trees. Rice, wheat, millet, hemp, and flax, are raised
on the plains, almost without culture. The valleys af¬
ford the finest pasturage in the world ; the rivers are
full of fish ; the mountains abound in minerals, and the
climate is delicious; so that nature appears to have la¬
vished on this favourite country every production that
can contribute to the happiness of its inhabitants.
On the other hand, the rivers of Georgia being fed
by mountain torrents, are at all seasons either too rapid
or too shallow for the purposes of navigation : the Black
sea, by which commerce and civilization might be in¬
troduced from Europe, has been till very lately in the
exclusive possession of the Turks: the trade of Geor¬
gia by land is greatly obstructed by the high moun¬
tains of Caucasus; and this obstacle is still increased
by the swarms of predatory nations, by which those
mountains are inhabited.
It is said, that in the 15th century, a king of Geor¬
gia divided among his five sons the provinces of Car-
duel and Caket, Imeretia, Mingrelia, Guriel, and
Abcassia. These petty princes were too jealous to
unite for their common defence, and too weak singly
to resist a foreign enemy, or even to check the en¬
croachments of their great vassals, who soon became
independent. By forming a party among these nobles,
the Turks gradually gained possession of all the west¬
ern provinces, while the Persians occupied the govern¬
ments of Car An el and Caket. Since that period the
many unsuccessful attempts of the Georgians to reco¬
ver. their liberty have repeatedly produced the devas¬
tation of their country. Abbas the Great is said to
have carried off in one expedition from the provinces
of
Georgia.
GEO [ 670 ] GEO
Geoi^jo, of Carduel and Caket no less than 8o,000 families ; a
'—v—'number which, probably, exceeds the whole actual po¬
pulation of those provinces. The most horrible cruel¬
ties were again exercised on the unhappy people, at
the beginning of the present century, by the merciless
Nadir j but these were trifling evils, compared with
those arising from the internal dissensions of the great
barons. This numerous body of men, idle, arrogant,
and ferocious, possessed of an unlimited power over the
lives and properties of their vassals, having no employ¬
ment but that of arms, and no hopes of aggrandizing
themselves but by the plunder of their rivals, were
constantly in a state of warfare j and as their success
was various, and the peasants of the vanquished were
constantly carried off and sold to the 'lurks or Pei’-
sians, every expedition increased the depopulation of
the country. At length they invited the neighbour¬
ing mountaineers, by the hopes of plunder, to take
pan in their quarrels ; and these dangerous allies, be¬
coming acquainted with the country, and being spec¬
tators of the weakness of its inhabitants, soon com¬
pleted its desolation. A few squalid wretches, half
naked, half starved, and driven to despair by the mer¬
ciless exactions of their landlords, are thinly dispersed
over the most beautiful provinces of Georgia. The
revolutions of Persia, and the weakness of the Turks,
indeed enabled the princes of the country to recover
their independence •, but they did not long enjoy this
advantage, as they have recently been subdued by the
Russians, and the country now forms a province of that
unwieldy empire.
The capital of Georgia is Teflis, where Prince He-
radius resided (See Teflis). Of this prince, so
celebrated for his exploits and success in shaking off
the Ottoman yoke, we have the following account by
the late Professor Guldenstaedt when he travelled into
these parts in 1770. “ Heraclius, or, as he is called,
the Tzar Iracli, is above 60 years old, of a middle
size, with a long countenance, a dark complexion,
large eyes, and a small beard. He passed his youth at
the court and in the army of the celebrated Nadir
Shah, where he contracted a fondness for Persian cu¬
stoms and manners, which he has introduced into his
kingdom. He has seven sons and six daughters. He
is much revered and dreaded by the Persian khans
his neighbours ; and is usually chosen to mediate be¬
tween them in their disputes with each other. When
they are at war, he supports one of the parties with a
few troops, who diffuse a spirit and courage among the
rest, because the Georgian soldiers are esteemed the
bravest of those parts; and Prince Heraclius himself is
renowned for his courage and military skill. When
on horseback he has always a pair of loaded pistols at
his girdle, and, if the enemy is near, a musket slung
over his shoulder. In all engagements he is the fore¬
most to give examples of personal bravery; and fre¬
quently charges the enemy at the head of his troops
with the sabre in his hand. He loves pomp and ex¬
pence ; he has adopted the dress of Persia; and regu¬
lates his court after the manner of that country. From
the example of the Russian troops, who were quartered
in Georgia during the last Turkish war, he has learnt
the use of plates, knives, and forks, dishes and house¬
hold furniture, &c.”
a
The subjects of Heraclius were estimated at about GeorjiliJ14"
60,000 families ; but this, notwithstanding the present -vHf
desolated state of the country, is probably an under
valuation. The peasants belonging to the queen, and
those of the patriarch, pay no tax to the prince, and
therefore do not appear on the books of the revenue
officers. Many similar exemptions have likewise been
granted by the prince to his sons-in-law, and his fa¬
vourites. Besides, as the impost on the peasants is not
a poll-tax, but a tax on hearths, the inhabitants of a
village, on the approach of the collectors, frequently
carry the furniture of several huts into one, and destroy
the remainder, which are afterwards very easily repla¬
ced. It is probable, therefore, that the population of
Georgia does not fall short of 350,000 souls. The
revenues may be estimated at about 150,000 rubles,
or 26,250k They consist of, 1. The customs, farmed
at 1750k—2. Rent paid by the farmers of the mint,
at Teflis, 1750k—3. The tribute paid by the khans
of Erivan and Gansha, 7000k—and, 4. The hearth
money levied on the peasants, amounting to 15,750k
The common coins here are the abasses, of about I5d.
value, and a small copper coin, stamped at the mint at
Teflis. Besides these, a large quantity of gold and sil¬
ver money is brought into the country from Persia
and Turkey, in exchange for honey, butter, cattle,
and blue linens.
The government of Georgia was despotic; and though
now subject to Russia, it is still in a great measure
governed by its own laws. The punishments in crimi¬
nal cases are shockingly cruel; fortunately they are
not frequent, because it is seldom difficult to escape into
some of the neighbouring countries, and because the
prince is more enriched by confiscating the property of
the criminal, than by putting him to torture. Judicial
combats are considered as the privilege of nobility, and
take place when the cause is extremely intricate, or
when the power and interest of two claimants are so
equal, that neither can force a decision of the court in
his favour. This mode of trial is called an appeal to
the judgment of God.
The dress of the Georgians nearly resembles that of
the Cossacks ; but men of rank frequently wear the ha¬
bit of Persia. They usually dye their hair, beard, and
nails with red. The Georgian women employ the
same colour to stain the palms of their hands. On
their heads they wear a cap or fillet, under which their
black hair falls on their forehead : behind it is braid¬
ed into several tresses. Their eyebrows are painted
with black, in such a manner as to form one entire line,
and their faces are perfectly coated with white and red.
Their robe is open to the girdle, so that they are re¬
duced to conceal their breasts with their hands. Their
air and manner are extremely voluptuous. Being ge¬
nerally educated in convents, they can all read and
write ; a qualification which is very unusual among the
men, even of the highest rank. Girls are betrothed as
soon as possible, often at three or four years of age.
In the streets the women of rank are always veiled,
and then it is indecent in any man to accost them. It
is likewise uncivil in conversation to inquire after the
wives of any of the company. These, however, are
not ancient customs, but are a consequence of the vio¬
lences committed by the Persians, under Shah Nadir.
Travellers
GEO [ 671 ] GEO
gjdi Travellers accuse the Georgians of ilrunkenness, su-
■—7 perstition, cruelty, sloth, avarice, and cowardice ; vices
which are everywhere common to slaves and tyrants,
and are by no means peculiar to the natives of this
country. The descendants of the colonists, carried oft’
by Shah Abbas, and settled at Peria, near Ispahan,
and in Masanderan, have changed their character with
their government $ and the Georgian troops, employed
in Persia against the Affghans, were advantageously
distinguished by their docility, their discipline, and
their courage.
The other inhabitants of Georgia are Tartars, Ossi,
and Armenians, called in the Georgian language So-
makhi. These last are found all over Georgia, some¬
times mixed with the natives, and sometimes in vil¬
lages of their own. They speak among themselves
their own language, but all understand and can talk
the Georgian. Their religion is partly the Armenian,
and partly the Roman Catholic. They are the most
oppressed of the inhabitants, hut are still distinguished
by that instinctive industry which everywhere charac-
teriies the nation.
Besides these, there are in Georgia considerable num¬
bers of Jews, called, in the language of the country,
Uria. Some have villages of their own $ and others
are mixed with the Georgian, Armenian, and Tartar
inhabitants, but never with the Ossi. They pay a small
tribute above that of the natives.
Georgia, one of the United States of America,
lying between South Carolina and Florida. It is about
290 miles long from north to south, 250 broad, and its
area is about 62,600 square miles. It is bounded by
Florida on south, the Atlantic on the east, Alabama on
the west, and South Carolina on the north. The whole
coast is bordered with islands j the principal of which
are Skidaway, Wassaw, Sapelo, Frederica, Jekyl,
Cumberland, and Amelia.
The settlement of a colony between the rivers Sa¬
vannah and Alatamaha was meditated in England in
1732, for the accommodation of poor people in Great
Britain and Ireland, and for the further security of
Carolina. Private compassion and public spirit con¬
spired to promote the benevolent design. Humane
and opulent men suggested a plan of transporting a
number of indigent families to this part of America
free of expence. For this purpose they applied to the
king, George II. and obtained from him letters pa¬
tent, bearing date June 9, 1732, for legally carrying
into execution what they had generously projected.
They called the new province Georgia, in honour of
the king, who encouraged the plan. A corporation,
consisting of 21 persons, was constituted by the name
of, The Trustees for settling and establishing the colo¬
ny of Georgia.
In November 1732, 116 settlers embarked for Geor¬
gia to be conveyed thither free of expence, furnished
with every thing requisite for building and for culti¬
vating the soil. Mr James Oglethorpe, one of the
trustees, and an active promoter of the settlement, em¬
barked as the head and director of these settlers.
They arrived at Charlestown early in the next year.
Mr Oglethorpe, accompanied by William Bull, shortly
after bis arrival, visited Georgia j and after surveying.
the country, marked the spot on which Savannah now Georgia.
stands, as the fittest to begin their settlement. Here v—v 
they accordingly began and built a small fort, and a
number of small huts for their defence and accommoda¬
tion. Such of the settlers as were able to bear arms
were embodied, and well appointed with officers, arms,
and ammunition. A treaty of friendship was con¬
cluded between the settlers and their neighbours the
Creek Indians, and every thing wore the aspect of
peace and future prosperity. But the fundamental
regulations established by the trustees of Georgia were
ill adapted to the circumstances and situation of the
poor settlers, and of pernicious consequences to the
prosperity of the province. Yet although the trustees
were greatly mistaken with respect to their plan of
settlement, it must be acknowledged their views were
generous. Like other distant legislators, who framed
their regulations upon principles of speculation, they
were liable to many errors and mistakes j and however
good their design, their rules were found improper and
impracticable. These injudicious regulations and re¬
strictions, the wars in which they were involved with
the Spaniards and Indians, and the frequent insurrec¬
tions among themselves, threw the colony into a state
of confusion and wretchedness too great for human
nature long to endure. Their oppressed situation was
represented to the trustees by repeated complaints j till
at length finding that the province languished under
their care, and weary with the complaints of tire
people, they in the year 1752 surrendered their char¬
ter to the king, and it was made a royal government.
-—In the year 1740, the Rev. George Whitefield
founded an orphan house academy in Georgia about
12 miles from Savannah. Mr Whitefield died at New¬
bury port, in New England, in October 1770, in the
36th year of his age, and was buried under the Pres¬
byterian church in that place. From the time Geor¬
gia became a royal government in 1752 till the peace
of Paris in 1763, she struggled under many difficulties,
arising from the Want of credit and friends, and tire
frequent molestations of enemies. The good effects of
the peace were sensibly felt in the province of Georgia.
From this time it began to flourish under the fatherly
care of Governor Wright. To form a judgment of tire
rapid growth of the colony, we need only attend to
its exports. In the year 1763, they consisted of 7500
barrels of rice, 9633 pounds of indigo, 1250 bushels of
Indian corn, which, together with deer and beaver
skins, naval stores, provisions, timber, &c. amounted to
no more than 27,021!. sterling. Ten years afterwards,
in 1773, they amounted to 121,677]. sterling. The
chief articles of export from this state are, rice, tobac¬
co, indigo, sago, lumber of various kinds, naval stores,
leather, deer skins, snake-root, myrtle, bees wax, corn,
live stock, &c.
During the American war, Georgia was overrun by
the British troops, and the inhabitants were obliged to
flee to the neighbouring states for safety. Since the
peace the progress of the population of this state is said
to have been astonishingly rapid j but it was for a time
a good deal checked by the hostile irruptions of the
Creek Indians, who continually harassed the frontiers
of the state. This evil is now little known, and the
recent
GEO . . t 6?
recent annexation of Florida to tlie territories of the
United States, is likely to secure Georgia from Indian
warfare in future.
From the sea coast to the distance of more than 100
miles, the country is a level plain ; the soil a sandy
loam, and covered with pine, except in the morasses,
and places occasionally inundated by the rivers, where
it is rich, and favourable to the growth of most agri¬
cultural productions. Beyond this plain the surface
rises into pleasant waving hills, which stretch back¬
wards till they unite with the chain of Apalachian
mountains. This undulating country is extremely rich
and fertile. ,
The climate in general is somewhat warmer than
that of South Carolina. The range of the thermometer
in winter is from 40 to 60 Fahrenheit. From 1st June
to 1st September it fluctuates from 76 to 90; but has
been observed as high as 102°. T-be flat countiy is
moist and unhealthy 5 but the upper parts are pleasant
and salubrious.
The wild animals are still pretty numerous round the
swamps, and on the high ridges, especially bears and
deer. Alligators abound in the Alatamaha river, yet
they are not dreaded, and have rarely attacked men,
though they occasionally destroy animals. The mago-
phex or gouffre, which inhabits a shell 15 inches long,
burrorvs in the pine lands. It is able to move with a
man on its back. Honey bees abound in the swamps,
and musquitos are numerous during the heats of summer.
The population of Georgia in 1810 was 252,433*
including 107,019 slaves, and 1801 free blacks.. Sa¬
vannah, the largest town, contained 7624 inhabitants
in 1817. The population of the state in 1800 was
162,686, including 59,699 slaves, and 1919 free
blacks j so that the slaves increased rather faster than
the white inhabitants in the interval between these pe¬
riods. The militia of Georgia in 1815 amounted to
27,480. The shipping of the state in the same year
amounted to 15,287^118-, and the exports in 1817
amounted to 8,790*7*4 dollars. Fhe chief articles of
export are live stock, maize, rice, tobacco, cotton, in¬
digo, flour, tar, naval stores, &c.
Cotton is more extensively cultivated in this than in
any other state and the species which grows along
the coast, and is known by the name of sea island, is
in high estimation. An acre yields about 600 pounds
in the seed. Tobacco is also cultivated to a great ex¬
tent and within the last ten or fifteen years, sugar
has been raised in considerable quantities. It grows
along the coast, and about 120 miles inwards. An
acre is said to yield from 2000 to 4000 pounds.
Savannah river forms a part of the divisional line
which separates this state from South Carolina. It
is formed principally of two branches, by the names of
Tugulo and Keowee, which spring from the mountains.
It is navigable for boats 140 miles. Ogeechee river,
about 18 miles south of the Savannah, is a small river,
and nearly parallel with it in its course. Alatamaha,
about 90 miles south of Savannah river, is navigable
as far as Darien. It is a noble river, but of difficult
entrance. Like the Nile, it discharges itself by seve¬
ral months into the sea. Besides these, there is Turtle
river, Crooked river, and St Mary’s, which form a
part of the southern boundary of the United States.
3
i ] GEO
The principal river in the middle and western parts of
this state is the Apalachicola, which is formed by the
Catahouchee and Flint rivers. It forms the western
boundary of the state for 120 miles, and after a long
southern course falls into the gulf of Mexico.
No general character will apply to the inhabitants at
large. Collected from different parts of the world, as
interest, necessity, or inclination led them, their cha¬
racter and manners must of course partake of all the
varieties which distinguish the several states and king¬
doms from whence they came. There is so little uni¬
formity, that it is difficult to trace any governing prin¬
ciples among them. An aversion to labour is too pre¬
dominant, owing in part to the relaxing heat of the
climate, and partly to the want of necessity to excite
industry. An open and friendly hospitality, particu¬
larly to strangers, is an ornamental characteristic of a
great part of this people.
In regard to religion, politics, and literature, this
state is yet in its infancy. In Savannah is an Episco¬
pal church, a Presbyterian church, a synagogue, and a
German Lutheran church, supplied occasionally by a
German minister from Ebenezer, where there is a large
convenient stone church, and a settlement of sober and
industrious Germans of the Lutheran religion. In Au¬
gusta they have an Episcopal church. In Midway is
a society of Christians established on the congrega¬
tional plan. Their ancestors emigrated in a colony
from Dorchester, near Boston, about the year 1700*
and settled at a place named Dorchester, about 20 miles
south-west of Charlestown, South Carolina. In I752*
for the sake of a better climate and more land, almost
the whole society removed and settled at Midway.—
They, as a people, retain in a great measure that sim¬
plicity of manners, that unaffected piety and brotherly
love, which characterized their ancestors, the first set¬
tlers of New England. The upper countries are sup¬
plied pretty generally by Baptist and Methodist mini¬
sters } but the greater part of the state is without mi¬
nisters of any denomination.
The numerous defects in the late constitution of
this state, induced the citizens pretty universally to
petition for a revision of it. It was accordingly re¬
vised, or rather a new one was formed, in the course
of the year 1789, nearly upon the plan of the constitu¬
tion of the United States, which has lately been adopt¬
ed by the state.
The charter containing the present system of edu¬
cation in this state was passed in the year 1785. A
college, with ample and liberal endowments, is insti¬
tuted in Louisville, a high and healthy part of the
country, near the centre of the state. Ihere is also
provision made for the institution of an academy in
each county in the state, to be supported from the
same funds, and considered as parts and members of
the same institution, under the general superintendence
and direction of a president and board of trustees, ap¬
pointed for their literary accomplishments from the
different parts of the state, and invested with the cu¬
stomary powers of corporations. The institution thus
composed is denominated the university of Georgia.--
-The funds for the support of this institution are prin¬
cipally in lands, amounting in the whole to about
50,000 acres, a great part of which is of the best qua-
G E R [ 673
lity, and at present very valuable. There are also
nearly 6000I. sterling in bonds, houses, and town lots
in the town of Augusta. Other public property to
the amount of 1000I. in each county has been set
apart for the purposes of building and furnishing their
respective academies. The funds originally designed
for the support of the orphan house are chiefly in rice
plantations and negroes.
Georgia, a township in the county of Franklin, con¬
taining about 400 inhabitants. It is situated on Lake
Champlain, opposite to the north end of South Hero
island.
Georgia, a cluster of barren islands in the South
sea, to the eastward of the coast of Terra del Fuego, in
(at. 540 30' S. and long. 370 W. One of these islands
is 90 miles in length, and 30 in breadth.
GEORGIC, a poetical composition upon the sub¬
ject of husbandry, containing rules therein, put into a
pleasing dress, and set off with all the beauties and em¬
bellishments of poetry. The word is borrowed from
the Latin georgicus, and that of the Greek ywigyueoj,
of y>j, terra, “ earth,” and igya^te*,, opero, “ I work,
or labour,” of ggy«», opus, “ work.” Hesiod and Virgil
are the two greatest masters in this kind of poetry 
The moderns have produced nothing in this kind, ex¬
cept Rapin’s book of Gardening ; and the celebrated
poem entitled Cyder, by Mr Philips, who, if he had
enjoyed the advantage of Virgil’s language, would have
been second to Virgil in a much nearer degree.
Georgium Sidus. See Astronomy Index.
GEPIDJE, Gepides, or Gepidi, in Ancient Geo¬
graphy, according to Procopius, were a Gothic people,
or a canton or branch of them ; some of whom, in the
migration of the Goths, settled in an island at the mouth
of the Vistula, which they called Gepidos after their
own name, which denotes lazy or slothful; others in
Dacia, calling their settlement there Gepidia.
GERANIUM, Crane’s Riel, in Botany, a genus
of plants belonging to the monadelphia class ; and in
the natural method ranking under the 14th order,
Gruinales. See Botany Index.
GERAR, or Gerara, in Ancient Geography, the
south boundary of Canaan near Berseba j situated be¬
tween Cades and Sur; two deserts well known, the
former facing Egypt, the latter Arabia PetrEea.
GERARDE, John, a surgeon in London, and
the greatest botanist of his time, was many years chief
gardener to Lord Burleigh j who was himself a great
lover of plants, and had the best collection of any
nobleman in the kingdom, among which were a great
number of exotics introduced by Gerarde. In 1597
he published his Herbal, which was printed at the ex¬
pence of J. Norton, who procured from Francfort the
same blocks in wood as were used in the herbal of Ta-
bernaemontanus, In 1663, Thomas Johnson, an apo¬
thecary, published an improved edition of Gerarde’s
book ; which met with such approbation by the univer¬
sity of Oxford, that they conferred on him the degree
of doctor of physic. The descriptions in the herbal are
plain and familiar j and both these authors have labour¬
ed more to make their readers understand the charac¬
ters of the plants, than to inform them that they
themselves understood Greek and Latin. The herbal
of Gerarde is now to be considered only as a literary
Vol. IX. Part IL ' 7
] G E R
curiosity. The figures in general express very ac¬
curately the characters of the plants they are intended
to represent.
GERARDIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
didynamia class, and in the natural method ranking
under the 40th order, Personate. See Botany Index.
GERFALCON. See Falco, Ornithology In¬
dex.
GERGESA, in Ancient Geography, a Transjordan
town, no otherwise known than by the Gergeseni oi St
Matthew, an& Gergeseei of Moses j supposed to have
Sf°n'Vn *^e ne*^1^ourhood of Gadara and near the sea
ot Libenas. The Gergesm, one of the seven ancient
people of Canaan, less frequently mentioned than the
rest, appear to have been less considerable and more
obscure : their name is from Girgasi, one of Canaan’s
sons. See Girgashites.
GERIZIM. See Garizim.
GERM, in vegetation. See Germen.
GERMAN, in matters of genealogy, signifies whole,
entire, or own. Germani, quasi eadem stirpe eenitiz
(Fest.). Hence,
Brother German, denotes a brother both by the
lather’s and mother’s side, in contradistinction to ute¬
rine brothers, &c. who are only so by the mother’s
side.
Cousins German, are those in the first or nearest
degree, being the children of brothers or sisters.
Among the Romans we have no instance of mar¬
riage between cousins german before the time of the
emperor Claudius, when they were very frequent.
Theodosius prohibited them under very severe penal¬
ties, even fine and proscription. See Consanguinity.
German, or Germanic, also denotes any thing be-
longing to Germany $ as the German empire, German
flute, &c.
GERMANDER. See Teucrium, Botany Index.
GERMANICUS Caesar, the son of Drusus, and
paternal nephew to tire emperor Tiberius, who adopted
him ; a renowned general, but still more illustrious for
his virtues. He took the title of Germanicus from his
conquests in that country j and though he bad the mo¬
deration to refuse the empire offered to him by his
army, Tiberius, jealous of his success, and of the uni¬
versal esteem he acquired, caused him to be poisoned,
A. D. 29, aged 34. He was a protector of learning 5
and composed some Greek comedies and Latin poems,
some of which are still extant.
GERMANTOWN, in the county of Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania, in North America, about seven miles
from the city of Philadelphia. It was once esteemed
the second town in the country, till many inland towns
in a short time rose superior to it, both for the extent
of their establishments and number of inhabitants.
Jhe knitting of cotton, thread, and worsted stockings,
is carried on in it to a considerable extent. The prin¬
cipal congregation of the people called Mennonists is
in Germantown, who derive their name fi’om one Men-
no Simon, a learned man of Witmars in Germany.
Although inimical to the doctrine of general salvation,
they will not swear, fight, bear any civil office, go to
law, or take interest for money. Germantown is also
memorable for a bloody battle which was fought in it
on the 4th of October, 1777.
4Q'
Gerarde
GERMANY.
GERMANY.
GERMANY.
Gerniii
GERMANY, a very extensive empire of Europe,
but which, in different ages of the world, has had
very different limits. Its name, according to the most
probable conjecture, is derived from the Celtic words
G/«zr man> signifying a warlike man, to which their
other name, Allman, ov Aleman, likewise alludes.
The ancient history of the Germans is altogether
wrapped up in obscurity. The first time we find them
mentioned by the Roman historians, is about the year
2ll B. C. at which time Marcellus subdued Insubria
and Liguria, and defeated the Goesatoe, a German na¬
tion situated on the banks of the Rhine. From this
time history is silent with regard to any of these north¬
ern nations, till the irruption of the Cimbri and Teu-
tones, who inhabited the most northerly parts of Ger-
! many. It is very difficult to fix the limits of the coun-
Limits of try called Germany by the Romans. The southern
ancient Germans were intermixed with the Gauls, and the
Germany, northern ones with the Scythians 5 and thus the ancient
history of the Germans includes that of the Dacians,
Huns, Goths, &c. till the destruction of the western
Roman empire by them. Ancient Germany, therefore,
we may reckon to have included the northern part ot
France, the Netherlands, Holland, Germany so called
at present, Denmark, Prussia, Poland, Hungary, part
of Turkey in Europe, and Muscovy.
The Romans divided Germany into two regions j Bel-
gic or Lower Germany, which lay to the southward of
2 the Rhine ; and Germany Proper, or High Germany.
Nations in-The first lay between the rivers Seine and the Rhine j
habiting an(j |n we find a number of different nations, the
Germanv niost remarkable of which were the following.
I. The Ubii, whose territory lay between the Rhine
and the Mosa or Maese, and whose capital was the ci¬
ty of Cologne. 2. Next to them were the Tungri, sup¬
posed to be the same whom Caesar calls Eburones and
Condrusi; and whose metropolis, then called Attuatica,
has since been named Tongres. 3. Higher up from
them, and on the other side of the Moselle, were the
Treviri, whose capital was Augusta Trevivorum, now
Triers. 4. Next to them were the Tribocci, Nemetes,
and Vangiones. The former dwelt in Alsace, and had
Argentoratum, now Strasburg, for their capital j the
others inhabited the cities of Worms, Spire, and
Mentz. 5. The Mediomatrici were situated along the
Moselle, about the city of Metz in Lorrain : and above
them were situated another German nation, named
Raurici, Rauraci, or Rauriaci, and who inhabited that
part of Helvetia, or Switzerland, about Basil. To the
westward and southward of these were the Nervii, Sues-
siones, Silvanectes, Leuci, Rhemi, Lingones, &c. who
inhabited Belgic Gaul.
Between the heads of the Rhine and Danube was
seated the ancient kingdom of Vindelicia, whose capital
was called Augusta Vindelicorum, now Augsburg. Be¬
low it on the banks of the Danube were the kingdoms
of Noricum and Pannonia. The first of these was di¬
vided into Noricum Ripense and Mediterraneu??i. It
contained a great part of the provinces of Austria,
Stiria, Carinthia, Tyrol, Bavaria, and some others
of less note. The latter contained the kingdom of
Hungary, divided into Upper and Lower ", and ex¬
tended from Ulyricum to the Danube, and the moun¬
tains Csetii in the neighbourhood of Vindebema, now
Vienna. ;
Upper or High Germany lay beyond the Rhine and Nation 1
the Danube. Between the Rhine and the Elbe werebabitindi
the following nations. I. The Chauci, Upper and^gkGd
Lower j who were divided from each other by the rivernian^*
Visurges, now the Weser. Their country contained
what is now called Bremen, Lunenburg, Friesland, and
Groninghen. The Upper Chauci had the Cherusci, and
the lower the Chamavi on the south-east, and the Ger¬
man ocean on the north-west. 2. The Frisii, Upper
and Lower, were divided from the Lower Chauci by the
river Amisia, now the Ems j and from one another by
an arm of the Rhine. Their country still retains the
name of Friesland, and is divided into east and west 5
but the latter is now dismembered from Germany, and
become one of the Seven United Provinces. 3. Be¬
yond the Isela, now’ the Isel, which bounded the coun¬
try of the Frisi, were situated the Bructeri, who inha¬
bited the tract now called Broecmorland; and the Mar-
si, about the river Luppe. On the other side of that
river were the Usipii or Usipetcs ; but these were famed
for often changing their territories, and therefore found
in other places. 4. Next to these were the Juones, or
inhabitants of Juliers, between the Maese and the
Rhine. 5. The Catti, another ancient and warlike na¬
tion, inhabited Hesse and Thuringia, from the Hart-
zian mountains to the Rhine and Weser: among whom
were comprehended the Mattiaci, whose capital is by
some thought to be Marpurg, by others Baden. 6. Next
to these were the Sedusii bordering upon Suabia j the
Norisci, or the ancient inhabitants of Nortbgow, whose
capital was Nuremberg j and the Marcomanni, whose
country anciently reached from the Rhine to the head
of the Danube, and to the Neckar. The Marcoman¬
ni afterwards went and settled in Bohemia and Mora¬
via, under their general or king Maroboduus : and some
of them in Gaul, whence they drove the Boii, who
had seated themselves there. 7* °Bier s^de ol
the Danube, and between the Rhine and it, were the
Hermunduri, who possessed the country now called
Misnia in Upper Saxony j though some make their
territories to have extended much farther, and to have
reached quite to, or even beyond, the kingdom of Bo¬
hemia, once the seat of the Boii, whence its name.
8. Beyond them, on the north of the Danube, was
another seat of the Marcomanni along the river Albis,
or Elbe. 9. Next to Bohemia were situated the Qua-
di, whose territories extended from the Danube to Mo¬
ravia, and the northern part of Austria. These are
comprehended under the ancient name ol Suevi; part
of whom at length forced their way into Spain, and
settled a kingdom there. 10. Eastward of the Quad!
were situated the Bastarnae, and parted from them by
the Granna, now Gran; a river that falls into the Da¬
nube, and by the Carpathian mountains, from them
called Alpes Bastarnicce. The country of the Bastarnse
indeed
many, indeed made part of the European Sarmatia, and so
v-y—was without the limits of Germany properly so called 5
but we find these people so often in league with the
German nations, and joining them for the destruction
of the Romans, that we cannot but account them as
one people.
Between those nations already taken notice of, seat¬
ed also on the other side of the Danube and the Hercy-
man forest, were several others whose exact situation is
uncertain, viz. the Martingi, Burii, Borades, Lygii or
Logiones, and some others, who are placed by our
geogiaphers along the forest above mentioned, between
the Danube and the Vistula.
On this side the Hercynian forest, were the famed
Rhaetii, now Grisotis, seated among the Alps. Their
country, which was also called Western Illyricum, was
divided into Rbaetia Prima or Propria and Secunda ;
and was then of much larger extent, spreading itself
towards Suabia, Bavaria, and Austria.
On the other side of the Hercynian forest were,
I. The Suevi, who spread themselves from the Vistula
to the river Elbe. 2. The Longobardi, so called accord¬
ing to some on account of their wearing long beards,
but, according to others, on account ot their consist¬
ing of two nations, viz. the Bardi and Lingones.
These dwelt along the river Elbe, and bordered south¬
ward on the Chauci above mentioned. 3. The Bur-
gundi, of whose original seat we are uncertain. 4. The
Semnones 5 who, about the time of l ibenus, were seat¬
ed on the river Elbe. 5. The Angles, Saxons, and
Goths, were probably the descendants of the Cimbri ;
and inhabited the countries of Denmark, along the
Baltic sea, and the peninsula of Scandinavia, containing
Norway, Sweden, Lapland, and Finmark. 6. The
Vandals were a Gothic nation, who, proceeding from
Scandinavia, settled in the countries now called Meck-
lenburgh and Brandenburgh. 7. Of the same race were
the Dacians, who settled themselves in the neighbour¬
hood of the Palus Masotis, and extended their territo¬
ries along the banks of the Danube.
Tdiese were the names of the German nations who
^ performed the most remarkable exploits in their wars
the With the Romans. Besides these, however, we find
c,;sci mention made of the Scordisci, a Thracian nation,
who afterwards settled on the banks of the Danube.
About the year 1x3 B. C. they ravaged Macedon, and
cut off a whole Roman army sent against them ; the
general, M. Porcius Cato, grandson to Cato the cen¬
sor, being the only person who had the good fortune to
make his escape. After this, they ravaged all Thes-
saly j and advanced to the coasts of the Adriatic, into
which, because it stopped their farther progress, they
discharged a shower of darts. By another Roman ge¬
neral, however, they were driven back into their own
country with great slaughter 5 and soon after, Metel-
lus so. weakened them by repeated defeats, that they
were incapable, for some time, of making any more
attempts on the Roman provinces. At last, in the
consulship of IVL Livius Drusus and L. Calpurnius Pi-
so, the former prevailed on them to pass the Danube,
which thenceforth became the boundary between the
Romans and them. Notwithstanding this, in the time
of the Jugurthine war, the Scordisci repassed the Da¬
nube on the ice every winter, and being joined by the
Triballi a people of Lower Maesia, and the Daci of
GERMANY.
Upper Msesia, penetrated as far as Macedon, commit¬
ting everywhere dreadful ravages. So early did these
northern nations begin to be formidable to the Ro¬
mans, even when they were most renowned for warlike
exploits.
T- ill the time of Julius Caesar, however, we hear Expedition
nothing more concerning the Germans. About 38 of Julius
years B. C. he undertook his expedition into Gaul • Ca!Sar into
during which, his assistance was implored by the iElGermany*
dui, against Ariovistus, a German prince who op¬
pressed, them. Caesar, pleased with this opportunity of
increasing his power, invited Ariovistus to an inter¬
view 5 but this being declined, he next sent deputies,
desiring him to restore the hostages he had taken from
the iEdui, and to bring no more troops over the
Rhine into Gaul. To this a haughty answer was re¬
turned ; and a battle soon after ensued, in which Ario¬
vistus was entirely defeated, and with great difficulty
made his escape. ]
U. Caesar having subdued the Suessiones,
Bellovaci, Ambiani, Nervii, and other nations of Bel-
gic Gaul, hastened to oppose the Usipetes and Tench-
theri. These nations having been driven out of their
own country by the Suevi, had crossed the Rhine with
a design to settle in Gaul. As soon as he appeared,
the Germans sent him a deputation, oflering to join
him, provided he would assign them lands. Ceesar re¬
plied, that there was no room in Gaul for them ; but
he would desire the Ubn to give them leave to settle
among them. . Upon this, they desired him to retreat
with the Ubiij but in the mean time fell upon some
Roman squadrons : which so provoked Ciesar, that he
immediately marched against them, and coming unex¬
pectedly upon them, defeated them, with great "slaugh¬
ter. They fled in the utmost confusion ; but the Ro¬
mans pursued them to the conflux of the Rhine and
the Maese, where the slaughter was renewed with such
fury, that almost 400,000 of the Germans perished.
After this, Caesar being resolved to spread the terror of
the Roman name through Germany, built a bridge
over the Rhine, and entered that country. In this
expedition, however, which was his last in Germany,
he performed no remarkable exploit. A little before
his death, indeed, he had projected the conquest of
that, as well as of a great many other countries ; but
his assassination prevented the execution of bis de¬
signs. Nor is there any thing recorded of the Ger¬
mans till about 17 B. C. when the Tenchtheri made an
irruption into Gaul, and defeated M. Lollius, procon¬
sul of that province. At last, however, they were re¬
pulsed, and forced to retire with great loss beyond the
Rhine.
Soon after this the Rhaetii Invaded Italy, where they Ri1£etn in
committed the greatest devastations, putting all the vade Italy,
males they met to the sword, without distinction of
age: nay, we are told, that when they happened
to take women with child, they consulted their au¬
gurs to know whether the child was a male or female $
and if they pronounced it a male, the mother was im¬
mediately massacred. Against these barbarians was
sent Drusus, the second son of Livia, a youth of ex¬
traordinary valour and great accomplishments. He
found means to bring them to a battle ; in which the
Romans proved victorious, and cut in pieces great
numbers of their enemies, with very little loss on their
4 Q 2 own
676
GERMANY.
Germany.
TUey are
subdued,
together
with the
Vindeiici
and Noriei
S
and the
Pannoni-
ans.
Exploits of
Drusus in
Germany.
own side. Those who escaped the general slaughter,
being joined by the Vindeiici, took their route towards
Gaul, with a design to invade that province. But
Augustus, upon the first notice of their march, de¬
spatched against them Tiberius with several chosen le¬
gions. He was no less successful than Drusus had
been ; for having transported his troops over the lake
Brigantium, now Constance, he fell unexpectedly on
the enemy, gave them a total overthrow, took most of
their strong holds, and obliged the whole nation to
submit to such terms as he chose to impose upon them.
Thus were the Vindeiici, the Rhsetii, and Norici, three
of the most barbarous nations in Germany subdued.
Tiberius, to keep the conquered countries in awe,
planted two colonies in Vindelicia, and opened from
.thence a road into Rhgetia and Noricum. One of the
cities which he built for the defence of his colonies, he
called, from his father Drusus, Drusomagus $ the other
by the name of Augustus, Augusta Vindelicorum ; which
cities are now known by the names of Mimminghen and
Augsburg. He next encountered the Pannonians, who
had been subdued by Agrippa, but revolted on hear¬
ing the news of that great commander’s death, which
happened 11 years B. C. Tiberius, however, with
the assistance of their neighbours the Scordisci, soon
forced them to submit. They delivered up their
arms, gave hostages, and put the Romans in possession
of all their towns and strong holds. Tiberius spared
their lives j but laid waste their fields, plundered their
cities, and sent the best part of their youth into other
conntries.
In the mean time, Drusus having prevented the
Gauls from revolting, which they were ready to do,
prepared to oppose the Germans who dwelt beyond the
Rhine. They had collected the most numerous and
formidable army that had ever been seen in those parts ;
with which they were advancing towards the Rhine, in
order to invade Gaul. Drusus defeated them as they
attempted to cross that river; and, pursuing the ad¬
vantage he had gained, entered the country of the Usi-
petes, now Relinchusen, and from thence advanced
against the Sicambri in the neighbourhood of the
Lyppe and Yssel. Them he overthrew in a great
battle, laid waste their country, burnt most of their
cities, and following the course of the Rhine, ap¬
proached the German ocean, reducing the Frisii and
the Chauci between the Ems and the Elbe. In these
marches the troops suffered extremely for want of pro¬
visions ; and Drusus himself was often in great danger
of being drowned, as the Romans who attended him
were at that time quite unacquainted with the flux and
reflux of the ocean.
The Roman forces went into East Friesland for their
winter quarters j and next year (10 B. C.) Drusus
marched against the Tenchtlieri, whom he easily sub¬
dued. Afterwards, passing the Lupias, now the Lyppe,
he reduced the Catti and Cherusci, extending his con¬
quests to the banks of the Visurgis or Weser 5 which
he would have passed, had he not been in want of pro¬
visions, the enemy having laid waste the country to a
considerable distance. As he was retiring, the Ger¬
mans unexpectedly fell upon him in a narrow passage ;
and having surrounded the Roman army, cut a great
many of them in pieces. But Drusus having animated
his men by his example, after a bloody conflict, which
lasted the whole day, the Germans were defeated with Germam
such slaughter, that the ground was strewed for several—y—,
miles with dead bodies. Drusus found in their camp a
great quantity of iron chains which they had brought
for the Romans $ and so great was their confidence,
that they had agreed beforehand about the division of
the booty. The Tenchtheri were to have the horses,
the Cherusci and Sicambri the baggage, and the Usi-
petes and Catti the captives. After this victory, Dru¬
sus built two forts to keep the conquered countries in
awe } the one at the confluence of the Lyppe and the
Alme, the other in the country of the Catti on the
Rhine. On this occasion also he made a famous canal,
long after called in honour of him Fossa Drusiana, to
convey the waters of the Rhine into the Sala or Sale.
It extended eight miles $ and was very convenient for
conveying the Roman troops by water to the countries
of the Frisii and Chauci, which was the design of the
undertaking.
The following year (9 B. C.) Augustus, bent on
subduing the whole of Germany, advanced to the
banks of the Rhine, attended by his two sons-in-law
Tiberius and Drusus. The former he sent against the
Daci, who lived up to the south of the Danube $ and
the latter to complete the conquest he had so success¬
fully begun in the western parts of Germany. The
former easily overcame the Daci, and transplanted
40,000 of them into Gaul. The latter, having passed
the Rhine, subdued all the nations from that river to
the Elbe j but having attempted in vain to cross this
last, he set out for Rome: an end, however, was put
to his conquests and his life by a violent fever, with
which he was seized on his return.
After the death of Drusus, Tiberius again overran
all those countries in which Drusus had spent the pre¬
ceding summer; and struck some of the northern na¬
tions with such terror, that they sent deputies to sue
for peace. This, however, they could not obtain up¬
on any terms; the emperor declaring that he would
not conclude a peace with one, unless they all desired
it. But the Catti, or according to some the Sicambri,
could not by any means be prevailed upon to submit j
so that the war was still carried on, though in a lan¬
guid manner, for about 18 years. During this period,
some of the German nations had quitted their forests,
and begun to live in a civilized manner under the pro¬
tection of the Romans 5 but one Quinctilius Varus be¬
ing sent to command the Roman forces in that coun¬
try, so provoked the inhabitants by his extortions, that
not only those who still held out refused to submit, but
even the nations that had submitted were seized with
an eager desire of throwing off the yoke. Among
them was a young nobleman of extraordinary parts
and valour, named Arminius. He was the son of Si-
gimer, one of the most powerful lords among thehcdsthe
Catti, had served with great reputation in the Ro-Germans
man armies, and been honoured by Augustus with theaS“,,strl
privileges of a Roman citizen and the title of knight.Ronl9t1"’
But the love of his country prevailing over his grati¬
tude, he resolved to improve the general discontent
which reigned among his countrymen, to deliver them
from the bondage of a foreign dominion. With this
view he engaged, underhand, the leading men of all
the nations between the Rhine and the Elbe, in a con¬
spiracy against the Romans. In order to put Varus
off
'tii
ArrainiuJ
G E R
rtrroany. oiT his guard, he at the same time advised him to show
himself to the inhabitants of the more distant provinces,
administer justice among them, and accustom them,
by his example, to live after the Homan manner, which
he said would more effectually subdue them than the
Roman sword. As Varus was a man of a peaceable
temper, and averse from military toils, he readily con¬
sented to this insidious proposal, and, leaving the neigh¬
bourhood of the Rhine, marched into the country of
the Cherusci. Having there spent some time in hear¬
ing causes and deciding civil controversies, Arminius
persuaded him to weaken his army, by sending out
detachments to clear the country of robbers. When
this was done, some distant nations of Germany rose
up in arms by Arminius’s directions $ while those
through which Varus was to pass in marching against
them, pretended to be in a state of profound tran¬
quillity, and ready to join the Romans against their
ii enemies.
:s off On the first news of the revolt, Varus marched a-
m with ga;ngt the enemy with three legions and six cohorts j but
anDJr* being attacked by the Germans as he passed through
a wood, his army was almost totally cut off, while he
himself and most of his officers fell by their own hands.
Such a terrible overthrow, though it raised a general
consternation in Rome, did not, however, dishearten
Augustus, or cause him to abandon his enterprise.
About two years after (A. D. 12.), Tiberius and Ger-
manicus were appointed to command in Germany.
The death of Augustus, however, which happened
soon after, prevented Tiberius from going on his ex¬
pedition ; and Germanicus was for some time hindered
from proceeding in liis, by a revolt of the legions, first
in Pannonia, and then in Germany. About the year
15, Germanicus having brought over the soldiers to
their duty, laid a bridge across the Rhine, over which
he marched 12,000 legionaries, 26 cohorts of the al¬
lies, and eight alae (squadrons of 300 each) of horse.
With these he first traversed the Coesian forest (part
of the Hercynian, and thought to lie partly in the duchy
of Cleves, and partly in Westphalia), and some other
woods. On his march he was informed that the Marsi
were celebrating a festival with great mirth and jol¬
lity. Upon this he advanced with such expedition,
that he surprised them in the midst of their debauch j
and giving his army full liberty to make what ha-
vock they pleased, a terrible massacre ensued, and
the country was destroyed with fire and sword for 50
miles round, without the loss of a single man on the
part of the Romans.—This general massacre roused
the Bructeri, the Tubantes, and the Usipetes j who,
besetting the passes through which the Roman army
was to return, fell upon their rear, and put them in¬
to some disorder; but the Romans soon recovered
themselves, and defeated the Germans with consider¬
able loss.
The following year (A. D. 16), Germanicus taking
advantage of some intestine broils which happened
among the Catti, entered their country, where he put
great numbers to the sword. Most of their youth,
however, escaped by swimming over the Adrana, now
the Oder, and attempted to prevent the Romans from
laying a bridge over that river: but being disappointed
in this, some of them submitted to Germanicus, while
the greater part, abandoning their villages, took re-
12
Jiioits qf
(‘■nani-
C-
MANY. <577
fuge in the woods j so that the Romans, without oppo- Germanf.
sition, set fire to all their villages, towns, &c. and 1
having laid their capital in ashes, began their march
back to the Rhine.
Germanicus had scarce reached his camp, when he
received a message from Segestes, a German prince,
in the interest of the Romans, acquainting him that
he was besieged in his camp by Arminius. On this
advice, he instantly marched against the besiegers j en¬
tirely defeated them j and took a great number of
prisoners, among whom was Thusneldis, the wife
of Arminius, and daughter of Segestes, whom the
former had carried off, and married against her father’s
will. Arminius then, more enraged than ever, for
the loss of his wife, whom he tenderly loved, stirred
up all the neighbouring nations against the Romans.
Germanicus, however, without being dismayed by
such a formidable confederacy, prepared himself to op¬
pose the enemy with vigour: but, that he might not
be obliged to engage such numerous forces at once,
detached his lieutenant Caecina, at the head of 40 co¬
horts, into the territories of the Bructeri j while his
cavalry, under the command of Pedo, entered the
country of the Frisii. As for Germanicus himself, he
embarked the remainder of his army, consisting of
four legions, on a neighbouring lake j and transported
them by rivers and canals to the place appointed on
the river Ems, where the three bodies met. In their
march they found the sad remains of the legions con¬
ducted by Varus, which they buried with all the cere¬
mony their circumstances could admit. After this
they advanced against Arminius, who retired and post¬
ed himself advantageously close to a wood. The Ro¬
man general followed him; and coming up with him,
ordered his cavalry to advance and attack the enemy.
Arminius, at their first approach, pretended to fly
but suddenly wheeled about, and giving the signal to a
body of troops, whom he had concealed in the wood,
to rush out, obliged the cavalry to give ground. The
cohorts then advanced to their relief j but they too were
put into disorder, and would have been pushed into a
morass, had not Germanicus himself advanced with
the rest of the cavalry to their relief. Arminius did
not think it prudent to engage these fresh troops, but
retired in good order ; upon which Germanicus also
retired towards the Ems. Here he embarked with
four legions, ordered Cascina to reconduct the other
four by land, and sent the cavalry to the sea side, with
orders to march along the shore to the Rhine. Though
Csecina was to return by roads well known, yet Ger¬
manicus advised him to pass, with all possible speed, a
causeway, called the long bridges, which led across vast
marshes, surrounded on all sides with woods and hills
that gently rose from the plain.
Arminius, however, having got notice of Caecina’s
march, arrived at the long bridges before Caecina, and
filled the woods with his men, who, on the approach
of the Romans, rushed out, and attacked them with
great fury. The legions, not able to manage their
arms in the deep waters and slippery ground, were ob¬
liged to yield : and would in all probability have been
entirely defeated, had not night put an end to the
combat. The Germans, encouraged by their suc¬
cesses, instead of refreshing themselves with sleep, spent
the whole night in diverting the courses of the springs
which:
678
GERMANY.
Germany, which rose in the neighbouring mountains ; so that,
v —.. > bef0re day, the camp which the Homans had begun
was laid under water, and their works were overturned.
Caxina was for some time at a loss what to do ; but
at last resolved to attack the enemy by daybreak, and,
having driven them to their woods, to keep them ihere
in a manner besieged, till the baggage and wounded
men should pass the causeway, and get out of the
enemy’s reach. But when his army was drawn up, the
legions posted on the wings, seized with a sudden pa¬
nic, deserted their stations, and occupied afield beyond
the marshes. Coecina thought it advisable to follow
them $ but the baggage stuck in. the mire, as he at¬
tempted to cross the marshes, which greatly embarras¬
sed the soldiers. Arminius perceiving this, laid hold
of the opportunity to begin the attack ; and crying
out, “ This is a second Varus, the same fate attends
him and his legions,” fell on the Romans with inex¬
pressible fury. As he had ordered his men to aim
chiefly at the horses, great numbers of them were
killed j and the ground becoming slippery with their
blood and the slime of the marsh, the rest either fell
or threw their riders, and, galloping through the ranks,
put them in disorder. Csecina distinguished himself
in a very eminent manner j but his horse being killed,
he would have been taken prisoner, had not the first
legion rescued him. The greediness of the enemy,
however, saved the Romans from utter destruction ;
for just as the legions were quite spent, and on the
' point of yielding, the barbarians on a sudden abandon¬
ed them in order to seize their baggage. During this
respite, the Romans struggled out of the marsh, and
having gained the dry fields, formed a camp with all
possible speed, and fortified it in the best manner they
could.
The Germans having lost the opportunity of de¬
stroying the Romans, contrary to the advice ol Ar¬
minius, attacked their camp next morning, hut were
repulsed with great slaughter *, after which they gave
Csecina no more molestation till he reached the banks
of the Rhine. Germanicus, in the mean time, having
conveyed the legions he had with him down the river
Ems into the ocean, in order to return by sea to the
river Rhine, and finding that his vessels were overload¬
ed, delivered the second and 14th legions to Publius
Vitellius, desiring him to conduct them by land. But
this march proved fatal to great numbers of them 5 who
were either buried in the quicksands, or swallowed up
by the overflowing of the tide, to which they were
as yet utter strangers. Those who escaped, lost their
arms, utensils, and provisions $ and passed a melan¬
choly night upon an eminence, which they had gained
by wading up to the chin. The next morning the
land returned with the tide of ebb ; when Vitellius,
by a hasty march, reached the river Usingis, by some
thought to he the Hoerenster, on which the city of
Groningen stands. There Germanicus, who had reach¬
ed that river with his fleet, took the legions again on
board, and conveyed them to the mouth of the Rhine,
whence they all returned to Cologne, at a time when
it was reported they were totally lost.
This expedition, however, cost the Romans very
dear, and procured very few advantages. Great num¬
bers of men had perished j and by far the greatest part
of those who had escaped so many dangers returned
without arms, utensils, horses, &c. half naked, lamed, German/
and unfit for service. The next year, however, Ger- —y—.
manicus, bent on the entire reduction of Germany,
made vast preparations for another expedition. Hav-^1S *5c?n
ing considered the various accidents, that had befallen
him during the war, he found that the Germans were
chiefly indebted for their safety to their woods and
marshes, their short summers and long winters j and
that his troops suffered more from their long and te¬
dious marches than from the enemy. For this reason
he resolved to enter the country by sea, hoping by
that means to begin the campaign earlier, and surprise
the enemy. Having therefore built with great de¬
spatch, during the winter, IOOO vessels of different sorts,
he ordered them early in the spring (A. D. 16.) to
fall down the Rhine, and appointed the island of the
Batavians for the general rendezvous of his forces.
When the fleet was sailing, he detached Silius, one of
his lieutenants, with orders to make a sudden irrup¬
tion into the country of the Catti; and, in the mean
time, he himself, upon receiving intelligence that a
Roman fort on the Luppias was besieged, hastened
with six legions to its relief. Silius was prevented, by
sudden rains, from doing more than taking some small
booty, with the wife and daughter of Arpen, king
of the Catti; neither did those who besieged the fort
wait the arrival of Germanicus. In the mean time,
the fleet arriving at the island of the Batavians, the
provisions and warlike engines were put on board and
sent forward j ships were assigned to the legions and
allies $ and the whole army being embarked, the fleet
entered the canal formerly cut by Drusus, and from
his name called Fossa Drusiana. Hence he sailed pro¬
sperously to the mouth of the Ems $ where, having
landed his troops, he marched directly to the Weser,
where he found Arminius encamped on the opposite
bank, and determined to dispute his passage. The
next day Arminiua drew out his troops in order of
battle $ but Germanicus, not thinking it advisable to
attack them, ordered the horse to ford over under the
command of his lieutenants Stertinius and Emilius 5
who, to divide the enemy’s forces, crossed the river in
two difl’erent places. At the same time Cariovalda,
the leader of the Batavian auxiliaries, crossed the river
where it is most rapid j but being drawn into an
ambuscade, he was killed, together with most of the
Batavian nobility, and the rest would have been totally
cut off, had not Stertinius and Emilius hastened to
their assistance. Germanicus in the mean time passed
the river without molestation. A battle soon after
ensued, in which the Germans were defeated with so
great a slaughter, that the ground was covered with
arms and dead bodies for more than 10 miles round ;
and among the spoils taken on this ocasion, were found,
as formerly, the chains with which the Germans had
hoped to bind their captives.
In memory of this signal victory Germanicus raised
a mount, upon which he placed as trophies the arms of
the enemy, and inscribed underneath the names of the
conquered nations. This so provoked the Germans,
though already vanquished and determined to abandon
their country, that they attacked the Roman army
unexpectedly on its march, and put them into some
disorder. Being repulsed, they encamped between a
river and a large forest surrounded by a marsh except
on
UJermauy.
GERMANY.
*:z^*\^* sr rd i''ose G'™a? * -!7,9
the. a„a the Cheresci. He, anothee Ba,„e ^ “7?“
were with difficulty subdued ; but, in the reign ofThe Daci"
Domitian, the Dacians invaded the empire, and proved ?,nS
a more terrible enemy than any of the other German 1^"“"
nations had been. After several defeats, the emperor
was at last obliged to consent to pay an annual tribute
them and the Cherusci. Here another battle ensued ;
in which the Germans behaved with great bravery, but
in the end were defeated with great slaughter.
After this second defeat, the Angrivarii submitted,
and were taken under the protection of the Komans,
and Germanicus put an end to the campaign. Some’
, ’ H
[i* fleet
ispersed
a storm
of the legions he sent to their winter quarters bv land to IWbn T t0-pay an annual tr.ibute
while he himself embarked with the rest on tJ 'l„US„c .° 1 G I)ac;ans j wh‘cl1 continued
^ th of
^ inius.
while he himself embarked with the rest on the river
Ems, in order to return by sea. The ocean proved at
first very calm, and the wind favourable ; but all of a
sudden a storm arising, the fleet consisting of 1000
vessels, was dispersed : some of them were swallowed
up by the waves; others were dashed in pieces against
the rocks, or driven upon remote and inhospitable
islands, where the men either perished by famine, or
lived upon the flesh of the dead horses with which the
shores soon appeared strewed $ for, in order to lighten
their vessels, and disengage them from the shoals, they
had been obliged to throw overboard their horses and
beasts of burden, nay, even their arms and baggage.
Most of the men, however, were saved, and even great
part of the fleet recovered. Some of them were driven
upon the coast of Britain } but the petty kings who
reigned there generously sent them back.
On the news of this misfortune, the Catti, taking
new courage, ran to arms ; but Caius Silius being de¬
tached against them with 30,000 foot and 3000 horse,
kept them in awe. Germanicus himself, at the head
of a numerous body, made a sudden irruption into the
territories of the Marsi, where he recovered one of
Varus’s eagles, amf having laid waste the country, he
returned to the frontiers of Germany, and put his
troops into winter quarters : whence he was soon recal¬
led by Tiberius, and never suffered to return into Ger¬
many again.
After the departure of Germanicus, the more north¬
ern nations of Germany were no more molested by
the Romans. Arminius carried on a long and success¬
ful war with Maroboduus king of the Marcomanni,
whom he at last expelled, and forced to apply to the
Romans for assistance j but, excepting Germanicus, it
seems they had at this time no other general capable
of opposing Arminius, so that Maroboduus was never
restored. After the final departure of the Romans,
however, Arminius having attempted to enslave his
country, fell by the treachery of his own kindred. The
Germans held his memory in great veneration ; and
Tacitus informs us, that in his time they still celebrat¬
ed him in their songs.
Nothing remarkable occurs in the history of Germa¬
ny from this time till the reign of the emperor Clau¬
dius. A war indeed is said to have been carried on by
Lucius Domitius, father to the emperor Nero. But
of his exploits we know nothing more than that he pe¬
netrated beyond the river Elbe, and led his army far¬
ther into the country than any of the Romans had ever
done. In the reign of Claudius, however, the German
territories were invaded by Cn. Domitius Corhulo, one
of the greatest generals of his age. But when he was
on the point of forcing them to submit to the Roman
yoke, he was recalled by Claudius, who was jealous of
the imputation he had acquired.
In the reign of Vespasian, a terrible revolt happened
to the time of Trajan. But that warlike prince re-
lused t0> pay tribute ; alleging, when it was demand¬
ed of him, that “ he had never been conquered by
Decebalus. Upon this the Dacians passed the Da¬
nube, and began to commit hostilities in the Roman
territories. Trajan, glad of this opportunity to hum¬
ble an enemy whom he began to fear, drew together
a mighty army, and marched with the utmost expe¬
dition to the banks of the Danube. As Decebalus
was not apprised of his arrival, the emperor passed
the river without opposition, and entering Dacia, laid
waste the country with fire and sword. At last he was
met by Decebalus with a numerous army. A bloody
engagement ensued, in which the Dacians were de¬
feated j though the victory cost the Romans dear:
the wounded were so numerous, that they wanted
linen to bind up their wounds j and to supply the de¬
fect, the emperor generously devoted his own ward¬
robe. After the victory, he pursued Decebalus from
place to place, and at last obliged him to consent to a
peace on the Mowing terms: 1. That he should
surrender the territories which he had unjustly taken
from the neighbouring nations. . 2. That he should
deliver up his arms, his warlike engines, with the ar¬
tificers who made them, and all the Roman deserters.
3. That for the future he should entertain no deserters
nor take into his service the natives of any country
subject to Rome. 4. I hat he should dismantle all his
fortresses, castles, and strong holds. And, lastly, That
he should have the same friends and foes with the ueo-
ple of Rome.
With these hard terms Decebalus was obliged to
comply, though sore against his will ; and being intro¬
duced to Trajan, threw himself on the ground before
him, acknowledging himself his vassal; after which the
latter, having commanded him to send deputies to the
senate for the ratification of the peace, returned to
Rome.
This peace was of no long duration. Four years
after (A. D. 105.), Decebalus, unable to live in ser¬
vitude as he called it, began, contrary to the late
treaty, to raise men, provide arms, entertain deserters,
fortify his castles, and invite the neighbouring nations
to join him against the Romans as a common enemy.
.The Scythians hearkened to his solicitations ; but the
Jazyges, a neighbouring nation, refusing to bear arms
against Rome, Decebalus invaded their country. Here¬
upon Trajan marched against him ; but the Dacian,
finding himself unable to withstand him by open force,
had recourse to treachery, and attempted to get the
emperor murdered. His design, however, proved
abortive, and Trajan pursued his march into Dacia.
That his troops might the more readily pass and re¬
pass the Danube, he built a bridge over that river j
which by the ancients is styled the most magnificent and * See Ar-
wonderful of all his works*. To guard the bridge.chittclure,
‘33.
GERMANY.
*7
They are
subdued by
Trajan.
18
Mareo-
manni and
Quadi for¬
midable to
the empire.
*9
Roman em
pire de¬
stroyed by
the Heruli.
20
History of
Germany
ainee the
time of
Charle¬
magne.
be ordered two castles to be built j one on this side
the Danube, and the other on the opposite side •, and
all this was accomplished in the space of one summer.
Trajan, however, as the season was now far advanced,
did not think it adviseable to enter Dacia this year,
but contented himself with making the necessary pre¬
parations. _ t
In the year 106, early in the spring, Trajan set out
for Dacia *, and having passed the Danube on the bridge
he had built, reduced the whole country, and would
have taken Decebalus himself, had he not put an end
to his own life, in order to avoid falling into the hands
of his enemies. After his death the kingdom of Da¬
cia was reduced to a Roman province •, and several
castles were built in it, and garrisons placed in them,
to keep the country in awe.
After the death of Trajan, the Roman empire be¬
gan to decline, and the northern nations to be daily
more and more formidable. The province of Dacia
indeed was held by the Romans till the reign of Gal-
lienus j but Adrian, who succeeded Trajan, caused the
arches of the bridge over the Danube to be broken
down, lest the barbarians should make themselves ma¬
sters of it, and invade the Roman territories. In the
time of Marcus Aurelius, the Marcomanni and Quadi
invaded the empire, and gave the emperor a terrible
overthrow. He continued the war, however, with bet¬
ter success afterwards, and invaded their country in his
turn. It was during the course of this war that the
Roman army is said to have been saved from destruc¬
tion by that miraculous event related under the article
Christians, p. 70. col. 2.
In the end, the Marcomanni and Quadi were, by
repeated defeats, brought to the verge of destruction,
insomuch that their country would probably have been
reduced to a Roman province, had not Marcus Aure¬
lius been diverted from pursuing his conquests by the
revolt of one of his generals. After the death of Mar¬
cus Aurelius, the Germanic nations became every day
more and more formidable to the Romans. Far from
being able to invade and attempt the conquest of
these northern countries, the Romans had the greatest
difficulty to repress the incursions of their inhabitants.
But for a particular account of their various invasions
of the Roman empire, and its total destruction by them
at last, see the article Rome.
The immediate destroyers of the Roman empire
were the Heruli $ who, under their leader Odoacer,
dethroned Augustulus the last Roman emperor, and
proclaimed Odoacer king of Italy. The Heruli were
soon expelled by the Ostrogoths j and these in their
turn were subdued by Justinian, who annexed Italy to
the eastern empire. But the popes found means to
obtain the temporal as well as spiritual jurisdiction over
a considerable part of the country, while the Lom¬
bards subdued the rest. These last proved very trouble¬
some to the popes, and at length besieged Adrian I.
in his capital. In this distress he applied to Charles
the Great, king of France ; who conquered both Italy
and Germany, and was crowned emperor of the west
in 800.
The posterity of Charlemagne inherited the empire
of Germany until the year 880; at which time the dif¬
ferent princes assumed their original independence, re¬
jected the Carlovingian line, and placed Arnulph king
3
of Bohemia on the throne. Since this time Germany Germu
has ever been considered as an elective monarchy. —y-
Princes of different families, according to the preva¬
lence of their interest and arms, have mounted the
throne. Of these the most considerable, until the Au¬
strian line acquired the imperial power were the
houses of Saxony, Franconia, and Suabia. The reigns
of these emperors contain nothing more remarkable
than the contests between them and the popes j for an
account of which see the article Italy. From hence,
in the beginning of the 13th century, arose the fac¬
tions of the Guelphs and Gibellines, of which the for¬
mer was attached to the popes, and the latter to the
emperor; and both, by their virulence and inveteracy,
tended to disquiet the empire for several ages. The
emperors too were often at war with the infidels ; and
sometimes, as happens in all elective kingdoms, with
one another, about the succession.
But what more deserves our attention is the progress
of government in Germany, which was in ^ome mea¬
sure opposite to that of the other kingdoms of Europe.
When the empire raised by Charlemagne fell asunder,
all the different independent princes assumed the right
of election $ and those now distinguished by the name
of electors had no peculiar or legal influence in ap¬
pointing a successor to the imperial throne ; they were
only the officers of the king’s household, his secretary,
his steward, chaplain, marshal, or master of his
horse, &c. By degrees, however, as they lived near
the king’s person, and had, like all other princes, inde¬
pendent territories belonging to them, they increased
their influence and authority j and in the reign of Otho
III. 984, acquired the sole right of electing the em¬
peror. Thus, while in the other kingdoms of Europe,
the dignity of the great lords, who were all originally
allodial or independent barons, was diminished by the
power of the king, as in France, and by the influ¬
ence of the people as in Great Britain ; in Germany,
on the other hand, the power of the electors was
raised upon the ruins of the emperor’s supremacy,
and of the people’s jurisdiction. In 1440, Frederic
III. duke of Austria was elected emperor, and the
imperial dignity continued in the male line of that fa¬
mily for 300 years. His successor Maximilian mar¬
ried the heiress of Charles duke of Burgundy ; where¬
by Burgundy and the 17 provinces of the Netherlands
were annexed to the house of Austria. Charles Y.
grandson of Maximilian, and heir to the kingdom of
Spain, was elected emperor in the year 1519. Under
him Mexico and Peru were conquered by the Spa¬
niards ; and in his reign happened the Reformation
in several parts of Germany ; which, however, was not
confirmed by public authority till the year 1648, by
the treaty of Westphalia, and in the reign of Ferdi¬
nand III. The reign of Charles V. was continually
disturbed by his wars with the German princes and the
French king Francis I. Though successful in the be¬
ginning of his reign, his good fortune towards the con¬
clusion of it began to forsake him; which, with other
reasons, occasioned his abdication of the crown. See
Charles V.
His brother Ferdinand I. who in 1558 succeeded
to the throne, proved a moderate prince with regard
to religion. He had the address to get his son Maxi¬
milian declared king of the Romans in his own life¬
time,
GERMANY.
muliy time, and died in 1564. By his last will he ordered,
.ry-— that if either his own male issue, or that of his brother
Charles, should fail, his Austrian estates should revert
to his second daughter Anne, wife to the elector of
Bavaria, and her issue. We mention this destination,
as it gave rise to the late opposition made by the house
of Bavaria to the pragmatic sanction, in favour of the
empress queen of Hungary, on the death of her father
Charles VI. The reign of Maximilian II. was disturb¬
ed with internal commotions, and an invasion from the
Turks: but he died in peace in 1576. He was suc¬
ceeded by his son Rudolph ; who was involved in wars
with the Hungarians, and in differences with his bro¬
ther Matthias, to whom he ceded Hungary and Aus¬
tria in his lifetime. He was succeeded in the empire
by Matthias; under whom the reformers, who went
under the names of Lutherans and Calvinists, were so
much divided among themselves, as to threaten the
empire with a civil war. The ambition of Matthias
at last tended to reconcile them 5 but the Bohemians
revolted, and threw the imperial commissaries out of
a window at Prague. This gave rise to a ruinous war,
winch lasted 30 years. Matthias thought to have ex¬
terminated both parties; but they formed a confede¬
racy, called the Evangelic League, which was counter¬
balanced by a Catholic league.
Matthias dying in 1618, was succeeded by his cou¬
sin Ferdinand II.; but the Bohemians offered their
crown to Frederic the elector Palatine, the most power¬
ful Protestant prince in Germany, and son-in-law to
his Britannic majesty James I. That prince was incau¬
tious enough to accept of the crown: but he lost it,
by being entirely defeated by the duke of Bavaria and
the imperial generals at the battle of Prague j and he
was even deprived of his electorate, the best part of
which was given to the duke of Bavaria. The Pro¬
testant princes of Germany, however, had among them
at this time many able commanders, who were at the
head of armies, and continued the war with wonderful
obstinacy: among them were the margrave of Baden
Durlach, Christian duke of Brunswick, and Count
Mansfeld 5 the last was one of the best generals of the
age. Christiern IV. king of Denmark declared for
them 5 and Richelieu, the French minister, was not
fond of seeing the house of Austria aggrandized. The
emperor, on the other hand, had excellent generals ;
and Christiern, having put himself at the head of the
evangelic league, was defeated by Tilly, an Imperi¬
alist of great reputation in war. Ferdinand made so
moderate a use of his advantages obtained over the
Protestants, that they formed a fresh conspiracy at
Feipsic, of which the celebrated Gustavus Adolphus
king of Sweden was the head. An account of his
glorious victories is given under the article Sweden.
At last he was killed at the battle of Lutzen in 1632.
But the Protestant cause did not die with him. He
had brought up a set of heroes, such as the duke of
Saxe Weimer, Torstenson, Banier,and others, whoshook
the Austrian power j till under the mediation of Sweden,
a general peace was concluded among all the belligerent
powers, at Munster, in the year 1648 : which forms the
basis of the present political system of Europe.
Ferdinand II. was succeeded by his son Ferdinand
III. This prince died in 1657; and was succeeded
by the emperor Leopold, a severe, unamiable, and not
VOL. IX. Part II. t
very fortunate prince. He had two great powers to Germany.
contend with, France on the one side, and the Turks 1 
on the other} and was a loser in bis war with both.
Louis XIV. at that time king of France, was happy
in having the two celebrated generals Conde and Tu-
renne in his service. The latter had already distin¬
guished himself by great exploits against the Spaniards ;
and, on the accession of Leopold, the court of France
had taken the opportunity of confirming the treaty of
Munster, and attaching to her interest several of the
independent princes of Germany. The tranquillity
which now took place, however, was not established
upon any permanent basis. War with Spain was re¬
sumed in the year 1668} and the great successes of
Turenne in the Netherlands stimulated the ambition
of the prince of Conde, to attempt the conquest of
Franche Compte, at that time under the protection of
the house of Austriat This was accomplished in three
weeks: but the rapid success of Louis had awakened
the jealousy of his neighbours to such a degree, that a
league was formed against him by England, Holland,
and Sweden; and the French monarch, dreading to
enter the lists with such formidable enemies, consented
to the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, by which, among
other articles, Franche Compte was restored. The
flames of war, however, were renewed by the insatiable
ambition of the French monarch ; who, having enter¬
ed into an alliance with Charles II. of England, aim¬
ed at nothing less than the total overthrow of the
Dutch republic. The events of that war are related
under the article United Provinces; here it is
sufficient to observe, that the misfortunes of the
Dutch excited the compassion of the emperor and
court of Spain, who now openly declared themselves
their allies. Turenne was opposed by the prince of
Orange in conjunction with the celebrated Imperial
general Montecuculi, whose artful conduct eluded
even the penetration of Turenne, and he sat down
suddenly before the city of Bonne. Here he was
joined by the prince of Orange, who had likewise
found means to elude the vigilance of the French ge¬
nerals. Bonne surrendered in a short time, and
several other places in Cologne fell into the hands of
the allies; who likewise cut off the communication
betwixt France and the United Provinces; so that
Louis was soon obliged to recal his armies, and aban¬
don all his conquests with greater rapidity than they
had been made. In 1674 he was abandoned by his
ally Charles II. of England, and the bishop of Munster
and elector of Cologne were compelled to renounce
their allegiance to him; but notwithstanding these
misfortunes, he continued everywhere to make head
against his enemies, and even meditated new conquests.
With a powerful army he again invaded Franche
Compte in person, and in six weeks reduced the whole
province to his obedience. In Alsace, Turenne de¬
feated the Imperial general at Sintzheim, and ravaged
the palatinate. Seventy thousand Germans were sur¬
prised ; a considerable detachment was cut in pieces at
Mulhausen; the elector of Brandenburg, who had
been intrusted with the chief command, was routed
by Turenne near Colmar; a third body met with a
similar fate at Turkheim ; and the whole German
forces were obliged at last to evacuate the province and
repass the Rhine.
4 R In
CEE. M A N Y.
682
Cenrniiv con5equencc of these disasters the imperial general
l-1-v——i’Montecuculi was recalled to act against lurenne. I he
military skill of the two commanders seemed to be near¬
ly equal", but before the superiority could be adjudged
to either, Turenne was killed by a cannon ball as he
was reconnoitring a situation for erecting a battery. By
his death the Imperialists obtained a decided superio¬
rity. Montecuculi penetrated into Alsace; and the
French, under Be Lorges nephew to the deceased ge¬
neral, were happy in being able to escape a defeat.
Part of the German army now sat down before
Treves, where they were opposed by Mareschal Crequi;
but the negligence of that general exposed him to such
a dreadful defeat, that he was obliged to fly into the
city with only four attendants. Here he endeavoured
in vain to animate the people to a vigorous defence.
The garrison mutinied against his authority; and,
when he refused to sign the capitulation they made,
delivered him up prisoner to the enemy. Louis in the
mean time had taken the field in person against the
prince of Orange ; hut the disastrous state of affairs in
Germanv induced him to recal tne prince ot Conde
to make'head against Montecuculi. In this campaign
the prince seemed to have the advantage. He com¬
pelled the Germans to raise the sieges of Hagenau and
Saverne ; and at last to repass the Rhine without ha¬
ving been able to force him to a battle.
This was the last campaign made by these celebrated
commanders; both of them now, contented with the
fame they had acquired, retiring from the field to
spend the remainder of their days in peace. The ex¬
cellent discipline, however, which the two great 1* rench
generals had introduced into their armies, still conti¬
nued to make them very formidable, though it did
not always ensure them of victory. In Germany, the
duke of Lorrain, who had recovered Philipsburg, was
repeatedly defeated bv Mareschal Crequi, who had
been ransomed from his captivity, and become more
prudent by his defeat. In Flanders, the prince of
Orange was overmatched by the duke of Orleans and
Marshal Luxemburg. A peace was at length con¬
cluded at Nimeguen in 1679, which the king of
France secured himself Franche Compte with a great
many cities in the Netherlands; while the king of
Sweden was reinstated in those places of which he had
been stripped by the Danes and Germans. This tran¬
quillity, however, was of no long duration. Louis
emoloyed every moment in preparations for new con¬
quests; possessed himself of the imperial city of Stras-
burg by treachery; and dispossessed the elector Pala¬
tine and the elector of Treves of the lordships of Fal-
kemburg, Germansheim, and Valdentz. On the most
frivolous pretences he had demanded Alost from the
Spaniards ; and on their refusal, seized upon Luxem¬
burg. His conduct, in short, was so intolerable, that
the prince of Orange, his inveterate enemy, found
means to unite the whole empire in a league against
him. Spain and Holland became parties in the same
cause; and Sweden and Denmark seemed also inclined
to accede to the general confederacy. Notwithstand¬
ing this formidable combination, however, Louis seem¬
ed still to have the advantage. He made himself ma¬
ster of the cities of Philipsburg, Manheim, Franken-
dal, Spires, Worms, and Oppenheim: the fruitful
country of the Palatinate was ravaged in a dreadful man*
ner ; the towns were reduced to ashes; and the people, -
driven from their habitations, were everywhere left to
perish through the inclemency of the weather and
want of provisions. By this cruelty bis enemies were
rather exasperated than vanquished : the Imperialists,
under the conduct of the duke of Lorrain, resumed
their courage, and put a stop to the French conquests.
At length all parties, weary of a destructive war, con¬
sented to the treaty of Ryswick in 1697. By this
treaty Louis gave up to the empire, Fribourg, Bri-
sac, Kheil, and Philipsburg; he consented also to de¬
stroy the fortifications of Strasburg. Fort Louis and
Traerbaeb, the works of which had exhausted the
skill of the great Vauban, with Lorrain, Treves, and
the Palatinate, were resigned to their respective
princes; insomuch that the terms to which the Freiuh
monarch now consented, after so many victories, were
such as could scarce have been expected under the
pressure of the greatest misfortunes. The views of
Louis, however, in consenting to this apparently hu¬
miliating treaty, were beyond the views of ordinary
politicians. The health of the king of Spain was in
such a declining way, that his death appeared to be at
hand ; and Louis now resolved to renew his preten¬
sions to that kingdom, which he had formerly by
treaty solemnly renounced. His designs in this re¬
spect could not be concealed from the vigilance of
William III. of Britain; of which Louis being sen¬
sible, and knowing that the emperor had claims of tlse
same nature on Spain, he thought proper to enter into
a very extraordinary treaty with William. 'I bis was
no less than the partition of the whole Spanish domi¬
nions, which were now to he distributed in the follow¬
ing manner. To the young prince of Bavaria were to
be assigned Spain and the F.ast Indies ; the dauphin,
son to Louis, was to have Naples, Sicily, and the pro¬
vince of Guipuscoa; while the archduke Charles, son
to the emperor Leopold, was to have only the duchy
of Milan. By this scandalous treaty the indignation
of Charles was roused, so that he bequeathed the whols
of his dominuns to the prince of Bavaria. This
scheme, however, was disconcerted by the sudden death
of the prince; upon which a new treaty of parti¬
tion was concluded between Louis and William. By
this the kingdom of Spain, together with the F.ast
India territories, were to be bestowed on the arch¬
duke Charles, and the duchy of Milan upon the duke
of Lorrain. The last moments of the Spanish monarch
were disturbed by the intrigues of the rival houses ot
Austria and Bourbon ; but the haughtiness of the Au¬
strian ministers so disgusted those of Spain, that they
prevailed upon their dying monarch to make a new
will. By this the whole of his dominions were be¬
queathed to Philip duke of Anjou, grandson to the
king of France ; and Louis, prompted by his natural
ambition, accepted the kingdom bequeathed to his
grandson, excusing himself to his allies in the best man¬
ner he could for departing from his engagements with
them. For this, however, he was made to pay dear.
His insatiable ambition and his former successes had
alarmed all Europe. The emperor, the Dutch, and the
king of England, entered into a new confederacy
against him ; and a bloody war ensued, which threatened
GERMANY.
-many, to overthrow the French monarchy entirely. While
this war (of which an account is given under the arti¬
cle Britain) was carried on with such success, the
emperor Leopold died in the year 1705.
He was succeeded by his son Joseph, who put the
electors of Cologne and Bavaria to the ban of the em¬
pire •, but being ill served by Prince Louis of Baden,
general of the empire, the French partly recovered
their affairs, notwithstanding their repeated defeats.
The duke of Marlborough had not all the success he
enpected or deserved. Joseph liimself was suspected of
a design to subvert the Germanic liberties ; and it was
plain by his conduct, that he expected England should
take the labouring oar in the Avar, which Avas to be en¬
tirely carried on for his benetk. The English were
disgusted at his slowness and seltishr.ess: but he died in
1711, before he had reduced the Hungarians j and
leaving no male issue, he was succeeded in the empire
by his brother Charles VI. whom the allies were en¬
deavouring to place on the throne of Spain, in opposi¬
tion to Philip duke of Anjou, grandson to Louis XIV.
When the peace of Utrecht took place in 1713,
Charles at first made a show as if he would continue the
war j but found himself unable, now that he was for¬
saken by the English. He therefore was obliged to
conclude a peace with France at Baden in 1714, that
he might attend the progress of the Turks in Hun¬
gary j where they received a total defeat from Prince
Eugene at the battle of Peterwaradin. They received
another of equal importance from the same general
in 1717, before Belgrade, which fell into the hands
of the Imperialists ; and next year the peace of Passaro-
witz, between them^ and the Turks, was concluded.
Charles employed every minute of his leisure in ma¬
king arrangements for increasing and preserving his he¬
reditary dominions in Italy and the Mediterranean.
Happily for him, the crown of Britain devolved to the
house of Hanover *, an event which gave him a very
decisive weight in Europe, by the connexions between
George I. and II. and the empire. Charles was sen¬
sible of this $ and carried matters with so high a hand,
that, about the years 1724 and 1725, a breach ensued
between him and George I. and so unsteady was the
system of affairs all over Europe at that time, that the
capital powers often changed their old alliances, and
concluded new ones contradictory to their interest.
Without entering into particulars, it is sufficient to ob¬
serve, that the safety of Hanover, and its aggrandize¬
ment, was the main object of the British court; as that
of the emperor was the establishment of the pragmatic
sanction in favour of his daughter (the late empress
queen), he having no male issue. Mutual concessions
upon those great points restored a good understanding
between George II. and the emperor Charles : and the
elector of Saxony, flattered with the view of gaining
the throne of Poland, relinquished the great claims he
had upon the Austrian succession.
The emperor, after this, had very bad success in a
war he entered into with the Turks, which he had un¬
dertaken chiefly to indemnify himself for the great sa¬
crifices he had made in Italy to the princes of the house
of Bourbon. Prince Eugene was then dead, and he
had no general to supply his place. The system of
France, however, under Cardinal Fleury, happened at
that time to be pacific; and she obtained for him, from
the Turks, a better peace than he had reason to ex¬
pect. Charles, to keep the German and other powers
easy, had, before his death, given his eldest daughter,
the late empress queen, in marriage to the duke of
Lorrain, a prince who could bring no accession of
power to the Austrian family.
Charles died in 1740; and was no sooner in the
grave, than all he had so long laboured for must have
been oveithiown, had it not been for the firmness of
George II. The young king of Prussia entered and
conquered Silesia, which he said had been wrongfully
dismembered from his lamily. The king of Spain and
the elector oi Bavaria set up claims directly incompa¬
tible with the pragmatic sanction, and in this they were
joined by I lance; though all those powers had solemn¬
ly goal anteed it. i lie imperial throne, after a consi¬
derable vacancy, was filled up by the elector of Bava¬
ria, who took the title of Charles VII. in January
1742. I he Irench poured their armies into Bohemia,
vvheie they took Prague ; and the queen of Hungary,
to take oli the weight ol Prussia, was forced to cede to
that prince the most valuable part of the duchy of Si¬
lesia by a formal treaty.
Her youth, her beauty, and sufferings, and the
noble fortitude with which she bore them, touched
the hearts of the Hungarians, into whose arms she
threw herself and her little son ; and though they had
been always remarkable for their disaffection to the
house of Austria, they declared unanimously in her
favour. Her generals drove the French out of Bo¬
hemia; and George li. at the head of an English and
Hanoverian army, gained the battle of Hettingen, in
x743* Charles VII. was at this time miserable on
the impel ml throne, and would have given the queen
of Hungary almost her own tei ms ; but she haughtily
and unpolitically rejected all accommodation, though
advised to it by his Britannic majesty, her best and
indeed only friend. This obstinacy gave a colour for
the king of Prussia to invade Bohemia, under pretence
of supporting the imperial dignity ; hut though he
took Prague, and subdued the greatest part of the
kingdom, he was not supported by the French ; upon
which he abandoned all his conquests, and retired into
Silesia. This event confirmed the obstinacy of the
queen of Hungary : who came to an accommodation
with the emperor, that she might recover Silesia.
Soon after, his. Imperial majesty, in the beginning of
the year 1755, died; and the duke of Lorrain, then
grand duke of Tuscany, consort to the queen of Hun¬
gary, after surmounting some difficulties, was chosen
emperor.
The bad success of the allies against the. French and
Bavarians in the Low Countries, and the loss of the
battle of Fontenoy, retarded the operations of the
empress queen against his Prussian majesty. The lat¬
ter beat the emperor’s brother, Prince Charles of Lor¬
rain, who had before driven the Prussians out of Bo¬
hemia ; and the conduct of the empress queen was
such, that his Britannic majesty thought proper to
guarantee to him the possession of Silesia, as ceded by
treaty. Soon after, his Prussian majesty pretended
that he had discovered a secret convention which had
been entered into between the empress queen, the em¬
press of Russia, and the king of Poland as elector of
Saxony, to strip him of his dominions, and to divide
4 B 2 them
683
Germany.
684
Germany.
GERMANY.
them among themselves. Upon this his Prussian
majesty, very suddenly, drove the king of I oland out
of Saxony, defeated his troops, and took possession
of Dresden ; which he held till a treaty was made un¬
der the mediation of his Britannic majesty, by which
the kin"- of Prussia acknowledged the duke ot Dor-
rain, great duke of Tuscany, for emperor. I he
war, however, continued in the Low Countries, not
only to the disadvantage, hut to the discredit ot the
Austrians and Dutch, till it was finished by the treaty
of Aix-la-Chapelle, in April 1748. By that treaty bile-
sia was once more guaranteed to the king ot Prussia.
It was not long before that monarch’s jealousies were
renewed and verified 5 and the empress of Russia’s
views falling in with those of the empress queen and
the king of Poland, who were unnaturally supported
by France in their new schemes, a fresh war was
kindled in the empire. The king of Prussia declared
against the admission of the Russians into Germany,
and his Britannic majesty against that of the French.
Upon these two principles all former differences be¬
tween these monarchs were forgotten, and the British
parliament agreed to pay an annual subsidy of 670,000!.
to his Prussian majesty during the continuance of the
The flames of war now broke out in Germany with
greater fury and more destructive violence than ever.
The armies of his Prussian majesty, like an irresistible
torrent, burst into Saxony j totally defeated the imperial
general Brown at the battle of Lowositz •, forced the
Saxons to lav down their arms j though almost impreg-
nably fortified at Pima j and the elector of Saxony fled
to his regal dominions in Poland. After this, his Prus¬
sian majesty was put to the ban of the empire j and the
French poured, by one quarter, their armies, as the
Russians did by another, into the empire. The con¬
duct of his Prussian majesty on this occasion is the most
amazing that is to be met with in history j for a parti¬
cular account of which, see the article Prussia.
At last, however, the taking of Colberg by the Rus¬
sians, and of Schweidnitz by the Austrians, was on the
point of completing his ruin, when his most formidable
enemy, the empress of Russia, died January 5. 1762 j
George II. his only ally, had died on the 25th of Oc¬
tober 1760.
The deaths of those illustrious personages were fol¬
lowed by great consequences. The British ministry
of George III. sought to finish the war with honour,
and the new emperor of Russia recalled his armies.
H is Prussian majesty was, notwithstanding, so very
much reduced by his losses, that the empress queen,
probably, would have completed his desti’uction, had
it not been for the wise backwardness of other Ger¬
man princes, not to annihilate the house of Branden¬
burg. At first the empress queen rejected all terms
proposed to her, and ordered 30,000 men to be added
to her armies. The visible backwardness of her gene¬
rals to execute her orders, and new successes obtained
by his Prussian majesty, at last prevailed on her to agree
to an armstice, which was soon followed by the treaty
to Hubertsburgh, which secured to his Prussian majesty
the possession of Silesia. Upon the death of the empe¬
ror her husband, in 1765, her son Joseph, who had
been crowned king of the Romans in 1764, succeeded
him in the empire.
This prince showed an active and restless dispo- Gorman „sn;
sition, much inclined to extend his territories by con- ^
quest, and to make reformations in the internal policy
of his dominions, yet without taking any proper me¬
thods for accomplishing his purposes. Hence he was
almost always disappointed j insomuch that he wrote
for himself the following epitaph : “ Here lies Joseph,
unfortunate in all his undertakings.” In the year 1778,
a war commenced betwixt him and the king of Prussia j
in which, notwithstanding the impetuous valour of that
monarch, Joseph acted with such caution that his ad¬
versary could gain no advantage over him ; and an ac¬
commodation took place without any remarkable ex¬
ploit on either side. In 1781 he took the opportunity
of the quarrel betwixt Britain and the United Provin¬
ces, to deprive the latter of the barrier towns which
had been secured to them by the treaty of Utrecht.
These indeed had frequently been of great use to the
house of Austria in its state of weakness $ but Joseph,
conscious of his own strength, looked upon it as dero¬
gatory to his honour to allow so many of his cities to
remain in the hands of foreigners, and to be garrisoned
at his expence. As at that time the Dutch were unable
to resist, the imperial orders for evacuating the barrier
towns were instantly complied with *, nor did the court
of Fiance, though then in friendship with Holland,
make any ofler to interpose. Encouraged by this suc¬
cess, Joseph next demanded the free navigation of the
Scheldt j but as this would evidently have been very
detrimental to the commercial interests of Holland, a
flat refusal was given to his requisitions. In this the
emperor was much disappointed j having flattered him¬
self that the Hollanders, intimidated by his power,
would yield the navigation of the river as easily as they
had done the barrier. Great preparations were made
by the emperor, which the Dutch, on their part, seem¬
ed determined to resist. But while the emperor appear¬
ed so much set upon this acquisition, he suddenly aban¬
doned the project entirely, and entered into a new
scheme of exchanging the Netherlands for the duchy
of Bavaria. This was opposed by the king of Prussia j
and by the interference of the court of France, the em¬
peror found himself at last obliged also to abandon his
other scheme of obtaining the navigation of the Scheldt.
A treaty of peace was concluded, under the guarantee
of his most Christian majesty. The principal articles
were, that the states acknowledged the emperor’s sove¬
reignty over the Scheldt from Antwerp to the limits of
Seftingen ; they agreed to demolish certain forts, and
to pay a considerable sum of money in lieu of some
claims which the emperor had on Maestricht, and by
way of indemnification for laying part of his territories
under water.
The treaty with the Dutch was no sooner concluded
than a quarrel with the Turks took place, which ter¬
minated in an open war. It does not appear that the
emperor had at this time any real provocation, but
seems to have acted merely in consequence of his en¬
gagements with Russia to reduce the dominions of th«
Grand Signior. All these foreign engagements, how¬
ever, did not in the least retard the progress of reforma¬
tion which the emperor carried on throughout his do¬
minions with a rapidity scarcely to be matched, and
which at last produced the revolt of the Austrian Ne¬
therlands. In the course of his labours in this way, a
complete
GERMANY.
(jmany. complete code of laws was compiled. These were at
tl-y-’--'first greatly commended for their humanity, as exclud¬
ing almost entirely every species of capital punishment j
yet, when narrowly considered, the commutations were
found to be su exceedingly severe, that the most cruel
death would, comparatively speaking, have been an act
of mercy. Even for smaller crimes the punishments
were severe beyond measure ; but the greatest fault of
all was, that the modes of trial were very defective,
and the punishments so arbitrary, that the most perfect
and innocent character lay at the mercy of a tyrannical
judge. The innovations in ecclesiastical matters were,
however, most offensive to his subjects in the Nether¬
lands. Among the many changes introduced into this
department, the following were some of the most re¬
markable. i. An abridgment of divine service. 2. A
total suppression of vocal performers in choirs. 3. The
introduction of the vernacular language instead of the
Latin in administering the sacraments. 4. The prohi¬
bition of chanting hymns in private houses. 5. The
suppression of a great number of religious houses, and
the reduction of the number of the clergv. 6. The to¬
tal abolition of the papal supremacy throughout the im¬
perial dominions. The same spirit of innovation dis¬
played itself even in the most minute matters. Many
favours were bestowed upon the Jews; and in 1786 the
emperor wrote with his own hand to the different han¬
dicraft and trading corporations in Vienna, requesting
that their youths might he received as apprentices in
that city. Severe laws against gaming were enacted
and put in execution with equal rigour. Heavy restric¬
tions were also laid on all the societies of free masons in
Germany, while those in the Netherlands were totally
suppressed.
The great number of innovations in religious mat¬
ters were highly resented by the inhabitants of the Ne¬
therlands, who have always been remarkable for their
attachment to the Romish religion in its most supersti¬
tious form. Indeed the alterations in the civil consti¬
tution were so great, that even those who were least bi-
gotted in this respect began to fear that their liberties
were in danger, and an universal dissatisfaction was
excited. The emperor behaved at first in a very
haughty manner, and refused to yield the smallest point
to the solicitations of his subjects. Finding, how¬
ever, that a general revolt was about to take place,
and being unable at that time, on account of the Turk-
isli war, to spare such a force as would be necessary to
reduce the provinces to obedience, he thought proper, in
the autumn of 1787, to promise a restoration of their
ancient constitution and privileges. His promises, how¬
ever, were found to be so delusive, and his conduct was
so arbitrary and capricious, that in the end of the year
1789 the states of all the provinces in the Austrian Ne¬
therlands came to a resolution of entirely throwing off
the yoke. Articles of a federal union were drawn up,
and a new republic was formed under the title of the
Belgic Provinces. The situation of the emperor’s affairs
at that time did not allow him to take the measures ne¬
cessary for preventing this revolt; to which perhaps
his ill state of health also contributed. About the be¬
ginning of February 1790 his distemper increased to
such a degree as to be thought dangerous ; and continu¬
ing daily to grow worse, he sunk under it on the 20th
685
of the same month, in the 40th year of his age, and 26th Germany,
of his reign. w-y—«i
The leaders of the revolution, however, soon became
so disagreeable to their countrymen, that they were
obliged to fly. Joseph’s successor, Leopold, adopted a
more conciliatory policy, and the troubles in the Ne¬
therlands were at length calmed.
The Netherlands, which the Trench had overrun in
1794> vv®re annexed to France by the treaty of Campo
Tormio in l797• This was the amputation of a limb •
from the Germanic body ; but the further changes which
this measure introduced were not completed till 1801,
when the three ecclesiastical electorates, Mentz, Triers,
and Cologne, were abolished, and in their room were
created four new electorates, Baden, Wirtemberg,
Hesse Cassel, and Saltzburg. Many bishoprics and
abbeys were at the same time secularized, and a num¬
ber ot iree towns disfranchised, to afford indemnities to
the princes who were deprived of their possessions on
the left bank of the Rhine. In 1806, alter the battle
of Austerlitz, farther changes were made, which en¬
tirely abolished the ancient Germanic constitution. The
emperor Francis renounced the title of emperor of
Germany, and assumed that of emperor of Austria.
1 he princes ol Bavaria, Wirtemberg, and Saxony as¬
sumed the title ot king ; and these, with nearly all the
other small states, were united into a body, named the
Confederation ot the Rhine, of which the emperor Na¬
poleon was head. This body was dissolved in 1813,
when the French were driven within the Rhine ; but
its constitution served as the model for the new Ger¬
manic confederation, which was established in 1814 by
the congress of Vienna. 2I
Monarchy was first established in Germany by Clo- Constitu-
dovick: after him Charlemagne extended his power tlon.of l^e
and his dominions; and so great had the empire be-emi)Jre‘
come, that during his reign, and that of his son, go¬
vernment was administered in the provinces by persons
vested with power for that purpose under the title of
Dukes. In the districts of these provinces, justice was
distributed by a comes or count, which officer was in
Germany called Graf. But from their courts lay an
appeal to that of the emperor, before a president styled .
Comes Palatinus, that is, “ Count Palatine, or of the
palace,” in German denominated Psalzgraf. The
frontiers or marches were governed by a marquis,
styled by the Germans Markgraf similar to our lord <
warden. Generally the centre of the empire was ruled 1
by an officer who possessed a similar power, but agreater
extent of dominion, than the Grave, under the title of.
Landgrave. Towns and castles, which were occasion¬
ally honoured with the residence of the emperor, were
governed by a Burggraf. It may be remarked, that
the signification of the above-mentioned titles, and the
extent of power which they conferred upon the persons .
honoured with them, difler according to the successive
ages and the gradual developement of the German con¬
stitution.
By reason of family broils in the imperial house, and \
civil wars in their dominions, the dignity of the sove¬
reign was depressed, and a new form in the govern¬
ment raised up. The dukes exalted themselves above
the power of the emperor, and secured for their sons a ,
succession to their greatness; while the interest of
the
686 GERM
r v the sovereign, in order to strengthen the bond of per-
i sonal attachment, ratified to others and their descend¬
ants that sway which had been formerly delegated
and dependant on bis will. Hence arose the modem
constitution of distinct principalities, acknowledging
one head in the person of an emperor. But shortly
after the election of Conrade duke of Franconia to the
throne, this new-gained authority ol the princes be¬
came doubtful. However, after most violent disturb¬
ances and confusions, the regulations yielded to by
Albert H. and his successors, particularly by Frede¬
rick III. laid the foundation of the German constitu¬
tion ; but the power and form of which were after¬
wards improved by Maximilian. Before Charles V.
mounted the throne, on the death of Maximilian, the
electors formed a bulwark against the Imperial power,
by an instrument called the capitulation ; to which ar¬
ticles of government he and all emperors elected since
have sworn, previous to their investiture w’lth the Im¬
perial dignity.
Of the When the German monarchy received an elective
electors. form, the right of election was not limited to the great
officers of state, for other princes participated of this
privilege. But the empire being governed by four
dukes, the princes under their authority, in order to
court their favour, gave to them the disposal of their
votes, and of those of their vassals. The three arch¬
bishops also, who were necessarily present at the coro¬
nation, obtained the electoral dignity. However, be¬
side this origin of the modern electors, the high-sta¬
tions about court procured their possessors an influence
over other members, and their general residence there
gave them a solid advantage in their constant and early
presence at the diet of election. I'or in times of turbu¬
lence several emperors were elected, when the princes
had not an opportunity to attend. And hence sprung
up a sanction to that right, which the high officers of
the household had assumed, of electing without any
consultation of the other members of the empire. Pope
Gregory X. too, either conceiving that they did pos¬
sess, or willing that they should acquire, this right, ex¬
horted them in a bull to terminate the troubles of Ger¬
many by electing an emperor. And since that period
they have been held as the sole electors. But the pos¬
session of this high power was strengthened by a league
amongst themselves, called the electoral union, which
received additional confirmation from the emperor Louis
of Bavaria, and was formally and fully ratified by that
famous constitution of Charles IV. termed the golden
hull; according to which, the territories and the high
officers by which the electoral dignity is conveyed,
must descend according to the right of primogeniture,
and are indivisible.
The golden bull declares the following number and
titles of the electors : The archbishop of Mentz. as
great chancellor of the German empire ; the elector of
Cologne as great chancellor of the empire in Italy j
the elector of Triers as great chancellor of the empire
in Gaul and Arles $ the king of Bohemia as cup¬
bearer; the count Palatine as high steward ; the duke
of Saxony as grand marshal; the margrave of Branden¬
burg as grand chamberlain. The number originally
was seven, but the emperor Leopold created the duke
ANY.
of Lunenburg, ancestor to our present British sove- Gtiwaar,
reign, an elector; to whom the post of arch-treasurer
was afterwards given ; and thus Hanover forms the
eighth electorate. But this number cannot be increa¬
sed by the emperor without a previous election by the
electors themselves ; who, thus capable of electing and
of being elected, may style themselves Coimperantes ;
and they exercise part of the imperial authority, if a 33
vacancy of the throne happen. But when or before ^■’*ecl'on •'
this occurs, the election of the emperor is proceeded
after the following manner : The elector of Mentz,
before the lapse of a month after the death of the em¬
peror, summons, as great chancellor of the empire, the
rest of the electors to attend on some fixed day within
the space of three months from the date of the summons.
The electors generally send their ambassadors to the
place of election, which is held at Frankfort on the
Mayne j but saving the right of the city of Frankfort,
it may be held elsewhere.
When the diet of electors is assembled, they proceed
to compose the capitulation, to which the emperor
when elected is to swear. The capitulation being ad¬
justed, the elector of Mentz appoints a day for the
election. When this day arrives, the gates of the city
are shut, and the keys delivered to the elector of Mentz.
The electors or their ambassadors, Protestants except¬
ed, repair in great pomp to mass 3 and after its cele¬
bration they take a solemn oath to choose, unbiassed
and uninfluenced, the person that appears most proper
for the imperial dignity. After this they repair to
the sacristy, where the elector of Mentz first asks, if
there be any impediment known against their proceed¬
ing at present to an election 3 and next he obtains a
promise, that the person elected by the majority shall
be received as emperor. The declarations of the elec¬
toral ambassadors, in respect to those two points, are
recorded by two notaries of the empire. Then all
witnesses withdraw 3 and the elector of Mentz collect¬
ing the sufirages, which are viva voce, and giving his
own last, the witnesses are recalled, and he declares the
person whom the electors have chosen. But the elec¬
tion is not complete, nor is the new emperor pro¬
claimed, until the capitulation be sworn to either by
himself or by his ambassadors if he he absent. Prom
this time he is styled king of the Romans until the co¬
ronation takes place 3 which ceremony confers tha
title of emperor. According to the golden hull, it
should be celebrated at Aix-la-Chapelle, out of re¬
spect to Charlemagne, who x-esided there 3 but saving
the right to Aix-la-Chapelle, it may take place else¬
where. The coronation is performed by the archbishop
of Mentz or elector of Cologne. And, when he is
seated on his throne, the duke of Saxony delivers in¬
to his hand the sword of Charles the Great, with
which he makes some knights of the holy Roman em¬
pire, and is also obliged to confer that honour upon
such others as are nominated by the respective elec¬
tors. When he proceeds to dinner in the great hall,
he is seated at a table elevated two steps higher than
that of the electoi’s, and is served by counts of the em¬
pire. The electors, each of whom lias also his table,
are attended by the gentlemen of their respective
courts. These electors, who assist personally at the ce¬
remony,
!ert**nv.
GERM
remony, sit and eat at their own tables ; but those who
> are represented by ambassadors have only their tables -
covered out of form with plates, at which the ambassa¬
dors do not sit.
For the benefit of the empire during the reign of
an emperor, his presumptive successor may be elected
king ot the Romans. But this election confers at first
a mere title ; for by an express article in his capitula¬
tion, the king of the Romans swears not to interfere
with the government during the life of the emperor j
but on his decease the coronation confirms him em¬
peror without a second election.
Should there not be a king of the Romans, and the
throne become vacant, the government is administered
by vicars of the empire, who are the electors Palatine
and of Saxony, as count palatine and arch-marshal of
the empire. Each has his district and tribunal of the
vicariate j and by the golden bull it is established, that
all acts of the vicars are valid; but tiiey are all fully
confirmed by the emperor; which confirmation, by an
article of his capitulation, he is bound to give.
ihere are also vicars ol the emperor. These officers
are constituted by a delegation of the imperial power
from the emperor to any prince of the empire, when he
is unable to execute bis authority himself. But these
A N Y.
687
vicars stand accountable to the emperor; their acts
may be annulled and their offices revoked, all depend¬
ent on the will of the emperor, and determinable at his
pleasure.
When the race of Charlemagne ceased to govern in
Germany, the princes and states associated to continue
the empire ; and that its majesty might be visible, and
its laws enforced, they agreed to choose an emperor.
I'rom this emperor all electors and princes except those
before 1582 receive investiture of their dominions;
counts and free cities from the Aulic council. But
this investiture is no more than a sign of submission to
the majesty of the empire, which is deposited in the em¬
peror. For as the constituted members of the empire
are dependent on that collective union from which tbev
derive protection, they therefore show this dependence
on the emperor, because be represents the majesty of
that union or of that empire ; hut in all other respects
they are independent and free.
These princes or sovereigns may even wage war
with the prince wearing the imperial crown, as pos¬
sessed of other titles and dominions unconnected with
his imperial station. Nor can the sovereignty of any
member be affected so long as he remains loyal to the
empire ; which loyalty constitutes his duty, and secures
him its protection. But should he be guilty of any
violation against the emperor, as head of the empire,
such a crime would commit him to the punishment of
its laws, and he would be put under the ban. For
this crime would be against that collective body of so¬
vereigns whose union constitutes the empire ; and there¬
fore any violation of that union is justly punished with
deprivation of these territories which render such so¬
vereigns members of the empire. Nor can this pu¬
nishment of the ban derogate from the dignity of those
princes who derive their sovereignty from this consti¬
tution, and whose subjection is an act of their own
consent. However, no member of the empire can at
present he put under the ban without being first heard,
and without the concurrence of the electors, princes, Germany,
and states, being previously obtained.
Hie emperor is endowed with many privileges, and *4
110    * .I • . G ✓wit
• , •   J 4 * T * *ft ^J evil vi
Ills power partly appears in the exercise of his reserved ^ower* of
rio-hts nr   i • thee
: empe-
rights, or the peculiar prerogatives annexed to the im-ror.
penal dignity. He grants to princes the investiture of
their dominions ; but to this he is bound as the laws
direct. He confers titles, but promises that they
shall be bestowed only on such persons as will maintain
their dignity, and can support their rank. Besides, he
can give merely the title ; for the power or privilege
of prince or count can be obtained only from theii' re¬
spective bodies. But in some instances, even titles are
of high importance. For the descendants of a prince
are incapable of succession, it their mother be of in-
feiior rank to their father ; but the conferring of a title
ennobles her and removes the bar, if the collateral line
consents.
I he emperor can also make cities, found untversi-
ties, grant the privilege of fairs, &c. He can also
dispense with the tedious terms of minority, and em¬
power princes to assume at an earlier age the govern¬
ment of their own dominions. He decides all rank and
precedency, and has a power of pi imce preces, that is,
of granting for once in every chapter of the empire a
vacant seat. But he is not above the law ; for electors
have not only chosen but deposed emperors. However,
the influence of the capitulation is to prevent such rigo¬
rous proceedings : but should the capitulation be vio¬
lated, the college of electors might proceed to remon¬
strance ; and it these remonstrances should be without
effect, in conjunction with the diet, they might resort
to more forcible remedies.
The diet is that assembly of the states in which the DieiVif ike
legislative power of the empire resides ; and is compo- empire,
seil of the electors, princes, prelates, counts, and free
cities of the empire. It has sat since 1663, and is
held usually at Ratisbon. 'I he emperor, when pre¬
sent, presides in person ; when absent, by his commis¬
sary, whose communication of proposals from the em¬
peror to the assembly is called the commissorial de¬
cree. The elector of Mentz, as chancellor of the
empire, is director of the diet ; and to his chancery
are all things addressed that are to be submitted to
the empire ; the reading of which by his secretary to
the secretaries of the other ministers at the diet is de¬
nominated per (lictaturam, and constitutes the form of
transmitting papers or memorials to the dictature of
the empire.—The diet is composed of tlwee distinct
colleges, each of which has its particular director.
The first college is that of electors ; of which the arch¬
bishop of Mentz is director as first elector. The se¬
cond college is that of princes. It consists of princes,
archbishops, and bishops ; and of prelates, abbots, and
counts, who are not considered as princes. Each prince
spiritual and temporal has a vote, but prelates and
counts vote by benches. The prelates are divided in¬
to two benches, the counts into four ; and each bench
has only one vote. The archduke of Austria and the
archbishop of Saltzburg are alternately directors of
the college of princes. The third college is that of
the free cities of the empire ; the director of which
is the minister of the city in which the diet happens
to sit.
u
GERM
In all these colleges, the sentiments of the majo¬
rity are conclusive, except in respect of fundamental
laws, which affect the whole empire, or such matters as
relate to religion. In these they must be unanimous.
Where religion is interested, the proceedings are
also different. The colleges are then considered as
consisting of two bodies, the evangelic and the catho¬
lic ; and if any religious point be proposed, it must
meet not only the unanimous concurrence of the pro¬
posing body, but must have the majority of the other
to establish it. This distinction arose from a conjunc¬
tion called the evangelic body; which was formed^ by
the Protestant states and princes to guard the Pro¬
testant interest in Germany, by watching over the
laws for the security of their religion, and, in case
of violation, by obtaining redress from the imperial
throne. For in any part of the empire, as in the pa¬
latinate, where the count is a Papist and the subjects
are Protestants, should oppressions arise, application
would be made to the evangelic body through the di¬
rector. The elector of Saxony is director of the evan¬
gelic body, though he is a Papist: but therefore his
representations in favour of the Protestants have more
force ; and beside, should he abuse an office which in¬
vests him with considerable weight and influence, he
could be instantly deprived of it.
The first two colleges are styled superior, and in ef¬
fect constitute the diet: for all points that come be¬
fore the diet, are generally first deliberated in the col¬
lege of electors, and pass from that to the college of
princes j in which, if any objection'arise, a free con¬
ference takes place between the directors of each col¬
lege. And should they, in consequence of this free
conference, concur, they invite the third college to
accede to their joint opinion ; which invitation is ge-
derally complied with : but should this college return
a refusal, the opinion of the other two colleges is in some
few cases engrossed in the chancery, and delivered to
the emperor’s commissary as the opinion of the empire.
The opinion of the third college is merely mentioned
at the close. However, though the superior colleges
do in effect constitute the diet; yet the received maxim
is, that no two colleges constitute a majority, that is,
the majority of voices at the diet j ‘nor can the empe¬
ror confirm the opinion of two colleges as an opinion
of the diet. By the peace of Westphalia, a decisive
vote was recognized as a right of the imperial cities,
which the two superior colleges should not infringe
upon 5 their vote being, by the fundamental law, of
equal weight with that of the electors and princes.
After a measure is approved of by the colleges, it
is submitted to his Imperial majesty to receive his ne¬
gative or confirmation. Should he approve the point,
it is published in his name as the resolution of the em¬
pire, which states are exhorted to obey, and tribunals
desired to consider as such.
The diet not only makes and explains laws, but de¬
cides ambiguous cases. It must also be consulted be¬
fore war is made ; appoints the field marshal who is to
command the army, and assigns him his council of
war. The diet also enters into and makes alliances,
but usually empowers the emperor to negociate them •,
and foreign states have their ambassadors at the diet,
hut the diet sends no ministers to foreign courts.
3
A N Y.
In the origin of the empire, justice was administered Germani
in the districts of the provinces by counts, and appeals 1 v—
lay from their courts to that of the emperor before the Adm^.
count palatine. But as civil broils shook the powergtra™^'(
of the emperor, they interrupted also the course ofjllstj08)
justice. The consequent inconveniences caused seve¬
ral solicitations to be preferred from the states to dif¬
ferent emperors for the establishment of a court of jus¬
tice, which should take cognizance of great as well as
small causes. And at length such a court was erected
by Maximilian I. under the title of dnz Imperial Cham¬
ber at TForms, in the year 1495 J but was removed to
Spires in 1533, and to Wetzlar in 1696, where it is now
held. The members of this court are a judge of the
chamber and 25 assessors, partly Protestants, partly
Papists. The president is appointed by the emperor,
the assessors by the states. The court receives appeals
from inferior jurisdictions, and decides dubious titles ;
and all causes before it between prince and prince, or
princes and private persons, are adjudged according to
the laws of the respective parties, or according to the
Imperial law. The tribunal is under the inspection
of visitors appointed by the states j and, during their vi¬
sitation, the sentences of the court are subject to re¬
vision. Appeals lie afterwards also from the judgment
of the visitors to that of the diet. 27
The emperors finding themselves deprived of inany Auho comi:
of their powers, wished to raise their prerogatives®11*
by forming a tribunal, of which they should name the
judge, and before whom causes in the last resort should
come. But Maximilian foresaw, in respect to the
new tribunal, that though a consciousness of its im¬
portance made the states struggle for its erection, the
expences of its establishment would make them neglect
its support *, and the event bore witness to his sagacity.
But when, through the omissions and negjigence of
the states, there happened to be a cessation in the dis¬
tribution of justice by the Imperial chamber, he re¬
vived his court of the count Palatine, or Aulic coun¬
cil. And in order to gain the quiet acquiescence of
the states, under the mask of a partition of power, and
of generous moderation, he desired them to add eight
to the number of assessors, and the salaries of all should
be discharged by him. The states swallowed the bait,
but soon perceived that they had lost part of their li¬
berty.
The emperor, by keeping the tribunal always open,
by filling its seats with men of first-rate talents, and
by having its sentences duly and speedily executed,
drew all causes before it. The states remonstrated,
declaring that the Imperial chamber ought to be not
only the supreme, but sole tribunal of that kind. J he
emperor answered, that he had ejected the Imperial
chamber in consequence of their solicitations ; but as
they had not supplied the tribunal with judges, he pro¬
vided for that deficiency by a constant administration
of justice in the establishment of another.
The Aulic council now subsists with equal authority,
each receiving appeals from inferior jurisdictions ; but
neither appealing to the other, as the dernier resort from
both must be had to the diet. However, to the Aulic
council belong the reserved rights of the emperor ; and
to the Imperial chamber also are annexed peculiar
powers. The Imperial chamber subsists during a va¬
cancy
GERMANY. 68o
cancy of the thione tiiuler the authority of the vicars out the mutual concurrence of both, there arise netro- r
of the empire: whereas the Au c counril *• , 7 , "> u,eie anse neg0' Germany.
P council does not tiations on particular points between the diets of dif- -y-—«
of the empire; whereas the Aulic council does not
exist until appointed by the succeeding emperor.
The Aulic council consists of a president, vice presi¬
dent, and 17 assessors, of whom six are Protestants.
The vice chancellor of the empire is also entitled to a
seat; and all decrees issuing from the council pass
through his hands to those who are to execute them.
This tribunal obtains for the emperor, through the ap¬
peals from the courts of other princes, a new authority
beside that which he possesses from his reserved rights;
but electors and some princes, as those of Hanover^
Austria, Brunswick, Swedish Pomerania, Hesse, are
free from this dependence on the emperor, to whose
Aulic council their subjects cannot appeal; nor can it
take cognizance of ecclesiastical or criminal causes,
both of which appertain to territorial justice; which we
shall presently consider when we have surveyed the
executive instrument of Imperial justice.
The division of the empire into circles is a regula¬
tion coeval with the establishment of the Imperial
chamber by Maximilian, in order to strengthen the
arm of justice with vigour to enforce its decrees. The
original division was into six circles, which are called
the ancient circles; and are, Bavaria, Franconia, Suabia,
Lower Saxony, the Upper Rhine, and Westphalia;
but the powerful princes, who at first declined bring¬
ing their dominions under the form of circles, were
led by a political finesse of the emperor to adopt the
regulation, and increase the number to ten, by forming
the four new circles of Austria, Burgundy, the Electo¬
rate Circle, and Upper Saxony.
Over these circles preside directors, to whom the
tribunals of justice commit the execution of their de¬
crees. The six old circles have two directors each,
the four new have one each. The office of director is
permanent and hereditary, as it belongs always to the
first prince in the circle, upon whom it confers high
authority ; for all the decrees of the Imperial chamber
and Aulic council are of no avail unless the director
will execute them.
The directors of the circles are not only instruments
of war but of peace: for in case of an Imperial war,
they are to collect the troops of the circle ; and if any
state or prince of their respective circles suffers viola¬
tion from others, they are to yield protection and en¬
force the peace ; or should there be any tumultuous up¬
risings of the people, the suppression of such belongs to
them.
The emperor is the executive instrument of the
whole empire ; the directors are such of the constitu¬
tive parts called circles. The prosperity and security
of which being at stake, the directors, as presidents,
must hold frequent diets in their respective circles, in
order to consult on and adopt salutary measures for
their safety and welfare : but as the interests of those
near to us are generally so intimately blended with our
own, that the good of either cannot be pursued with-
ferent circles, which are therefore styled confederate
circles; and these negotiations being more frequent
amongst the circles of the Upper and Lower Rhine,
or W7estphalia, they are denominated the corresponding
circles.
Every prince is sovereign in his own country ; and Powers of
may enter into alliances, and pursue by all political Ger-
measures his own private interests, as other sovereigns man Prin*
do; for if even an imperial war be declared, he mayCe*‘
remain neuter if the safety of the empire be not at
stake.
Each state or sovereign appoints in general three
colleges for its government. The first is the gcheimde-
rath, or privy council ; the second is the regiertmg, or
regency ; the third the renthcammer, or chamber of
finances. Each of these has a president; and a mem¬
ber of the first college is always president of the se¬
cond. The geheimderath represents the prince, and
superintends the other two. The regierung regulates
limits of territories, holds conferences with other prin¬
ces, and is in most countries a court of justice : how¬
ever, in some states there is also a court of justice call-
t&justitK department. And besides the right of confe¬
rences assigned to the regierung by the sovereign, when
there are disputes between princes, there is also an o«-
strage, or arbitration appointed in order to decide them.
Attention must be paid to this privilege of princes,
who must be called on to appoint an austrage before
resort be had to the Imperial tribunal, but to which
there still lies an appeal from the judgment of the au¬
strage. The renthcammer attends to the regulation of
domains and estates, to the territorial revenues, and
management of the taxes.
Such, before the French revolution, was the consti¬
tution of Germany, which is still worthy of a place in
a work of this kind, from its connection with the history
of that country, and indeed of Europe at large, for so
many centuries. The present constitution of Germany
was founded on that of the Rhenish Confederation
(See Confederation of the Rhine, Supplement),
created by Bonaparte. The Germanic body includes
thirty-nine states, among which are Austria, Prussia,
Denmark, and the Netherlands; but these four powers
rank as members only for a part of their territories.
The common concerns of the whole body are managed
by a diet which meets at Frankfort, and consists of 70
deputies sent from the thirty-nine states, the six great¬
est states sending four deputies each, others three or
two, and the smallest states one. The thirty-nine states
include a population of 30,355,069 (1818), upon a
surface of 250,000 square miles. The military con-Military
tingents of all the states amount to 120,000 in time offorce.
peace, and 301,000, or one in the 100 of the popula¬
tion, in time of war. The subjoined table exhibits the
population and extent of each state, with the number of
votes it has in the diet.
Vol. IX. Part II.
f
4S
Population
6go
GERMANY.
■gnniany<, Population and extent of the States of the German
Confederation.
Austria, . •
Prussia,
Bavaria,
Saxony,
Hanover,
Wurtemberg,
Baden,
Hesse-Cassel,
Hesse-Darmstadt,
Holstein,
Luxemburg,
Saxe-Weiniar,
Saxe-Gotha,
Saxe-Meiningen,
Saxe-Hildburghausen,
Saxe-Coburg,
Brunswick,
Mecklenburg Schwerin,
Mecklenburg Strelitz,
Oldenburg,
Nassau, . •
Anhalt Dessau,
Anhalt Bernburg,
Anhalt Kothen,
Schwartzenburg,
Sonderhausen,
Schwartzenburg,
Rudolstadt,
Hohenzollern, .
Hechingen,
Hohenzollern,
Sigmaringen,
Liechtenstein,
Reuss, elder branch,
Reuss, younger branch,
Lippe-Detmold,
Schaunburg-Lippe,
Waldeck,
Hesse Homburg,
Frankfort, .
Lubeck,
Bremen, .
Hamburg, . .
Inhabitants.
Square
English
Miles.
•= = «
CC
V5 E (J5
n < ’
}
9,496,853
8,187,220
3>5I3>49°
1,206,034
t,3I4>l24
L397.451
1,001,630
545,208
633,026
359j985
214,058
192,37!
182,311
56,269
29»7
80,012
209,527
35i»9°8
7L769
225,349
302,769
52>947
37,046
32,454
4J>120
53.940
14,500
37>°3
5.546
22,255
52>205
69,06
23,684
51,877
19,823
47,37
43,1
46,270
129,739
78,912
70,549
30,997
7,200
14,720
7,524
5,803
4,352
4,I17
3.691
2,347
1,408
1,152
384
213
47t
I,5I4
4,755
768
2,752
2,164
363
340
S31
384
448
117
426
27
53
*53
458
436
213
459
138
JI3
122
72
J34
30,355,069 250,552 70
cient Ger
mans
With regard to the character of the ancient Ger-
Cbaiactec mans, they are described to us by the Greek and Ro¬
of the an- man writers as resembling the Gauls j and differing
from other nations by the largeness of their stature,
ruddy complexion, blue eyes, and yellow bushy hair,
haughty and threatening looks, strong constitutions,
and being proof against hunger, cold, and all kinds of
hardship.
Their native disposition displayed itself chiefly in
the martial genius, and in their singular fidelity.
The former of these they did indeed carry to such an Germr,
excess as came little short of downright ferocity j ' 
but, as to the latter, they not only valued themselves
highly upon it, but were greatly esteemed by other
nations for it $ insomnch that Augustus, and several
of his successors, committed the guard of their per¬
sons to them, and almost all other nations either court¬
ed their friendship and alliance, or hired them as auxi¬
liaries j though it must be owned, at the same time,
that theit extreme love of liberty, and their hatred of
tyranny and oppression, have often hurried them to
treachery and murder, especially when they have
thought themselves ill used by those who hired them *,
for in all such cases they were easily stirred up, Rnd
extremely vindictive. In other cases, Tacitus tells us,
they were noble, magnanimous, and beneficent, with-
out ambition to aggrandize their dominions, or invad¬
ing those from whom they received no injury $ rather
choosing to employ their strength and valour defensive¬
ly than offensively ; to preserve their own, than to ra¬
vage their neighbours.
Their friendship and intercourse was rather a com¬
pound of honest bluntness and hospitality, than of
wit, humour, or gallantry. AH strangers were sure
to meet with a kind reception from them to the ut¬
most of their ability : even those who were not in a
capacity to entertain them, made it a piece of duty
to introduce them to those who could j and nothing
was looked upon as more scandalous and detestable,
than to refuse them either the one or the other. They
do not seem, indeed, to have had a taste for grand and
elegant entertainments ; they affected in every thing,
in their houses, furniture, diet, &c. rather plainness
and simplicity, than sumptuousness and luxury. If
they learned of the Romans and Gauls the use of money,
it was rather because they found it more convenient
than their ancient way of bartering one commodity for
another j and then they preferred these ancient coins
which had been stamped during the times of the Ro¬
man liberty, especially such as were either milled or cut
in the rims, because they could not be so easily cheated
in them as in some others, which were frequently no¬
thing but copper or iron plated over with silver. I his
last metal they likewise preferred before gold, not
because it made a greater show, but because it was more
convenient for buying and selling: And as they be¬
came in time more feared by, or more useful to, the
Romans; so they learned how to draw enough of it
from them to supply their whole country, besides what
flowed to them from other nations.
As they despised superfluities in other cases, so
they did also in the connubial way : every man was
contented with one wife, except some few of their
nobles, who allowed themselves a plurality, more for
show than pleasure } and both were so faithful to each
other, and chaste, true, and disinterested in their
conjugal aflection, that Tacitus prefers their manners
in this respect to those of the Romans. The men
sought not dowries from their wives, but bestowed
them upon them. Their youth, in those cold climes,
did not begin so soon to feel the warmth of love as
they do in hotter ones: it was a common rule with
them not to marry young 5 and these were most
esteemed who continued longest in celibacy, because
they looked upon it as an effectual means to make
them
! !l.
nt
; 'litu
SI
ffiir fuiie
G E R M A
many. tHeni grow tall and strong ; and to marry, or be con-
cerned with a woman, before they were full 20 years
old, was accounted shameful wantonness. The wo¬
men shared with their husbands not only the care
of the family, and the education of their children,
but even the hardships of war. They attended them
in the field, cooked the victuals for them, dressed
their wounds, stirred them up to fight manfully against
their enemies, and sometimes have, by their courage
and bravery, recovered a victory when it was upon
the point of being snatched from them. In a word,
they looked upon such constant attendance on them,
not as a servitude, like the Roman dames, but as a
duty and an honour. But what appears to have been
still a harder fate upon the ancient German dames
was, that their great Odin excluded all those from
his valhalla or paradise, who did not, by some violent
death, follow their deceased husbands thither. Yet
notwithstanding their having been anciently in such
high repute for their wisdom and supposed spirit of
prophecy, and their continuing such faithful and ten¬
der helpmates to their husbands, they sunk in time so
low in their esteem, that, according to the old Saxon
law, he that hurt or killed a woman was to pay but
half the fine that he should have done, if he had hurt
or killed a man.
There is scarcely anyone thing in which the Ger¬
mans, though so nearly allied in most of their other
customs to the Gauls, were yet more opposite to them
than in their funerals. Those of the latter were per¬
formed with great pomp and profusion ; those of the
former were done with the same plainness and simpli¬
city which they observed in all other things 5 the only
grandeur they affected in them was, to burn the bodies
of their great men with some peculiar kinds of wood ;
but then the funeral pile was neither adorned with the
clothes and other fine furniture of the deceased, nor
perfumed with fragrant herbs and gums : each man’s
armour, that is, his sword, shield, and spear, were flung
into it, and sometimes his riding horse. The Danes,
indeed, flung into the funeral pile of a prince, gold,
silver, and other precious things, which the chief
mourners, who walked in a gloomy guise round the
fire, exhorted the bystanders to fling liberally into it
in honour of the deceased. They afterwards deposited
their ashes in urns, like the Gauls, Romans, and other
nations j as it plainly appears, from the vast numbers
which have been dug up all over the country, as well
as from the sundry dissertations which have been writ¬
ten upon them by several learned moderns of that na¬
tion. One thing we may observe, in general, that
whatever sacrifices they ofiered for their dead, whatever
presents they made to them at their funerals, and
whatever other superstitious rites they might perform
at them, all was done in consequence of those excellent
notions which their ancient religion had taught them,
the immortality of the soul, and the bliss or misery of
a future life.
11 belief It i® impossible, indeed, as they did not commit any
^nture thing to writing till very lately, and as none of the an¬
cient writers have given us any account of it, to guess
how soon the belief of their great Odin, and his para¬
dise, was received among them. It may, for aught
we know, have been older than the times of Tacitus,
N Y.
6q r
Germaav.
>UU
and he have known nothing of it, by reason of their
scrupulous care in concealing their religion from stran¬
gers : but as they conveyed their doctrines to posterity
by songs and poems, and most of the northern poets
■ tell us that they have drawn their intelligence from
those very poems which were still preserved among
them ; we may rightly enough suppose, that whatever
doctrines are contained in them, were formerly pro¬
fessed by the generality of the nation, especially since
we find their ancient practice so exactly conformable to
it. I fins, since the surest road to this paradise was, to
excel in martial deeds, and to die intrepidly in the
field ot battle ; and since none were excluded from it
but base cowards, and betrayers of their country ; it is
natural to think, that the signal and excessive bravery
of the Germans flowed from this ancient belief of
theirs: and, if their females were so brave and faithful
as not only to share with their husbands all the dangers
and fatigues of war, but at length to follow them by a
voluntary death, into the other world ; it can hardly
be attributed to any thing else but a strong persuasion
of their being admitted to live with them in that place
of bliss. Ibis belief, therefore, whether received ori¬
ginally from the old Celtes, or afterwards taught them
by the since deified Odin, seems, from their general
practice, to have been universally received by all the
Germans, though they might differ one from another
in their notions of that future life.
The notion of a future happiness obtained by mar¬
tial exploits, especially by dying sword in band, made
them bewail the fate of those who lived to an old age,
as dishonourable here, and hopeless hereafter: upon
which account, they had a barbarous way of sending
them into the other world, willing or not willing.
And this custom lasted several ages after their receiving
Christianity, especially among the Prussians and Veni-
di ; the former of whom, it seems, despatched by a
quick death, not only their children, the sick, servants,
&c. but even their parents, and sometimes themselves:
and among the latter we have instances of this horrid
parricide being practised even in the beginning of the
14th century. All that need be added is, that, if those
persons, thus supposed to have lived long enough, either
desired to be put to death, or at least seemed cheerful¬
ly to submit to what they knew they could not avoid,
their exit was commonly preceded with a fast, and their
funeral with a feast ; but if they endeavoured to shun
it, as it sometimes happened, both ceremonies were per¬
formed with the deepest mourning. In the former, they
rejoiced at their deliverance, and being admitted into
bliss ; in the latter, they bewailed their cowardly ex¬
cluding themselves from it. Much the same thing was
done towards those wives who betrayed a backwardness
to follow their dead husbands.
We must likewise observe, that, in these funerals, as Remark
well as in all their other feasts, they were famed for able for
drinking to excess ; and one may say of them, above t0
all the other descendants of the ancient Celtes, thatexce**‘
their hospitality, banquets, &c. consisted much more
in the quantity of strong liquors, than in the elegance
of eating. Beer and strong mead, which were their na¬
tural drink, were looked upon as the chief promoters of
health, strength, fertility, and bravery ; upon which
account, they made no scruple to indulge themselves to
4 S 2 the
692
Germany.
GERM
the utmost in them, not only in their feasts, and espe¬
cially before an engagement, but even in their common
meals.
The modern Germans in their persons are tall and
strong built. The ladies have generally fine complexions j
and some of them, especially in Saxony, have all the
delicacy of features and shape that are so bewitching
in a certain island of Europe. . .
Both men and women affect rich dresses, which m
fashion are the same as in France and England, but
the better sort of men are excessively fond ot gold and
silver lace, especially if they are in the army. The
ladies at the principal courts differ not much in their
dress from the French and English, only they are not
so excessively fond of paint as the former. At some
courts they appear in rich furs ; and all of them are
loaded with jewels, if they can obtain them. Ihe fe¬
male part of the burghers families, in many German
towns, dress in a very different manner, and some ot
them inconceivably fantastic, as may be seen in many
prints published in books of travels ) but in this re¬
spect they are gradually reforming, and many of them
make quite a different appearance in their dress from
what they did 30 or 40 years ago. As to the peasan¬
try and labourers, they dress as in other parts of Eu¬
rope, according to their employments, conveniencyr,
and opulence. In Westphalia, and most other paits of
Germany, they sleep between two feather beds, or ra¬
ther the upper one of down, with sheets stretched to
them, which by use becomes a very comfortable prac¬
tice. The most unhappy part of the Germans are the
tenants of little needy princes, who squeeze them to
keep up their own grandeur J but, in general, the cir¬
cumstances of the common people are far preferable to
those of the French.
The Germans are naturally a frank, honest, hospi¬
table people, free from artifice and disguise. The high¬
er orders are ridiculously proud of titles, ancestry, and
show. The Germans, in general, are thought to want
animation, as their persons promise more vigour and
activity than they commonly exert even in the field ot
battle. But when commanded by able generals, espe¬
cially the Italians, such as Montecuculi and Prince
Eugene, they have done great things, both against the
Turks and the French. The Imperial arms have sel¬
dom made any remarkable figure against either of those
two nations, or against the Swedes or Spaniards, when
commanded by German generals. 'Ibis possibly might
be owing to the arbitrary obstinacy of the court of
Vienna ; for in many wars the Austrians have exhibit¬
ed prodigies of military valour and genius.
Industry, application, and perseverance, are the
great characteristics of the German nation, especially
the mechanical part of it. Their works of art would
be incredible were they not visible, especially in watch
and clockmaking, jewellery, turnery, sculpture, draw¬
ing, painting, and certain kinds of architecture. The
Germans have been charged with intemperance in eat¬
ing and drinking ; and perhaps not unjustly, owing
to the vast plenty of their country in wine and pro¬
visions of every kind. But those practices seem now
to be wearing out. At the greatest tables, though
the guests drink pretty freely during dinner, yet the
repast is commonly finished by coffee, after three or
four public toasts have been drank. But n<j people
A N Y.
have more feasting at marriages, funerals, and birth- Germany!
days.
The German nobility are generally men of so much
honour, that a sharper in other countries, especially in
England, meets with more credit if he pretends to he
a German, than of any other nation.
The merchants and tradesmen are very civil and ob¬
liging. All the sons of noblemen inherit their father’s
titles, which greatly perplexes the heralds and ge¬
nealogists of that country. This perhaps is one of
the reasons why the German husbands are not quite
so complaisant as they ought otherwise to be to their
ladies, who are not entitled to any pre-eminence at the
table ; nor indeed do they seem to affect it, being far
from either ambition or loquacity, though they are said
to be somewhat too fond of gaming. From what has
been premised, it may easily be conceived, that many
of the German nobility, having no other hereditary
estate than a high sounding title, easily enter into
their armies, and those of other sovereigns. Their
fondness for title is attended with many other inconve-
niencies. Their princes think that the cultivation of
their lands, though it may treble their revenue, is be¬
low their attention j and that, as they are a species of
beings superior to labourers of every kind, they would
demean themselves in being concerned in the improve¬
ment of their grounds.
The domestic diversions of the Germans are the same Amnse-
as in England; billiards, cards, dice, fencing, dan-men K
cing, and the like. In summer, people of fashion re¬
pair to places of public resort, and drink the waters.
As to their field diversions, besides their favourite one
of hunting, they have4bull and bear baiting, and the
like. The inhabitants of Vienna live luxuriously, a
great part of their time being spent in feasting and ca¬
rousing ; and in winter, when the several branches of
the Danube are frozen over, and the ground covered
with snow, the ladies take their recreation in sledges
of different shapes, such as griffins, tygers, swans,
scallop-shells, &c. Here the lady sits, dressed in vel¬
vet, lined with rich furs, and adorned with laces and
jewels, having on her head a velvet cap ; and the
sledge is drawn by one horse, stag, or other crea¬
ture, set off with plumes of feathers, ribands, and
bells. As this diversion is taken chiefly in the night¬
time, servants ride before the sledge with torches, and
a gentleman sitting on the sledge behind guides the
horse. ^
The Reformation first spread in Germany to ]{e]ioic;a
advantage; and since the religious peace of 1555? and leurn'
there have been established the Roman Catholic, pre-ing.
vailing mostly in the south ; the Lutheran in the north ;
and the Calvinist, called also the Reformed, near the
Rhine. Civil wars considerably deranged this settle¬
ment : it was, however, established by the celebrated
peace of Westphalia, that the religion of the Seven
States should remain as in 1624. The Romish supe¬
rior clergy consist of 8 archbishops, 40 bishops, and
many abbots. The Protestant clergy are governed by
consistories under the sovereign ol each state. I he
Corpus Catholicorum is under the direction of the arch¬
bishop, elector of Mentz ; and the Corpus Evangelico-
rum, or Protestants, under the elector of Saxony ; who
have the care of the public concerns of their respective
bodies.
Literature
Published by A. Constable &■ £°f;dinburyh..i8ig. Engravril. by .V IIiiJI. Hu
GERMANY.
many. Literature is in a very advanced state throughout
almost all Germany, but particularly in the Protestant
states. It is but about half a century since the German
language has been purified and cultivated ; since which
various works of taste and elegance, as well as superior
productions in the different walks of science, have ap¬
peared in it. There are at present 19 universities in
693
Germany, with about 850 professors; besides a number G
of literary societies and academic institutions: and
education in general is particularly attended to even in
the very lowest ranks.
A detailed account of the present statistical and po¬
litical condition of Germany will be found in the article
Germany, Supplement.
G E R
ermea, GERMEN, the seed bud ; defined by Linnceus to
ermina-, be the base of the pistillum, which contains the rudi-
tJ<>n' . ments of the seed ; and, in progress of vegetation,
swells and becomes the seed vessel.
In assimilating the vegetable and animal kingdoms,
Linnaeus denominates the seed bud the ovarium or
uterus of plants ; and affirms its existence to be chief¬
ly at the time of the dispersion of the male dust by the
antherae; as, after its impregnation, it becomes a seed
vessel. See Botany.
Germen, by Pliny and the ancient botanists, is used
to signify a bud containing the rudiments of the leaves.
See Gemma.
GERMINATION, among botanists, comprehends
the precise time which the seeds take to rise after they
have been committed to the soil.—The different species
of seeds are longer or shorter in rising according to the
degree of heat which is proper to each. Millet, wheat,
and several of the grasses, rise in one day; blite,
spinach, beans, mustard, kidney beans, turnips, and roc¬
ket, in three days ; lettuce and dill, in four ; cucum¬
ber, gourd, melon, and cress, in five; radish and beet,
in six ; barley, in seven ; orach, in eight; purslain, in
nine; cabbage, in ten; hyssop, in thirty; parsley, in
forty or fifty days; peach, almond, walnut, chesnut,
peony, horned poppy, hypecoum, and ranunculus fal-
catus, in one year ; rose bush, cornel tree, hawthorn,
medlar, and hazel nut, in two. The seeds of some
species ot orchis, and of some liliaceous plants, never
rise at all. Of seeds, some require to be sowed almost
as soon as they are ripe, otherwise they will not sprout
or germinate. Of this kind are the seeds of coffee and
fraxinella. Others, particularly those of the pea-bloom
flowers, preserve their germinating faculty for a series
of years. Mr Adanson asserts, that the sensitive plant
retains that virtue for 30 or 40 years.
Air and water are the agents of germination. The
humidity of the air alone makes several seeds to rise
that are exposed to it. Seeds too are observed to rise
in water, without the intervention of earth ; but w-a-
ter without air is insufficient. Mr Homberg’s experi¬
ments on this head are decisive. He put several seeds
under the exhausted receiver of an air pump, with a
view to establish something certain on the causes of ger¬
mination. Some of them did not rise at all ; and the
greatest part of those which did, made very weak and
feeble productions. Thus it is for want of air that seeds
which are buried at a very great depth in the earth,
either thrive but indifferently, or do not rise at all.
They frequently preserve, however, their germinating
virtue for many years within the bowels of the earth ;
and it is not unusual, upon a piece of ground being
newly dug to a considerable depth, to observe it soon
G E R
after covered with several plants, which had not been Germina-
seen there in the memory of man. Were this precau- lion
tion frequently repeated, it would doubtless be the ^ ,
means of recovering certain species of plants which are rer"nd- .
regarded as lost; or which perhaps, never coming to
the knowledge of botanists, might hence appear the re¬
sult of a new creation.
GERONTES, in antiquity, a kind of judges, or
magistrates, in ancient Sparta, answering to what the
Areopagites were at Athens. See Areopagus.
The word is formed of the Greek which signi¬
fies “ old man.” Whence also the words gerontic,
something belonging to an old man ; and Geronicon, a
famous book among the modern Greeks, containing the
lives of the ancient monks. The senate of gerontes was
called gerusia, that is, assembly or council of old men.
The gerontes wrere originally instituted by Lycur-
gus : their number, according to some, was 28 ; and,
according to others, 32. They governed in conjunc¬
tion with the king, whose authority they were intend¬
ed to balance, and to watch over the interests of the
people. Polybius defines their office in few words,
when he says, per ipsos7 et cum ipsis, omnia adminis-
trari. None were to be admitted into this office under
60 years of age, and they held it for life. They were
succeeded by the ephori.
GEROPOGON, a genus of plants belonging to the
syngenesia class, and in the natural method ranking
under the 49th order, Compositce. See Botany Index.
GERRETZ. See Rembrandt.
GERS, a department in the south-west of France
Its surface is in general hilly but fertile, and abounds
more in pasture soil than in arable land. In 1815 it
contained 286,500 inhabitants, on an area of 2620
square miles. Audi is the chief town.
GERVAISE, or Gervase, of Tilbury, a famous
English writer of the 13th century; thus named from
his lining born at Tilbury on the Thames. He was ne¬
phew to Henry II. king of England ; and was in great
credit with Otho IV. emperor of Germany, to whom
he dedicated a Description of the World, and a Chro¬
nicle. He also composed a History of England, that
of the Holy Land, and other works.
GERUND, in Grammar, a verbal noun of the neu¬
ter gender, partaking of the nature of a participle, de¬
clinable only in the singular number, through all the
cases except the vocative ; as nom. amandum, gen. a-
mandi, dat. amando, accus. amandum, abl. amando. The
word is formed of the Latin geruridivus, and that from
the verb gerere, “ to bear.”
The gerund expresses not only the time, but also the
manner of an action ; as, “ he fell in running post.”—
It differs from the participle, in thatit expresses the time,
which
G E S [
which the participle does not; and from the tense pro¬
perly so called, in that it expresses the manner, which
the tense does not. See Grammar.
GERUNDA, in Ancient Geography, a town ot the
Ausctani, in the Hither Spain, on the south or right
side of the river Sambroca. Gerundenses, ihe people.
Now Gironne in Catalonia, on the Ter. E. Long. 2.
3 c. N. Lat. 42. , , • • 4
GESNER, Conrad, a celebrated physician and
naturalist, was born at Zurich in 1516. Having fi¬
nished his studies in Fiance, he travelled into Italy,
and taught medicine and philosophy in his own coun¬
try with extraordinary reputation. He was acquaint¬
ed with the languages ; and excelled so much in natu¬
ral history, that he wassurnamed the Pliny of Germany.
He died'in 1564, leaving many works behind him *,
the principal of which are, I. A history of animals,
plants, and fossils 5 2. Bibliotheca Universalis. A Greek
and Latin lexicon. This author is by Boerhaave em¬
phatically styled Monstrum Eruditionis, “ a prodigy of
learning.” Those indeed (as Mr Coxe observes in his
Letters on Switzerland) “ who are conversant with the
works of this great scholar and naturalist, cannot repress
their wonder and admiration at the amplitude ot his
knowledge in every species of erudition, and the varie¬
ty of his discoveries in natural history, which was his
peculiar delight. Their wonder and admiration is still
further augmented, when they consider the gross igno¬
rance of the age which he helped to enlighten, and
the scanty succours he possessed to aid him in thus ex¬
tending the bounds of knowledge •, that he composed
his works, and made those discoveries which would
have done honour to the most enlightened period, un¬
der the complicated evils of poverty, sickness, and do¬
mestic uneasiness.”
Gesner, Solomon, the celebrated author of the
death of Abel and many other admired works in the
German language, was born at Zurich in the year
1730. In his early years he showed very few signs of
superior abilities ; and his progress in the rudiments
of education was so slow, that his master gave him up
as incapable of any greater attainments than writing
and the four first rules of arithmetic. Upon this he
was placed under a clergyman in the neighbourhood,
a relation of his father’s, and who showed himself bet¬
ter acquainted with the art of discovering the natural
inclinations of his pupils. This gentleman often car¬
ried young Gesner with him into the fields, where be
made him observe the beauties of nature •, and find¬
ing that he took greater pleasure in such lessons, and
seemed to listen to them with peculiap attention, he
occasionallv repeated some of the most striking pas¬
sages of the ancient authors, who have written on
these subjects, in the most agreeable and pleasing man¬
ner. By this ingenious artifice, the mind of young
Gesner began to open, and its powers to expand *, and
it is, perhaps, owing to this circumstance, that he be¬
came so fond of the language of Virgil and Theocritus.
When he arrived at a proper age to think of pur¬
suing- some line of business, Mr Gesner made choice of
that of a bookseller, which was the profession of his
father, and in some measure of his family. Of five
houses at Zurich in the printing and bookselling busi¬
ness, two were occupied by Gesners: one belonged
to two brothers of that name ; and the other, that in
694 ] G E S
which our poet had a share, was known by the firm QeJrie
of Orel, Gesner, and Company. It was known also by
the extent of its correspondence, and by the choice
and elegance of the works which it gave to the public.
Though Mr Gesner was a bookseller, be did not,
however, damp his genius, by submitting to the drud¬
gery of business, hie indulged himself freely in pur¬
suing his favourite object, and his partners never en¬
vied him that time which he devoted to meditation
and to study. In 1752, he made a tour through Ger¬
many, not so much for the purpose of extending bis
commerce, as to see and be acquainted with those au¬
thors who have done honour to their country. The
following circumstance, which occurred during this
tour, deserves to be mentioned, as it is strikingly cha¬
racteristic of that timidity which often accompanies
true genius. When Mr Gesner was at Berlin, he was
admitted into a literary society, of which Gleim and
Lessing were members. Each of the authors who
composed it used to read in turn some pieces of their
own composition, and Mr Genser was very desirous of
submitting to these able critics a small work, which was
his first attempt ; but was far from resembling those
poets, whom Horace and other satirists have ridiculed,
and who stun every one they meet by reciting their
verses before them. As each of the members had done
reading, Gesner was observed to move his hand with a
kind of tremor towards his pocket, and to draw it back
again without the manuscript which he ought to have
produced. Having not as yet published any thing,
none of the company could guess the cause of a motion
which his modesty prevented him from explaining.
The work which he had not the courage to show, was
his small poem, entitled Night, which he published on
his return to Zurich in 1753. It was considered as an
original, of which no model is to be found among the
moderns ; but in the opinion of the author, it was
only a piece of imaginary painting, or, to use an ex¬
pression of his own, in one of his letters to Mr Huber
who has translated his works, “ A caricature com¬
posed in the moments of folly or intoxication.” In
this little poem he has introduced a short episode on
the origin of the glow-worm, containing a poetical
explanation of this natural phosphorus, which has all
the beauty of Ovid’s Metamorphoses without their pro¬
lixity. The success of this essay emboldened the too
timid muse of our young bookseller, and he published
a pastoral romance, called Daphnis, in three cantos.
The applause that was deservedly bestowed upon this
performance induced the author to publish, some time
after, his Idylls and some other rural poems in imi¬
tation of those of Theocritus. Pastoral poetry, which
at this time was little known in Germany but by
translations from foreign poets, began to find many
partizans, and to be preferred to every other kind.
Desirous, therefore, of tracing out a new path for him¬
self, our poet thought that he could not do a more
acceptable service to his countrymen, than to paint
the felicity of innocence and rural life, and the tender
emotions of love and gratitude. The only author
worthy of notice who bad preceded Mr Gesner in this
career, was Mr Rost of Leipsic, whose pastoral poems
appeared for the first time in 1744’ This writer po¬
lished the language of the German shepherds; he had
address enough to unite spirit and simplicity in a kind
G E s [ 695 ] G E S
,e,aer. of writing which appears insipid without the former,
, and which becomes unnatural and disgusting if it is
too abundant. He sometimes throws a delicate veil over
those images which are deficient in decency, but it is
to be regretted that it is often too light. Such was
the antagonist against whom Gesner had to contend.
Our poet, however, pursued a different course. In¬
stead of placing, like Rost, his scenes in modern times,
he goes back with Theocritus to the golden age, that
happy age which we are fond of reviewing when our
passions are calm, and when freed from those anxious
cares which hurry us beyond ourselves, we contem¬
plate amidst tranquillity the beauties and fertility of
the country. The characters of Gesner’s Idylls, there¬
fore, are taken from those societies which exist no
longer but in the remembrance, or rather the imagina¬
tion. His shepherds are fathers, children, and hus¬
bands, who blush not at these titles so dear to nature,
and to whom generosity, beneficence, and respect for
the Deity are sentiments no less familiar than love.
These Idylls were the principal and favourite object of
his pursuit, and that part of his works which acquired
him the greatest reputation, especially among his coun¬
trymen. His death of Abel, which is well known, was
published for the first time in 1758. It is written,
like the rest of his pieces, in poetical prose; and was
so much sought after, that it went through no less
than three editions in the space of a year, without
speaking of the spurious ones which appeared in Hol¬
land, at Berlin, and in France. The French edition
was followed by several others. One came out in Ita¬
lian j another in the Dutch language; a fourth in the
Danish: and lastly, two'in English, one of them in
prose and the other in verse. Among the pieces which
Mr Gesner published after the death of Abel was his
First Navigator, a poem in three cantos, which many
people in Germany consider as his masterpiece. He
made an attempt also in the pastoral drama, but not
with the same success as in other kinds of rural poetry.
He produced likewise, in the same style, Evander and
Alcimne, in three acts ; and Frastus, a small piece of
one act, which was represented with some applause in
several societies, both at Leipsic and Vienna.
But though poetry was Gesner’s darling pursuit,
and though he enriched the literature of his country
with works which will render his name immortal, he
did not confine himself to one manner of imitating na¬
ture ; he in turns took up the pencil and the pen, and
his active genius equally directed them both. In his
infancy he had received a few lessons in drawing, and
he had afterwards pursued his study, but without any
intention of becoming an artist. At the age of thirty
he felt that violent desire, which may be considered as
the voice of genius; and this was in some measure ex¬
cited by the sight of a beautiful collection formed by
Mr Heidegger, whose daughter he had married. To
please his father-in-law, he studied this treasure, com¬
posed principally of the best pieces of the Flemish
school; and to this new taste he had almost sacrificed
every other. Mr Gesner at first ventured only to de¬
lineate some decorations for the frontispieces of curious
hooks printed in his office; but by little and little
he had the courage to make other attempts. In 1765,
be published 10 landscapes etched and engraved by him¬
self, and dedicated them to his friend Mr Watlet. Mr Gesner.
Gesner owed him this mark of respect for the care ' v—'
which he took to ornament with beautiful vignettes
Huber s translation of his Idylls. Twelve other
pieces appeared in 1769 ; and after these attempts, Mr
Gesner executed ornaments for many works which
came from his presses, among which were his own
works, a German translation of Swift, and several
others.
Were we to judge from Mr Gesner’s enthusiasm for
his favourite pursuits, and from the time and atten¬
tion which he bestowed upon them, we should be apt
to conclude, that he found little leisure for discharging
his duty as a citizen. I he contrary, however, was
the case, for he passed almost the half of his life in the
first employments of the state. In 1765 he was called
to the grand council, in 1767 to the lesser. In 1768
he was appointed bailiff of Elibach, that of the four
guards in 1776, and in 1781 superintendant of waters,
which office in 1787 was continued to him for six
years. In all these stations Mr Gesner discharged his
duty with the most scrupulous fidelity; and died of a
paralytical disorder, lamented by his countrymen and
by those who had the pleasure of his acquaintance, on
the 2d of March 1788, at the age of 56.
As a pastoral poet, Gesner undoubtedly is entitled
to a very distinguished rank : and we may justly say,
that it he has been equalled by any, he has been excel¬
led by none. It is commonly believed, that pastoral
poetry is very limited and confined ; but those who
read the works of Gesner will be convinced, that it is
susceptible of much variety when treated of by the
hand of a master. His pastoral romance of Daphnis is
not inferior in natural simplicity to the celebrated work
of Longus; but it surpasses it far in variety of images
and incident. Erastus and Evander are instructive and
interesting poems, on account of the contrast between
the world and nature which reigns throughout them ;
and his First Navigator unites the mildest philoso¬
phy to all the splendour and imagery of Fairy Land.
If we analyze his dramatic poems, we shall find in
them interesting fictions, characters well delineated,
and situations replete with novelty. His language is
that of the Graces, and the chastest ears might listen
to the love which he lias created. If he has sometimes
the humour of Sterne and Fontaine, it is without their
licentiousness. The severest taste can find in his writ¬
ings, no lacuna to supply, no phrase deserving repre¬
hension, nor could a more ingenious choice of expres¬
sions be substituted in the room of those which he has
adopted.—Gesner’s character as a man, appears to be
no less amiable. In whatever point of .view we consi¬
der him, whether as a husband, a father, a friend, a
magistrate, or a citizen, his virtues are equally con¬
spicuous. He was naturally of a melancholy turn, but
he was no enemy to rational and well-timed mirth ;
while the mildness and affability of his temper rendered
his company always engaging, and endeared him to
those who had the pleasure of his acquaintance. Pos¬
sessed of that nobleness of sentiment, united with great
modesty, which is the usual attendant of true genius,
he was simple in his external appearance, as well as in
his conversation. His language was lively and animat¬
ed ; but his reserve before strangers resembled timidity,
and
2
GET [696 ] G H E
Gcsnei- it was only in the presence of those with whom he
|| was acquainted, that his real character appeared in its
Getliitt. f'u]] lustre.
' ' v Mr Gesner’s reputation and virtues were known even
to the remotest parts of Europe. The empress of Russia
Catharine II. presented him with a gold medal as a mark
of her esteem. Strangers of all nations gave him no less
flattering testimonies of their admiration ; and travellers
thought they had seen only the half of Switzerland, if
they had not been in the company of Gesner, or pro¬
cured some of his landscapes or drawings. In this last
way he had acquired so much reputation, that he was
ranked among the best artists of Germany ; and Mr
Fuseli, his countryman, who was himself a painter, in
the preface to the third volume of the new edition which
he published of his ‘ Historical essay on the painters,
engravers, architects, and sculptors, who have done ho¬
nour to Switzerland,’ gives a distinguished place to Mr
Gesner, though then living.
GESNERIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
didynamia class, and in the natural method ranking
under the 40th order, Personatce. See Botany Index.
GESSORIACUM, in Ancient Geography, a port and
station for ships of the Morini in Belgica. In Caesar’s
time, according to Dio, there was no town j but Florus
speaks of it as one: and the Gessoriacenses Muri are
mentioned by Eumenius in his panegyric. The au¬
thor of Tabula Theodosiana, commonly called Peutin-
ger's map, says expressly, that Gessoriacum was in his
time called Pononia. Now Boulogne in Picardy. E.
Long. 1. 30. N. Lat. 50. 4c.
GESTATION, among physicians. See Preg¬
nancy.
GESTRICIA, a province of Sweden, bounded by
Helsingia on the north, by the Bothnic gulf on the
east, by Upland on the south, and by Dalecarlia on
the west.
GESTURE, a motion of the body, intended to
signify some idea or passion of the mind. It consists
principally in the action of the hands and face ; and
may be defined, a suitable conformity of the motions of
the countenance, and of several parts of the body, in
speaking, to the subject matter of the discourse. See.
Declamation and Oratory.
GETA, Septimus, a son of the emperor Severus,
brother to Caracalla. In the eighth year of his age,
he was moved with compassion at the fate of some of
the partizans of Niger and Albinus who were to be
executed, and his father struck with his humanity re¬
tracted the sentence. After Severus’s death he reign¬
ed at Rome conjointly with his brother; but Caracalla,
who envied his virtues and was jealous of his popula¬
rity, ordered him to be poisoned; and when this
could not be effected, he murdered him in the arms of
his mother Julia, who in the attempt of defending the
fatal blows from his body received a wound in her arm,
from the hand of her son, A. D. 212. Geta had not
yet reached the 23d year of his age, and the Romans
had reason to lament the death of so virtuous a prince,
while they groaned under the cruelties and oppression
of Caracalla.
GETHIN, Lady Grace, an English lady of un¬
common parts, was the daughter of Sir George Nor¬
ton of Abbots Leigh in Somersetshire, and born in
the year 1676. She had all the advantages of a libe-
J
ral education ; and became the wife of Sir Richard Getfo
Gethin, of Gethin Grott in Ireland. She was mi- [|
stress of great accomplishments, natural and acquired, Gheit
hut did not live long enough to display them to the ' ^1
world*, for she died in the 21st year of her age. She
was buried in Westminster abbey, where a beautiful
monument with an inscription is erected over her j and,
for perpetuating her memory, provision was made for
a sermon to be preached in Westminster abbey yearly,
on Ash Wednesday for ever. She wrote, and left be¬
hind her, in loose papers, a work, which, soon after
her death, was methodized, and published under the
title of “ Beliquicd Gethinionce; or, Some remains of
the most ingenious and excellent lady, Grace, lady
Gethin, lately deceased. Being a collection of choice
discourses, pleasant apophthegms, and witty sentences.
Written by her, for the most part, byway of essay, and
at spare hours.” Lond. 1700, 410 j with her picture
before it.
GETHSEMANE, in Ancient Geography, a village
in the mount of Olives, whither Jesus Christ sometimes
retreated in the night time. It was in a garden be¬
longing to this village that he sufl'ered the agony in
which he sweated drops of blood j and here he was ar¬
rested by Judas and the rest who were conducted by
this traitor. The place is by Maundrel described as
an even plot of ground, not above 57 yards square, ly¬
ing between the foot of Mount Olivet and the brook
Cedron.
GETHYLLIS, a genus of plants belonging to the
dodecandria class, and in the natural method ranking
under the ninth order Spathacece. See Botany Index.
GEUM, Ayens, or Herb Bennet, a genus of plants
belonging to the icosandria class, and in the natural
method ranking under the 35th order, Senticosce. See
Botany Index.
GHEN T, a city of the Austrian Netherlands, ca¬
pital of the province of Flanders. It is seated on four
navigable rivers, the Scheldt, the Lys, the Lieve, and
the Moere, which run through it, and divide it into
canals. These form 26 little isles, over which there
are 300 bridges: among which there is one remark¬
able for a statue of brass of a young man, who was ob¬
liged to cut off his father’s head $ but as he was going
to strike, the blade flew into the air, and the hilt re¬
mained in his hand, upon which they were both par¬
doned. There is a picture of the whole transaction in
the tovvnhouse. Ghent is surrounded with walls and
other fortifications, and is tolerably strong for a place
of its circumference. But all the ground within the
walls is not built upon. The streets are large and well
paved, the market places spacious, and the houses built
with brick. But the Friday’s market place is the lar¬
gest, and is remarkable for the statue of Charles V.
which stands upon a pedestal in the imperial habit.
That of Cortere is remarkable for a fine walk under
several rows of trees. In 1737 a fine opera house
was built here, and a guard house for the garrison.
Near the town is a very high tower, with a handsome
clock and chimes. The great bell weighs u,O0Q
pounds.
This town is famous for the pacification signed here,
in 1526, for settling the tranquillity of the Seventeen
Provinces, which was afterwards confirmed by the
king of Spain. It was taken by Louis XIV. in 1678,
who
G H O C ^97 3 G H O
v Ukeat, w^10 afterwards restored it. The French took, posses-
phoct.’ sion of it again after the death of Charles II. of Spain,
i If- v ' In 1706, it was taken by the duke of Marlborough j
> i j and by the French in 1708 j but it was retaken the
same year. Last of all, the French took it by sur¬
prise after the battle of Fontenoy ; but at the peace of
Aix-la-Chape!le, it was rendered back. It was also
taken by the French in 1794; and was restored to the
Netherlands in 1814. This is the birth-place of John
of Gaunt. It is very well seated for trade, on account
of its rivers and canals. It has linen, woollen, and silk
manufactures. The number of inhabitants is about
61,000. E. Long. 3. 50. N. Lat. 51. 14.
GHOST, an apparition, or spirit of a person de¬
ceased.
The ancients supposed every man to be possessed of
three different ghosts, which after the dissolution of
the human body were differently disposed of. These
three ghosts were distinguished by the names of Manes,
Spiritus, Umbra. The manes, they fancied, went down
into the infernal region ; the spiritus ascended to the
skies *, and the umbra hovered about the tomb, as being
unwilling to quit its old connexions. Thus Dido
(Virg. JEn. iv. 384.) threatens vEneas after death that
she will haunt him with her umbra, whilst her manes
rejoices in his torments below. This idea of a threefold
soul is very clearly expressed in these lines, which have
been attributed to Ovid.
Bis duo sunt homini: Manes, Caro, Spiritus, Umbra :
Quatuor ista loci bis duo suscipiunt.
Terra tegit Carnem, tumulum circumvolat Umbra,
Orcus habet Manes, Spiritus astro petit.
The most striking outlines of the popular supersti¬
tions respecting ghosts among us, are thus humorously
collected by Captain Grose in his Provincial Glossary:
“ A ghost is supposed to be the spirit of a person de¬
ceased, who is either commissioned to return for some
special errand, such as the discovery of a murder, to
procure restitution of lands or money unjustly withheld
from an orphan or widow—or, having committed some
injustice whilst living, cannot rest till that is redressed.
Sometimes the occasion of spirits revisiting this world,
is to inform their heir in what secret place, or private
drawer in an old trunk, they had hidden the title deeds
of the estate j or where, in troublesome times, they
buried their money or plate. Some ghosts of mur¬
dered persons, whose bodies have been secretly buried,
cannot be at ease till their bones have been taken up,
and deposited in consecrated ground with all the rites
of Christian burial.
“ Sometimes ghosts appear in consequence of an
agreement made, whilst living, with some particular
friend, that he who first died should appear to the sur¬
vivor.
“ Glanvil tells us of the ghost of a person who had
lived but a disorderly kind of life, for which it was
condemned to wander up and down the earth, in the
company of evil spirits, till the day of judgment.
“ In most of the relations of ghosts, they are sup¬
posed to be mere aerial beings, without substance, and
that they can pass through walls and other solid bo¬
dies at pleasure. A particular instance of this is given,
in relation the 27th, in Glanvil’s collection, where one
David Hunter, neat-herd to the bishop of Down and
Vol. IX. Part II. f
Connor was for a long time haunted by the appari- Ghost
tion of an old woman, whom he was by a secret impulse v y*—
obliged to follow whenever she appeared, which he
says he did for a considerable time, even if in bed with
his wife : and because his wife could not hold him in
his bed, she would go too, and walk after him till
day, though she saw nothing $ but his little dog was
so well acquainted with the apparition, that he would
follow it as well as his master. If a tree stood in her
walk, he observed her always to go through it. Not¬
withstanding this seeming immateriality, this very
ghost was not without some substance 5 for, having per¬
formed her errand, she desired Hunter to lift her from
the ground j in the doing of which, he says, she felt
just like a bag of feathers. We sometimes also read of
ghosts striking violent blows ; and that, if not made
way for, they overturn all impediments, like a furious
whirlwind. Glanvil mentions an instance of this, in
relation 17th, of a Dutch lieutenant who had the fa¬
culty of seeing ghosts $ and who being prevented mak¬
ing way for one which he mentioned to some friends
as coming towards them, was, with his companions,
violently thrown down, and sorely bruised. We further
learn, by relation 16th, that the hand of a ghost is ‘ as
cold as a clod.’
“ The usual time at which ghosts make their appear¬
ance is midnight, and seldom before it is dark : though
some audacious spirits have been said to appear even by
day light: but of this there are few instances, and
those mostly ghosts who have been laid, perhaps in the
Eed sea (of which more hereafter), and whose times of
confinement were expired : these, like felons confined
to the lighters, are said to return more troublesome and
daring than before. No ghosts can appear on Christ¬
mas eve j this Shakespeare has put into the mouth of
one of his characters in Hamlet.
“ Ghosts commonly appear in the same dress they
usually wore whilst living, though they are sometimes
clothed all in white j but that is chiefly the church¬
yard ghosts, who have no particular business, but seem
to appear pro bono publico, or to scare drunken rustics
from tumbling over their graves.
“ I cannot learn that ghosts carry tapers in their
hands, as they are sometimes depicted, though the
room in which they appear, if without fire or candle,
is frequently said to be as light as day. Dragging
chains is not the fashion of English ghosts j chains and
black vestments being chiefly the accoutrements of
foreign spectres seen in arbitrary governments : dead or
alive, English spirits are free. One instance, however,
of an English ghost dressed in black is found in the ce¬
lebrated ballad of William and Margaret, in the fol¬
lowing lines :
And clay cold was her lily hand
That held her sable s/irond.
This, however, may be considered as a poetical license,
used, in all likelihood, for the sake of the opposition of
lily to sable.
“ If, during the time of an apparition, there is a
lighted candle in the room, it will burn extremely blue:
this is so universally acknowledged that many eminent
philosophers have busied themselves in accounting for it,
without once doubting the truth of the fact. Dogs,
too, have the faculty of seeing spirits, as is instanced in
4 T David
G H O
Ghost. David Hunter’s relation above quoted J but in that case
—r—^ they usually show signs of terror, by whining and creep¬
ing to their master for protection ; and it is general y
supposed that they often see things of this nature when
their owner cannot; there being some persons, particu¬
larly those born on a Christmas eve, who cannot see
spirits.
“ The coming of a spirit is announced some time
before its appearance, by a variety of loud and dread¬
ful noises ; sometimes rattling in the old hall like, a
coach and six, and rumbling up and down the stair¬
case like the trundling of bowls or cannon balls. At
length the door flies open, and the spectre stalks slowly
up to the bed’s foot, and opening the curtains, looks
steadfastly at the person in bed by whom it is seen ;
a ghost being very rarely visible to more than one per¬
son, although there are several in company. It is here
necessary to observe, that it has been universally found
by experience, as well as affirmed by diverse appari¬
tions themselves, that a ghost has not the pow'ei to
speak till it has been first spoken to ; so that, notwith¬
standing the urgency of the business on which it may
come, every thing must stand still till the person visited
can find sufficient courage to speak to it: an event that
sometimes does not take place for many years. It has
not been found that female ghosts are more loquacious
than those of the male sex, both being equally restrain¬
ed by this law.
“ The mode of addressing a ghost is by command¬
ing it, in the name of the Three Persons of the Trinity,
to tell you who it is, and what is its business j this, it
may be necessary to repeat three times 5 after which
it will, in a low and hollow voice, declare its satisfac¬
tion at being spoken to, and desire the party addres¬
ing ft not to be afraid, for it will do him no harm.
This being premised, it commonly enters, into its nar¬
rative j which being completed, and its request or
commands giveu, with injunctions that they be imme¬
diately executed, it vanishes away, frequently in a flash
of light; in which case, some ghosts have been so con¬
siderate as to desire the party, to whom they appeared
to shut their eyes : sometimes its departure is attended
with delightful music. During the narration of its
business, a ghost must by no means be interrupted by
questions of any kind; so doing is extremely danger¬
ous : if any doubts arise, they must be stated after
the spirit has done its tale. Questions respecting its
state, or the state of any of their former acquaintance,
are oflensive, and not often answered j spirits perhaps
being restrained from divulging the secrets ol their
prison house. Occasionally spirits will even condescend
to talk on common occurrences, as is instanced by
Glanvil in the apparition of Major George Sydenham
to Captain William Dyke, relation loth, wherein the
major reproved the captain for suffering a sword be had
given him to grow rusty: saying, ‘ Captain, captain,
this sword did not use to be kept after this manner
when it was mine.’ This attention to the state of
arms, was a remnant of the major’s professional duty
when living.
“ It is somewhat remarkable that ghosts do not
go about their business like the persons of this world.
In cases of murder, a ghost, instead, of. going to the
aaext justice of the peace, and laying its information, or
to the nearest relation of the person murdered, appears
G H O
to some poor labourer who knows none of the parties, Gho«t.
draws the curtains of some decrepit nurse or alms '■*
woman, or hovers about the place where his body i»
deposited. The same circuitous mode is pursued with
respect to redressing injured orphans or widows 5 when
it seems as if the shortest and most certain way would
be, to go to the person guilty of the injustice, and
haunt him continually till he be terrified into a restitu¬
tion. Nor is the pointing out lost writings generally
managed in a more‘summary way ; the ghost common¬
ly applying to a third person ignorant of the whole
affair, and a stranger to all eoneerned. But it is pre¬
sumptuous to scrutinize too far into these matters :
ghosts have undoubtedly forms and customs peculiar to
themselves.
“ If after the first appearance, the persons employ¬
ed neglect, or are prevented from, performing the mes¬
sage or business committed to their management, the
ghost appears continually to them, at first with a dis¬
contented, next an angry, and at length with a furious,
countenance, threatening to tear them in pieces if the
matter is not forthwith executed •, sometimes terrifying
them, as in Glanvil’s relation 26th, by appearing in
many formidable shapes, and sometimes even striking
them a violent blow. Of blows given by ghosts there
are many instances, and some wherein they have been
followed with an incurable lameness.
“ It should have been observed, that ghosts, in deli¬
vering their commissions, in order to ensure belief,
communicate to the persons employed some secret,
known only to the parties concerned and themselves,
the relation of which always produces the effect in¬
tended. The business being completed, ghosts appear
with a cheerful countenance, saying they shall now be
at rest, and will never more disturb any one 5 and,
thanking their agents, by way of reward communicate
to them something relative to themselves, which they
will never reveal.
“ Sometimes ghosts appear, and disturb a house,
without deigning to give any reason for so doing : with
these, the shortest and only way is to exorcise, and
eject them j or, as the vulgar term is, lay them. For
this purpose there must be two or three clergymen, and
the ceremony must be performed in Latin ; a language
that strikes the most audacious ghost with terror.
A ghost may be laid for any term less than 100
years, and in any place or body, full or empty ; as, a
solid oak—the pommel of a sword—a barrel of beer,
if a yeoman or simple gentleman—or a pipe of wine,
if an esquire or a justice. But of all places the most
common, and what a ghost least likes, is the Red
sea j it being related, in many instances, that ghosts
have most earnestly besought the exorcists not to con¬
fine them in that place. It is nevertheless considered as
an indisputable fact, that there are an infinite number
laid there, perhaps from its being a safer prison than
any other nearer at hand j though neither history nor
tradition gives us any instance of ghosts escaping or re¬
turning from this kind of transportation before their
time.
“ Another species of human apparition may be here
noticed, though it does not come under the strict de¬
scription of a ghost. These are the exact figures and
resemblances of persons then living, often seen not only
by their friends at a distance, but many times by them-
, selves $
[ 693 ]
G I A [ 699 ] G I A
Ghost selves j of which there are several instances in Auhery’s
|j Miscellanies; one of Sir Richard Napier, a physician
•?iant’ . of London, who being on the road from Bedfordsire
to visit a friend in Berkshire, saw at an inn his own ap-
paration lying on his bed as a dead corpse; he never¬
theless went forward, and died in a short time: ano¬
ther of Lady Diana Rich, daughter of the earl of
Holland, who met her own apparition walking in a
garden at Kensington, and died a month after of the
smallpox. These apparitions are called fetches; in
Cumberland, swarths ; and in Scotland, wraiths ; they
most commonly appear to distant friends and relations,
at the very instant preceding the death of the person
whose figure they put on. Sometimes, as in the in¬
stances above mentioned, there is a greater interval be¬
tween the appearance and death.” For a philosophical
inquiry into the subject of apparitions in general, see
the article Spectre.
GIAGH, in Chronology, a cycle of 12 years; in
use among the Turks and Catbayans.
Each year of a giagh bears the name of some ani¬
mal : the first that of a mouse ; the second that of a
bullock ; the third of a lynx or leopard ; the fourth
of a hare ; the fifth of a crocodile ; the sixth of a ser¬
pent ; the seventh of a horse ; the eighth of a sheep ;
the ninth of a monkey; the tenth of a hen ; the
eleventh of a dog ; and the twelfth of a hog.
They also divide the day into 12 parts, which they
call giaghs, and distinguish them by the name of some
animals. Each giagh contains two of our hours, and
is divided into eight kehs, as many as there are quar¬
ters in our hours.
GIALLOLINO, in ‘Natural History, a fine yellow
pigment, much used under the name of Naples Yel¬
low.
GIANT, a person of extraordinary bulk and sta¬
ture.
The romances of all ages have furnished us with so
many extravagant accounts of giants of incredible bulk
and strength, that the existence of such people is now
generally disbelieved. It is commonly thought, that
the stature of men hath been the same in all ages ; and
some have even pretended to demonstrate the impossi¬
bility of the existence of giants mathematically. Of
these our countryman M‘Laurin hath been the most
explicit. “ In general (says he) it will easily appear,
that the efforts tending to de-stroy the cohesion of
beams arising from their own gravity only, increase in
the quadruplicate ratio of their lengths : but that the
opposite efforts tending to preserve their cohesion, in¬
crease only in the triplicate proportion of the same
lengths. From which it follows, that the greater beams
must be in greater danger of breaking than the lesser
similar ones ; and that though a lesser beam may be
firm and secure, yet a greater similar one may be made
so long, that it will necessarily break by its own weight.
Hence Galileo justly concludes, that what appears very
firm, and succeeds very well in models, may be very
weak and infirm, or even fall to pieces by its own
weight, when it comes to be executed in large dimen¬
sions according to the model. From the same princi¬
ple he argues, that there are necessary limits in the ope¬
rations of nature and art, which they cannot surpass in
magnitude. Were trees of a very enormous size, their
branches would fall by their own weight. Large ani¬
mals have not strength in proportion to their size; and Giant,
if there were any land animals much larger than those
we know, they could hardly move, and would be per¬
petually subject to the most dangerous accidents. As
to the animals of the sea, indeed the case is diflerent;
for the gravity of the water in a great manner sustains
those animals ; and in fact these are known sometimes
to be vastly larger than the greatest land animals. Nor
does it avail against this doctrine to tell us, that bones
have sometimes been found which were supposed to have
belonged to giants of immense size; such as the skele¬
tons mentioned by Strabo and Pliny, the former of
which was 60 cubits high, and the latter 46: for na¬
turalists have concluded on just grounds, that in some
cases these bones had belonged to elephants ; and that
the larger ones were bones of whales, which had been
brought to the places where they were found by the
revolutions of nature that have happened in'past times.
Though it must be owned, that there appears no rea¬
son why there may not have been men who have ex¬
ceeded by some feet in height the tallest we have
seen.”
It will easily be seen, that arguments of this kind
can never be conclusive; because, along with an in¬
crease of stature in any animal, we must always suppose
a proportional increase in the cohesion of the parts of
its body. Large works sometimes fail when construct¬
ed on the plan of models, because the cohesion of the
materials whereof the model is made, and of the large
work, are the same; but a difference in this respect
will produce a very remarkable difference in the ulti¬
mate result. Thus, suppose a model is made of fir-
wood, the model may be strong and firm enough ; but
a large work made also of fir, when executed according
to the plan of the model, may be so weak that it will
fall to pieces by its own weight. If, however, we
make use of iron for the large work instead of fir, the
whole will be sufficiently strong, even though made ex¬
actly according to the plan of the model. The like
may be said with regard to large and small animals.
If we could find an animal whose bones exceeded in
hardness and strength the bones of other animals as
much as iron exceeds fir, such an animal might be of a
monstrous size, and yet be exceedingly strong. In
like manner, if we suppose the flesh and bones of a
giant to be greatly superior in hardness and strength
to the bones of other men, the great size of his body
will be no objection at all to his strength. The whole
of the matter therefore concerning the existence of
giants must rest on the credibility of the accounts we
have from those who pretend to have seen them, and
not on any arguments drawn a priori.
In the Scripture we are told of giants, who were
produced from the marriages of the sons of God with
the daughters of men f. This passage indeed has been ^ ?e®
differently interpreted, so as to render it doubtful whe-
ther the word translated giants does there imply any
extraordinary stature. In other parts of Scripture,
however, giants, with their dimensions, are mentioned
in such a manner that we cannot possibly doubt; as in
the case of Og king of Bashan, and Goliath. In a me¬
moir read before the Academy of Sciences at Rouen,
M. Le Cat gives the following account of giants that
are said to have existed in different ages.
“ Profane historians have given seven feet of height
4 T 2 to
g i a [ :
to Hercules tlieir first hero ; and in our days we have
seen men eight feet high. The giant who was shown
in Ilouen in 1735, measured eiglit feet some inches.
The emperor Maximian was of that size ; Shenkius and
Platerus, physicians of the last century, saw several of
that stature *, and Goropius saw a girl who was ten
feet high.—The body of Orestes, according to the
Greeks, was eleven feet and a half; the giant Galba-
ra, brought from Arabia to Rome under Claudius
Caesar, was near ten feet , and the bones of Secondil-
la and Pusio, keepers of the gardens of Sallust, were
but six inches shorter. Funnam, a Scotsman, who lived
in the time of Eugene II. king of Scotland, mea¬
sured eleven feet and a half 5 and Jacob le Mane, in
his voyage to the Straits of Magellan, repoits, that on
the 17th of December 1615, they found at Port De¬
sire several graves covered with stones ^ and having the
curiosity to remove the stones, they discovered human
skeletons of ten and eleven feet long. The chevalier
Scory, in his voyage to the peak of Tenerifle, says,
that they found in one of the sepulchral caverns of that
mountain the head of a Guanche which had 80 teeth,
and that the body was not less than 15 feet long. The
giant Ferragus, slain by Orlando nephew of Charle¬
magne, was 18 feet high, llioland, a celebrated ana¬
tomist, who wrote in 1614, says, that some years be¬
fore there was to be seen in the suburbs of St Germain
the tomb of the giant Isoret, who was 20 feet high.
In Rouen, in 1509, in digging in the ditches near
the Dominicans, they found a stone tomb containing a
skeleton whose skull held a bushel of corn, and whose
shin bone reached up to the girdle of the tallest man
there, being about four feet long, and consequently
the body must have been 17 or 18 feet high. Upon
the tomb was a plate of copper, whereon was engra¬
ved, “ In this tomb lies the noble and puissant lord
the chevalier Ricon de Vallemont, and his bones.”
Platerus, a famous physician, declares, that he saw at
[Lucerne the true human bones of a subject which must
have been at least 19 feet high. Valence in Dauphine
boasts of possessing the bones of the giant Bucart, ty¬
rant of the Vivarais, who was slain with an arrow by
the count de Cabillon his vassal. The Dominicans
had a part of the shin bone, with the articulation of
the knee, and his figure painted in fresco, with an in¬
scription, showing that this giant was 22 feet and a
half high, and that his bones were found in 1705, near
the banks of the Morderi, a little river at the foot of
the mountain of Crussol, upon which (tradition says)
the giant dwelt.
“ January II, 1613, some masons digging near the
ruins of a castle in Dauphine, in a field, which (by tra¬
dition) had long been called the giant's Jield, at the
depth of 18 feet discovered a brick tomb 30 feet long,
12 feet wide, and 8 feet high; on which was a gray
stone, with the words Theutobochus Rex cut thereon.
When the tomb was opened, they found a human ske¬
leton entire, 25 feet and a half long, 10 feet wide
across the shoulders, and five feet deep from the breast
bone to the back. His teeth were about the size each
of an ox’s foot, and his shin bone measured four feet,-—
Near Mazarino, in Sicily, in 1516, was found a giant
30 feet high ; his head was the size of an hogshead,
and each of his teeth weighed five ounces. Near Pa-
1 rmo, in the valley of Mazara, in Sicily, a skeleton of
00 ] G I A
% giant 30 feet long was found, in the year 1548 ; GianJi
and another of 33 feet high, in 1550; and many cu-1 y-i,
rious persons have preserved several of these gigantic
bones.
“ The Athenians found near their city two famous
skeletons, one of 34 and the other of 36 feet high.
“ At Totu, in Bohemia, in 758, was found a skele¬
ton, the head of which could scarce be encompassed by
the arms of two men together, and whose legs, which
they still keep in the castle of that city, were 26 feet
long. The skull of the giant found in Macedonia, Sep¬
tember 1691, held 210 pounds of corn.
“ The celebrated Sir Hans Sloane, who treated this
matter very learnedly, does not doubt these facts ; but
thinks the bones were those of elephants, whales, or
other enormous animals.
“ Elephants bones may be shown for those of giants ;
but they can never impose on connoisseurs. Whales,
which, by their immense bulk, are more proper to be
substituted for the largest giants, have neither anus
nor legs ; and the head of that animal hath not the least
resemblance to that of a man. If it be true, therefore,
that a great number of the gigantic bones which we
have mentioned have been seen by anatomists, and by
them have been reputed real human bones, the exist¬
ence of giants is proved.”
With regard to the credibility of all or any of
these accounts, it is difficult to determine any thing.
If, in any castle of Bohemia, the bones of a man’s
leg 26 feet in length are preserved, we have indeed a
decisive proof of the existence of a giant in comparison
of whom most others would be but pigmies. Nor in¬
deed could these bones be supposed to belong to an
elephant: for an elephant itself would but be a dwarf
in comparison of such an enormous monster. But if
these bones were really kept in any part of Bohemia,
it seems strange that they have not been frequently vi¬
sited, and particular descriptions of them given by the
learned who have travelled into that country. It is
certain, however, that there have been nations of men
considerably exceeding the common stature. Ihus, all
the Roman historians inform us, that the Gauls and
Germans exceeded the Italians in size ; and it appears
that the Italians in those days were of much the same
stature with the people of the present age. Among
these northern nations, it is also probable, that there
would be as great differences in stature as there are
among the present race oi men. If that can be al¬
lowed, we may easily believe that some of the bar¬
barians might be called giants, without any great im¬
propriety. Of this superiority of size, indeed, the
historian Florus gives a notable instance in Teutobo-
chus, above mentioned, king of the Teutones : who
being defeated and taken prisoner by Marius, was car¬
ried in triumph before him at Rome, when bis head
reached above the trophies that were carried in the
same procession.
But whether these accounts are credited or not, we
are very certain, that the stature of the human body
is by no means absolutely fixed. We ourselves are
a kind of giants in comparison of the Laplanders ; ner
are these the most diminutive people to be found upon
the earth. The Abbe la Chappe, in his journey into
Siberia in order to observe the last transit of Venus,
passed through a village inhabited by people called
JFotiacksh
G 1 A
jrotiacks, neither men nor women of whom were above
four feet high.' The accounts of the Patagonians also,
which cannot be entirely discredited, render it very
probable, that somewhere in South America there is
a race of people very considerably exceeding the com¬
mon size of mankind, and consequently that we can¬
not altogether discredit the relations of giants handed
down to us by ancient authors j though what degree of
credit we ought to give them is not easy to be determin¬
ed. See Patagonia.
Rebel Giants, in ancient mythology, were the sons
of Ccelus and Terra. According to Hesiod, they
sprang from the blood of the wound which Coelus re¬
ceived from his son Saturn, and Hyginus calls them
sons of Tartarus and Terra. They are represented as
men of uncommon stature, with strength proportioned
to their gigantic size. Some of them, as Cottus, Bri-
areus, and Gyges, had each 50 heads and 100 arms,
and serpents instead of legs. They were of a terrible
aspect, their hair hung loose about their shoulders, and
their beard was suft’ered to grow unmolested. Pallene
and its neighbourhood was the place of their residence.
The defeat of the Titans, to whom they were nearly
related, incensed them against Jupiter, and they all
conspired to dethrone him. Accordingly they reared
Mount Ossa upon Pelion, and Olympus upon Ossa j
and from thence attacked the gods with huge rocks,
some of which fell into the sea and became islands,
and others fell on the earth and formed mountains.
Jupiter summoned a council of the gods j when being
informed that it was necessary to obtain the assistance
of some mortal, he by the advice of Pallas called up his
son Hercules j and with the aid of this hero he ex¬
terminated the giants Enceladus, Polybotes, Alcyon,
Porphyrion, the two sons of Aloeus, Ephialtes, Othus,
Eurytus, Clytius, Tithyus, Pallas, Hippolitus, Agrius,
Thoon, and Typhon ; the last of whom it was more
difficult to vanquish than all the others. Jupiter hav¬
ing thus gained a complete victory, cast the rebels
down to Tartarus, where they were to receive the full
punishment of their enormous crimes : according to the
accounts of some of the poets, he buried them alive un¬
der Mount .ff.tna and difi’erent islands.
Giants Causeway, a vast collection of basaltic pil¬
lars in the county of Antrim, on the north coast of Ire¬
land. See Basaltes.
The principal or grand causeway consists of a most
regular arrangement of many hundred thousands of co¬
lumns of a black kind of rock, very hard : almost all of
them are of a pentagonal figure, but so closely and
compactly situated on their sides, though perfectly
distinct from top to bottom, that scarce any thing can
be introduced between them. The columns are of an
unequal height and breadth \ some of the highest, vi¬
sible above the surface of the strand, and at the foot
of the impending angular precipice, may be about 20
feet $ they do not exceed this height, at least none of
the principal arrangement. How deep they are fixed
in the strand, was never yet discovered. This grand
arrangement extends nearly 200 yards, visible at low
water j how far beyond is uncertain : from its declin¬
ing appearance, however, at low water, it is probable
it does not extend under water to a distance any thing
equal to what is seen above. The breadth of the
principal causeway, which runs out in one continued
[ 701 ]
G I A
range of columns, is, in general, from 20 to 30 feet j Giants
at one place or two it may be nearly 40 for a few Causeway,
yards. In this account are excluded the broken and ' J
scattered pieces of the same kind of construction, that
are detached from the sides of the grand causeway, as
they do not appear to have ever been contiguous to the
principal arrangement, though they have frequently
been taken into the width : which has been the cause
of such wild and dissimilar representations of this cause¬
way, which different accounts have exhibited. The
highest part of this causeway is the narrowest, at the
very foot of the impending cliff from whence the
whole projects, where, for four or five yards, it is not
above ten or fifteen feet wide. The columns of this
narrow part incline from a perpendicular a little to the
westward, and form a slope on their tops, by the very
unequal height of the columns on the two sides, by
which an ascent is made at the foot of the cliff, from
the head of one column to the next above, grachitim,
to the top of the great causeway, which, at the di¬
stance of half a dozen yards from the cliff, obtains a
perpendicular position, and lowering in its general
height, widens to about 20 or between 20 and 30 feet,,
and for 100 yards nearly is always above water. The
tops of the columns for this length being nearly of an
equal height, they form a grand and singular parade,
that may be easily walked on, rather inclining to the
water’s edge. But from high water mark, as it is.
perpetually washed by the beating surges on every
return of the tide, the platform lowers considerably,
and becomes more and more uneven, so as not to be
walked on but with the greatest care. At the distance
of 150 yards from the cliff, it turns a little to the east
for 20 or 30 yards, and then sinks into the sea. The
figure of these columns is almost unexceptionably pen¬
tagonal, or composed of five sides j there are but very
few of any other figure introduced : some few there
are of three, four, and six sides, but the generality of
them are five-sided, and the spectator must look very
nicely to find any of a different construction : yet
what is very extraordinary, and particularly curious,
there are not two columns in ten thousand to be found,
that either have their sides equal among themselves,
or whose figures are alike. Nor is the composition of
these columns or pillai’s less deserving the attention of
the curious spectator. They are not qf one solid stone
in an upright position ; but composed of several short
lengths, curiously joined, not with flat surfaces, but
articulated into each other like ball and socket, or
like the joints in the vertebrae of some of the larger
kind of fish, the one end at the joint having a cavity,
into which the convex end of the opposite is exactly
fitted. This is. not visible, but by disjoining the two
stones. The depth of the concavity or convexity is
generally about three or four inches. And what is
still farther remarkable of the joint, the convexity, and
the correspondent concavity, is not conformed to the
external angular figure of the column, but exactly
round, and as large as the size or diameter of the co¬
lumn will admit i and consequently as the angles of
these columns are in general extremely unequal, the
circular edges of the joint are seldom coincident with
more than two or three sides of the pentagon, and
from the edge of the circular part of the joint to the
exterior sides and angles they are quite plain. If }s
still;
G I A [ 7°2 ]
still farther very remarkable, likewise, that the arti-
eway. eolations of those joints are frequently inverted ; in
v—some the concavity is upwards, in others the reverse.
This occasions that variety and mixture of concavities
and convexities on the tops of the columns, which is
observable throughout the platform of this causeway,
yet without any discoverable design or regularity with
respect to the number of either. The length also
of these particular stones, from joint to joint, is va¬
rious : in general, they are from 18 to 24 inches long ;
and, for the most part, longer toward the bottom ot
the columns than nearer the top, and the articulation
of the joints something deeper. The size or diameter
likewise of the columns is as different as their length
^ and figure', in general, they are from 15 to 20 inches
in diameter. There are really no traces of uniformity
or design discovered throughout the whole combina¬
tion, except in the form of the joint, which is inva¬
riably by an articulation of the convex into the con¬
cave of the piece next above or below it *, nor are there
any traces of a finishing in any part, either in height,
length, or breadth, of this curious causeway. If there
is here and there a smooth top to any of the columns
above water, there are others just by, of equal height,
that are more or less convex or concave, which show
them to have been joined to pieces that have been
washed, or by other means taken off. And undoubt¬
edly those parts that are always above water have,
from time to time, been made as even as might be j
and the remaining surfaces of the joints must naturally
have been worn smoother by the constant friction of
weather and walking, than where the sea, at every
tide, is beating upon it and continually removing
some of the upper stones and exposing fresh joints.
And farther, as these columns preserve their diameters
from top to bottom, in all the exterior ones, which
have two or three sides exposed to view, the same may
with reason be inferred of the interior columns whose
tops only are visible. Yet what is very extraordinary,
and equally curious, in this phenomenon, is, that not¬
withstanding the universal dissimilitude of the columns,
both as to their figure and diameter, and though per¬
fectly distinct from top to bottom, yet is the whole
arrangement so closely combined at all points, that
hardly a knife can be introduced between them either
on the sides or angles.
The cliffs at a great distance from the causeway, es¬
pecially in the bay to the eastward, exhibit at many
places the same kind of columns, figured and jointed in
all respects like those of the grand causeway : some of
them are seen near t® the top of the cliff, which in
general, in these bays to the east and west of the cause¬
way, is near 300 feet in height j others again are seen
about midway, and at different elevations from the
strand. A very considerable exposure of them is seen
in the very bottom of the bay to the eastward, near a
hundred roods from the causeway, where the earth has
evidently fallen away from them upon the strand, and
exhibits a most curious arrangement of many of these
pentagonal columns, in a perpendicular position, sup¬
porting, in appearance, a cliff of different strata of earth,
clay, rock, &c. to the height of 130 feet or more, above.
Some of these columns are between 30 and 40 feet high,
from the top of the sloping bank below them; and,
being longest in the middle of the arrangement, short-
2
ening on either hand in view, they have obtained the Gianu
appellation of organs, from a rude likeness in this par- Causewv
ticular to the exterior or frontal tubes of that instru- fi
ment *, and as there are few broken pieces on the i mi 1 mt
strand near it, it is probable that the outside range of
columns that now appears is really the original exte¬
rior line, to the seaward, of this collection. But how
far they extend internally into the bowels of the in¬
cumbent cliff, is unknown. The very substance, in¬
deed, of that part of the clift' which projects to a point,
between the two bays on the east and west of the
causeway, seems composed of this kind of materials ;
for besides the many pieces that are seen on the sides
of the cliff that circulate to the bottom of the bays,
particularly the eastern side, there is, at the very point
of the cliff, and just above the narrow and highest part
of the causeway, a long collection of them seen, whose
heads or tops just appearing without the sloping bank,
plainly show them to be in an oblique position, and
about half way between the perpendicular and hori¬
zontal. The heads of these, likewise, are of mixed
surfaces, convex and concave, and the columns evident¬
ly appear to have been removed from their original up¬
right, to their present inclining or oblique position, by
the sinking or falling of the cliff.
GIBBET, or Gibet, a machine in manner of a gal-
low, whereon notorious criminals, after execution, are
hung in irons or chains, as spectacles in terroreni. See
Gallows.—The word in French, gibet, properly de¬
notes what we call gallows : it is supposed to come
originally from the Arabic gibel, “ mount or elevation
of ground }” by reason gibets are usually placed on
hills or eminences.
GIBBON, Edward, a historian of distinguished
eminence, was born at Putney in the year 1737* •^•e
was the son of a gentleman of fortune and family dis¬
tinction, who sat as a member in two separate parlia¬
ments. Edward when a boy, was of such an extreme¬
ly delicate constitution that his life was frequently
despaired of. When at the school of Westminster, his
progress was often retarded by repeated shocks ol bad
health. After being for a long time under the ma¬
nagement of the best medical practitioners, his consti¬
tution was radically changed for the better, which in¬
duced his father to place him in Magdalen college aa
a gentleman commoner, that he might be pushed into
manly acquisitions. This was prior to the completing
of his fifteenth year. Before this time his reading had
been of such a nature as to store his mind with much
valuable historical knowledge, although his grammati¬
cal and philosophical knowledge at this time was not so
extensive as that of some others at the same period of
life. He says of himself j 1 arrived at Oxford with a
stock of erudition that might have puzzled a doctor,
and a degree of ignorance of which a school-boy would
have been ashamed. Under such circumstances he was
but ill prepared to receive the benefits of an university
education, and this was no doubt the reason why he
exclaimed so bitterly against the public and private in*
structions at Oxford.
He was fond of polemical divinity from his infancy,
and during his leisure moments he turned his attention,
when farther advanced, to the celebrated controversy
between Papists and Protestants j and as he had not
then acquired talents sufficient to enable him to combat
error
GIB [ >703 ] GIB
i'ibbon. error and defend the truth, he fell a victim to the so-
•nr—' phis try of the church of Rome. His father, with a
view to reclaim him from the love of what he consider¬
ed as the most destructive of all errors, sent him to
Jjausanne in Switzerland, and put him under the care
of Mr Pavilliard, a clergyman of the Calvinistic per¬
suasion. This gentleman called his pupil Edward,
“ A little thin figure, with a large head, disputing,
and urging with the greatest ability, all the best ar¬
guments that had ever been used in favour of Popery.”
The masterly exertions of Mr Pavilliard, who had to
deal with a young man of solid reason and matured re¬
flection, accomplished the recantation of Mr Gibbon,
and he received the sacrament in the Protestant church
on the 25th of December 1754. At Lausanne, too,
he made great progress in many branches of knowledge
which he had hitherto neglected, and acquired a regu¬
lar habit of study. He became master of the French
and Latin languages, and was a profound logician.
He gave full scope to the exercise of reading excellent
authors, which was his ruling passion. He did not
appear fond of mathematics, and therefore soon relin¬
quished the study of them. At Lausanne he fell in
love with a young lady, the daughter of a village cler¬
gyman j but he was frustrated in his hopes, and the
lady became afterwards the wife of the celebrated
Necker.
On his return home in April 1758, his father re¬
ceived him with every mark of tenderness and affection,
and his mother-in-law found means to conciliate his
good opinion and his confidence. It is a singular cir¬
cumstance that he should have taken a captain’s com¬
mission in the army, a profession, one would have ima¬
gined, for which he was very ill calculated. Indeed
he soon evinced the truth of this, for his tent and quar¬
ters were frequently encumbered with the odd furni¬
ture of Greek and Latin authors. On the event of
peace he resigned his commission, and paid a visit to
Paris in the year 1763, where he resided a few months,
and afterwards went to Lausanne, where he remained
about a year, in order to prepare for a journey into
Italy, which he accomplished in 1765. He thus speaks
on the occasion of his entering Rome : “ After a sleep¬
less night, I trod, with a lofty step, the ruins of the
forum j each memorable spot, where Romulus stood, or
Tully spoke, or Caesar fell, was at once present to my
eye; and several days of intoxication were lost or en¬
joyed before I could descend to a cool and minute in¬
vestigation.” On the 15th of October, he informs us,
the idea of writing the decline and fall of Rome first
came into his mind, when the bare-footed friars were
singing vespers in the temple of Jupiter.
In the year 1770 Mr Gibbon lost his father, and
succeeded to an estate which was very much involved ;
yet he considered his circumstances as very well adapted
to the great and extensive work he had undertaken to
accomplish, which in his own opinion he had probably
never finished, if he had been either poorer or richer
than he was. He had an extensive circle of acquaint¬
ance in London, but the time necessarily devoted to
their company, he made up by early rising and intense
application. In the year 1774 he was chosen member
of parliament for the borough of Liskeard, by the in¬
fluence of Lord Elliot, which threatened to give his
studies a very serious interruption. He sat eight years
in the house of commons without having the courage so
much as once to open his mouth, notwithstanding he
was such an elegant writer. When the first volume of
his “ Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” made its
appearance in ] 776, it met with a greater degree of
applause than he expected ; but by no praise was he so
highly gratified as by that which the two great histo¬
rians of Scotland, Hume and Robertson, bestowed upon
him. For his two chapters which relate to the spread
of Christianity he met with many antagonists, to whom
he made no reply but to a Mr Davis, which was con¬
sidered as a masterpiece. There can be no doubt that
Gibbon was a real enemy to revelation in the disguise
of a believer, a conduct not so abominable as at~ first
sight may appear, so long as penal laws exist against an
open declaration of opinion.
Soon after the publication of the first volume of his
history, he paid another visit to Paris, and did not ap¬
pear to be in much haste to complete his extensive
work. In however, the second and third vo¬
lumes of his history were given to the world $ and al¬
though in the estimation of many competent judges
they were inferior to the first, they still were allowed
to possess sufficient merit to support his reputation.
Having lost his seat lor Liskeard, the influence of
ministry brought him in as representative for Lyming-
ton, and on the dissolution of Lord North’s ministry,
he lost his office as one of the lords of trade, which was
a serious diminution of his income. He again deter¬
mined to visit his favourite Lausanne, where he com¬
pleted the remaining volumes of his history ; but when
the revolutionary mania began to rage on the conti¬
nent, he quitted Lausanne, and sought for an asylum
in England. He mortally hated innovations of every
kind, whether necessary or not, as appears from the
following exclamation : “ I beg leave to subscribe my
assent to Mr Burke’s creed on the revolution of France.
I admire his eloquence, I approve his politics, I adore
his chivalry, and can almost excuse his reverence for
church establishments,”
During his consoling visit to Lord Sheffield, who
had met with a trying domestic loss, his attention was
called to the rapid progress of a distemper which had
subsisted for about 30 years. A mortification at last
ensued, which terminated his existence on the 16th of
January 1794, in the 67th year of his age. Mr Gib¬
bon gives himself a character which is perhaps pretty
near the truth. “ I am endowed with a cheerful tem¬
per, a moderate sensibility, and a natural disposition to
repose rather than to activity : some mischievous appe¬
tites and habits have perhaps been corrected by philo¬
sophy or time. The love of study supplies each day,
each hour, with a perpetual source of independent and
rational pleasure.” Mr Gibbon possessed the manners
and sentiments of a gentleman in an eminent degree ;
he was easy in society, of which he was extremely fond,
and beloved by all who had the pleasure of intimately
knowing him.
GIBBOUS, a term in Medicine, denoting any pro¬
tuberance or convexity of the body, as a person hunch¬
ed or hump backed.
Infants are much more subject togibbosity than adults,
and it oftener proceeds from external than internal
causes. A fall, blow, or the like, frequently thus dis¬
torts the tender bones of infants. When it proceeds
from
Gibbon,
Gibbous.
GIB
7°4 ]
GIB
ribbons from an internal cause, it is generally from a relaxa-
H tion of the ligaments that sustain the spine, or a caries
Gibeon. 0f its vertebrse ; though the spine may be inilected tor-
 * ‘ ward, and the vertebrae thrown out by a too strong
and repeated action of the abdominal muscles. Ibis,
if not timely redressed, grows up and fixes as the bones
harden, till in adults it is totally irretrievable : but
when the disorder is recent, and the person young,
there are hopes of a cure. The common method is
by a machine of pasteboard, wood, or steel, which is
made to press principally on the gibbous part $ and
this by long weaving may set all right. The surgeons,
however, have a different instrument, which they call
a C7'OSS, much more efficacious, though not quite so
convenient in the wearing. By the use of this, the
parts are always prevented from growing any worse,
and are often cured. During the application of these
assistances, the parts should be at times rubbed with
Hungary water, spirit of lavender, or the like, and de¬
fended with a strengthening plaster.
Gibbous, in Astrotiomy, a term used in reference to
the enlightened parts of the moon, whilst she is moving
from the first quarter to the full, and from the full to
the last quarter; for all that time the dark part ap¬
pears horned or falcated; and the light one hunched
out, convex, or gibbous.
GIBEAH, a city in the tribe of Benjamin, lying
north of Jerusalem about 20 or 30 furlongs, and built
upon a hill, as its name imports.—This city gave birth
to Saul, the first king of Israel, for which reason it is
frequently called Gibeah of Saul, or Gibeah the native
country of Saul.
GIBELINS, or Gibellins, a famous faction in
Italy, opposite to another called the Guelphs.
Those two factions ravaged and laid waste Italy for
a long series of years ; so that the history of that coun¬
try, for the space of two centuries, is no more than a
detail of their mutual violences and slaughters. The Gi-
belins stood for the emperor against the pope : but con¬
cerning their origin and the reason of their names rve
have but a very obscure account. According to the
generality of authors, they rose about the year 1240,
upon the emperor Frederick II.’s being excommuni¬
cated by Pope Gregory IX. Other writers main¬
tain, that the two factions arose ten years before,
though still under the same pope and emperor. But
the most probable opinion is that of Maimbourg, who
says, that the two factions of Guelphs and Gibelins
arose from a quarrel between two ancient and illustri¬
ous houses on the confines of Germany, that of the
Henries of Gibeling, and that of the Guelphs of
Adorf.
GIBEON, a city seated on an eminence about 40
furlongs from Jerusalem northward, and not far from
the city of Gibeah. See Geba.
This was the capital city of the Gibeonites, who
took the advantage of Joshua’s oath, and of that which
the elders of Israel likewise swore to them, upon an
artificial representation which they made of their be¬
longing to a very remote country, and their desire of
making an alliance with the Hebrews. Joshua (ix. 3.
4, ct seq.) and the elders inconsiderately entered into
a league with these people ; but soon discovered their
mistake. Upon this, sending for the Gibeonites, they
reproached them with their fraud ; and without revok-
3
ing the promise which they had made to them, of
giving them their lives, they condemned them to carry
wood and water to the tabernacle of the Lord, as slaves
and captives taken in war ; in which state of servitude
they remained till the ruin and entire dispersion of the
Jewish nation.
The Gibeonites were descended from the Hivites,
the old inhabitants of that country, and possessed four
cities, whereof Gibeon was the capital. The cities were
Chephirath, Beerotb, Kirjatbjearim, and Gibeon, Josh,
ix. 17. These cities rvere afterwards given to the tribe
of Benjamin, except Kirjatbjearim, which fell to the
tribe of Judah. The Gibeonites continued ever after
subject to those burdens which Joshua had imposed on
them, and were very faithful to the Israelites.
GIBLETS, the offals or entrails of a goose ; includ¬
ing the heart and liver, with the feet, gizzard, &c.
The word is supposed to be formed of goblets, frcm the
French gobeau, “ mouthful.”—Giblets make a consi¬
derable article in cookery: they boil giblets, stew gib¬
lets, make ragouts of giblets, giblet pies, &c.
GIBRALTAR, a famous promontory, or rather
peninsula, of Spain, lying in N. Lat. 36. 6. W.
Long. 5. 17. To the ancients it was known by the
name of Calpe, and was also called one of the Ft/lars of
Hercules; by the Arabians it is called Gebel Tarek,
that is, “ the mount of Tarek,” from Tarek, the name
of the Saracen general who conquered Spain in the be¬
ginning of the eighth century. The whole is an im¬
mense rock, rising perpendicularly about 440 yards,
measuring from north to south about two English
miles, but not above one in breadth from east to west.
The town lies along the bay on the west side of the
mountain on a declivity ; by which, generally speaking,
the rains pass through it, and keep it clean. Ihe old
town was considerably larger than the new. Many of
the streets are narrow and irregular : the buildings are
of different materials ; some of natural stone out of the
quarries, some of a factitious or artificial stone, and a
few of brick. The people are supplied with fresh pro¬
visions chiefly from the coast of Barbary, with fruit,
roots, and vegetables of all sorts from thence, or from
their own gardens. Besides what is properly called the
town, there are several spacious and commodious pub¬
lic edifices erected ; such as barracks for the soldiers,
with apartments for their officers, magazines of dif¬
ferent kinds, storehouses for provisions, &c. The in¬
habitants, exclusive of the British subjects dependent
on the garrison, or who reside there from other motives,
consist of some Spaniards, a few Portuguese, a consi¬
derable number of Genoese, about as many Jews, and
even some Moors ; making in the whole a population
of twelve thousand persons, without reckoning the gar¬
rison ; though some make them much fewer. This
town may be said to have two ports ; the first lv-
ing to the north, and is proper only for small ves¬
sels ; the other is very commodious for large ves¬
sels, and has a fine stone quay. The bay is very
beautiful and capacious, being in breadth about fi'e
miles, and in length eight or nine, with several
small rivers running into it. It is very advanta¬
geous to the place. There is no ground to be found
in the middle of it at one hundred fathoms deptn, so
that a squadron may lie there in great safety ; the
breezes from it are verv refreshing ; and it contributes
likewise
I
stress
G 1 B [ 7°5
iibralur. likewise to the subsistence of the inhabitants by supply-
 ing them with plenty of fish.
The strait of Gibraltar, through which the ocean
passes into the Mediterranean, thereby dividing Europe
from Africa, runs from west to east about 13 leagues.
In this strait there are three remarkable promontories
or capes on the Spanish side, and as many opposite to
them on the Barbary side. The first of these, on the
side of Spain, is Cape Trafalgar, opposite to which is
Cape Spartal *, and in the neighbourhood of this stood
the fortress of Tangier, once in the possession of the
British. The next on the Spanish side is Tariffa; and
opposite it lies Malabata, near the town of Alcassar,
where the straits are about five leagues broad. Last¬
ly, Gibraltar facing the mountain of Abyla, near the
fortress and town of Ceuta, which make the eastern en¬
try of the straits.
This important fortress seems to have been first par-
•.erected ticularly, noticed as a place of consequence in the year
me Sa- ^12 At that time the general of the caliph A1 Wa-
!en!' lid landed with an army of 12,000 men on the isthmus
between Mount Calpe and the continent $ and that he
might secure an intercourse with Africa, ordered a
castle to be built on the face of that hill. Part of the
building still remains 5 and, from an inscription disco¬
vered above the principal gate, appears to have been
finished in 725* It continued in the possession of the
2 Saracens till the beginning of the 14th century, when it
1 nous re-was recovered by Ferdinand king of Castile. In 1333,
lotions, however, it was obliged to surrender to the son of the
emperor of Fez, who came to the assistance of the Moor¬
ish king of Granada. An attempt was made upon it in
1349 by Alonso king of'Castile j but when the fortress
had been reduced to the last extremity, a pestilential fe¬
ver broke out in the Spanish camp, which carried off the
king himself, with great part of his army j after which
the enterprise was abandoned.
The fortress continued in the possession of the Sa¬
racen descendants of the prince of Fez until the year
1410, when it was taken possession of by Joseph III.
king of Granada. A design of attacking it was form¬
ed by Henry de Gusman in 1435 ; but the enterprise
having miscarried through his imprudence, he was de¬
feated and slain. However, it was at length taken
after a gallant defence by his son John de Gusman in
1462 j since which time it has remained in the hands
of the Christians. In 1540, it was surprised and pil¬
laged by Piali Hamet, one of Barbarossa’s corsairs j
but the pirates having fallen in with some Sicilian gal¬
leys, were by them defeated, and all either killed or
taken.
In the reign of Charles V. the fortifications of Gib¬
raltar were modernized, and such additions made as to
PfjftdanJ render them almost impregnable. It was taken by the
J^then-English, however, in the reign of Queen Anne, and
since that time has remained in their possession; and
probably will always do so, unless ceded by treaty, as
it appears altogether impossible to reduce it by any
force of artillery, let it be ever so great. In the year
]
gib
Gibraltar.
ItintiCca
tar was resolved upon ; not so much on account of the
importance of the conquest, as to prevent any reflec¬
tions against the admiral for inactivity. On the 21st
of July that year, 1800 treops were landed upon the
isthmus, under the command of the prince of Hesse
Darmstadt j and on the refusal of the governor to sur¬
render, preparations were made for attacking the place.
Early in the morning of the 23d, a cannonade was
begun from the fleet, and kept up so briskly, that in
five or six hours the Spaniards were drrveu from many
of their guns,_ especially at the new mole head. The
admiral perceiving, that, by gaining this part of the
fortification, the reduction of the rest would be faci¬
litated, ordered out some armed boats to take posses¬
sion of it. On their approach the Spaniards sprung a
mine, which demolished part of the works, killed two
lieutenants and 40 private soldiers, wounding about
60 more. Notwithstanding this disaster, the assailants
kept possession of the work, and took a small bastion,
now the eight-gun battery, half way between the mole
and the town. On this the governor thought proper
to capitulate, and the prince of Hesse took possession
of the gates on the 24th. The garrison, consisting at
most of 150 men, marched out with the honours of
war ; and the Spaniards who chose to remain were al¬
lowed the same privileges they had enjoyed under the
reign of Charles II. The works were found very strong,
and the place well provided with ammunition and mili¬
tary stores.
This conquest rvas achieved with the loss of about
60 killed and 216 wounded on the part of the Eng¬
lish. The prince of Hesse remained governor $ and 18
men of war were left at Lisbon under the command
of Sir John Leake, to succour the garrison if there
should be occasion. The loss of such an important
fortress, however, having alarmed both the courts of
Madrid and Paris, orders were sent to the Marquis de Besieged
Villadarias, a Spanish grandee, to lay siege to it, in the same
which he was to be assisted by a naval force from Tou-J63' by the
Ion. The prince immediately applied to Sir John y^fadarias
Leake for assistance; but before the latter had time Vl ac anas
to comply with his request, a French fleet arrived,
and debarked six battalions to the assistance of the
Spaniards; after which they proceeded to the west¬
ward, leaving only six frigates in the bay. The
trenches were opened on the nth of October, about
which time Sir John arrived with 20 sail of English
and Dutch ships ; but hearing that the French were
about to attack him with a superior force, he judged
it proper to return and refit. Having very prudently
left orders at Lisbon to make preparations for this
purpose in his absence, he was enabled to accomplish
this work with such expedition, that on the 29th of
the same month, he returned and surprised in the bay
three frigates, a fire ship, two English prizes, a tar- ^
tan, and a store ship. After this exploit he landed The gani-
some reinforcements, supplied the garrison with six son sup-
months provision and ammunition; at the same time vv*tb
u ky . -
eorge 1704, in consequence of the resolution adopted by the
ehi court of Britain to assist the archduke Charles in his
pretensions to the Spanish crown, Sir George Booke
was sent with a powerful fleet into the Mediterranean.
His orders being limited, nothing of consequence was
done for some time, until at last an attempt on Gibral-
Vol. IX. Part II. t
detaching on shore a body of 500 sailors to assist in re-
pairing the breaches which had been made by the ene-provisions
my’s fire. by Sir John
Thus the Spaniards were disappointed in their hopes I163*16'
of success from an attack which had been projected
that very night, and for which purpose 200 boats had
been collected. Still, however, they did not despair;
4 U and
7
Desperate
attempt of
some Spa¬
nish volun¬
teers.
9'
The siege
still conti¬
nued.
G I B
Cibtaliaf. supposing that the garrison would be
u—» guard and secure on account ol the vicinity of then
fleet, they formed the rash design of attempting to
surprise the place, though the British admiral was still
before it. In this mad attempt 500 volunteers asso¬
ciated, taking the sacrament never to return unless
they accomplished their purpose. They were conduct¬
ed by a goat-herd to the south side of the rock near
the cave guard, at that time called the pass of locust
trees This they mounted, and lodged themselves t.ie
first night in the cave of St Michael: the next they
scaled Charles Y.’s Wall j surprised and massacred the
guard at Middle hill; where afterwards, by ropes and
ladders, several hundreds of the party designed to sup¬
port them were hauled up: but being discovered they
were attacked by a strong party of grenadiers, and all of
They are them at last either killed or taken. Ibese brave ad-
all killed or vpnturerg were to have been supported by a body of
taken. jr^ncl, troops, and some feints were proposed to draw
off the attention of the garrison ; but, through the dis¬
agreement of the commanding officers, these proposals
were not put in execution, and thus the volunteers were
left to their fate. .
Notwithstanding these misfortunes, the hpaniards still
continued the siege, and fitted out a strong squadron
from Cadiz, with a design to intercept the convoys of
provisions which might be sent to the garrison } flat¬
tering themselves at the same time, that, on the ar¬
rival of their fleet, Sir John would be obliged to re¬
tire, and the garrison of consequence to surrender to
their united attacks. They continued their fire there¬
fore with additional fury, dismounted many of the can¬
non, and did essentiaf injury to the works in several
different places. The prince of Hesse, however, was
bv no means deficient in bis endeavours to disappoint
their expectations. As it was probable that an at¬
tempt might be made to storm the curtain, a cuvette
was dug in the ditch, which was filled by the tide, and
a double row of palisades placed parallel to the works.
The chambers of the mine under the glacis were load¬
ed, and all means taken to defeat such an attempt j but
on a sudden the Spaniards seemed to have altered
their design, and threatened an attack on the lines
which the garrison had on the declivity of the hill
to flank the glacis, and overlook their advanced
works. While affairs remained in this situation, part
of the succours they had long expected arrived in the
bay, December 7. 1704, and in two days after, the re¬
mainder came in with near 2000 men, along with a
proportionable quantity of ammunition and provisions.
These had sailed from Cape Spartel under convoy of
four frigates j but were in imminent danger of falling
into the hands of the enemy, whose fleet they mistook
for their own *, however, they escaped by the fortunate
circumstance of being becalmed, so that they could not
get up to them.
Sir John Leake having thus powerfully reinforced
the garrison, thought his presence in the bay no longer
necessary, and therefore set sail for Lisbon, where he
arrived about the end of the year. In the beginning of
January 1705 the Spaniards were reinforced by a con¬
siderable body of infantry, and on the xith of the
month made an attack on the extremity of the King’s
Lines, but were repulsed. The attack was renewed
next day with 600 grenadiers, French and Walloons,
2
[ 706 ] GIB
off their supported by IOOO Spaniards, under Lieulenant General
xo
Tire garri¬
son rein¬
forced.
il
Vigorous
attack by
the Spa¬
niards.
Fuy. They disposed themselves in such a manner as
showed an intention to storm a breach which had been
made in the Bound Tower at the extremity of the
King’s Lines, and another in the intrenchment on the
hill. The retrenchment which covered the latter
breach, with part of the intrenchment joining the pre¬
cipice of the rock, was defended at night by a captain,
three subalterns, and 90 men j but it was customary
for the captain to withdraw, with two subalterns and
60 men at daybreak. The Round Tower was de¬
fended by 180 men, commanded by a lieutenant-colo¬
nel. The marquis, by deserters from the garrison, bad
obtained intelligence of the strength of these posts, and
planned his attack accordingly. The detachment for
the upper breach mounted the rock at midnight, and
concealed themselves in the clifts until the captain had
withdrawn ; after which, advancing to the point of the
intrenchment, they threw grenades on the subaltern
and his party, so that they were obliged to leave the
place.. At the same time 300 men stormed the Round
Tower, where Lieutenant Colonel Bar made a vigo¬
rous defence, though the enemy, having passed the
breach above, annoyed them on the flanks with great
stones and grenades. Observing, however, the Spa¬
niards marching down to cut off his retreat from the
town, he retired ; and, by getting over the parapet of
the King’s Lines, descended into the covered way,
where the English guards were posted. Thus the gar¬
rison were alarmed ; all the regiments were assembled
at their proper posts 5 and Captain Fisher endeavoured
to stop the progress of the enemy with 17 men, but j
they were repulsed, and himself taken prisoner. Atxlieyau
last, however, the Tower was retaken by Lieutenantrepnlsed.
Colonel Moncal at the head of 400 or 500 men, after
it had been in the possession of the enemy upwards of
an hour.
The garrison was now farther reinforced by six com¬
panies of Dutch troops and 2Q0 English soldiers, toge¬
ther with some provisions and stores. 1 he assailants,
ill
-I
13
. , rp, The sieg
however, were still determined to go on. 1 lie mar-carrje(j 0
quis de Villadarias was superseded by Marischal I esse, with Ires
a Frenchman, with whom Admiral Point is was desired aidour
The marischal
ilei
|i 1!
(iei
to co-operate in blocking up the place,
therefore joined the army with four fresh battalions, be
sides eight companies which had been sent before; the
ordnance, which had been greatly injured by constant
use, was exchanged for others, and the works as they
then stood, put into the best repair. On the part of
the English, a reinforcement was ordered under the
command of Sir Thomas Dilkes and Sir John Hardy,
to join Admiral Leake at Lisbon : which junction be¬
ing effected, the whole fleet, consisting of 28 English,
4 Dutch, and 8 Portuguese men of war, having on
hoard two battalions of land forces, set sail from Lis- ^ 11 ^
bon. Happily for the besieged, however, the incessant xheTkem-1,
rains and storms about this time bad retarded the ope-fleetdisp
rations of the land forces, and greatly distressed the fleet sed ky
of the enemy. Eight ships of the latter were forcedstoim’
from their anchors by the strong ivesterly wind, and
obliged to drive aloft. At this critical period Sir John
Jjeake, with the allied fleet, entered the straits. On
his approach the few remaining French ships put out to
sea ; and the British admiral discovering five sail mak¬
ing out of the bay, and a gun fired at them from the
garrison
GIB [ 737
brakar. g«unson, imineiliately gave chase. Three trench men
"v of war were taken, and the admirals slup and another
driven on shore, where they were burnt. The rest, on
hearing the report of the guns, had made the best of
' 15 their way to Toulon.
I siege The garrison was now so well supplied, that Maris-
'ockadeC^al ^'esse wMdrew his troops from the trenches, and
It w’formPd a blockade, drawing an intrenchment across the
]
G I B
at last
ed.
16
Saiards
hr 20.
isthmus to prevent the garrison from ravaging the
country. The prince of Hesse remained for some time
in the place, where he repaired the batteries, and made
some additions to the fortifications ; after which he
joined the archduke Charles at Lisbon. As the latter,
however, was resolved to try his fortune with the earl
of Peterborough in Valencia and Catalonia, the prince
was sent back to Gibraltar to prepare part of the gar¬
rison for embarkation, and soon after was followed by
the whole fleet. Major General Ramos was now ap¬
pointed governor of Gibraltar, in which only two new
battalions were left, as nothing was to be feared from
the enemy. The new governor, however, brought with
him 400 men for the greater security of the place ; but
soon resigned his government to Colonel Roger Elliot,
during whose time Gibraltar was made a free port by a
special order from the queen.
Colonel Elliot was succeeded by Colonel Congreve
before the year 1714, and he by Colonel Cotton a
short time after. In 1720 the Spaniards seem to have
A!;w at- threatened another attack. Ceuta, a Spanish fortress
ikthreat-in Barbary, had been for many years besieged by the
the Moors ; and a powerful armament, commanded by the
marquis de Lada, was now assembled in Gibraltar bay,
under pretence of relieving the African fortress, but
with a secret design of first surprising Gibraltar j for
which purpose they had provided scaling ladders, &c.
The armament, however, had not been fitted out with
such secrecy, but that the British ministry had intelli¬
gence of it. On this they sent orders to Colonel Kane,
governor of Minorca, to embark with part of his gar¬
rison for Gibraltar under convoy of the fleet in the Me¬
diterranean. On bis arrival be found the place in a
critical situation. The garrison consisted only of three
weak battalions under Major Hetherington, besides
whom there was only one other field officer, Major
Batteroux, in the place, and no more than 14 days
provisions remaining. The posture of affairs, however,
was altered by the arrival of Colonel Kane with 500
men, with provisions and ammunition ; which rein-
[ 7 forcement, together with the spirited beiiaviour of the
T|design British commodore, induced the Spanish commander to
S1!lul)* abandon his design, though he remained of opinion that
the fortress might then have been carried by a general
5 assault.
A^lierat- Notwithstanding this disappointment, the Spaniards
in continued to keep a watchful eye over Gibraltar; and,
in the latter end of the year 1726, assembled an army
in the neighbourhood of Algesiras, encamping, on the
20th of January following, on the plain below St
Roch, and erecting a battery on the beach to protect Gibra
their camp. Though Admiral Hopson was then at an-  -y
chor in the bay of Gibraltar, yet, as be had received
no intelligence of the actual commencement of hostili¬
ties between Britain and Spain, he was obliged to al¬
low the boats oi the latter to pass with provisions, arms,
and ammunition, between Algesiras and the camp, at
the same time that Colonel (afterwards Brigadier) Kane,
who had been a second time sent from Minorca, lay un¬
der similar embarrassments. The operations of the Spa¬
niards, however, seemed so evidently to tend towards
an attack, that the governor thought proper to or¬
der such of that nation as were in the town to leave
it, and to forbid their galleys to anchor under his
guns (a).
The count de las Torres commanded the Spanish
forces, amounting to near 20,000 men ; and soon af¬
ter forming his camp, he advanced within reach of the
garrison. 1 he brigadier then desired him to keep out
of his reach, otherwise he should do his utmost to force
him ; hut to this the Spanish commander replied, that,
as the garrison could command no more than they had
power to maintain, he should obey his Catholic maje¬
sty’s orders, and encroach as far as possible. Hostili¬
ties, however, were not commenced until the 10th of
February I7^7> Mien the Spaniards, having brought
materials for batteries to the old windmill on the neu¬
tral ground, it was determined in a council of war,
that the Spanish general had commenced hostilities by
encroaching so far on the liberties of the garrison.
Still, however, the governor sent to the count to know
the reason of breaking ground before the garrison ; but
received for answer, that “ he was in his master’s ter¬
ritories, and was not answerable to any other person for
his conduct.” On this the governor opened the batte¬
ries of the Old Mole and those of Willis upon the Spa¬
nish workmen : however, they persisted on carrying on
their operations, and at night marched a party down to
the Devil’s Tower, where they immediately broke
ground, and began a communication with their other
works. The governor was now informed by some de¬
serters, that the enemy were forming a mine in a cave
under Willis’s Battery, with a design to blow it up:
but the plot being thus happily discovered, a party was
immediately stationed to cut off the communication.
On the 22d of February the Spaniards opened on the
garrison with 17 pieces of cannon besides mortars; and
the day following Brigadier Kane left Gibraltar to send
a reinforcement from Minorca. On the 3d of March
the enemy opened a new battery of 22 guns, on the Old
Mole, and on the 8th another of 15 guns, bearing also
upon the same mole, the guns of which had annoyed the
western flank of their approaches.
All this time the garrison had kept up a constant
and well directed fire from the batteries which bore
upon the works of the enemy ; but the ordnance in
general being old, were frequently bursting; by which
they suffered more than from the fire of the besiegers.
4 U 2 The
(a) At this time the fortifications of Gibraltar were considerably different from what they had been in 1705.
Several works were erected on the heights above the lines called Willis's Batteries; the Prince’s Lines were
extended to the extremity of the rock, and an inundation was formed out of the morass in front of the grand
battery.
GIB [
Gi'iiiillar. T!ie lattei' were aUo greatly distressed by tile iieet un-
 ' t]er Admiral Hopson and Sir Charles W ager, who, since
the beginning of the siege, had intercepted their home-
bound ships, and at the same time greatly benefited the
garrison, by bringing the prizes into the bay. binding
The Spaniards, however, obstinately bent on their en¬
terprise, they formed a design!, on the 2d or April, to
bombard Algesiras, from whence the besiegers were
supplied with various articles of ammunition ; but the
fleet happening to he becalmed, the design was after¬
wards unaccountably abandoned •, and on the arrival ot
a reinforcement from Minorca, they sailed to the west¬
ward, leaving the garrison to defend themselves the best
way they could.
The enemy continued to augment their batteries,
and erect new ones, until they amounted at last to 60
cannon besides mortars; and, on the 3d of May, the
governor received intelligence that a general assault was
intended ; to repel which he took every proper precau¬
tion. The enemy, however, still added to their ap¬
proaches, and considerable reinforcements were receiv¬
ed by both parties. Hostilities, however, ceased on
the 1 2th, when news arrived that the preliminaries of
a general peace were signed ; irom wnich time to the
year 1779, no farther attempts were made on Gibral¬
tar. In the course of these two sieges the loss ot the
of the Spa- Spaniards was very considerable ; that ot 17^5 costing
? them not less than 10,000 men, including those who
died of sickness; and in that of 1727 their loss was
computed at near 3000, besides casualties, which could
not be ascertained. That of the garrison amounted in
1705 to 400 ; and in 1727 to 300 ; a very small num¬
ber, considering that during the siege 70 cannon and
„ j 30 mortars hurst on the batteries.
Gibraltar The hostile manifesto presented by the Spanish am-
blocked up bassador to the court of London at the commencement
m 1775. 0f tjie American war, was soon followed by an interrup¬
tion of communication betwixt Spain and the fortress of
Gibraltar. No direct intention of attacking or distress¬
ing it, however, was manitested till the idthof July,
when the port was completely blocked up by a squa¬
dron of two 74 gun ships, several frigates, galleys, &c.
Ten days after they began to form a camp on the plain
below St Itoch, three miles from the fortress. The
garrison at this time consisted of 5382 men, including
officers, with a company of engineers and artificers;
but the greatest expectations weie formed from the abi¬
lities and valour ef General Elliot the governor. As
soon as the breaking off the communication with Spain
indicated approaching hostilities, the governor took
every precaution that could he suggested by military
wisdom ; but though informed of the rupture betwixt
the two courts having actually taken place, and though
he beheld the hostile operations of the enemy, no means
were used to interrupt them till the 12th of September,
Hostilities Mien the batteries of Green’s Lodge, Willis, and
commenced Queen Charlotte, were opened for a few hours, with a
by the gar- view to disturb the workmen.
19-
Cessation
of hostili¬
ties.
Great loss
niards in
their at¬
tempts.
From this time to the beginning of the year 1780
the enemy continued the blockade both by sea and
land, but without doing any damage to the works or
2.3 garrison, and it was not until the 12th of January
fi^sTwou 'd a sinS^e Person was wounded. This happened to
ed in the * a woman, who, passing near one of the houses, was
fortress, slightly hurt by a shot from the enemy. In the mean
3
708 ] GIB
time, however, the usual supplies of provisions being Gibralta
cut off, the garrison began to ieel all the horrors ot ——
famine. AH the necessaries of life were very scarce,
and to be procured only at exorbitant prices. Veal, Exccssiv«|
mutton, and beef, sold from half a crown to four shil-demnessc
lings per pound ; fresh pork from two to three shillings; P10™1011*1
salted beef and pork fifteenpence ; fowls eighteen shil¬
lings per couple ; ducks a guinea; fire wood, five shil¬
lings per hundred weight ; a pint of milk and water
fifteenpence ; a small cabbage cost five shillings, and a
small bunch of outer leaves fivepence ; Irish butter
half a crown per pound ; candies as much ; and eggs
sixpence each. As the rock, however, is almost sur¬
rounded by the sea, it was natural to suppose, that in
such a scarcity of other provisions great benefit would
have been derived from the ocean ; but the fishermen,
being all foreigners, and under no regulation, took ad¬
vantage of the present scarcity of provisions in the gar¬
rison to exact a most exorbitant price for the fish they
supplied. _ _ ^ ... 2^
Had matters remained long in this state, it is plain Tjje ^
that the fortress, however strong, must have fallen into nish fleet
the hands of the enemy. They were, however, effee-defeated
tually relieved in consequence of the victory gained by their
Admiral Rodney over the Spanish fleet commanded byta™f“ab
D on Juan de Langara. The former had been furnish-R0!jne„
ed with a strong squadron, in order to relieve this im¬
portant fortress ; with which having set sail, fie in a
few days fell in with a Spanish fleet of j6 transports
bound from Bilboa to Cadiz, and laden with provisions
and naval stores, convoyed by a man of war of 64 guns,
four frigates, and two armed vessels. Of these only a
single transport escaped, the rest being all captured on
the 8tb of January 1780; and the loss of them, at the
same time that it promised to be very serviceable to the
garrison, was equally detrimental to the enemy, who
were now in great want both of provisions and materials
for their shipping.
This advantage was soon after followed by a much
greater. On the 16th of the same month a Spanish
squadron of li sail of the line was discovered off Cape
St Vincent; and the British admiral having taken the
proper methods to come up with them as quickly as
possible, an engagement took place about four in the
afternoon. At this time the headmost ships of the
British line closed in with the nearest of the enemy,
and in half an hour one of the Spaniards, mounting 70
guns, and having on board 600 men, blew up, and all
on board perished. In two hours more another Spa¬
nish ship of the line was taken; notwithstanding which
the fight continued with great vigour till two in the
morning, when the headmost ship of the enemy struck
to the Sandwich ; after which the firing ceased. The
weather throughout the night was so tempestuous that
it was with the utmost difficulty the British could take
possession of those ships which surrendered. These
were six in number, but two of them drove ashore and
were lost, only four being brought safe into Gibraltar.
These were the admiral’s ship of 80 guns and 700 men,
with three others of 70 guns and 600 men. The en¬
gagement, however, happened so near the shore, and-
the British were so eager in securing the lee gage to
prevent the enemy’s escape, that Admiral Rodney’s
ship, together with some of the largest in the fleet, were
in great danger of running on the shoals of St Lucar;
nor
GIB [
n!tar. f101' coaid tney be got into deep water again without that
v—much labour and the exertion of great naval skill. It
was the opinion of a!'
8$
garr
rein¬
ed.
who were present in the action,
that had this engagement happened in the day time,
or had the weather been less boisterous, not one of the
Spanish ships could have escaped ; and even as it was
those which got off were so essentially damaged as to
be unfit for service.
The news of this important victory arrived at Gib-
relieved raltar on the evening of the day after it was fonght;
and in two days more tbe garrison was completely re¬
lieved by the arrival of the fleet and convoy, at the same
time that they w'ere farther reinforced by a regiment
of Highlanders, consisting of 1051 men, officers in¬
cluded. . An opportunity was •also taken of sending
away with the fleet all the invalids and women in the
garrison ; with whom they set sail on the xotb of Fe¬
bruary, leaving in the bay only the Edgar and Panther
ships of the line, with two frigates.
On the departure of the British fleet, the blockade
was immediately resumed ; and notwithstanding the
ample supplies lately received, the garrison soon began
again to experience the inconveniency of wantinp; fresh
provisions. It had hitherto received these in abundance
from the coast of Barbary; but an unaccountable
alteration bad now taken place, so that tbe friendship
of the emperor of Morocco was transferred from Great
Britain to Spain in a manner totally unprecedented.
His partiality towards the latter was the more surpri¬
sing, as Britain had given no provocation, and the en¬
mity between Spain and Morocco seemed to be in a
manner constitutional, and founded upon such causes
Tk/arri- as could never cease to crperate. Thus, however, the
wjigain garrison became daily more and more distressed, from
being obliged to make constant use of their salt provi¬
sions, and even this with the strictest economv. The
industry and resolution of the British seamen and ofli-
cers, indeed, sometimes overcame all obstacles, so that
they found means to procure the necessary refresh¬
ments •, though iu so doing they were certainly exposed
to the utmost danger from the enemy. At the same
time the defence of the garrison was so vigorous, that
while it continued to be supplied even in this scanty
manner, the Spaniards began to lose all hope of reducing
it •, for which reason they formed a project of burnino-
. all the British shipping in the bay. The night appoint^
temptsed for putting this scheme in execution was the 6th of
J11 thc June J78o> wlien 10 fire-ships, favoured by an uncom-
•'*ls“P’mon darkness, stood over from the Spanish to the Bri¬
tish side of the bay. Their design was to set fire to
the storehouses nearest to the water side, as well as to
the shipping there; but having been too precipitate in
firing their ships, and being received also by a very
heavy cannonade, the attempt was frustrated. On this
occasion the skill and intrepidity of the British seamen
were eminently displayed. Having manned their boats,
they grappled the fire-ships already in flames ; and, not¬
withstanding their dreadful appearance and the danger
of their exploding, towed them clear of the vessels under
the walls and extinguished them.
The failure of this project was a grievous disap¬
pointment to Don Barcelo the Spanish admiral, who
lay ready with his squadron to intercept the British
vessels that might attempt to escape ; at the same time
rated to
Ill'S.
Umi
3
cess-
eir lines tvere in readiness to Gibraltar,
the fire-ships had succeeded
h
29
]■ gib
the batteries on th
bombard the town, if
causing any conflagration on shore. The failure of the
piesent attempt, however, was soon followed by other
disasters. As soon as they had, with great labour, Spanish
pus.iecl forward their new works, and constructed new vvorks de*
batteries, they were certainly destroyed by the besieged;stroyed'
and tneir mortification on theseoccasions was the greater,
as it was usual for the governor to allow them to com¬
plete their works before he commenced his destructive
operations. I bus the labour of many days was often
lost in a few hours, and afterwards was to be resumed
with as little prospect of success as before. r.I he garrison The garri-
was now considerably annoyed by the Spanish gun boats, son annoj-
to which indeed the shipping were equally exposed with ed
themselves. 'Lhese were vessels from 30 1040 tonsfunbcnU
burden, constructed so that they lay low in the water,
which rendered them difficult to be aimed at. They
had 13 oars on a side, carried 40 or 50 men, with a 26
pounder on the prow ; and from the facility of manag¬
ing them, two were deemed, in calm weather, to be°a
match for a frigate of moderate size. All their efforts,
however, could still do no more than to reduce the
garrison to great straits for want of provisions; and to
tins dreadful inconvenience the British submitted with
the greatest cheerfulness. From the time of Admiral
Itodney’s departure in the month of February 1780 to
the month of October, almost the only provisions in the
garrison were such as tended to produce the scurvy ;
which accordingly raged in such a manner, as to threaten
the most fatal consequences. An antidote, however,
was happily procured by the capture of a Danish dogger Tliescnrvy
from Malaga laden with lemons and oranges, which the iaces in the
governor immediately purchased for the use of the gar-gai,ison'
rison and distributed among them. “ At this time
(says Captain Drinkwater) the scurvy had made dread¬
ful ravages in our hospitals, and more were daily
confined : many however, unwilling to yield to its
first attacks, persevered in their duty to the more ad¬
vanced stages. It was therefore not uncommon, at
this period, to see men, who, some months before,
were hale, and capable of enduring any fatigue, sup¬
porting themselves to their posts upon crutches, and
even with that assistance scarcely able to move along.
The most fatal consequences in short were to be appre¬
hended to the garrison from this terrible disorder,
when this Dane was happily directed to our relief.” 32
According to Mr Cairncross, an eminent surgeon, Caimcross’s
who was present during this siege, “ the scurvy whichfccount of
now raged in Gibraltar, differed in no respect from11'
that disease usually contracted by sailors in long sea
voyages ; and of which the immediate cause seemed to
be the subsisting for a length of time upon salted pro¬
visions only, without a sufficient quantity of vegetables
or other acescent foods. The circumstances related in
the voyage of that celebrated circumnavigator Lord
Anson of consolidated fractures disuniting, and the
callosity of the bone being perfectly dissolved, occur-
ed frequently in our hospitals, and old sores and
wounds opened anew from the nature of the disorder.
Various antiscorbutics were used without success, such
as acid of vitriol, sour crout, extract of malt, essence of
spruce, &c.; but the only specifics were fresh lemons
and oranges-given liberally ; or, when they could not
be wc
wine, or
without dilu-
33
Method of
preserving
lemon
juice.
34
GIB [ 7la 1
Gibraltar, be procured, the preserved juice in such quantities her of between 20 and 3o
1 V • from one to four ounces per day, as the patient could
bear. Whilst the lemons were sound, from one to
three were administered each day as circumstances di¬
rected. The juice given to those in the most ma ig-
nant state was sometimes diluted with sugai
spirits j hut the convalescents took it wit
tion. Women and children were equally affected 5 nor
were the officers exempted from this dreadful disorder.
It became almost general at the commencement of the
winter season, owing to the cold and moisture, and m
the beginning of spring when vegetables were scarce.
The juice was preserved by adding to 60 gallons ot
expressed liquor about five or ten gallons of brandy,
which kept it in so wholesome a state, that several
casks were opened in good condition at the close of
the siege. The old juice, however, was not so speedily
efficacious as the fruit, though by persevering longer in
its use it seldom failed.
Till this month the allowance of salt provisions nad
Mindlsitres- continued undiminished j but now it was judged neces-
sedfor want sary to reduce the allowance of bread and meat, and
ofprovi- to niake some other regulations in order to enforce the
sions. strictest economy with regard to food. Every thing
of this kind that’could be practised, however, seemed
insufficient to preserve the garrison from absolute
want. In the beginning of the year 1781, provisions
became exceedingly scarce, by reason of the almost total
expenditure of what was contained in the public stoies,
and the vigilance ol the enemy’s cruisers. About the
middle of February the town bakers left oft work for
want of Hour: and many of the poorer sort wanted
bread. The price of fresh provisions jagain rose to a
most enormous height. Small pigs sold at two guineas;
turkeys at three ; geese at 30 shillings ; fowls and ducks
at 10 shillings ; damaged biscuit a shilling the pound •,
pease is. 6d.; and all other necessaries in proportion j
at the same time the scarcity of fuel was such, that it
was sometimes scarcely procurable in quantity sufficient
to dress the victuals.
35 The garrison had hitherto derived assistance occa-
The gam- s;onai]v from the gardens on the neutral ground, though
dTrived^ofvast q^frU68 of vegetables had been removed thence
the ule of° by the enemy. Towards the end of the month of
the neutral October 1780, however, the Spaniards determined to
ground. eXpei the British from the gardens entirely : and this
thev accomplished in spite of all that could be done to
prevent them. From this time the resources with re¬
gard to vegetables depended entirely upon the atten¬
tion paid to cultivation *, which, happily for the garri¬
son, was attended with such success, especially during
the winter months, that the produce came at last to he
nearly equal to the demand. At last, on the 12th of
The Bdfish Aprh 1781, supplies were brought by the British fleet
fleet. * under Admirals Darby, Digby, and Ross, though they
could not be got in without great difficulty. The
gun boats already mentioned were now much increased
in number and strength of construction ; infesting the
bav in such a manner as greatly to interrupt the de¬
barkation of the stores. As no vessels of the same
kind had been prepared to oppose them, they could
scarce be prevented from effecting their purpose of burn¬
ing the store ships. With this view they had approach¬
ed them every morning in hazy weather to the num-
G I E
several of them carrying Gibraltei
mortar-pieces •, and as they used both sails and oars, V*~v—
thev eluded all pursuit, by withdrawing on the rise of
any breeze. To keep oil’ these troublesome guests, se¬
veral stout frigates were obliged to station themselves
along the bay for the protection of the shipping ; hut
even this did not prevent them from continuing their
molestation ; and notwithstanding the vigilance and
activity of the British sailors, it was seldom that they
could come near enough to do them any damage. In
spite of all thei:' endeavours, however, the garrison was ^
effectually relieved : an exploit which so exceedingly The Spa
irritated the court of Spain, that they determined to "hinh it.
exert the utmost force of the kingdom rather than fail
in the execution of their favourite project. The works selves to
before the town were therefore carried on with more the ut-
vigonr than ever, and the most tremendous prepara-most,
tions made to cause the obstinate garrison feel the re¬
sentment of an exasperated enemy. Their batteries
were now mounted with guns of the heaviest metal,
and with mortar-pieces of the largest size ; the number
of the former augmented to near 200, and of the latter
to upwards of 80. For three weeks this prodigious
artillery continued to pour forth an almost incessant
shower of shot and shells, insomuch that, in the time
just mentioned, they had consumed I00,000lb. of
gunpowder, and thrown into the town four or five
thousand shot or shells every 24 hours. 3$
By such an immense bombardment the town was I'he town
almost totally laid in ruins. The inhabitants, computed
at more than 3000 in number, experienced every diffi¬
culty that could arise from the destruction of their
habitations : several of them were killed, and all forced
to leave the town, and take shelter under tents with
what accommodation could be provided for them in
such scenes of horror and confusion. Numbers took
the opportunity of retiring with the fleet j while many
that remained were now reduced from a state of opu¬
lence to the greatest distress. The conduct of Gover¬
nor Elliot was very humane and compassionate to such
as were inclined to depart 5 allowing them a free passage
to England, and supplying them with provisions for the
voyage.
During this bombardment, not only the greatest
part of the effects belonging to the inhabitants were
destroyed, hut the fortifications were in many places
greatly injured 3 and the worst was, that the remainder Disoidwl
were destroyed by the soldiers, who had arrived at such ^^1<>ur
a pitch of licentiousness, that they neither regarded
nor would obey their officers. They were incited to
this destructive scheme by the avarice of some of the
inhabitants who had hoarded up and concealed a quan¬
tity of necessary articles, in order to procure an advan¬
ced price. They now, therefore, kept no hounds in
dissipation, waste, and extravagance ; a remarkable in¬
stance of which is given by Captain Drinkwater, in
their roasting a pig by a fire made of cinnamon. 1 0
put a stop to these atrocious proceedings, rigorous mea¬
sures were of necessity adopted j and it was intimated,
that any soldier convicted of being drunk or asleep upon
his post, or found marauding, should be immediately
executed. The loss of human lives during this dread¬
ful bombardment was less than could have been expect¬
ed ; but many remarkable circumstances are taken
notice
39
GIB C 7
braitar, »ohce of by Captain Driakwater, some of which are
related in the note (b).
By the beginning of June 1781, the enemy had re¬
laxed considerably in their firing, seldom exceeding
600 shot in a day ; and continued gradually to dimf-
nish this number so remarkably, that towards the end
of August, they seldom fired in the day, and only dis¬
charged six or seven, and sometimes not above three
shot in the night. The batteries at land, however’
were succeeded by the gun-boats } which renewed their
attacks every day, keeping the garrison in continual
alarm, and never failing to do more or less execution.
To restrain them, therefore, a battery of guns capable
of throwing their shot to a great distance was erected
as near as possible to tbe enemy 5 and as it reached
their very camp, it was determined to open it upon
them as often as the gun boats made their attacks ;
which being soon perceived, they thought it prudent
40 to desist in some measure from that mode of hostility,
t works i hey continued still, however, to improve their works,
heene- and lor this purpose employed the best engineers both
brought 0
ike ut-
st per- —      
lion.
i ] gib
of France and Spain ; so that by the latter part of No- Gib-altar,
vember 1781, they had brought them to such a state—^-11
of peilection as filled both kingdoms with the most
sanguine expectations of success. Governor Elliot,
however, far from being dismayed at these formidable
bulwarks, suffered them to proceed without molestation
to the end of their scheme, that he might as in a mo¬
ment destroy the labour of so many months, and thus
render the disappointment the greater. In the nightTIiey4are
of the 27th ol November, a chosen party of 2000 men entirely de-
was detached, in order to destroy the enemy’s works stroyed.
and batteries ; and their success was equal to their
most sanguine expectations. They marched out in
great order and silence about two o’clock in the morn¬
ing, under the command of Brigadier General Boss ;
after which they proceeded with the same circumspec¬
tion, but with the utmost celerity, to the enemy’s
works, which they stormed and overthrew with a-
stonishing rapidity. The Spaniards were instantly
thrown into confusion, and lied on every side ; the
guns and mortars on the batteries were all spiked up;
and
(b) Two boys belonging to the artificer company were endowed with such wonderful strength of vision, that
they could see the shot of the enemy in the air almost as soon as it came from the mouth of the gun ; and
were therefore constantly placed upon some part of the works to give notice to the soldiers of the approaching
danger. .During the time of the hottest fire, however, the men were so habituated to the fall of shells and shot
around them, that they contracted an insensibility of danger, and almost required to be cautioned by their offi¬
cers to avoid the explosion of a shell when lying with the fusee burning at their feet. In consequence of this
inattention, they frequently neglected the advice of the boys above mentioned, and tlieir neglect could not but
be productive ol fatal effects. An instance of this happened on the Princess Amelia’s battery, where a shot
thus disregarded came through one of the capped embrasures, carried off one leg from each of three soldiers,
and wounded a fourth in both. In other cases, in which the persons themselves have observed the shot or shells
coming towards them, they have been fascinated by its appearance, and unable to move from the spot, as
small birds are said to be by the rattlesnake. “ This sudden arrest of tbe faculties (says our author) was
nothing uncommon : several instances occurred to my own observation, where men, totally free, have had their
senses so engaged by a shell in its descent, that though sensible of their danger, even so far as to cry for assist¬
ance, they have been immoveably fixed to the place. But what is more remarkable, these men have so instan¬
taneously recovered themselves on its fall to the ground, as to remove to a place of safety before the shell burst.”
In this manner Lieutenant Lowe of the 12th regiment was fascinated by a shot which he saw coming, but had
not power to remove from the place before it fell upon him and took off his leg.
Where these shells burst they produced instant and certain destruction, mangling in the most dreadful man¬
ner. The following are some instances: A matross had the misfortune of breaking his thigh by some acci¬
dent; and being a man cl great spirit, could scarce bear the confinement necessary for its reunion. In
consequence ol this he went abroad too soon, and thus unfortunately broke the bone a second time. Being now
confined to bed, a shell happened to fall into the room where he was, and, rebounding, lodged itself directly
upon him. The convalescents and sick instantly summoned all their strength, and crawled out of the room,
while the poor matross lay below the shell, kept down by its weight, and utterly unable to stir. In a few se¬
conds it burst, and took oft both his legs, and scorched him in a dreadful manner. He survived the explosion,
was sensible to the last moment, and died regretting that he had not been killed on the batteries. The case
of a soldier of the 73d regiment shows, that even in the most dangerous cases we should never despair of reco¬
very while life remains. This unfortunate man had been knocked down by the wind of a shell, which, instantly
bursting, killed his companion, and mangled himself in a shocking manner. His skull was dreadfully fractured,
his left arm broken in two places, one of his legs shattered, the skin and muscles torn off from part of his right
hand, the middle finger broken to pieces, and bis whole body most severely bruised and marked with gun¬
powder. He presented so horrid an object to the surgeons, that they had hot the least hopes of saving his
life, and were at a loss what part to attend to first. He was that evening trepanned ; a few days afterwards
his leg was amputated, and other wounds and fractures were dressed. Being possessed of a most excellent con¬
stitution, nature performed wonders in his favour, and in 11 weeks his cure was completely effected. On the
18th of September a shell from the lines fell into a house where the town major, Captain Burke, with Majors
Me rcier and Vignoles of the 39th regiment were sittino. It took off Major Burke’s thigh ; afterwards fell
th rough the floor into the cellar: there it burst, and forced the flooring with the unfortunate major up to the
ceiling. When assistance came, they found him almost buried in the ruins of the room. He was instantly con¬
veyed to the hospital, wire re he died soon after the wounded part had Teen amputated.. Majors Mercier and
Vignoles
GIB [ 7l
Gibraltar, and the artillerymen, artificers, and sailors, exerted
'——y——'themselves so vigorously, that in the space of an hour
the magazines were blown up, the storehouses of aims,
ammunition, and military implements of every kind, and
all the works that had been constructed, rvere set on nre,
and totally consumed j the whole damage done on thisoc-
casion beingestimated at upwards of two millions sterling.
Tor several days after this disaster the Spaniards
continued inactive, without even making any attempt
to extinguish their batteries, which still continued in
flames j but in the beginning of December, as if sud¬
denly aroused from their reverie, upwards of iooo
men were set to work in order to prepare a great
number of fascines, from whence it was concluded that
they designed to repair their works. In this they
proceeded with their usual perseverance and diligence ;
but as the former methods of attack had constantly
failed, it was evident, that if the place could be reduced
at all, it must be by some means hitherto unattempted ;
and for the reduction of this single fortress, the Spa¬
nish monarch, after the conquest of Minorca, deter¬
mined to employ the whole strength of his empire.
42 Among the various projects formed at this time, that
Floating; of the& chevalier D’Arcon, a French engineer of di-
batteries stinction, proved the most acceptable to the court of
th^cheva-^Spain } and though the expence attending it was im-
lier D'Ar- mense, this seemed in the present circumstances to be
con, but a matter of small consideration. His plan tvas to
construct such floating batteries as might neither be
liable to be sunk nor set on fire. With this view their
bottoms were made of the thickest timber, and their
sides of wood and cork long soaked in water, with a
layer of wet sand betwixt them. Their thickness was
such, that they were impenetrable to cannon shot j and
to prevent the effects of red-hot balls, a num¬
ber of pipes were contrived to carry water through
every part of the vessel, and pumps sufficient to fur¬
nish* a constant supply for the purpose. The people
at the batteries were sheltered from the bombs by a
rope-netting, made sloping that they might roll off,
and spread with wet skins to prevent fire. Ten of
these batteries were constructed out of the hulls of large
2 j GIB
vessels, some of 50 or 60 guns, cut down for that pur- Gibraher
pose, and carrying from 10 to 28 guns each, with '"■“'v—~
about half as many in reserve in case of accidents.
Each gun was served by 36 artillery men j and these
floating batteries were to be seconded by 80 large
boats carrying guns and mortars of heavy metal j a
great number of ships of force and frigates, with some
hundreds of small craft, were to accompany them with
troops, for the instant execution of what might be
judged necessary. On this occasion upwards of 1000
pieces of artillery, and 80,000 barrels of gunpowder
were provided. A body ol 12,000 of the best troops
of France were now added to the Spanish army before
the place j the body of engineers was the best that both
kingdoms could produce •, and numbers of volunteers,
of the best families in both, attended the siege. Num¬
bers of military gentlemen also came from every part
of Europe to be witnesses of what passed at this cele¬
brated siege, which was now compared to the most fa¬
mous recorded in history. The conducting of it was
committed to the duke de Crillon, who had distin¬
guished himself by the conquest of Minorca. I wo
princes of the blood royal of France, the count of Ar¬
tois brother to the king, and the duke of Bourbon his
cousin, came to be witnesses of this extraordinary en¬
terprise. These behaved with the greatest politeness
both to the governor and garrison. The count of Ar¬
tois transmitted a packet of letters for various indivi¬
duals in the garrison, which had been intercepted and
carried to Madrid, and which he requested that he
might be the means of conveying to those for whom
they were designed. Both he and the duke of Bour¬
bon signified to General Elliot the high regard they
had for his person and character 5 and the duke de
Crillon himself took this opportunity of expressing the
same sentiments, and to entreat him to accept of some
refreshments. General Elliot returned a polite answer,
but accepted of the present with reluctance, and request¬
ed him for the future not to confer any favours of that
kind upon him. 43
Such a prodigious armament raised the confidence Prodigious
of the besiegers so high, that they looked upon the
conquest
  tress,
Vignoles had time to escape before the shell burst; nevertheless they were slightly wounded by the splinters, as
were a serjeant and his daughter who happened to be in the cellar when the shell entered. .
The following are related as instances of very extraordinary escapes from the destructive power of these en¬
gines, and which indeed it seems difficult to account for.-—A corporal had the muzzle of his firelock closeo,
and the barrel twisted like a French horn, by a she!!, without any injury to his person. A shell happened to
fall into a tent where two soldiers were asleep, without awakening them by its fall. A serjeant in an adjacent
tent heard it, and ran near 40 yards to a place of safety, when he recollected the situation ot his comrades.
Thinking the shell had fallen blind, he returned and awakened them j both immediately rose, but continued
by the place, debating on the narrow escape they had had, when the shell exploded, and forced them with
great violence against a garden wall, but “ miraculously” did no further mischief than destroying every thing
in the tent. On the new year’s day of 1782, an officer of artillery observed a shell falling towards the place
where he stood, and got behind a traverse for protection. This he had scarcely done, when the shell fell into
the traverse, and instantly entangled him in the rubbish : one of the guards, named Martin, observing his distress,
generously risked his own life in defence of his officer, and ran to extricate him : but finding his own efforts in¬
effectual, called for assistance j when another of the guard joining him, they relieved the officer from his situation *,
and almost at the same instant the shell hurst, and levelled the traverse with the ground. Martin was afterwards
promoted, and rewarded by the governor j who at the same time told him, that “ he should equally have noticed
him for attending to his comrade.” A shell happening to fall into the room where Ensign Mackenzie of the 73d
regiment was sitting, carried away part of his chair, and fell into the room below, where it burst, lilting him and
the chair from the floor without further injury.
gib
jibraltar.
conquest of the place as an absolute certainty. They
- t0 be impatient at the delays which arose in
bringing matters to the utmost point of perfection}
and the commander in chief was thought by far too
modest, when he said that the garrison might hold
out. for a fortnight. “ It appeared (says Captain
Drinkwater) that they meant, previous to their final
efforts, to strike if possible a terror through their op¬
ponents, by displaying an armament more powerful
than had. probably ever been brought before any for¬
tress. Forty-seven sail of the line, including three in¬
ferior two-deckers ; ten battering ships, deemed per¬
fect in design, and esteemed invincible, carrying 212
guns 5 innumerable frigates, xebeques, bomb ketches,
cutters, gun and mortar boats, and smaller craft for
disembarking men, were assembled in the bay. On
the land side were most stupendous and strong batteries
and works, mounting 200 pieces of heavy ordnance,
and protected by an army of near 40,000 men, com¬
manded by a victorious and active general, and anima¬
ted by the immediate presence of two princes of the
blood royal of France, with other dignified personages,
and many of their own nobility. In their certainty
of success, however, the enemy seemed entirely to have
overlooked the nature of that force which was oppo¬
sed to them ; for though the garrison scarcely con¬
sisted of more than 7000 effective men, including the
marine brigade, they forgot that they were now ve¬
terans in this service, had long been habituated to the
effects of artillery, and were by degrees prepared for
the arduous conflict that awaited them. We were at
the same time commanded by officers of approved cou¬
rage, prudence, and activity } eminent for all the ac¬
complishments of their profession, and in whom we had
unbounded confidence. Our spirits too were not a
little elevated by the success attending the firing of
red-hot shot (c), which in this attack we hoped would
enable us to bring our labours to a conclusion, and
relieve us from the tedious cruelty of a vexatious
blockade.”
As a prelude to the dreadful storm which was about
to be poured forth on this devoted garrison, the ene-
my, on the pth of September 1782, opened a battery
of 64 of their largest cannon, which was shortly ac¬
companied with a terrible fire from other batteries,
and a great number of mortars. On this and the fol¬
lowing day an attack was made upon the batteries
erected on Europa Point (so called from being the
most southerly point of the continent of Europe),
which at that time were entirely under the manage¬
ment of Captain Curtis of the Brilliant frigate, who
had distinguished himself during the siege, and now
commanded a brigade of seamen by whom the batteries
were served. By these the fire of the Spaniards was
so warmly returned, that they not only could make no
impression, but were forced to retire, after having re¬
ceived so much damage, that two of their principal
ships were obliged to withdraw to the bay of Algesiras
opposite to Gibraltar, in order to refit. On the I2th
Vol. IX. Part II. f
f 713 ]
gib
the enemy made preparatrons for the ensuing day, Gil>r>u„
which was allotted for their grand and decisive attack. 
Accordingly, on the morning of the 13th, the ten 44
floating batteries came forward, under the command 0fDecisive
Don Buenventura de Moreno, a Spanish officer of great t\UaCK T
gallantry, and who had signalized himself at the taking of Septem-
ol Minorca. Before ten o’clock they had all got intol>cr ,782.
their proper stations, anchoring in a line about a thou¬
sand yards distant from the shore. As soon as they
were properly arranged, they began a heavy cannonade,
and were seconded by all the cannon and mortars in
the enemy’s lines and approaches, at the same time
that the garrison opened all its batteries both with
hot and cold shot from the guns, and shells from the
howitzers and mortars. This terrible fire continued
on both sides without intermission until noon ; when
that of the Spaniards began to slacken, and the fire
o| the garrison to obtain a superiority. About two
o’clock the principal battering ship commanded by
Don Moreno was observed to emit smoke as if on fire,
and some men were seen busy upon the roof searching
from whence it proceeded. The fire from the garrison
was now kept up without the least discontinuance or
diminution, while that from the floating batteries was
perceived sensibly to decrease ; so that about seven in
the evening they fired but few guns, and that only at
inteivals. At midnight the admiral’s ship was plainly
seen to burn, and in an hour after was completely in
flames. Eight more of these batteries took fire sue-Terrible
cessively ; and on the signals of distress made by them,destruction
the multitude of feluccas, launches, and boats, with0l't5leSpa-
which they were surrounded, all came to their assistance,niard!'
and began to take the men out of the burning vessels.
Captain Curtis, who lay ready with the gunboats to
take advantage of any favourable circumstance, came
upon them at two in the morning, and forming a line
on the enemy’s flank, advanced upon them with such
order and expedition as to throw them into immediate
confusion. At this sudden and unexpected attack
they were so astonished and disconcerted, that they fled
precipitately with all their boats, totally abandoning
the floating batteries to be burnt, and all who were
in them to perish in the flames. This would undoubt¬
edly have been their fate, had not Captain Curtis ex¬
tricated them from the fire at the imminent danger of
his own life and that of his men. In this work he was
so eager, that while his boat was alongside of one of
the largest batteries, it blew up, and the fragments of
the wreck spreading all around to a vast distance, some
heavy pieces of timber fell into his boat and pierced
through its bottom, killing one man and wounding
several others. He escaped with difficulty out of this
boat, which was sunk, as well as another, by the same
accident. The floating batteries were every one con¬
sumed } and the violence with which they exploded was
such, that doors and windows at a great distance on
shore were burst open. About 400 people were saved
from them } many of whom were picked up floating on
rafts and pieces of timber. Indeed the blowing up of
4X the
(c) This was suggested by Lieutenant Governor Boyd, and had been attended with remarkable success,
September 8th, when the enemy’s advanced works were almost destroyed by it.
Gibraltar.
46
Inactivity
GIB [ 71
the batteries as the flames reached their powder rooms,
and the discharge ot the guns in succession as the metal
became heated by the fire, rendered any attempt to save
them very dangerous.
This terrible catastrophe took place in sight of the
of the cam- combined fleets of France and Spain. It had been pro-
bined fleet. pose(j t|iat t|iey s|10Uld co-operate upon this important
occasion, by attacking the garrison at Europa Point,
and such places as appeared most exposed to an attempt
by sea. This, it was afterwards said, must have occa¬
sioned a material diversion of the garrison’s force, and,
by dividing it, have weakened considerably the vigo-
ous means of defence used in those parts which were
actually attacked. The reason assigned for this inac¬
tivity was the want of wind.
The^bloc- Though this terrible repulse effectually convinced the
kade con- Spaniards that Gibraltar could not be taken by force,
tinned. gome i10pe stiU remained, that, without any further
exertions on their part, the garrison would be obliged
to surrender from want of ammunition and provisions.
With this view they continued to blockade it closely,
and to cut off all communication, flattering themselves
that Britain would not he able to collect a naval force
sufficient to drive their fleet from the bay before the
fortress was reduced to extremity •, and this they ima¬
gined must he the case in a few days. Such diligence,
however, had been used on the part of the British, that
a fleet was already assembled at Portsmouth, consisting
of 35 sail of the line, in excellent condition, and filled
with the best officers and sailors in Europe. The
command was given to Lord Howe, who was accompa¬
nied in the expedition by Admirals Barrington, Milbank,
Hood, Sir Richard H ughes, and Commodore Hotham,
all of them men eminent in their profession. At the
same time also it fortunately happened, that a large
British fleet of merchantmen had just arrived in safety
from the Baltic •, and that a Dutch squadron which had
been cruising on their own coasts, not being able to
penetrate southwards in order to join the French, had
retired into port, and given up the intention of effecting
any junction for that season.
At this time the British nation rvas in the utmost
anxiety about the fate of Gibraltar. The progress of
the ships was delayed by contrary winds, and it was not
until they had gained the southern coast of Portugal
that they received information of the defeat of the
enemy’s attempt on the 13th of September. On the
nth of October, Lord Howe entered the Straits, and
several of the store ships destined for Gibraltar came
safe to anchor under the cannon of the fort without any
molestation from the enemy. The combined fleet in
the mean time had been much damaged by a storm ;
two ships of the line were driven ashore near Algesiras j
two more were driven out of the bay into the Mediter¬
ranean ; others lost their masts, and most of them suf¬
fered considerably. One in particular, a ship of 70
guns, was carried by the storm across the bay, and ran
aground under the works of Gibraltar, where she was
taken by the garrison, with her whole complement of
men, consisting of 700. Notwithtanding the endea¬
vours of the enemy to destroy her, she was safely got
off, and properly repaired. The combined fleet, how¬
ever, put to sea on the 13th, with a view to prevent
the remaining storeships that had overshot the bay to
the east from making good their entrance into it j and
4 ]
GIB
at the same time to rejoin the two ships that had been
separated from the main body by the storm. Having
the advantage of the wind, they bore down upon the
British fleet, which drew up in order of battle to re¬
ceive them j but notwithstanding their superiority, they
declined coming to an engagement. On the wind be¬
coming more favourable next day, Lord Howe took
the opportunity to bring in the storeships that were in
company 5 and the day following the remainder were
conveyed to Gibraltar, the troops for the reinforcement
of the garrison were landed, with a large supply of
powder, and ample provision in every other respect.
As thev returned through the Straits they were threa¬
tened with an engagement by the combined fleets j but
though the latter had a superiority of 12 ships of the
line, they kept a wary distance. Some firing indeed
took place, but it was attended with little effect on
either side. ^ 1
This last relief proved entirely decisive j for though xheprr'l
the blockade continued till news arrived of the prelimi-son final! J
naries of peace being signed, in the beginning of Fe-feiicvd.
bruary, 1783, no other attack was made. The news of
the pacification was received with the utmost joy by
the Spaniards. Mutual civilities passed between the
commanders in chief, and the Duke de Crillon paid
many handsome compliments to the governor and gar¬
rison for their noble defence ; declaring that he had ex¬
erted himself to the utmost of his abilities, and though
he had not proved successful, yet he was happy in hav¬
ing his sovereign’s approbation ol his conduct. ^
The possession of Gibraltar is esteemed of very greatIraportan*
consequence to Britain. It not only gives us the com-of Gibia'-
mand of the Straits, and their navigation j but affordstar‘
refreshment and accommodation to our fleets in time of
war, and to our merchantmen at all times j which, to
a maritime power, is of very great advantage. From
its situation, it divides both the kingdoms of France
and Spain •, that is, it hinders a ready communica¬
tion by sea between the different parts of these king¬
doms. This, of course, hinders the conjunction of
their fleets and squadrons with each other, or at least
renders it so difficult as to be a perpetual check upon
these ambitious powers. It awes also the piratical
states of Baibary, and in like manner the emperor of
Morocco-, insomuch, that our commerce is more safe
than that of any other European power, which gives us
great advantages in point of freight. It is otherwise
highly favourable to our trade in the Mediterranean and
Levant. It procures us the respect of the Italian and
other powers ; who, though far distant from Britain,
must consider this as an instance of her power to hurt
or assist them. It also saves us the expence of squadrons
or convoys, upon any disputes or disturbances that
may happen among these powers, and which would
otherwise be necessary for the protection of our navi- i
gation.
“ The form of this mountain is (says Major Imrie)
oblong j its summit a sharp craggy ridge 5 its direction
is nearly from north to south ; and its greatest length,
in that direction, falls very little short of three miles.
Its breadth varies with the indentations of the shore,
hut it nowhere exceeds three quarters of a mile. The
line of its ridge is undulated, and the two extremes are
somewhat higher than its centre. Jc,
“ The summit of the Sugar Loaf, which is the point
b ’ r 0£hittorj.
GIB [ 7
ibraltar. of its greatest elevation towards the south, is 1439 feet;
“-y——' the Rock Mortar, which is the highest point to the
north, is 135^ 5 and the Signal House, which is nearly
the central point between these two, is 1276 feet above
the level of the sea. The western side of the mountain
is a series of rugged slopes, interspersed with abrupt
precipices. Its northern extremity is perfectly perpen¬
dicular, except towards the north-west, where what are
called the Lines intervene, and a narrow passage of flat
ground that leads to the isthmus, and is entirely cover¬
ed with fortification. The eastern side of the mountain
mostly consists of a range of precipices ; but a bank
of sand, rising from the Mediterranean in a rapid accli¬
vity, covers a third of its perpendicular height. Its
southern extremity falls, in a rapid slope from the sum¬
mit of the Sugar Loaf, into a rocky flat of considerable
extent, called Windmill hill.
“ The principal mass of the mountain rock consists of
a gray, dense (what is generally called primary) mar¬
ble ; the different beds of which are to be examined in
a face of 1350 feet of perpendicular height, which it
presents to Spain in a conical form. These beds, or
strata, are of various thickness, from 20 to upwards of
40 feet, dipping in a direction from east to west, nearly
at an angle of 35 degrees. In some parts of the solid
mass of this rock are found testaceous bodies entirely
transmuted into the constituent matter of the rock, and
their interior hollows filled up with calcareous spar; but
these do not often occur in its composition, and its beds
are not separated by any intermediate strata.
“ The caves of Gibraltar are many, and some of them
of great extent. That which most deserves attention and
examination is called St*Michael’s Cave, which is situ¬
ated upon the southern part of the mountain, almost
equally distant from the Signal Tower, and the Sugar
Loaf. Its entrance is 1000 feet above the level of the
sea: This entrance is formed by a rapid slope of earth,
which has fallen into it at various periods, and which
leads to a spacious hall, incrusted with spar, and appa¬
rently supported in the centre by a large massy stalacti-
tical pillar. To this succeeds a long series of caves of
difficult access. In these cavernous recesses, the forma¬
tion and process of stalactites is to be traced, from the
flimsy quilt-like cone, suspended from the roof, to the
robust trunk of a pillar, three feet in diameter, which
rises from the floor, and seems intended by Nature to
support the roof from which it originated.
“ The only inhabitants of these caves are bats, some
of which are of a large size. The soil, in general, upon
the mountain of Gibraltar is but thinly sown ; and in
many parts that thin covering has been washed off by
the heavy autumnal rains, which have left the superfi¬
cies of the rock, for a considerable extent, bare and
open to inspection. In those situations, an observing
eye may trace the effects of the slow, but constant, de¬
composition of the rock, caused by its exposure to the
air, and the corrosion of sea-salts, which, in the heavy
gales of easterly winds, are deposited with the spray on
every part of the mountain. Those uncovered parts of
the mountain rock also expose to the eye a phenomenon
worthy of some attention, as it tends clearly to demon¬
strate, that, however high the surface of this rock may
now be elevated above the level of the sea, it has once
been the bed of agitated waters. This phenomenon is
to be observed in many parts of the rock, and is con-
15 ] gib
stantly found in the beds of torrents. It consists of pot- Gibraltar,
like holes, of various sizes, hollowed out of the solid ‘ —y -<
rock, and formed apparently by the attrition of gravel
or pebbles, set in motion by the rapidity of rivers or
currents in the sea.
“ Upon the west side of the mountain, towards its
base, some strata occur, which are heterogeneal to the
mountain rock : the first, or highest, forms the segment
of a circle ; its convex side is towards the mountain,
and it slopes also in that direction. This stratum con¬
sists of a number of thin beds ; the outward one, being
the thinnest, is in a state ot decomposition, and is moul¬
dering down into a blackish brown or ferruginous co¬
loured earth. T.he beds, inferior to this, progressively
increase in breadth to 17 inches, where the stratifica¬
tion rests upon a rock of an argillaceous nature.
“ This last bed, which is 17 inches thick, consists of
quartz of a blackish blue colour, in the septa or cracks
of which are found fine quartz crystals, colourless, and
perfectly transparent. Ihese crystals are composed of
18 planes, disposed in hexangular columns, terminated
at both extremities by hexangular pyramids. The lar¬
gest of those that Major Imrie saw did not exceed one-
fourth of an inch in length: I hey, in general, adhere
to the rock by the sides of the column, but are de¬
tached without difficulty. Their great degree of trans¬
parency has obtained them the name of Qibraltar diu-
monds.
“ In the perpendicular fissures of the rock,and in some Bone*1
of the caverns of the mountain (all of which afford evi-found in
dent proofs of their former communication with tbefissure* of
surface), a calcareous concretion is found, of a reddish^ 10ck’
brown ferruginous colour, with an earthy fracture, and
considerable induration, inclosing the bones of various
animals, some of which have the appearance of being
human. These bones are of various sizes, and lie in all
directions, intermixed with shells of snails, fragments of
the calcareous rock, and particles of spar; all of which
materials are still to be seen in their natural uncombined
states, partially scattered over the surface of the moun¬
tain. These have been swept, by heavy rains at dif¬
ferent periods, horn the surface into the situations above
described, and having remained for along series of years
in those places of rest, exposed to the permeating action
of water, have become enveloped in, and cemented by,
the calcareous matter which it deposits.
“ The bones, in this composition, have not the smallest
appearance of being petrified ; and if they have under¬
gone any change, it is more like that of calcination than
that of petrifaction, as the most solid parts of them ge¬
nerally admit of being cut and scraped down with the
same ease as chalk.
“ Bones combined in such concretions are not pecu¬
liar to Gibraltar : they are found in such large quanti¬
ties in the country of Dalmatia and upon its coasts, in
the islands of Cherso and Osero, that some naturalists
have been induced to go so far as to assert, that there has
been a regular stratum of such matter in that country,
and that its present broken and interrupted appearance
has been caused by earthquakes, or other convulsions,
experienced in that part of the globe. But, of late
years, a traveller (Abbe Alberto Fortis) has given a
minute description of the concretion in which the bones
are found in that country : And by his account it ap¬
pears, that with regard to situation, composition, and
4X2 colour,
GIB [7
colour, it is perfectly similar to that found at Gibraltar.
By his description, it also appears that the two moun¬
tain rocks of Gibraltar and Dalmatia consist, ol the
same species of calcareous stone j from which it is to
be presumed, that the concretions in both have been
formed in the same manner and about the same periods.
“ Perhaps if the fissures and caves ot the rocks of
Dalmatia were still more minutely examined, their loi-
mer communications with the surface might yet be
traced, as in those described above: and, in that case,
there would be at least a strong probability, that the
materials of the concretions of that country have been
brought together by the same accidental cause which
has probably collected those found in the caverns of
Gibraltar. Major Imrie traced, in Gibraltar, this
concretion, from the lowest part of a deep perpendicu¬
lar fissure, up to the surface of the mountain. As it
approached to the surface, the concretion became less
firmly combined, and, when it had no covering ot the
calcareous rock, a small degree ot adhesion only re¬
mained, which was evidently produced by the argilla¬
ceous earth, in its composition, having been moistened
by rain and baked by the sun.
“ The depth at which these materials had been pene¬
trated by that proportion ot stalactitical matter, capable
of giving to the concretion its greatest adhesion and so¬
lidity, he found to vary according to its situation, and
to the quantity of matter to be combined. In fissures,
narrow and contracted, he found the concretion posses¬
sing a great degree of hardness at six feet from the sur¬
face j but in other situations more extended, and where
a larger quantity of the materials had been accumula¬
ted, he found it had not gained its greatest degree of
adhesion at double that depth. In one of the caves,
where the mass of concretion is of considerable size, he
perceived it to be divided into different beds, each bed
being covered with a crust of the stalactitical spar,
from one inch to an inch and a half in thickness, which
seems to indicate, that the materials have been carried
in at various periods, and that those periods have been
very remote from each other.
“ At Rosia^ bay, upon the west side of Gibraltar, this
concretion is found in what has evidently been a cavern,
originally formed by huge unshapely masses of the rock
which have tumbled in together. The fissure, or ca¬
vern, formed by the disruption and subsidence of those
masses, has been entirely filled up with the concretion,
and is now exposed to full view by the outward mass
having dropped down in consequence of the encroach¬
ments of the sea. It is to this spot that strangers are
generally led to examine the phenomenon j and the
composition having here attained to its greatest degree
of hardness and solidity, the hasty observer, seeing the
bones inclosed in what has so little the appearance of
having been a vacuity, examines no further, but imme¬
diately adopts the idea of their being incased in the so¬
lid rock. The communication from this former chasm,
to the surface from which it has received the materials
of the concretion, is still to he traced in the face of the
rock, but its opening is at present covered by the base
of the line wall of the garrison. Here bones are found
that are apparently human j and those of them that ap¬
pear to be of the legs, arms, and vertebrae of the hack,
are scattered among others of various kinds and sizes,
even down to the smallest bones of small birds. Major
2
6 ] GIB
Imrie found here the complete jaw-bone of a sheep •, it Gibraltar
contained its full complement of teeth, the enamel of —y^,
which was perfect, and its whiteness and lustre in no
degree impaired. In the hollow parts of some of the
large bones was contained a minute crystallization of
pure and colourless calcareous spar } but, in most, the
interior part consisted of a sparry crust of a reddish co¬
lour, scarcely in any degree transparent.
“ At the northern extremity of the mountain, the
concretion is generally found in perpendicular fissures.
The miners there employed upon the fortifications, in
excavating one of those fissures, found at a great depth
from the surface, two skulls, which were supposed to
be human ; but, to the Major, one of them, if not both,
appeared to be too small for the human species. The
bone of each was perfectly firm and solid j from which
it is to be presumed, that they were in a state of ma¬
turity before they were inclosed in the concretion. Had
they appertained to very young children, perhaps the
bone would have been more porous, and of a less firm
texture. The probability is, that they belonged to a
species of monkey, which still continues to inhabit, in
considerable numbers, those parts of the rock which
are to us inaccessible.
“ This concretion varies, in its composition, accord¬
ing to the situation in which it is found. At the extre¬
mity of Prince’s Lines, high in the rock which looks
towards Spain, it is found to consist only of a reddish
calcareous earth, and the bones of small birds cemented
thereby. The rock around this spot is inhabited by a
number of hawks, that, in the breeding season, nestle
here and rear their young j the bones in this concretion
are probably the remains of the food of those birds.
At the base of the rock, below King’s Lines, the con¬
cretion consists of pebbles of the prevailing calcareous
rock. In this concretion, at a very considerable depth
under the surface, was found the under parts of a glass* phiL
bottle, uncommonly shaped, and ot great thickness •, the Trans.
colour of the glass of a dark green v0I.1v.
“ The subterranean galleries are very extensive,
pierce the rock in several places and in various direc-ne0USgal.
tions, and at various degrees of elevation ; all of themlerief.
have a communication with each other, either by flights
of steps cut in the rock, or by wooden stairs where the
passages are required to be very perpendicular.
“ The centinels may now be relieved during a siege
from one post to another in perfect safety j whereas, pre¬
viously to the constructing of these galleries a vast num¬
ber of men were killed by the Spaniards while marcfo-
ing to their several stations. The width of these gal¬
leries is about twelve feet, their height about fourteen.
The rock is broken through in various places, both for
the purpose of giving light and for placing the guns to
bear on the enemy. In different parts there are spa¬
cious recesses, capable of accommodating a considerable
number of men. To these recesses they give names,
such as St Patrick’s Chamber, St George’s Hall, &c.
The whole of these singular structures have been form¬
ed out of the solid rock by blasting with gunpowder.
Through the politeness of an officer on duty, a place
called Smart’s Reservoir was opened for our inspection,
which is a great curiosity, and not generally permitted
to be shewn. It is a spring at a considerable depth in
the body of the rock, and is above 700 feet above the
level of the sea 5. we descended into the cavern that con¬
tains
GIB [ 717
ijbraltar, tains it by a rope ladder, and with the aid of lighted
;»ib*on. candles proceeded through a narrow passage over crystal-
"-v~J lized protuberances of the rock till we came to a hollow,
which appears to have been opened by some convulsion
of nature. Here, from a bed of gems, arises the salu¬
tary fount, clear as the brilliant of the east, and cold as
the icicle. We hailed the nymph of the grot, and, pro¬
strating ourselves, quailed hygean nectar from her sparry
urn. When restored to the light of day, we obtained,
through the medium of the same gentleman, the key of
St George’s Hall, at which we arrived by a very intri¬
cate and gloomy path to the spacious excavation, which
is upwards of a hundred feet in length, its height near¬
ly the same. It is formed in a semicircular part of
the rock 5 spacious apertures are broken through, where
cannons of a very large calibre command the isthmus,
the Spanish lines* and a great part of the bay. The
top of the rock is pierced through, so as to introduce
sufficient light to enable you to view every part of it.
It appears almost incredible that so large an excavation
could be formed by gunpowder, without blowing up the
whole of that part of the rock, and still more so, that
they should be able to direct the operations of such an
instrument, so as to render it subservient to the purpose
of elegance. We found in the hall a table, placed, I
suppose, for the conveniency of those who are traversing
the rock. The cloth was spread, the wine went round,
and we made the vaulted roof resound with the accents
ufonth. m*rth and the songs of conviviality
11?. 1798. GIBSON, Richard, an English painter, com¬
monly called the Dwarfs was originally page to a la¬
dy at Mortlake j who, observing that his genius led
him to painting, had the'generosity to get him instruct¬
ed in the rudiments of that part. He devoted him¬
self to Sir Peter Lely’s manner, and copied his pictures
to admiration, especially his portraits : his paintings in
Water colours were also esteemed. He was in great
favour with Charles I. who made him his page of the
back stairs ; and he had the honour to instruct in draw¬
ing Queen Mary and Queen Anne when they were
princesses. He married one Mrs Anne Shepherd, who
was also a dwarf; on which occasion King Charles I.
honoured their marriage with his presence, and gave
away the bride. Mr Waller wrote a poem on this oc¬
casion, entitled “ The Marriage of the Dwarfs j” in
which are these lines :
]
GIB
Design or chance makes others wive,
But nature did this match contrive j
Eve might as well have Adam lied,
As she deny’d her little bed
To him for whom heav’n seem’d to frame
And measure out this only dame.”
Mr Fenton, in his notes on this poem, observes that
he had seen this couple painted by Sir Peter Lely ; and
that they were of an equal stature, each being three
feet ten inches high. They had nine children, five of
whom arrived at maturity ; these were well proportion¬
ed, and of the usual standard of mankind. But what
nature denied this couple in stature, she gave them in
length of days : for Mr Gibson died in the 75th year
of his age ; and his wife, having survived him almost
20 years, died in 1709, aged 89.
Gibson, Dr Edmund, bishop of London, was born
in Westmoreland, in 1699. He applied himself early
and vigorously to learning, and displayed his know¬
ledge in several writings and translations, which re¬
commended him to the patronage of Archbishop Ten-
nison. He was appointed domestic chaplain to his
Grace ; and we soon after find him rector of Lam¬
beth, and archdeacon of Surry. Becoming thus a
member of the convocation, he engaged in a contro¬
versy, which was carried on with great warmth by
the members of both houses, and defended his pa¬
tron’s rights, as president, in eleven pamphlets; he
then formed and completed his more comprehensive
scheme of the legal duties and rights of the English
clergy, which was at length published under the title of
Codex Juris Ecclesiastie.i Anglicani, in folio. Arch¬
bishop Tennison dying in 1715, and Dr Wake bishop of
Lincoln being made archbishop of Canterbury, Dr Gib¬
son succeeded the latter in the see of Lincoln, and in
1720 was promoted to the bishopric of London. He
now not only governed his diocese with the most exact
regularity, but by his great care promoted the spiritual
affairs of the church of England colonies in the West
Indies. He was extremely jealous of the least of the
privileges belonging to the church ; and therefore,
though he approved of the toleration of the Protestant
Dissenters, he continually guarded against all the at¬
tempts made to procure a repeal of the corporation
and test acts; in particular, his opposition to those li¬
centious assemblies called masquerades, gave great um¬
brage at court, and effectually excluded him from all
further favours. He spent the latter part of his life
in writing and printing pastoral letters, visitation-
charges, occasional sermons, and tracts against the
prevailing immoralities of the age. His pastoral letters
are justly esteemed as the most masterly productions
against infidelity and enthusiasm. His most celebrated
work, the Codex, has been already mentioned. His
other publications are, 1. An edition of Drummond’s
Polemo Middinia, and James V. of Scotland’s Can¬
tilena Rustica, with notes. 2. The Chronicon Saxoni-
cum, with a Latin translation, and notes. 3. Reli¬
quiae Spelmannianee, the posthumous works of Sir
Henry Spelman, relating to the laws and antiquities
of England. 4. An edition of Quintilian de Arte
Oratoria, with notes. 5. An English translation of
Camden’s Britannia, with additions, two volumes fo¬
lio : and, 6. A number of small pieces, that have been
collected together and printed in three volumes folio. 
His intense application to study impaired his health ;
notwithstanding which, he attained the age of 79. He
Expired in September 1748, after an episcopate of near
33 years.—With regard to Bishop Gibson’s private life
and character, he was in every respect a perfect econo¬
mist. His abilities were so well adapted to discharge
the duties of his sacred function, that during the in¬
capacity of Archbishop Wake, the transaction of ec¬
clesiastical affairs was committed to the bishop of Lon¬
don. He was a true friend to the established church
and government, and as great an enemy to persecu¬
tion. He was usually consulted by the most learned
and exalted personages in church and state* and the
greatest deference was paid to his judgment. He
possessed the social virtues in an eminent degree; his
beneficence was very extensive '7 and he had such gene-
rosity.
Gibson.
GIG [?i
Gibson rosity, that lie freely gave two thousand five hundred
pounds, left him by Dr Crow, who was once his chap¬
lain, to Crow’s own relations, who were very poor.
GIDEON, the son of Joash, of the tribe ot Manas-
geh. He dwelt in the city of Ophrah $ and had a very
extraordinary call to deliver the Israelites from the
oppression of the Midianites, to which they had be¬
come subject after the death of Barak and Deborah.
Having effected their deliverance by supernatural aid,
he was chosen judge of Israel in the year of the world
2759, and died in 2768. (See Judges, chap. vi. vu.
and viii.). . .
GIFT, Donum, in Law, is a conveyance which
passeth either lands or goods ; and is of a larger ex¬
tent than a grant, being applied to things moveable
and immoveable yet as to things immoveable, when
taken strictly, it is applicable only to lands and tene¬
ments given in tail j but gift and grant are too otten
confounded.
New Year's Gifts, presents made on new year s day,
as a token of the giver’s good will, as well as by way
of presage of a happy year.
This practice is very ancient, the origin of it among
the Romans being referred to Tatius king of the Sa¬
bines, who reigned at Rome conjointly with Romu¬
lus, and who having considered as a good omen a pre¬
sent of some sprigs of vervain gathered in a wood con¬
secrated to Strenia the goddess of strength, which he
received on the first day of the new year, authorized
this custom afterwards, and gave to these presents the
name of Strenfe. However this may be, the Romans
on that day celebrated a festival in honour of Janus,
and paid their respects at the same time to Juno ; but
they did not pass it in idleness, lest they should become
indolent during the rest of the year. They sent pre¬
sents to one another of figs, dates, honey, &c. to show
their friends that they wished them a happy and agree¬
able life. Clients, that is to say, those who were un¬
der the protection of the great, carried presents of
this kind to their patrons, adding to them a small piece
of silver. Under Augustus, the senate, the knights, and
the people, presented such gifts to him, and in his ab¬
sence deposited them in the Capitol. Of the succeed¬
ing princes some adopted this custom, and others abolish¬
ed it, but it always continued among the people. The
early Christians condemned it, because it appeared to
be a relick of Paganism, and a species of superstition ;
but when it began to have no other object than that of
being a mark of veneration and esteem, the church
ceased to disapprove of it.
GIGG, Giga, or Jig, in Music and Dancing, a
gay, brisk, sprightly composition, and yet in full mea¬
sure, as well as the allemand, which is more serious.
Menage takes the word to arise from the Italian gieg,
a musical instrument mentioned by Dante. Others
suppose it to be derived from the Teutonic giga, or
ghiighe, “ a fiddle.” This is a favourite air in most
nations of Europe : its characteristic is duple time,
marked §, or Y : it consists of two strains, without
any determinate number of bars.
GIGGLE WICK, a town in the west riding of
Yorkshire, half a mile from Settle, stands on the river
Ribble} where, at the foot of a mountain, is a spring,
the most noted in England for ebbing and flowing
eometimes thrice in an hour, and the water subsides
5
8 ] GIL
three quarters of a yard at the reflux, though the sea is
30 miles off. At this town is an eminent free grammar
school j and in the neighbourhood are dug up flags,
slate, and stone.
GIHON, in Ancient Geography, one of the rivers
of Paradise ; according to W7ells, the eastern branch of
the Euphrates, into which it divides after its conjunc¬
tion with the Tigris.
GILAN, or Ghilan, a considerable province of
Persia, on the side of the Caspian sea, to the south¬
west. It is supposed to be the Hyrcania of the an¬
cients. It is very agreeably situated, having the sea
on one side and high mountains on the other •, and
there is no entering in but through narrow passes,
which may easily be defended. The sides of the
mountains are covered with many sorts of fruit trees,
and in the highest parts of them there are deer,
bears, wolves, leopards, and tygers $ which last the
Persians have a method of taming, and hunt with
them as we do with dogs. Gilan is one of the most
fruitful provinces of Persia, and produces abundance
of silk, oil, wine, rice, and tobacco, besides excellent
fruits. The inhabitants are brave, and of a better
complexion than the other Indians, and the women are
accounted extremely handsome. Resht is the capital
town.
GILBERT, or GilberD, William, a physician,
was born at Colchester in the year 1540, the eldest
son of the recorder of that borough. Having spent
some time in both universities, he went abroad $ and
at his return settled in London, where he practised
with considerable reputation. He became a mem¬
ber of the College of Physicians, and physician in or¬
dinary to Queen Elizabeth, who, we are told, gave him
a pension to encourage him in his studies. From his
epitaph it appears that he was also physician to King
James I. He died in the year 1603, aged 63 *, and
was buried in Trinity church in Colchester, where a
handsome monument was erected to his memory. His
books, globes, instruments, and fossils, he bequeathed to
the College of Physicians, and his picture to the school
gallery at Oxford. He wrote, 1. De Magnete, mag-
ncticiscjiie corporibus, et de magno magnete tellure.
physiologia nova ; London 1600, folio. 2. De tnundo
nostro sublunari philosophia nova : Amsterdam 1651>
qto. He was also the inventor of two mathematical
instruments for finding the latitude at sea without the
help of sun, moon, or stars. A description of these in¬
struments was afterwards published by Ihomas Blonde-
ville in his Theoriyues of the Planets.
Gilbert, Sir Humphrey, a brave officer and skil¬
ful navigator, was born about the year
Devonshire, of an ancient and honourable family.
Though a second son, he inherited a considerable for¬
tune from his father. He was educated at Eton, and
afterwards at Oxford j where probably he did not con¬
tinue long. It seems he was intended to finish his stu¬
dies in the Temple ; but being introduced at court by
his aunt Mrs Catharine Ashley, then in the queen’s
service, he was diverted from the study ol law, and
commenced soldier. Having distinguished himself
in several military expeditions, particularly that to
Newhaven in 1563, he was sent over to Ireland to
assist in suppressing a rebellion j where, for his signal
services, he was made commander in chief and gover¬
nor
GIL [ 7
;;!hevt nor °f Munster, and knighted by the lord deputy, Sir
|] Henry Sidney, on the first day of the year 1570.
ilboa- He returned soon after to England, where he married
‘“v * a rich heiress, Nevertheless, in 1572, he sailed with
a squadron of nine ships to reinforce Colonel Morgan,
who at that time meditated the recovery of Flushing.
Probably on his return to England he resumed his
cosmographical studies, to which he was naturally in¬
clined : for, in the year 1576, he published his book
on the north-west passage to the East Indies *, and as
Martin Frobisher sailed in the sameyear, probably it was
in consequence of this treatise. In 1578, he obtained
from the queen a very ample patent, empowering him
to discover and possess in North America any lands then
unsettled. He sailed to Newfoundland, but soon re¬
turned to England without success j nevertheless, in
1583, he embarked a second time with five ships, the
largest of which put back an account of a contagious
distemper on board. Our general landed on New¬
foundland on the third of August, anti on the fifth
took possession of the harbour of St John’s. By vir¬
tue of his patent he granted leases to several peoplej
but though none of them remained there at that time,
they settled afterwards in consequence of these leases j
so that Sir Humphrey deserves to be remembered as
the real founder of the vast American empire. On the
20th of August he put to sea again, on board a small
sloop j which on the 29th foundered in a hard gale of
wind. Thus perished Sir Humphrey Gilbert j a man
of quick parts, a brave soldier, a good mathemati¬
cian, a skilful navigator, and of a very enterprising
genius. We learn also, that he was remarkable for
his eloquence, being much admired for his patriotic
speeches both in the English and Irish parliaments. He
wrote “ A discourse to prove a passage by the north¬
west to Cathaia and the East Indies, printed London
1576.” This treatise, which is a masterly performance,
is preserved in Hakluyt’s Collection of Voyages, vol.
iii. p. II. The style is superior to most, if not to all,
the writers of that age j and shews the author to have
been a man of considerable reading. He mentions,
at the close of this work, another treatise on naviga¬
tion, which he intended to publish: it is probably
lost.
GILBERTINES, an order of religious, thus call¬
ed from St Gilbert of Sempringham, in the county of
Lincoln, who founded the same about the year 1148:
the monks of which observed the rule of St Augustine;
and were accounted canons; and the nuns that of St
Benedict.
The founder of this order erected a double monaste¬
ry, or rather two different ones, contiguous to each o-
ther, the one for men, the other fur women, but parted
by a very high wall.
St Gilbert himself founded 13 monasteries of this
order, viz. four for men alone, and nine for men and
women together, which had in them 700 brethren and
1500 sisters. At the dissolution there were about 25
houses of this order in England and Wales.
GILBOA, in Ancient Geography, mountains of Sa¬
maria, stretching out from west to east, on the confines
of the half tribe of Manasseh, and of the tribe of Issa-
char, and to the south part of the valley of Jezreel ; be¬
ginning westward at the city of Jezreel, situated at the
foot of these mountains, reachingalmost quite to the Jor-
19 ] . G I L
dan, lying at the distance of six miles from Scythopo- Gilboa
hs. Famous for the death of Saul and his son Jona- il
than, and the defeat of the Israelites by the Philis- Gi!daf*
tines. v—“
GILCHRIST, Dr Ebenezer, an eminent Scots
physician, was born at Dumfries in 1707. He began
the study of medicine at Edinburgh, which he after¬
wards prosecuted at London and Paris. He obtained
the degree of doctor of medicine from the university cf
Rheims; and in the year 1732 lle returned to the place
of his nativity, where he afterwards constantly resided,
and continued the practice of medicine till his death.
It may with justice be said, that few physicians of the
present century have exercised their profession in a man¬
ner more respectable or successful than Dr Gilchrist; and
few have contributed more to the improvement of the
healing art. Ilaving engaged in business at an early
period of life, his attention was wholly devoted to ob¬
servation. Endowed by nature with a judgment acute
and solid, and a genus active and inventive, he soon
distinguished himself by departing, in various important
particulars, from established but unsuccessful modes of
practice. Several ol the improvements which he in¬
troduced have procured him great and deserved reputa¬
tion both at home and abroad. His practice, in or¬
dinary cases, was allowed to be judicious, and placed
him high in the confidence and esteem of the inhabi¬
tants of that part of the country where he lived. But
his usefulness was not confined to his own neighbour¬
hood. On many occasions he was consulted by letter
from the most distant parts of the country. In differ¬
ent collections are to be found several of his perform¬
ances, which prove that he had something new and
useful to offer upon every subject to which he applied
himseli. But those writings which do him the greatest
honour are two long dissertations on Nervous Fevers
in the Medical Essays and Observations published by a
Society in Edinburgh; and a treatise on the use of Sea
Voyages in Medicine, which first made its appearance
in the year 1757, and was afterwards reprinted in 1771.
By means of the former, the attention of physicians was
first turned to a species of fever which is now found to
prevail universally in this country; and the liberal use
of wine, which he was the first among the moderns to
recommend, has since been adopted in these fevers by
the most judicious physicians of the present age, and
has probably contributed not a little to the success of
their practice. His treatise on Sea Voyages points out
their utility in various distempers, and particularly in
consumptions; but experience by no means confirms the
observation, that there is now a prospect of our being
able to employ a remedy in this untractable disease much
more efficacious than any hitherto in use. Dr Gilchrist
died in 1 774-
GILD, or Guild. See Guild.
GILD AS, surnamed the Wise, was born in Wales
in the year 511. Where he was educated is uncer¬
tain ; but it appears from his own writings that he
was a monk. Some writers say that he went over ta
Ireland; others, that he visited France and Italy.
They agree however in asserting, that after his return to
England he became a celebrated and most assiduous,
preacher of the gospel. Du Pin says he founded a
monastery at Venetia in Britain. Gildas is the only
British author of the sixth century whose works are
printed >
GIL [ 72c ] GIL
GHcfas printed; they are therefore valuable on account of their
Gilding, antiquity, and as containing the only information vve
'""”v have concerning the times of which he wrote. His
History of Britain is, however, a flimsy performance,
and his style obscure and inelegant.
GILDING, the art of spreading or covering a
thing over with gold, either in leaf or liquid. . The
art of gilding was not unknown among the ancients,
though it never arrived among them at the perfection
Gilding to which the moderns have carried it. Pliny assures
when first Us, that the first gilding seen at Home was after the
introduced destrUction of Carthage, under the censorship of Lucius
at Rome. ■jy|ummius, when they began to gild the ceilings of
their temples and palaces ; the Capitol being the first
place on which this enrichment was bestowed. But
he adds, that luxury advanced on them so hastily, that
in a little time you might see all, even private and
poor persons, gild the very walls, vaults, &c. of their
houses.
We need not doubt but they had the same method
with us, of heating gold, and reducing it into leaves ;
though it should seem they did not cany it to the
same height, if it be true which Pliny relates, that
they only made 750 leaves of four fingers square out of
a w’hole ounce. Indeed he adds, that they could make
more; that the thickest were called hractea Prcenestmcz,
by reason of a statue of the goddess Fortune at Prae-
neste gilt with such leaves ; and that the thinner sort
was called bractece questorice.
The modern gilders do also make use of gold leaves
of divers thicknesses ; but there are some so fine, that
a thousand do not weigh above four or five drachms.
The thickest are used for gilding on iron and other
metals ; and the thinnest on wood. But we have ano¬
ther advantage over the ancients in the manner of using
Ancient or applying the gold : the secret of painting in oil,
gilding in- discovered of late ages, furnishes us with means of gild-
ferior to Jng works that shall endure all the injuries of time and
the mo- weather, which to the ancients was impracticable.—
They had no way to lay the gold on bodies that
would not endure the fire but with whites of eggs or
size, neither of which will endure the water ; so that
they could only gild such places as were sheltered from
the moisture of the weather.
The Greek called the composition on which they ap¬
plied their gilding on wood leucophceum or leucophorum ;
which is described as a sort of glutinous compound
earth, serving in all probability to make the gold stick
and bear polishing. But the particulars of this earth,
its colour, ingredients, &c. the antiquaries and natural¬
ists are not agreed upon.
The lustre and beauty of gold have occasioned seve¬
ral inquiries and discoveries concerning the different
methods of applying it to different substances. Hence
the art of gilding is very extensive, and contains many
particular operations and various management.
^ A colour of gold is given by painting and by var-
False gild- nishes, without employing gold ; but this is a false kind
ing with la-of gilding. Thus a very fine golden colour is given
qucr or brass and to silver, by applying upon these metals a
u c e 'gold-coloured varnish, which, being transparent, shows
all the brilliancy of the metals beneath. Many orna¬
ments of brass were varnished in this manner, which is
called gold laquering, to distinguish them from those
which are really gilt. Silver leaves thus varnished are
put upon leather, which is then called gt'lt leather. See Gildiug
LAQ.UER. y—1
Amongst the false gilding may also be reckoned
those which are made with thin leaves of copper or
brass, called Dutch leaf. In this manner are made all
the kinds of what is called gilt paper.
In the true gilding, gold is applied to the surface of
bodies. The gold intended for this purpose ought in
general to be beat into thin leaves, or otherwise divided
into very fine parts. ^
As metals cannot adhere well merely by contact to Gilding
any hut to other metallic substances, when gold is to size, |
be applied to the surface of some unmetallic body, that
surface must be previously covered with some gluey and
tenacious substance by which the gold shall be made
to adhere. These substances are in general called sixes.
Some of these are made of vegetable and animal glues,
and others of oily, gluey, and drying matters. Up¬
on them the leaves of gold are applied, and pressed
down with a little cotton or a hare’s foot ; and when
the whole is dry, the work is to be finished and polish¬
ed with a hard instrument, called a dog's toothy to give
lustre.
When the work is required to be capable of resist-wjtfi eil( L
ing rain or moisture, it ought to be previously covered ? I
with a composition of drying oil and yellow ochre
ground together ; otherwise a water size may be used,
which is prepared by boiling cuttings of parchment or
white leather in water, and by mixing with this some
chalk or whiting : several layers of this size must be
laid upon the wood, and over these a layer of the same
size mixed with yellow ochre. Lastly, Another mix¬
ture, called gold sixe, is to be applied above these ; up¬
on which the gold leaves are to be fixed. This gold
size, the use of which is to make the gold leaf capable
of being burnished, is composed of tobacco-pipe clay,
ground with some ruddle or black-lead, and tempered
with a little tallow or oil of olives. The edges of glasses
may be gilt by applying first a very thin coat of var¬
nish, upon which the gold leaf is to be fixed j and when
the varnish is hardened, may be burnished. This var¬
nish is prepared by boiling powdered amber with linseed
oil in a brass vessel to which a valve is fitted, and by
diluting the above solution with four or five times its
quantity of oil of turpentine ; and that it may dry soon¬
er, it may be ground with some white lead. ^
The method of applying gold upon metals is entirely Qf gilding
different. The surface of the metal to be gilt is firstmetak-
to be cleaned ; and then leaves are to be applied to it,
which, by means of rubbing with a polished blood¬
stone, and a certain degree of heat, are made to ad¬
here perfectly well. In this manner silver leaf is fixed
and burnished upon brass in the making of what is call¬
ed French plate, and sometimes also gold leaf is burnish¬
ed upon copper and upon iron.
Gold is applied to metals in several other ways.
One of these is by previously forming the gold into a
paste or amalgam with mercury. In order to obtain
a small amalgam of gold and mercury, the gold is first
to be reduced into thin plates or grains, which are
heated red hot, and thrown into mercury previously
heated, till it begins to smoke. Upon stirring the
mercury with an iron rod, the gold totally disappears.
The proportion of mercury to gold is generally as six
or eight to one.
With
GIL [ >721
ilding. With this amalgam the surface of the metal to be
gilded is to be covered $ then a sufficient heat is to be
applied to evaporate the mercury : and the gold is last¬
ly to be burnished with a blood-stone.
This method of gilding by amalgamation is chiefly
used for gilding copper, or an alloy of copper, with a
small portion of zinc, which more readily receives the
, amalgam ; and is also preferable for its colour, which
more resembles that of gold than the colour of cop¬
per. When the metal to be gilt is wrought or chased, it
ought to be previously covered with quicksilver before
the amalgam is applied, that this may be easier spread :
but when the surface of the metal is plain, the amalgam
may be applied directly to it. The quicksilver or amal¬
gam is made to adhere to the metal by means of a little
aquafortis, which is rubbed on the metallic surface at the
same time, by which this surface is cleansed from any
rust or tarnish which might prevent the union or adhe¬
sion of the metals. But the use of the nitrous acid in
this operation is not, as is generally supposed, confined
merely to cleanse the surface of the metal to be gilt
from any rust or tarnish it may have acquired ; but it
also greatly facilitates the application of the amalgam
7 to the surface of that metal, probably in the following
e of the manner: It first dissolves part of the mercury of the
roM add amalgam ; and when this solution is applied to the
1 copper, this latter metal having a stronger affinity
for nitrous acid than the mercury has, precipitates
the mercury upon its surface, in the same manner as
a polished piece of iron precipitates copper upon
its surface from a solution of blue vitriol. When
the metal to be gilt is thus covered over with a thin
precipitated coat of mercury, it readily receives the
amalgam. In this solution and precipitation of mer¬
cury, the principal use of the nitrous acid in the pro¬
cess of gilding appears to consist. The amalgam be¬
ing equally spread over the surface of the metal to be
gilt by means of a brush, the mercury is then to be
evaporated by a heat just sufficient for that purpose j
for if it be too great, part of the gold may also be ex¬
pelled, and part of it will run together, and leave some
of the surface of the metal bare : while the mercury is
evaporating, the piece is to be from time to time
taken from the fire, that it may be examined, that the
amalgam may be spread more equally by means of a
brush, that any defective parts of it may be again co¬
vered, and that the heat may not be too suddenly ap¬
plied to it : when the mercury is evaporated, which is
known by the surface being entirely become of a dull
yellow colour, the metal must then undergo other ope¬
rations, by which the fine gold colour is given to
it. First, The gilded piece of metal is rubbed with a
scratch brush (which is a brush composed of brass wire)
till its surface is made smooth ; then it is covered over
with a composition called gilding wax, aw A is again ex¬
posed to the fire till the wax be burnt off. This wax
is composed of bees wax, sometimes mixed with some
of the following substances j red ochre, verdigrise, cop¬
per scales, alum, vitriol, borax: but according to Dr
Lewis, the saline substances alone are sufficient, with¬
out any wax. By this operation the colour of the gild¬
ing is heightened 5 and this effect seems to be produ¬
ced by a perfect dissipation of some mercury remaining
after the former operation. This dissipation is well ef¬
fected by this equable application of heat. The gilt
Vol. IX. Part II. f
]
G I L
surface is then covered over with a saline composition, Gildin-'
consisting of nitre, alum, or other vitriolic salt, ground ‘ y-JL
together, and mixed up into a paste with water or urine.
The piece of metal thus covered is exposed to a certain
degree of heat, and then quenched in water. By this
method its colour is further improved, and brought
nearer to that of gold. This effect seems to be produ-
cfd by the acid of nitre (which is disengaged by the
vitriolic acid of the alum, or other vitriolic salt, during
the exposure to heat) acting upon any particles of cop¬
per which may happen to lie on the gilded surface.
Lastly, Some artists think that they give an additional
lustre to their gilt work by dipping it in a liquor
prepared by boiling some yellow materials, as sulphur,
orpiment, or turmeric. The only advantage of this
operation is, that a part of the yellow matter, as the
sulphur or turmeric, remains in some of the hollows of
the carved work, in which the gilding is apt to be
more imperfect, and to which it gives a rich and solid
appearance.
Iron cannot be gilt by amalgamation, unless, as it is
said, it be previously coated with copper by dipping in
a solution of blue vitriol. Iron may also receive a
golden coat from a saturated solution of gold in aqua-
regia, mixed with spirit of wine, the iron having a great¬
er affinity with the acid, from which it therefore pre¬
cipitates the gold. Whether any of these two methods
be applicable to use, is uncertain : but the method com¬
monly employed of fixing gold upon iron is that
above mentioned, of burnishing gold leaf upon this me¬
tal when heated so as to become blue $ and the opera¬
tion will be more perfect if the surface has been pre¬
viously scratched or graved.
Another method is mentioned by authors of gilding
upon metals, and also upon earthen ware, and upon
glass $ which is, to fuse gold with regulus of antimo¬
ny, to pulverize the mass which is sufficiently brittle
to admit that operation, to spread this powder upon
the piece to be gilt, and expose it to such a fire that
the regulus may be evaporated, while the gold re¬
mains fixed. The inconveniences of this method, ac¬
cording to Dr Lewis, are, that the powder does not
adhere to the piece, and cannot be equally spread j
that part of the gold is dissipated along with the regu¬
lus j that glass is fusible with the heat necessary for the
evaporation of regulus of antimony j and that copper
is liable to be corroded by the regulus, and to have its
surface rendered uneven. j
On this subject of gilding by amalgamation Dr Lewis Improve-
has the following remarks. “ There are two principal nient by
inconveniences in this business : One, that the work-
men are exposed to the fumes of the mercury, and gene- of irts
rally, sooner or later, have their health greatly impaired J
by them : the other, the loss of the mercury ; for though
part of it is said to be detained in cavities made in the
chimney for that purpose, yet the greatest part of it is
lost. Irom some trials I have made, it appeared that
both these inconveniences, particularly the first and
most considerable one, might in good measure be a-
voided, by means of a furnace of a due construction. If
the communication of a furnace with its chimney, in¬
stead of being over the fire, is made under the grate,
the ash-pit door, or other apertures beneath the grate,
closed, and the mouth of the furnace left open 5 the
current of air, which otherwise would have entered be-
4^ . neath,
[
Gilding.
GIL
neath, enters now at the top, and passing down through
■w-y i r the crate to the chimney, carries with it completely
both the vapour of the fuel and the fumes ot such mat¬
ters as are placed upon it: the back part ot the fur¬
nace should be raised a little higher above the fire than
the fore part, and an iron plate laid over it, that the air
may enter only at the front, where the workman stands,
who will be thus effectually secured from the fumes and
from being incommoded with the heat, and at the same
time have full liberty of introducing, inspecting, and
removing the work. If such a furnace is made of
strong forged (not milled) iron plate, it will be suffi¬
ciently durable : the upper end of the chimney may
reach above a foot and a hall higher than the level of
the fire : over this is to be placed a larger tube, leaving
an interval of an inch or more all round between it and
the chimney, and reaching to the height of 10 or 12
feet, the higher the better. The external air, passing
up between the chimney and the outer pipe, prevents
the latter from being much heated, so that the mercurial
fumes will condense against its sides into running quick¬
silver, which, falling down to the bottom, is theie
catcbed in a hollow rim, formed by turning inwards a
portion of the lower part, and conveyed, by a pipe at
one side, into a proper receiver.
M.dti Fay’s “ Mr Hellot communicates, in the Memoirs of the
method of French Academy for the year I745» a method of mak-
laising gold ]ng ra;sed figures of gold on works of gold or silver,
figures. found among the papers of M. du Fay, and of which
M. du Fay himself had seen several trials. Fine gold
in powder, such as results from the parting of gold and
silver by aquafortis, is directed to be laid in a heap on
a levigating stone, a cavity made in the middle of the
heap, and half its weight of pure mercury put into
the cavity 5 some of the fetid spirit obtained from
garlic root by distillation in a retort, is then to be ad¬
ded, and the whole immediately mingled and ground
with a muller till the mixture is reduced into an uni¬
form gray powder. The powder is to be ground with
lemon juice to the consistence of paint, and applied on
the piece previously well cleaned and rubbed over with
the same acid juice ; the figures drawn with it may be
raised to any degree by repeating the application. TTe
piece is exposed to a gentle fire till the mercury is eva¬
porated so as to leave the gold yellow, which is then to
be pressed down, and rubbed with the finger and a
little sand, which makes it appear solid and brilliant;
after this it may be cut and embellished. The author
observes, that being of a spongy texture, it is more ad¬
visable to cut it with a chissel than to raise it with a
graver; that it has an imperfection of being always
pale ; and that it would be a desirable thing to find
means of giving it colour, as by this method ornaments
might be made of exquisite beauty, and with great fa¬
cility. As the paleness appears to proceed from a part
of the mercury retained by the gold, I apprehend it
might be remedied by the prudent application of a
little warm aquafortis, which dissolving the mercury
from the exterior part, would give at least a superficial
high colour: if the piece is silver, it must be defend¬
ed from the aquafortis by covering it with wax. In¬
struments and ornaments of gold, stained by mercury
where the gold is connected with substances incapable
of bearing fire, may be restored to their colour by the
same means.
722 ] GIL
“ The foregoing process is given entirely on the
authority of the French writer. I have had no expe¬
rience of it myself, but have seen very elegant figures
of gold raised upon silver, on the same principle, by another
different procedure. Some cinnabar was ground, notme odl
with the distilled spirit, but with the expressed juice of
garlic, a fluid remarkably tenacious. This mixture
was spread all over the polished silver; and when the
first layer is dry, a second, and after this a third, was
applied. Over these were spread as many layers of
another mixture, composed chiefly of asphaltum and
linseed oil boiled down to a due consistence. The whole
being dried with a gentle heat on a kind of wire
grate, the figures were traced and cut down to the sil¬
ver so as to make its surface rough : the incisions were
filled with an amalgam of gold, raised to different
heights in different parts according to the nature of the
design ; after which a gentle fire, at the same time that
it evaporated the mercury, destroyed the tenacity of
the gummy juice, so that the coating, which served to
confine the amalgam, and as a guide in the application
of it, was now easily got off. The gold was then
pressed down and embellished as in the former method ;
and had this advantage, that the surface of the silver
under it having been made rough, it adhered more
firmly, so as not to be in danger of coming off, as M.
du Fay says the gold applied in his way sometimes did.
The artist, however, found the process so troublesome,
that though he purchased the receipt for a considerable
sum, he has laid the practice aside.”
Finally, 3ome metals, particularly silver, may be gilt
in the following manner: n
Let gold be dissolved in aqua-regia. In this solu-Easy nie-
tion pieces of linen are to be dipt, and burnt to black tliodofgilc
ashes. These ashes being rubbed on the surface of theing$ilTer
silver by means of a wet linen rag, apply the particles
of gold which they contain, and which by this method
adhere very well. The remaining part of the ashes is
to be washed off; and the surface of the silver, which
in this state does not seem to be gilt, is to be burnish¬
ed with a blood-stone, till it acquire a fine colour of
gold. This method of gilding is very easy, and con¬
sumes a very small quantity of gold. Most gilt orna¬
ments upon fans, snuff boxes, and other toys of much
show and little value, are nothing but silver gilt in this
manner. u
Gold may also be applied to glass, porcelain, and Methods
other vitrified matters. As the surface of these matters of gilding
is very smooth, and consequently is capable of a veryS1^
perfect contact with gold leaves, these leaves adhere to
them with some force, although they are not of me¬
tallic nature. This gilding is so much more perfect,
as the gold is more exactly applied to the surface of
the glass. The pieces are then to he exposed to a cer¬
tain degree of heat, and burnished slightly to give them
lustre.
A more substantial gilding is fixed upon glass, ena¬
mel, and porcelain, by applying to these subtances
powder of gold mixed with a solution of gum arabic,
or with some essential oil, and a small quantity of bo¬
rax ; after which a sufficient heat is to be applied to sof¬
ten the glass and the gold, which is then to be burnish¬
ed. "With this mixture any figures may be drawn.
The powders for this purpose may be made, 1. By
grinding gold leaf with honey, which is afterwards
to
2
GIL
.ding to be washed away with water.
|) dryness a solution of gold in aqua-regia. 2* -^y ova-
i1*11, , porating the mercury from an amalgam of gold, taking
"v "~TI care to stir well the mass near the end of the process’.
4. By precipitating gold from its solution in aqua-re-
gia, by applying to it a solution of green vitriol in wa
ter, or some copper, and perhaps some other metallic
substances.
GILEAD, the son of Machir, and grandson of
Manasseh, had his inheritance allotted him in the moun¬
tains of Gilead, from whence he took his name. The
mountains of Gilead were part of that ridge which
runs from Mount Lebanon southward, on the east of
the Holy Land ; gave their name to the whole country
which lies on the east of the sea of Galilee, and inclu¬
ded the mountainous region called in the New Testa¬
ment Trachonitis. Jeremiah (xxii. 6.) seems to say,
that Gilead begins from Mount Libanus. ‘ Thou art
Gilead unto me, and the head of Lebanon.’ Jacob,
at his return from Mesopotamia, came in six days to
the mountains of Gilead (Gen. xxxi. 21. &c.) where
this patriarch, with Laban his father-in-law, raised a
heap of stones, in memory of their agreement and co¬
venant, and called it Galeed, i. e. “ an heap of wit¬
nesses,” and which Laban calledThese
mountains were'covered with a sort of trees abounding
with gum, called the Balm of Gilead, which the Scrip¬
ture commends much (Jer. viii. 21. xlvi. II. li. 8.). The
merchants who bought Joseph came from Gilead, and
were carrying balm into Egypt, (Gen. xxxvii. 25.).
The Gileadites being invaded by the Ammonites,
&c. chose Jephthah for their general, who vanquished
all their enemies.
Balm of Gilead. See Amyris, Botany Index.
GILGAL, in Ancient Geography, a place between
Jericho and Jordan, noted for the first encampment of
the Israelites on this side Jordan, about a mile from
Jericho. It sometimes also denotes Galilee, (Joshua
xii. 23.).
GILL, John, D. D. a Protestant dissenting minister
of the Baptist denomination, and the son of Edward and
Elizabeth Gill, was born at Kettering in Northampton¬
shire, November 23. 1697. a very eai'ly period of
life, his father, who was a deacon of the Baptist church
at Kettering, discovered in him an uncommon capacity
for learning 5 and his ability for literary pursuits after¬
wards appeared by the rapid progress in whatever became
the object of his study. He was sent to a grammar
school in the neighbourhood ; where he soon surpassed
those boys who were much his seniors in age and as
pupils. At this school he continued till he arrived at
his nth year; where he read most of the Latin
classics, and made considerable proficiency in the Greek
language.
Mr Gill’s celebrity as a scholar, and his strong at¬
tachment to books, were soon observed by the neigh¬
bouring clergy, who frequently met and conversed with
him at a bookseller’s shop, to which he resorted for the
purpose of reading; and indeed such was his application
to books, that it became a proverbial saying among the
common people, “ Such a thing is as certain, as that
John Gill is in the bookseller’s shop.”
He left the grammar school, however, early in life.
This was occasioned by the imperious conduct of his
master, who insisted that the children of dissenting pa-
[ 723 ] GIL
2. By distilling to rents should, with other scholars that belonged to the
establishment, attend him to church on week days du-'
ring the performance of divine service. The dissenters
considered this requisition as a stretch of power to
which his engagements with them gave no claim ; and
as it was virtually making conformity a test by which
his pupils were to expect the benefits of tuition, they
resented his conduct ; and the children of those parents
that were in affluent circumstances were removed to se¬
minaries where the same advantages might be obtained
without being subject to the impositions of clerical bi¬
gotry. But as the parents of Mr Gill had it not in
their power to confer on him the same privilege, the
same steps could not be taken to facilitate his advance¬
ment in learning. To pave the way, however, for the
completion of his studies, efforts were made by several
ministers, of different denominations, to get him upon
one or other of the funds in London. For this purpose
specimens of his progress in the different branches of
literature were transmitted to the metropolis: in answer
to which it was objected, “ that he was too young, and
that should he continue, as it might be expected he
would, to make such rapid advances in his studies, he
would go through the common circle before he would
be capable of taking care of himself, or of being em¬
ployed in any public service.” But these formidable
objections were of no weight with our young scholar:
his love of learning was unconquerable. Insuperable
difficulties, it is true, obstructed the way in which lite¬
rary eminence is usually acquired ; but these difficulties
could neither repress his ardent desire of knowledge,
nor damp the zeal and application that had marked his
former studies. For though his time was daily devoted
to the business of bis father; yet he had so far improved
the hours of leisure, as to be able, before he arrived at
his 19th year, to read all the Greek and Latin authors
that fell in his way. He studied logic, rhetoric, moral
and natural philosophy ; and learnt the Hebrew lan¬
guage so as to read it with ease, without any other as¬
sistance than Buxtorf’s grammar and lexicon.
Neither the pursuit of learning, however, nor the
other necessary avocations incumbent on Mr Gill, could
eradicate those religious impressions received in early
life. On November 1. 1716, he made a public pro¬
fession of his faith before tbe Baptist church at Ketter¬
ing, and was baptized the same day by Mr Thomas
Wallis. Of this church Mr Gill had not been long a
member before he was called to the work of the mini¬
stry : soon after which, he removed to Higham-Ferrers,
with a view to pursue his studies under the direction of
Mr Davis ; but his stay at this place was soon inter¬
rupted by an invitation from London in 1719, to preach
to the Baptist church in Horslydown, over which he
was the same year, being the 22d of his age, ordain¬
ed pastor; which office he sustained upwards of 51
Gill.
years.
Mr Gill had not been long in London, before rabbi¬
nical learning, of which he had before considerable
knowledge, became an object of pursuit. To facilitate
his progress through the intricacies of this labyrinth,
he contracted an acquaintance with one of the most
learned Jewish rabbies. He read the Targums, the
Talmuds, the Rabbot, their ancient commentaries,
the book Zohar, and whatever else of this kind he was
able to procure. Of the oriental languages he made
4 Y 2 himself
G I L
himself a complete master: in short, there was no
branch of knowledge that could either enlarge or enrich
Biblical learning, which, however difficult, was not
attempted and attained : and it may be truly asserted,
that in this fine he had but few equals, and that the
annals of literature do not exhibit a character by whom
be was excelled.
In 1748, Mr Gill published a commentary on the
New Testament, in three volumes folio. The immense
reading and learning discoverable in this arduous work,
attracted the attention of the Marischal College and
University of Aberdeen j and procured for him, with¬
out either his solicitation or his knowledge, a diploma,
creating him doctor in divinity. This intelligence
was communicated to the doctor in the most hand¬
some terms by the professors Osborn and Pollock", who
declared, “ that on account of his knowledge of the
Scriptures, of the Oriental languages, and of Jewish
antiquities, of his learned defence of the Scriptures
against Deists and Infidels, and the reputation gained
by his other works j the university had, without his
privity, unanimously agreed to confer on him the degree
of doctor in divinity.”
Dr Gill’s sentiments, as a divine, were throughout
Calvinistic : “ And perhaps no man (says the Bev.
Mr Toplady, a minister in the church of England)
since the days of Austin, has written so largely in de¬
fence of the system of grace; and certainly no man
has treated that momentous subject in all its branches,
more closely, judiciously, and successfully. What was
said of Edward the Black Prince, that he never fought
a battle which he did not win ; what has been remark¬
ed of the great duke of Marlborough, that he never
undertook a siege which he did not carry; may be
justly accommodated to our great philosopher and di¬
vine ; who, so far as the distinguishing doctrines of the
gospel are concerned, never besieged an error which
he did not force from its strong holds, nor ever en¬
countered an adversary whom he did not baffle and
subdue. His learning and labours, if exceedable,
were exceeded only by the invariable sanctity of his
life and conversation. From his childhood to his en¬
trance on the ministry, and from his entrance on the
ministry to the moment of his dissolution, not one of his
most inveterate opposers was ever able to charge him
with the least shadow of immorality. Himself, no less
than his writings, demonstrated that the doctrine of
grace does not lead to licentiousness. Those who had
the honour and happiness of being admitted into the
number 01 his friends, can go still farther in their testi¬
mony. They know that his moral demeanor was more
than blameless : it was from first to last consistently ex¬
emplary. And indeed an undeviating consistency, both
in his views of evangelical truths, and in his obedience
as a servant of God, was one of those qualities by which
his cast of character was eminently marked. He was in
every respect a burning and a shining light: Burning
with love to God, to truth, and to souls; shining
as an example to believers, in word, in faith, in
purity ; a pattern of good works, and a model of all
holy conversation and godliness ; and while true religion
and sound learning have a single friend remaining in
the British empire, the works and name of Gill will be
precious and revered.”
He died at Camberwell, October 14. 1771, aged 73
G I L
years JO months and 10 days. In 1718, the Doctor Gill
married Mrs Elizabeth Negus ; by whom he had many |)
children, two of whom only survived him. Mrs Gill G^olo.
died in 1764. *
His works are, A Commentary on the Old and New
Testament in 9 vols folio. A Body of Divinity in 3
vols quarto. The Cause of God and Truth, 4 vols 8vo.
A Treatise concerning the Prophecies of the Old Tes¬
tament respecting the Messiah. A Dissertation on the
antiquity of the Hebrew Language, Letters, Vowel
Points, and Accents. Sermons on the Canticles, folio ;
besides a great number of sermons and controversial
pieces on different subjects.
Gill, a measure of capacity, containing a quarter of
an English pint.
GILLS or Branchle of fishes. See Anatomy
Index.
GILLINGHAM, a parish in Dorsetshire, on the
river Stour, near the forest of its own name ; where,
anno 1016, King .Edmund Ironside vanquished the
Danes. It is one of the largest parishes in the county,
being 41 miles in circuit, containing 64,000 acres. It
lies on the borders of Wilts and Somerset, four miles
north-west of Shaftsbury. It has a manufacture of
linen, but the chief produce is grazing and the dairies.
Near it are the traces of an ancient residence of Norman
or Saxon kings, 320 feet long and 240 broad, sur¬
rounded by a rampart of earth. Henry I. resided here,
and King John repaired it at the expence of the coun¬
ty. Edward I. spent his Christmas here in 1270; but
the whole of the materials are removed, and the foun¬
dation of the house only can be traced, which was in
the form of the letter L, in length 180 feet by 80
broad, and the foot of the letter 48 by 40; the area
of the house containing 168,000 square feet. It stood
half a mile from the church, on the road to Shaston,
encompassed by a moat, now dry, in some places nine
feet deep and 20 broad. The rampart appears to have
been 30 feet thick. Here is a free school, a large old
building, and a workhouse, as well as two stone
bridges. In 1694, it received damage of near 4000I.
by a fire. Near it is Gillingham forest, four miles
long and one mile broad. The church is a large an¬
cient fabric.
Gillingham, a parish of Kent, three miles below
Chatham, and on the same side of the Medway. Part
of Chatham dock is in this parish ; and here is a castle
well furnished with guns that commands the river, there
being no less than 170 embrasures for cannon ; which
would stop the progress of any enemy that should hap¬
pen to make way by Sheerness fort, before they could
reach Chatham. Here are also copperas works. At
this place 600 Norman gentlemen, who came over in
the retinue of the two princes Alfred and Edward,
were all barbarously murdered by Earl Godwin. It
was in remote times the property of the archbishop of
Canterbury, who had here an elegant palace, the old
hall of which is now converted into a barn ; it is built
principally of flint, but the windows are filled up with
brick. Near it are the remains of the chapel, &c. and
a great part of the whole of its original outer walls
may be traced.
GILOLO, a large island of the Pacific ocean, ly¬
ing between i° S. Lat. and 2® N. Lat. and between
125° and 128° E. Long. It belongs to the Dutch;
but
[ 724 ]
[ 72$ 1 GIL
lilolo, ^oes n°t produce any of the fine spice?, though it
3i!pin. lies in the neighbourhood of the spice islands. The na-
' tives are fierce and cruel savages.
GILPIN, Bernard, rector of Houghton, distin¬
guished by his extraordinary piety and hospitality, was
descended from an ancient and honourable family in
Westmoreland, and born in 15x7. As he was bred in
the Catholic religion, so he for some time defended it
against the reformers, and at Oxford held a disputation
with Hooper, afterward bishop of Worcester and a mar¬
tyr for the Protestant faith •, but was staggered in ano¬
ther disputation with Peter Martyr, and began seriously
to examine the contested points by the best authorities.
Thus, being presented to the vicarage of Norton in the
diocese of Durham, he soon resigned it, and went
abroad to consult eminent professors on both sides; and
after three years absence returned a little before the
death of Queen Mary, satisfied in the general doctrines
of the reformation. He was kindly received by his
uncle Dr Tonstall, bishop of Durham 5 who soon after
gave him the archdeaconry of Durham, to which the
rectory of Effington was annexed. When repairing to
his parish, though the persecution was then at its height,
he boldly preached against the vices, errors, and cor¬
ruptions of the times, especially in the clergy, on which
a charge consisting of 13 articles was drawn up against
him, and presented in form to the bishop. But Dr
Tonstall found a method of dismissing the cause in such
a manner as to protect his nephew, without endanger¬
ing himself, and soon after presented him to the rich
living of Houghton le Spring. He was a second time
accused to the bishop, and again protected ; when his
enemies, enraged at this second defeat, laid their com¬
plaint before Dr Bonner, bishop of London ; who im¬
mediately gave orders to apprehend him. Upon which
Mr Gilpin bravely prepared for martyrdom j and or¬
dering his house steward to provide him a long garment
that he might make a decent appearance at the stake,
set out for London. Luckily, however, he broke his
leg on the journey •, which protracted his arrival until
the news of the queen’s death freed him from all fur¬
ther apprehensions. Being immediately set at liberty,
he returned to Houghton, where he was received by
his parishioners with the sincerest joy.
Upon the deprivation of the Popish bishops, he was
offered the see of Carlisle, which he declined ; and con¬
fining his attention to his rectory, discharged all the
duties of his function in the most exemplary manner.
To the greatest humanity and courtesy, he added an
unwearied application to the instruction of those under
his care. He was not satisfied with the advice he gave
in public, but used to instruct in private j and brought
his parishioners to come to him with their doubts and
difficulties. He had a most engaging manner towards
those whom he thought well disposed : nay, his very
reproof was so conducted, that it seldom gave offence ;
the becoming gentleness with which it was urged made
it always appear the effect of friendship. Thus, with
unceasing assiduity, did he employ himself in admonish¬
ing the vicious, and engaging the well-intentioned ; by
which means, in a few years, he made a greater change
in his neighbourhood than could well have been
imagined. A remarkable instance, what reformation
a single man may effect, when he hath it earnestly at
heart!
But his hopes were not so much in the present gene- Gilpin,
ration, as in tbs succeeding. It was an easier task, he ——v-"-
found, to prevent vice, than to correct it ; to form the
young to virtue, than to amend the bad habits of the
old. He employed much of his time, therefore, in
endeavouring to improve the minds of the younger part
of his parish j suffering none to grow up in an igno¬
rance of their dutyj but pressing it as the wisest part
to mix religion with their labour, and amidst the cares
of this life to have a constant eye upon the next. He
attended to every thing winch might be of service to
his parishioners. He was very assiduous in preventing
all law suits among them. His hall is said to have
been often thronged with people, who came to him
about their differences. He was not indeed much ac¬
quainted with law but he could decide equitably, and
that satisfied : nor could his sovereign’s commission
have given him more weight than his own character
gave him.
His hospitable manner of living was the admiration
of the whole country. He spent in his family every
fortnight 40 bushels of corn, 20 bushels of malt, and
a whole ox ; besides a proportionable quantity of other
kinds of provision. Strangers and travellers found a
cheerful reception. All were welcome that came ;
and even their beasts had so much care taken of them,
that it was humorously said, “ If a horse was turned
loose in any part of the country, it would immediately
make its way to the rector of Houghton’s.”
Every Sunday, from Michaelmas till Easter, was a
sort of public day with him. During this season he
expected to see all his parishioners and their families.
XH or their reception, he had three tables well covered y
the first was for gentlemen, the second for husbandmen
and farmers, and the third for day labourers. This
piece of hospitality he never omitted, even when losses,
or a scarcity of provision, made its continuance rather
difficult to him. He thought it his duty, and that
was a deciding motive. Even when he was absent from
home, no alteration was made in his family expences j
the poor were fed as usual, and his neighbours enter- •
tained.
But notwithstanding all his painful industry, and the
large scope it had in so extended a parish, Mr Gilpin
thought the sphere of his benevolence yet too confined.
It grieved him extremely to see everywhere, in the pa¬
rishes around him, so great a degree of ignorance and
superstition, occasioned by the shameful neglect of the
pastoral care in the clergy of those parts. These bad
consequences induced him to supply, as far as he could,
what was wanting in others. For this purpose, every
year he used regularly to visit the most neglected pa¬
rishes in Northumberland, Yorkshire, Cheshire, West¬
moreland, and Cumberland ; and that his own parish in
the mean time might not suffer, he was at the expence
of a constant assistant. In each place he staid two or
three days 5 and his method was, to call the people
about him, and lay before them, in as plain a way as
possible, the danger of leading wickeder even careless'
lives ; explaining to them the nature of true religion j
instructing them in the duties they owed to God, their
neighbour, and themselves ; and showing them how
greatly a moral and religious conduct would contribute
to their present as well as future happiness.
As Mr Gilpin had all the warmth of an enthusiast,
though
GIL
[ 7^6 ]
G I L
Gilpin.
though under the direction of a very calm and sober
judgment, he never wanted an audience, even in the
wildest parts; where he roused many to a sense or reli¬
gion, who had contracted the most inveterate habits of
inattention to every thing of a serious nature. And
wherever he came, he used to visit all the gaols and
places of confinement; few in the kingdom having at
that time any appointed minister. And by his labours,
and affectionate manner of behaving, he is said to
have reformed many very abandoned persons in those
places. He would employ his interest likewise for
such criminals whose cases he thought attended with
any hard circumstances, and often procured pardons
for them.
There is a tract of country upon the border or Nor¬
thumberland, called Reads dale and Tine-dale^ of all
barbarous places in the north at that time the most
barbarous. Before the Union, this place was called
the debateable land, as subject by turns to England and
Scotland, and the common theatre where the two na¬
tions were continually acting their bloody scenes. It
was inhabited by a kind of desperate banditti, rendered
fierce and active by constant alarms : they lived by
theft, used to plunder on both sides of the barrier ; and
what they plundered on one, they exposed to sale on
the other; by that means escaping justice. And in
this dreadful country, where no man would even travel
that could help it, Mr Gilpin never failed to spend
some part of every year.
He generally chose the Christmas holidays for his
journey, because he found the people at that season
most disengaged, and most easily assembled. He had
set places for preaching, which were as regularly at¬
tended as the assize towns of a circuit. If he came
where there was a church, he made use of it : if not,
of barns, or any other large building; where great
crowds of people were sure to attend him, some for his
instructions, and others for his charity. This was a
very difficult and laborious employment. The country
was so poor, that what provision he could get, extreme
hunger only could make palatable. The inclemency
of the weather, and the badness of the roads through a
mountainous country, and at that season covered with
snow, exposed him likewise often to great hardships.
Sometimes he was overtaken by the night, the country
being in many places desolate for several miles together,
and obliged to lodge out in the cold. At such times,
we are told, he would make his servant ride about with
his horses, whilst himself on foot used as much exercise
at his age and the fatigues of the preceding day would
permit. All this he cheerfully underwent; esteeming
such services well compensated by the advantages which
he hoped might accrue from them to his uninstructed
fellow creatures.
The disinterested pains he took among these barba¬
rous people, and the good offices he was always ready
to do them, drew from them the warmest and sincerest
expressions of gratitude. Indeed he was little less than
adored among them, and might have brought the whole
country almost to what he pleased. One instance that
is related, shows how greatly he was revered. By the
carelessness of his servants, his horses were one day
stolen. The news was quickly propagated, and every
one expressed the highest indignation at the fact. The
thief was rejoicing over his prize, when, by the report
of the country, he found whose horses he had taken.
Terrified at what he had done, he instantly came trem-
bling back, confessed the fact, returned the horses, and
declared he believed the devil would have seized him
directly, had he carried them off knowing them to
have been Mr Gilpin’s.
We have already taken notice of Mr Gilpin’s un¬
commonly generous and hospitable manner of living.
The value of his rectory was about 400I. a year : an
income, indeed, at that time very considerable, but yet
in appearance very disproportionate to the generous
things he did : indeed, he could not have done them,
unless his frugality had been equal to his generosity.
His friends, therefore, could not but wonder to find
him, amidst his many great and continual expences, en¬
tertain the design of building and endowing a gram¬
mar school ; a design, however, which his exact eco¬
nomy soon enabled him to accomplish, though the ex¬
pence of it amounted to upwards of 500I. His school
was no sooner opened, than it began to flourish ; and
there was so great a resort of young people to it, that
in a little time the town was not able to accommodate
them. He put himself, therefore, to the inconvenience
of fitting up a part of his own house for that purpose,
where he seldom had fewer than 20 or 30 children.
Some of these were the sons of persons of distinction,
whom he boarded at easy rates: but the greater part
were poor children, whom he not only educated, but
clothed and maintained : he was at the expence like¬
wise of boarding in the town many other poor children.
He used to bring several every year from the different
parts where he preached, particularly Reads-dale and
Tine-dale; which places he was at great pains in ci¬
vilizing, and contributed not a little towards rooting
out that barbarism which every year prevailed less
among them.
As to his school, he not only placed able masters in
it, whom he procured from Oxford, but himself like¬
wise constantly inspected it. And, that encouragement
might quicken the application of his boys, he always
took particular notice of the most forward : he would
call them his own scholars, and would send for them
often into his study, and there instruct them himself.
One method used by him to fill his school was a little
singular. Whenever he met a poor boy upon the road,
he would make trial of his capacity by a few questions,
and if he found it such as pleased him, he would pro¬
vide for his education. And besides those whom he
sent from his own school to the universities, and there
wholly maintained, he would likewise give to others,
who were in circumstances to do something for them¬
selves, what farther assistance they needed. By which
means he induced many parents to allow their children
a liberal education, who would otherwise not have done
it. And Mr Gilpin did not think it enough to afford
the means only of an academical education to these
young people, but endeavoured to make it as benefi¬
cial to them as he could. He still considered himself
as their proper guardian ; and seemed to think himsell
bound to the public for their being made useful mem¬
bers of it, as far as it lay in his power to make them
so. With this view he held a punctual correspond¬
ence with their tutors ; and made the youths them¬
selves frequently write to him, and give him an ac¬
count of their studies. So solicitous indeed was he
about
Gilpin,
GIL [ 7
Silpin. about them, knowing the many temptations to which
■—■v——'l their age and situation exposed them, that once every
ether year he generally made a journey to the univer¬
sities to inspect their behaviour. And this uncommon
care was not unrewarded •, for many of his scholars be¬
came ornaments to the church, and exemplary instances
of piety.
To the account that hath been already given of Mr
Gilpin’s hospitality and benevolence, the following par¬
ticulars may be added. Every Thursday throughout
the year, a very large quantity of meat was dressed
wholly for the poor ; and every day they had what
quantity of broth they wanted. Twenty-four of the
poorest were his constant pensioners. Four times in the
year a dinner was provided for them ; when they re¬
ceived from his steward a certain quantity of corn, and
a sum of money : and at Christmas they had always an
ox divided among them.
Whenever he heard of any in distress, whether of
his own parish or any other, he was sure to relieve
them. In his walks abroad, he would frequently bring
home with him poor people, and send them away
clothed as well as fed. He took great pains to inform
himself of the circumstances of his neighbours, that the
modesty of the sufferer might not prevent his relief.
But the money best laid out was, in his opinion, that
which encouraged industry. It was one of his greatest
pleasures to make up the losses of his laborious neigh¬
bours, and prevent their sinking under them. If a poor
man had lost a beast, he would send him another in its
room : or if any farmer had had a bad year, he would
make him an abatement in his tythes. Thus, as far
as he was able, he took'the misfortunes of his parish
upon himself; and, like a true shepherd, exposed him¬
self for his flock. But of all kinds of industrious poor,
he was most forward to assist those who had large fami¬
lies ; such never failed to meet with his bounty, when
they wanted to settle their children in the world.
In the distant parishes where he preached, as well as
in his own neighbourhood, his generosity and benevo¬
lence were continually showing themselves ; particular¬
ly in the desolate parts of Northumberland. “ When
he began his journey,” says an old manuscript life of
him, “ he would have 10 pounds in his purse ; and,
at his coming home, he would be 20 nobles in debt,
which he would always pay within a fortnight af¬
ter.” In the gaols he visited, he was not only care¬
ful to give the prisoners proper instructions, but used
to purchase for them likewise what necessaries they
wanted.
Even upon the public road, he never let slip an op¬
portunity of doing good. He has often been known
to take off his cloak, and give it to a half-naked tra¬
veller: and when he has had scarce money enough in
his pocket to provide himself a dinner, yet would he
give away part of that little, or the whole, if he found
any who seemed to stand in need of it. Of this bene¬
volent temper, the following instance is preserved. One
day returning home he saw in a field several people
crowding together; and judging something more than
ordinary had happened, he rode up, and found that
one of the horses in a team had suddenly dropped
down, which they were endeavouring to raise ; but in
vain, for the horse was dead. The owner of it seemed
much dejected with his misfortune ; and declaring how
'■7 1 GIN
grievous a loss it would be to him, Mr Gilpin bade him Gilpin
not be disheartened : “ I’ll let you have (says he), (J
honest man, that horse of mine,” and pointed to his Cl in giro.
servant’s.—“ Ah ! master (replied the countryman), v 
my pocket will not reach such a beast as that.”
“ Come, come (said Mr Gilpin), take him, take him ;
and when I demand my money, then thou shall pay
me.” J
This worthy and excellent divine, who merited and
obtained the glorious titles of the Father of the Poor,
and the Apostle of the North, died in 1583, in the 66th
year of his age.
GILTHEAD. See Sparus, Ichthyology Index.
GIN. See Geneva.
Gin, in mechanics, a machine for driving piles,
fitted with a windlass and winches at each end, where
eight or nine men heave, and round which a rope is
reeved that goes over the wheel at the top : one end
of this rope is seized to an iron monkey, that hooks
to a beetle, of diflerent weights, according to the piles
they are to drive, being from eight to thirteen hundred
weight; and when hove up to a cross piece, near the
wheel, it unhooks the monkey, and lets the beetle fall
on the upper end of the pile, and forces the same into
the ground : then the monkey’s own weight overhauls
the windlass, in order for its being hooked again to the
beetle.
GINGER, the root of a species of amomum. See
Amomum, Botany Index.
GINGIDIUM, a genus of plants, belonging to the
pentandria class. vSee Botany Index.
GINGIRO, or Zindero, a small territory of Africa,
to the south of Abyssinia ; being separated from it by
the river Zebee, by which it is also almost entirely sur¬
rounded. ffhis river is extremely large, having more
water than the Nile, and being much more rapid ; so
that, during the rainy season, it would be altogether im¬
passable, were it not for the large rocks which are in its
channel. The extreme difficulty which occurs in pas¬
sing this river, however, is the means of preserving the
kingdom of Gingiro, which would otherwise be con¬
quered in a single season by the Galla.
The most remarkable particular with regard to this
kingdom is, that the sovereign is a professed votary of
the devil. “ This superstition (says Mr Bruce) reaches
down all the western side of the continent on the At¬
lantic ocean, in the countries of Congo, Angola, and
Benin. In spite of the firmest foundation in true phi¬
losophy, a traveller, who decides from the information
and investigation of facts, will find it very difficult to
treat these appearances as absolute fictions, or as owing
to the superiority of cunning of one man in overreaching
another. For my own part, I confess, I am equally at
a loss to assign reasons for disbelieving the fiction on
which their pretensions to some preternatural informa¬
tion are founded, as to account for them by the opera¬
tion of ordinary causes.”
In this kingdom every thing is conducted, or pre¬
tended to be conducted, by magic; and all those
slaves, which in other African countries are sold to
Europeans, are here sacrificed to the devil, human
blood being a necessary part in all their accursed so¬
lemnities. “ How' far (says Mr Bruce) this reaches to
the southward, I do not know ; but 1 look upon this
to be the geographical bounds of the reign of the
devil
known,
transiently
G I O [
devil on the north side of the equator in the peninsula
of Africa.” „ ,
With reo-ard to this country, very little farther is
than some of the customs of the people
picked up by the Jesuit missionaries m
Abyssinia. From them we learn, that the kingdom is
hereditary in one family, though it does not regularly
descend to the eldest son, the king being chosen by
the nobles j in which they resemble their neighbours
the Abyssinians. When the king dies, his bouy is
wrapped in a hne cloth, and a cow is killed. Ihe
body so wrapped up is next enclosed in the cow sskin ;
and all the princes of the royal family fly and hide
themselves in the bushes, while those who are intrusteu
with the election enter the thickets, beating about
everywhere as if for game. At last a bird of prey,
called in their language liber, appears, and hovers over
the person destined to be king ; crying and making a
great noise without quitting his station. Ly this
means the person destined to be elected is found out,
eurrounded, as is reported, by lions, tigers, panthers,
and other wild beasts j all which are supposed to be
brought by the power of magic or of the devil.—
After the king is found, he flies upon those who came
in quest of him with great fury, killing and wound¬
ing as many as he can reach, until at last he is dragged
to the throne whether he will or not. One particular
family have the privilege of conducting him to the
throne and if they should not happen to find him at
first, they have a right to take him out of the hands of
those who did so j and thus another battle ensues be¬
fore the vacant throne can be filled. Lastly, Before
he enters his palace, two mfen must be killed ; one at
the foot of a tree by which the house is supported 5
and the other at the threshold of the door, which is
besmeared with the blood of the victim. It is the
particular privilege of one family to afford these vic¬
tims j and so far are they from seeking to avoid this
fate, that they glory in the occasion, and willingly offer
themselves to meet it. This last particular, Mr Bruce
says, he had in Abyssinia from people coming from
Gingiro.
GINGIViE, the gums. See Gums.
GINGLYMUS, in Anatomy, one of the species of
articulation. It is that jointure of the bones where
each bone mutually receives the other •, so that each
bone both receives and is received. See Anatomy
Index.
GINKGO, the Maiden-hair Tree. See Mauri-
tia, Botany Index.
GIN OR A, a genus of plants belonging to the do-
decandria class, and in the natural method ranking
wdth those of which the order is doubtful. See Botany
Index.
GINSENG. See Panax, Botany and Materia
Medica Index.
GIQIA, Flavio, of Amalfi, in the kingdom of
Naples, the celebrated mathematician •, who, from his
knowledge of the magnetic powers, invented the ma¬
riners compass, by which the navigation of the Eu¬
ropeans was extended to the most distant regions of
the globe : before this invention, navigation was con¬
fined to coasting. The king of Naples being a younger
branch of the royal family of France, he marked the
north point with a fleur-de-lis, in compliment to that
3
728 ] G I R
country. It is said the Chinese knew the compass long Gi0;a
before *, be this as it may, the Europeans are indebted p
to Gioia for this invaluable discovery. He flourished Girders,
A. D. 1300. 1—
GIORDANA, Luca. See Jordano.
GIORGIONE, so called from his comely aspect,
was an illustrious Venetian painter, born in 1478. He
received his first instructions from Giovanni Bellino;
but studying afterwards the works of Leonardo da
Vinci, he soon surpassed them both, being the first
among the Lombards who found out the admirable
effects of strong lights and shadows. Titian became
his rival in this art; and was so careful in copying the
life, that he excelled Giorgione in discovering the de¬
licacies of nature, by tempering the boldness of his
colouring. The most valuable piece of Giorgione in
oil is that of Christ carrying his cross, now in the
church of San Rovo in Venice j where it is held in
great veneration. He died of the plague young, in
ijii-
GIRAFFE. See Cervus, Mammalia Index.
GIRALD, Barry, or Giraldus Cambrensis. See
Barry.
GIRALDI, Lilio Gregorio, an ingenious critic,
and one of the most learned men that modern Italy
has produced, was born at Ferrara in 1479. He was
at Rome when it was plundered by the emperor
Charles V. j and having thus lost all he had, and being
tormented by the gout, he struggled through life with
ill fortune and ill health. He wrote, neverthless, 17
performances, which were collected and published at
Basil in 2 vols. folio in 1580, and at Leyden in 1696.
Authors of the first rank have bestowed the highest
eulogies on Giraldus ; particularly Casaubon and
Thuanus.
Giraldi, John Baptist Cintio, an Italian poet of
the same family with the foregoing Lilio, was born
in 1504. He was secretary to the duke of Ferrara,
and afterwards became professor of rhetoric at Pavia.
He died in 1573. His works, which consist chiefly of
tragedies, were collected and published at Venice by
his son Celso Giraldi, in 1583 $ and some scruple not
to rank him among the best tragic writers Italy has
produced.
GIRARDON, Francis, a celebrated French ar¬
chitect and sculptor, born at Troyes in 1627- Louis
XIV. being informed of his great talents, sent him to
Rome with a pension of IOOO crowns. At his return
into France, he laboured for the royal palaces and
the gardens of Versailles and Trianon ; where there
are many of his works executed in bronze and in mar¬
ble, from the designs of Charles le Brun. The mau¬
soleum of Cardinal de Richelieu, in the Sorbonne, and
the equestrian statue of Louis XIV. at the Place de
Vendome, where the statue and horse are cast in one
piece, pass for his most excellent performances. Gi-
rardon was professor, rector, and chancellor, of the
Academy of Painting and Sculpture 5 and had the post
of inspector general of all the works done in sculpture.
He died in 1715.
GIRDERS, in Architecture, the largest pieces of
timber in a floor. Their ends are usually fastened into
the summers, or brest summers ; and the joists are fram¬
ed at one end to the girders.
Bv the statute for rebuilding London, no girder is
to
G I R [ 7
Sliders to ^>e ^ess t^311 te11 indies into the wall, and their ends
j] to be always laid in loam, &r.
rgenti. GIRDLE (Cingulus or Zo?ia'), a belt or band of
leather or other matter, tied about the reins, to keep
that part more firm and tight.
It was anciently the custom for bankrupts and other
insolvent debtors to put oft' and surrender their girdle
in open court. The reason of this was, that our an¬
cestors used to carry all their necessary utensils, as
purse, keys, &c. tied to the girdle; whence the girdle
became a symbol of the state. History relates that
the widow of Philip I. duke of Burgundy, renounced
her right of succession by putting oft' her girdle upon the
duke’s tomb.
The Romans always wore a girdle to tuck up the
tunica when they had occasion to do anything: this
custom was so general, that such as went without
girdles, and let their gowns hang loose, were reputed
idle dissolute persons.
Maiden's or Virgin's Girdle. It was a custom
among the Greeks and Romans for the husband to un¬
tie his bride’s girdle. Homer, lib. xi. of his Odyssey,
calls the girdle irxgfan>ii> maid's girdle. Festus
relates, that it was made of sheep’s wool, and that the
husband untied it in bed ; he adds, that it was tied in
the Herculanean knot; and that the husband unloosed
it, as a happy presage of his having as many children
as Hercules, who at his death left seventy behind him.
The poets attribute to Venus a particular kind of
girdle called cestus, to which they annexed a faculty of
inspiring the passion of love.
GIRGASHITES, or_ Gergesenes, an ancient
people of the land of Canaan, whose habitation was
beyond the sea of Tiberias, w here we find some foot¬
steps of their name in the city of Gergesa, upon the
lake of Tiberias. The Jewish doctors inform us, that
when Joshua first came into the land of Canaan, the
Girgashites took a resolution rather to forsake their
country than submit to the Hebrews, and accordingly
retired into Africa. Nevertheless, it is certain that
a good number of them staid behind, since Joshua
(xxiv. xi.) informs us that he subdued the Girgashites,
and they whom he overcame were certainly on this
side Jordan.
GIRGENTI, a town of Sicily, which occupies part
of the site of the ancient Agrigentum. It has only one
street fit for carriages. It is inhabited by 15,000 per¬
sons; but has no remarkable buildings or works of art
that deserve mention : the only antiquities to be seen
were a Latin inscription of the time of the Antonines,
as is pretended, relative to some association between
Agrigentum and Lilybaeum; and a piece of ancient
masonry in the foundations of a church pretended
to be the remains of a temple of Jupiter. At some
distance, on the old ground in the vale, stands the
cathedral, a clumsy building patched up by barba¬
rous architects with various discordant parts. This
church is enriched with no works of modern paint¬
ers or sculptors that claim any title to praise, but
the baptismal font is made out of an ancient sarcopha¬
gus faced with very beautiful basso relievos. This
see is the richest in Sicily, but has the character of be¬
ing less enlightened and polished than the rest of the
island. Among the curiosities belonging to the cathe¬
dra! is an Etruscan vase of rare size and preservation.
Vol. IX. Part II. f
29 ] G I S
There are also some golden pateras of extreme rarity.
I he monastery of San Nicolo stands on a little emi¬
nence in the centre of the old city, admirably si¬
tuated. The range of hills towards the south-east
sinks gradually, so as to admit a noble reach of sea
and ol plain, terminated 011 each side by thick proves
oi fruit trees. Above appear the remains of ancient
grandeur, wonderfully contrasted with the humble
straw cottages built at their feet. In the orchard of
this convent is a square building with pilasters, which
is supposed to have been part of the palace of the Ro¬
man praetor.
Girgenti has the convenience of a port ; for which,
however, it is less indebted to its natural situation
than to the recent assistance of art. The harbour is
formed by means of a pier carried out in three sides
of an octagon, with a battery at the head ; the light¬
house is to be erected on the cliffs on shore, as there is
no possibility of raising it high enough on the mole
without danger of sinking. The work is admirable as
to strength and neatness, but the intention of creating
a safe and complete haven has not been fully answered ;
the Sirocco commands it entirely, and drives in great
quantities of sand, which it is feared will in time choke
up the port; even now ships of burden find it diffi¬
cult to get in, but the Caricature is considerable, and
the magazines in the rocks along the shore are verv
spacious.
GIRONNE, or Gironny, in Heraldry, a coat of
arms divided into girons, or triangular figures, meeting
in the centre of the shield, and alternately colour and
metal.
GIRT, the situation of a ship which is moored so
strait by her cables, extending from the haivse to two
distant anchors, as to be prevented from swinging or
turning about according to any change of the wind or
tide, to the current of which her head would otherwise
be directed. The cables are extended in this manner,
by a strong application of mechanical powers within
the ship ; so that when she veers, or endeavours to swing
about, her side bears upon one of the cables, which
catches on her heel, and interrupts her in the act of
traversing. In this position she must ride with her
broadside to the wind or current, till one or both of the
cables are slackened.
CISCO, son of Himilco the Carthaginian general,
was banished from Carthage by the influence of his ene¬
mies. Being afterwards recalled, he was made general
in Sicily against the Corinthians, about 309 years be¬
fore the Christian era, and by his success and intrepi¬
dity he obliged the enemies of his country to sue for
peace. See Carthage.
GISBOROUGH, a town of England, in the west
riding of Yorkshire, on the road from Whitby to
Durham, 224 miles from London, and four miles from
the mouth of the Tees, where is .a bay and harbour for
ships. It had formerly an abbey, which w'as once the
common burial place of the nobility of these parts, and
its church by the ruins seems to have been equal to the
best cathedrals in England. The soil, besides its fer¬
tility in pasture and a constm:t verdure adorned with
plenty of field flowers almost all the year, lias earths
of sundry colours, some iron, and mines of alum, which
were first discovered in the reign of King James I.
and have been since very much improved. Sir Paul
4 Z Pindar,
Gii^eiiti
i!
Gisborough
G L A [ 73° ] G L A
. p,ilH|ar who first farmed them, paid rents to the king generally supposed, few of them being parallel to the CLrcr*.
«0UglI2 t0 ti,e parl Musgrave 1640I. and to Sir AVil- central chain; but, stretching mostly in a transverse'—-v—
Glaciers- liam Pe’nniman 6ool. and had moreover 8co men by direction, are bordered at the higher extremity by
w*v—g<ja Hn(| |alld jn constant pay ; yet he was a consider- inaccessible rocks, and at the lower extending into the
able gainer, because there was then scarce any other cultivated valleys. The thickness of the ice varies in
to be^had, and the price was 26k a ton ; but now there different parts. In the glacier des Bois, which extends
are several other alum works in this county, which more than 15 miles in length, and upwards of three in
have taken a great part of the trade from hence ; so breadth, M. Saussure found it generally from 80 to
that the works here have for some years lain neglected. 10G feet ; but he was credibly informed, that in some
Population 1834 in 1811. places it was not less than 600 feet, and even more.
GiTTITH a Hebrew word occurring frequently These vast masses of ice usually rest on an inclined
in the Psalms,’ and generally translated wme presses, plane ; where, being pushed forward by their own
The conjectures of interpreters are various concerning weight, and but weakly supported by the rugged rocks
this word. Some think it signifies a sort of musical in- beneath them, they are intersected by large crevices,
strument; others, that the psalms with this title were and have an appearance of walls, pyramids, &c. accord-
sung after the vintage ; lastly, others, that the hymns ing to the position of the eye in viewing them. In those
of this kind were invented in the city of Gath. Calmet parts, however, where they lie upon even ground, or
is rather of opinion, that it was given to the class of such as has only a gentle inclination, the surface of the
young women or songstresses of Gath to be sung by ice is nearly uniform, the crevices being few and nar-
them Psal. viii. I. Ixxxi. I. Ixxxiv. I. Dr Hammond row, and the glacier being crossed by travellers on foot
thinks that the psalms with this title were all set to the without any difficulty. The surface of the ice is rough
same tune, and made on Goliath the Gittite. and granulated, so that people may walk upon it, ex*
GIULA, a strong town of Upper Hungary, on the cepting such places as have a steep descent. It is
frontiers of Transylvania. It was taken by the Turks opaque, full of small hubbies about the size of a pea,
in 1566, and retaken bv the Imperialists in 1596. It very porous, and greatly resembles a mixture of snow
is seated on the river Keresblan, in E. Long. 21. I. and water congealed. A vast quantity of stones and
N. Lat. 46. 25. earth falls down from the mountains upon the glaciers,
GIUSTANDEL, a large and strong town of Tur- and are by them thrown off on each side according to
key in Europe, and in Macedonia, with a Greek arch- the descent of the ice, as will be afterwards explained,
bishop’s see. It is seated near the lake Ochrida, in E. The place on which these rest is more hard and elevat-
Long. 20. 50. N. Lat. 41. 10. ed than the rest of the ice, and is very difficult to walk
GLACIERS, a name given to some very extensive upon ; the earth is likewise laid upon them in such re¬
fields of ice among the Alps. Mr Coxe observes of gular heaps, that it appears to have been done by art.
these mountains in general, that they are composed of This collection of earths and stones is termed by the
many parallel chains, the highest of which occupy the natives the Moraine.
centre, and the others gradually diminish in proportion Mr Coxe, who visited the glacier des Bois, informs
as we recede from thence. The central chain appears us, that the appearance of it at a distance was so tremen-
covers with pointed rocks ; all parts of which, that dous, that it seemed impracticable to cross it. Nume-
are not absolutely perpendicular, lie hid under perpetual rous and broad chasms intersected it in every direction ;
snow and ice even in summer. On each side of this but entering upon it, the company found that courage
ridge are fertile and cultivated valleys, interspersed with and activity were only required to accomplish the task,
numerous villages, and watered by numerous streams. They had large nails in their shoes, and spiked sticks;
The elevated peaks of the central chain are covered which on this occasion were found to be particularly
with snow : but their declivities, excepting those that serviceable. Having passed the moraine, and descend-
are extremely steep, have all a covering of ice as well ed upon the glacier itself, they found the ice softened
as snow; the intermediate parts being filled with vast by a warm wind which rendered it less slippery than
fields of ice, terminating in the cultivated valleys above usual. Having walked across it for about a quarter ol
mentioned. The same phenomena, though on a smaller an hour, they came again to the moraine, along which
scale, occur in those chains that are at a distance from tjiey continued their journey for half an hour, and then
the principal one : In those which are most remote, entered upon the great body of the glacier. “ Here
no ice, and scarcely any snow, is observed, unless upon (says Mr Coxe) it was curious to observe the numerous
some of the most elevated summits ; and the mountains little rills produced bv the collection of drops occa-
diminishing in height and ruggedness, appear covered sioned by the thawing of the ice on the upper part ol
with verdure, until at last they terminate in small hills the glacier : these little rills hollow out small channels,
and plains. torrent-like, precipitate themselves into the chasms,
Thus the glaciers may be divided into two sorts; with a violent noise, increasing the body of waters form-
one occupying the deep valleys situated in the bosom ed by the melting of the interior surface, and finding
of the Alps, and distinguished by the name of Ice val- an outlet under the immense arch of ice in the valley
leys ; the others are those which clothe the declivities of Chamouni, from which the Arveron rushes.” As
and sides of the mountains. These two kinds of gla- our traveller proceeded on his journey, he was sur-
ciers are distinguished by Mr Coxe into the upper and prised by the noise of a large fragment of rock which
lower glaciers. . had detached itself from one of the highest needles, and
The lower glaciers are by far the most considerable ; bounded from one precipice to another with great ra-
some of them extending several leagues in length, pidity ; but before it reached the plain, it was almost
They do not communicate with each other, as has been, reduced to dust. “ PXaving proceeded about an hour
(says
G L A
(says he) we were astonished with a view more magni¬
ficent than imagination can conceive : hitherto the gla¬
ciers had scarcely answered my expectations, but now
they far surpassed them. Nature had clad herself in all
her terrors. Before us was a valley of ice 20 miles in
extent, bounded by a circular glacier of pure unbroken
snow, named Takul, which leads directly to the foot
of Mount Blanc, and is surrounded by large conical
rocks, terminating in sharp points like the towers on an
ancient fortification ; to the right rose a range of mag¬
nificent peaks, the intervals filled with glaciers ; and
far above the rest, the magnificent summit of Mount
Blanc, his highest point obscured with clouds. He ap¬
peared of such immense magnitude, that, at his pre¬
sence, the circumjacent mountains, however gigantic,
seemed to shrink before him, and hide their diminished
heads. In half an hour we arrived at the moraine,
which forms a boundary of the valley, crossed it, and
proceeded upon a body of ice about three quarters of a
mile broad. Here the ice was more even and free from
chasms than in the great valley. We then passed a se¬
cond moraine, and beyond that another mass of ice to
a third moraine: descending from thence we came upon
the last ridge of ice, broader considerably than the two
former, and full of large chasms: it separated from
the rock only by a very narrow moraine. These mo¬
raines contain great quantities of crystal.”
They continued to ascend the valley of ice, the scene
constantly increasing in magnificence and horror ; and
having walked about five miles on the ice, they arrived
at last at the foot of the eminence named Couvercle%
where they were obliged to quit the ice. The doing
this was extremely dangerous, and at one place very tre¬
mendous. It was a bulging smooth rock, ivith a preci¬
pice of considerable depth terminated by a vast crevice
in the ice, which seemed to stop all further progress $
a small hollow in the middle, however, afforded room
for one foot; and having fixed this, they sprung over to
the other side, being helped and directed by the guides
who went over first. Having gained the top of the
Couvercle, they had a view of three of the glaciers, viz.
that of Talefre to the left PEchaut, in front, and Ta-
ki/l on the right; all uniting in that great one called
the Glacier de Bois. The Couvercle itself is a most ex¬
traordinary rock, having the appearance of a large ir¬
regular building with many sides ; the substance of
which is granite. Having reached the top, they were
surprised with a thunder storm, from which they took
shelter under an impending rock. The view was ex¬
ceedingly magnificent; the glaciers appearing like a
rugged expanse of frozen sea bounded by gigantic rocks,
and terminated by Mount Blanc. A single rock ap¬
peared of a triangular figure covered with Alpine plants;
and which by reason of its contrast with the rugged and
snowy mountains in the neighbourhood, has obtained
the name of the Garden. During this, as well as other
excursions among the Alps, Mr Coxe had occasion to
observe that the colour of the sky was of a much deeper
blue than in the lower regions.
The upper glaciers may be subdivided into those
which cover the summits, and those which extend along
the sides of the Alps. Those on the very summit, how¬
ever, though they have the appearance of ice, are not
so in reality, but consist entirely of snow hardened by
the extreme cold. M. Saussure found that which co¬
[ 731 3
G L A
vered the top of Mount Blanc to be penetrable, though
with difficulty, by a stick; but below this hard crust
was a soft snow without coherence. The sides are co¬
vered with a mixture of ice and snow ; by reason of the
superior power of the summer sun to dissolve the snow,
which afterwards congeals into hard ice.
Several conjectures have been made concerning tbe
formation of these extraordinary bodies of ice. Mr
Coxe agrees with M. Gruner in opinion, that they are
produced by the continual dissolution of the snow in
summer, and its congelation by the succeeding frosts.
Hence, on the summits of the mountains where the sun
has very little power, the glacier is soft, and contains
no ice : as we descend the mountains the consistence
becomes firmer, because there is a considerable mixture
of snow water, the congelation of which augments the
hardness; and in the valleys, the glacier is hardest of
all, because the portion of water is there much superior
to that of the snow. Hence it seems plain that the
glaciers derive their origin from the melting of the snow
on the upper parts of the mountains, and the congela¬
tion of the water as it advances : and to this cause
M. Saussure adds the quantity of snow which often
rolls down into the valleys, and congeals along with the
water just mentioned.
Another question concerning the glaciers naturally
occurs, namely, Whether they are to be considered as
in a state of increase or diminution ? Mr Coxe is of opi¬
nion, that they occasionally increase and decrease ; in
proof of which he adduces the following observation :
“ The borders of the glacier of Montanvert are mostly
skirted with trees: towards its base a vast arch of ice
rises to near 100 feet in height; under which the river
Arveron rushes with considerable force, and in a large
body of water. As we approached the ice, we passed
through a wood of firs: those trees which stand at a
little distance from the arch are about 80 feet high,
and are undoubtedly of a very great age. Between
these and the glacier the trees are of a later growth ; as
is evident from their texture and inferior size. Others,
still smaller, have been overturned and enveloped in the
ice : there seems to be a kind of regular gradation m
the age of these several trees, from the largest which
are standing to the smallest that lie prostrate.”—Hence
our author concludes, that the glacier once extended
as far as the row of small firs; but that upon its gra¬
dual dissolution, a number of trees shot up on the spot
it had occupied ; since which time the ice has again ad¬
vanced, and overturned the last grown trees before they
had attained to any considerable height.—This he
thinks also confirmed by the following fact.—“ Large
stones of granite are usually found at a small distance
from the extremities of the glacier. These stones have
certainly fallen from the mountains upon the ice ; have
been carried on in its progress; and have tumbled into
the plain upon the dissolution or sinking of the ice which
supported them. These stones, which the natives call
Moraine, form a kind of border towards the foot of the
valley of ice, and have been pushed forward by the gla¬
cier in its advances : they extend even to the place oc¬
cupied by the larger pines.”
In opposition to those who maintain that there is a
constant accumulation of ice and snow in the Alpine
regions, our author makes the following remarks:
I. Between the years 1776 and 1785 the glacier of
4 Z 2 Grindelevald
GIhc
G L A
Grlndelevald had diminished to sue!) a degree, that the
spot which its extremity occupied in the former year,
was at least 400 paeps from that occupied by it in the
latter. 2. In the year 1785 the Murailles de Glace,
which in 1776 he had described as forming the border
of the glacier of Bosson no longer existed ; and young
trees had shot up in the parts which were then covered
by the glacier of Montanvert. Still, however, it may
be urged, that these changes only take place in the
valleys where the power of the sun is considerable ;
and "that from thence we cannot form any adequate
idea of what passes in the more elevated regions, where
in all probability more snow falls than can be dissolved.
In support of tins opinion, it is alleged, that the cold
produced by the mass of ice already formed ought to
augment it still more; and that within the memory of
the present generation, many places have been covered
with ice which were not so before. To these argu¬
ments, however, Mr Coxe replies, that the causes,
which diminish the ice in the upper regions, are no
less powerful than the cold which tends to augment
it. These are, I. Rain or sleet ; which falling upon
the lower glaciers, thaw the ice, increase the rills on
its surface, excavate channels, and in many ways tend
to diminish its quantity. 2. Evaporation, which takes
place even from the surface of the ice itself, acts still
more powerfully ; and its action is not confined to any
particular season. 3. The falling of the snow and
ice ; both that which comes gradually from the
clouds ; and that which descends from the mountains in
great masses, called by tbe natives avalanches. When
these last fall down into milder regions, though some¬
times they may resist the influence of the sun and
form ice valleys, yet they generally dissolve. They
are most common in the upper glaciers, though some¬
times they descend upon the lower, while the gradual
descent of snow from the clouds, which chiefly takes
place in the lower, contributes very much to lessen the
mass. 4. All the lower glaciers or valleys of ice rest
on an inclined plane, are hollow, and undermined by
torrents which are constantly flowing from the upper
glaciers, as well as from their own lowermost surface.
Their foundation being thus constantly diminishing,,
the lower glaciers are carried imperceptibly forward in¬
to the cultivated fields, where an end is necessarily put
to their progress by tbe heat of the sun. Hence we
may see the reason of that strange phenomenon taken
notice of by Mr Coxe, that with one hand he could
touch ripe corn, and with the other solid ice. This
descent of the glacier is demonstrable from tbe trees
overturned by it, and the moraine always observed at
the bottom of the lower glaciers. 5. The beat of the
sun is an evident cause of the diminution of the gla¬
ciers. To this Mr Coxe adds another cause less gene¬
rally known, viz. the warm winds which blow by night
as well as by day hot!) in the upper and lower glaciers.
“ These warm winds (says he) are during summer so
common in those parts, that I never crossed a glacier
without feeling in some particular positions a warmth
similar to the air of a hot bath.” 6. Another cause
is the mean temperature of the earth itself; which,
where it is not exposed to the piercing cold of the at¬
mosphere, is found to have a temperature always above
the freezing point. As the vast thickness of the su-
jsrincumbent ice, therefore, is in the present case abun-
G L A
dantly sufficient to prevent the access of the atmo- Glacitrn
sphere, it is plain that the lower surface of it must, by |)
being in contact with the earth, continually decay Gladiator;
With regard to the other argument drawn from the
known increase of the ice in some places, Mr Coxe
does not deny it; but insists, that there is no continual
increase of the whole, but that if it increases in some
places, it diminishes in others ; and his opinion in this
respect was confirmed by those who frequent the
mountains.
GLACIS, in building, an easy insensible slope or
declivity.
The descent of the glacis is less steep than that of the
talus. In gardening, a descent sometimes begins in ta¬
lus, and ends in glacis.
The glacis of the corniche, is an easy imperceptible
slope in the cymatium, to promote the descent and drain¬
ing oil the rain water.
Glacis, in Foj'tification, that mass of earth which
serves as a parapet to the covered way, sloping easily
towards the champaign or field.
GLADE, in Gardening and Agriculture, an opening
and light passage made through a wood, by lopping off
the branches or trees along that way.
GLADIATORS, in antiquity, persons who fought,
generally in the arena at Rome, for the entertainment
of the people,
The gladiators were usually slaves, and fought out of
necessity ; though sometimes freemen made profession,
thereof, like our prize-fighters, for a livelihood.
The Romans borrowed this cruel diversion from the
Asiatics : some suppose that there was policy in the
practice, the frequent combats of gladiators tending to
accustom tbe people to despise dangers and death.
The origin of such combats seems to be as follows :
From the earliest times with which we have any ae-*
quaintance in profane history, it had been the custom to
sacrifice captives, or prisoners of war, to the manes of
the great men who had died in the engagement ; thus
Achilles, in the Iliad, lib. xxiii. sacrifices twelve young
Trojans to tbe manes of Patroclus ; and in Virgil, lib.
xi. ver. 81. iEneas sends captives to Evander, to be
sacrificed at tbe funeral of his son Pallas.
In course of time they came also to sacrifice slaves at
tbe funerals of all persons of condition : this was even
esteemed a necessary part of the ceremony ; but as it
would have appeared barbarous to have massacred them
like beasts, they were appointed to fight with eash<
other, and endeavour to save their own lives by killing
their adversary. This seemed somewhat less inhuman,
because there was a possibility of avoiding death, by an
exertion of skill and courage.
This occasioned the profession of gladiator to become
an art: hence arose masters of the art, and men learned
to fight and exercise. These masters, whom the Latins
called lanistce, bought them slaves to be trained up to
this cruel trade, whom they afterwards sold to such as
had occasion to present the people with so horrible a
show.
These exhibitions were at first performed near the se¬
pulchre of the deceased, or about the funeral pile ; but
were afterwards removed to the circus and amphithea¬
tres, and became ordinary amusements.
The firstshowof gladiators, called munus gladiator Him,
Was exhibited at Rome, according to Valerius Maximus,
by
[ 732 1
G L A [ 7
Viators, by M. and D. Brntu<5, upon the death of their father, in
.-Y—^ the year of the city 490. On this occasion there were
probably only three pair of gladiators. In 537 the three
sons of M. iEmilius Lepidus the augur, who had been
three times consul, entertained the people with the cruel
pleasure of seeing 22 gladiators fight in the forum. In
547, the first Africanus diverted his army at New Car¬
thage with a show of gladiators, which he exhibited in
honour of his father and uncle, who had begun the re¬
duction of Spain. In process of time, the Homans
became so fond of these bloody entertainments, that
not only the heir of any great and rich citizen lately
deceased, but all the principal magistrates, presented
the people with shows of this nature, to procure their
affection. The sediles, praetors, consuls, and, above
all, the candidates for offices, made their court to the
people, by entertaining them frequently with these
fights: and the priests were sometimes the exhibitors
of the barbarous shows j for we meet with the ludi pon-
tificales in Suetonius, August, cap. 44. and with the
ludi sacerdotales, in Pliny, Epist. lib. vii. As for the
emperors, it was so much their interest to ingratiate
themselves with the populace, that they obliged them
with combats of gladiators almost upon all occasions 5
and as these increased, the number of combatants in¬
creased likewise. Accordingly, Julius Caesar, in his
oedileship, diverted the people with 320 couple. Titus
exhibited a show of gladiators, wild beasts, and repre¬
sentations of sea fights, which lasted 100 days; and
Trajan continued a solemnity of this nature for 123
days ; during which time he brought out 1000 pair of
gladiators. Before this time, under the republic, the
number of gladiators was so great, that when the con¬
spiracy of Catiline broke out, the senate ordered them
to be dispersed into the garrisons and secured, lest they
should have joined the disaffected party. See Gladia¬
tors War.
These sports were become so common, and their
consequences in a variety of respects so dangerous,
that Cicero preferred a law that no. person should ex¬
hibit a show of gladiators within two years before he
appeared candidate for any office. Julius Caesar order¬
ed, that only a certain number of men of this profes¬
sion should be in Rome at a time ; Augustus decreed,
that only two shows of gladiators should be presented
in a year, and never above sixty couple of combatants
in a show ; and Tiberius provided by an order of se¬
nate, that no person should have the privilege of gra¬
tifying the people with such a solemnity unless he was
worth 400,000 sesterces. They were also considerably
regulated by Nerva.
The emperor Claudius restrained them to certain
occasions ; but he soon afterwards annulled what be
decreed, and private persons began to exhibit them
at pleasure a's usual ; and some carried the brutal satis¬
faction so far as to have them at their ordinary feasts.
And not slaves only, but other persons, would Lire
themselves to this infamous office.
The master of the gladiators made them all first swear
that they would fight to death ; and, if they failed, they
were put to death either by fire, or swords, clubs, whips,
or the like.
It was a crime for the wretches to complain when
they were wounded, or to ask for death or seek to
avoid it when overcome ; but it was usual for the em-
33 ] G L A
pei or or the people to grant them life when they gave Gladiator?
no signs of fear, but waited the fatal stroke with con-
rage and intrepidity: Augustus even decreed that it
should always be granted them.
Irom slaves and freemen the inhuman sport at
length spread to people of rank and condition ; so that
Augustus was obliged to issue a public edict that none
of the senatorian order should become gladiators ; and
soon after he laid the same constraint on the knights:
nevertheless Nero is related to have brought upwards
of 400 senators and 600 Roman knights upon the
arena; though Lipsius takes both these numbers to be
falsified, and not without reason reduces them to 40
senators and 60 knights : yet JJomitian, that other
monster of cruelty, refined upon Nero, exhibiting gom-
bats of women in the night time.
Constantine the Great is said to have first prohibited
the combats of gladiators in the East. At least be for¬
bade those who were condemned to death for their
crimes to he employed; there being an order still ex¬
tant to the prczfcctus rather to send them to
work in the mines in lieu thereof; it is dated at Bery-
tus in Phosnicia, the first of October 325.
The emperor Honorius forbade them at Rome on oc¬
casion of the death of Telemachus, who coming out
of the East into Rome at the time of one of these spec¬
tacles, went down into the arena, and used all his en¬
deavours to prevent the gladiators from continuing the
sport ; upon which the spectators of that carnage, fired
with anger, stoned him to death. It must be observed,
however, that the practice was not entirely abolished,
in the West before Theodoric king of the Ostrogoths.
Honorius, on the occasion first mentioned,had prohibited
them ; but the prohibition does not seem to have been
executed. Theodoric, in the year cco, abolished them
finally.
Borne time before the day of combat, the person who
presented the people with the shows gave them notice
thereof by programmas or bills, containing the names
of the gladiators, and the marks whereby they were
to be distinguished : for each had his several badge ;
which was most commonly a peacock’s feather, as
appears from the scholiast of Juvenal on the 158th
verse of the third satire, and Turnebus Advers. lib. ii.
cap. 8. They also gave notice how long the shows
would last, and how many couples of gladiators there
were ; and it even appears, from the 52d verse of the
seventh satire of the second book of Horace, that they
sometimes made representations of these things in paint-*
ing, as is practised among us by those who have any
thing to show at fairs.
The day being come, they began the entertainment
by bringing tv?o kinds of weapons ; the first were
staves or wooden foils, called rudes; and the second
were effective weapons, as swords, poniards, &c.
The first were called anna lusorta, or exercitoria ; the
second decretoria, as being given by decree or sentence
of the prostor, or of him at whose expence the spec¬
tacle was exhibited. They began to fence or skir¬
mish with the first, which was to be the prelude
to the battle ; and from these, when well warmed,,
they advanced to the second at the sound of the
trumpets, with which they fought naked. Then
they were said vertere arma. The terms of striking
were petere et repet ere ; of avoiding a blow, exire ;
and. ■
G L A [ 734 ] G L A
and when one of the combatants received a remark¬
able wound, his adversary or the people cried out,
Habet, or Hoc luibet. The first part of the engagement
was called ventilate, prceludere ; and the second dimi-
care ad cerium, or vcrsis armts pugnare : and some
authors think, with much probability, that it is to these
two kinds of combat that St Paul alludes in the passage
l Cor. ix. 26, 27. “ I fight not as one that beateth
the air •, but I keep my body, and bring it into subjec¬
tion.”
If the vanquished surrendered his arms, it was not
in the victor’s power to grant him life j it was the
people during the time of the republic, and the prince
or people during the time of the empire, ^ that were
alone empowered to grant the boon. The reward
of the conqueror was a branch of palm tree, and
a sum of money, probably collected among the spec¬
tators : sometimes they gave him his conge, or dis¬
missed him by putting one of the wooden foils or
rudes in his hand ; and sometimes they even gave
him his freedom, putting the pilaeus on his head.
The sign or indication, whereby the spectators show¬
ed that they granted the favour, was premere polltcem,
which M. Dacier takes to be a clenching of the fingers
of both hands between one another, and so holding
the two thumbs upright close together j and, when
they would have the combat finished and the vanquish¬
ed slain, verterunt pollicem, they bent back the thumb $
which we learn from Juvenal, Sat. iii. ver. 36. The
gladiators challenged or defied each other, by show¬
ing the little finger ; and, by extending this, or some
other, during the combat, they owned themselves van¬
quished, and begged mercy from the people : Victi os-
tensam digiti veniam a populo postulabant, says the old
scholiast on Persius.
There were various kinds of gladiators, distinguished
by their weapons, manner, and time of fighting, &c.
as, The andabatce, mentioned under Andabat^e. The
catervarii, who always fought in troops or companies,
number against number j or, according to others, who
fought promiscuously, without any certain order. The
dimachce, who fought armed with two poniards or swords,
or with sword and dagger. The es.iedarii, who fought
in cars. The Jiscales, or Ccesariani, who belonged to
the emperor’s company ; and who, being more robust
and dexterous than the rest, were frequently called
for, and therefore named also postulatitii. Several
other kinds are mentioned in the ancient authors.
Gladiators Jfrrir {bellum Gladiatorium or Sparta-
cum'), called also the servile war, was a war which the
Romans sustained about the year of their city 680.
Spartacus, Crinus, and Oenomaus, having escaped, with
other gladiators to the number of seventy-four, out
of the place where they had been kept at Capua, ga¬
thered together a body of slaves, put themselves at
th elr head, rendered themselves masters of all Campa¬
nia, and gained several victories over the Roman prae¬
tors. At length they were defeated in the year 862,
at the extremity of Italy j having, in vain, attempted
to pass over into Sicily.
This war proved very formidable to the Romans.
Crassus was not able to finish it: the great Pompey
was forced to be sent as general.
The Dying Gladiator, a most valuable monument
of ancient sculpture, which is now preserved in the pa¬
lace of Chighi. This man, when he had received the Gladim
mortal stroke, is particularly careful tit procumbat ho- y 1
neste, “ that he might fall honourably.” He is seated GhmtJ
in a reclining posture on the ground, and has just
strength sufficient to support himself on his right arm:
and in his expiring moments it is plainly seen, that he
does not abandon himself to grief and dejection ; but is
solicitous to maintain that firmness of aspect which the
gladiators valued themselves on preserving in this sea¬
son of distress, and that attitude which they had learnt
of the masters of defence. He fears not death, nor
seems to betray any tokens of fear by his countenance,
nor to shed one tear : quis mediocris gladiator ingcmuii,
quis vultum mutavit unquam, quis non modo stctit, ve-
rum etiam decubit turpiter, says Cicero, in that part
of his Tusculan where he is describing the astonishing
firmness of those persons. We see, in this instance,
notwithstanding his remaining strength, that he has but
a moment to live ; and we view him with attention,
that we may see him expire and fall: thus the ancients
knew how to animate marble, and give it almost every
expression of life.
GLADIOLUS, Corn Flag, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the triandria class, and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the sixth order, Ensatce. See Bo¬
tany Index.
GLAIR of eggs, is the same as the white of eggs,
and is used as a varnish for preserving paintings. For
this purpose it is beat to an unctuous consistence, and
commonly mixed with a little brandy or spirit of wine,
to make it work more freely, and with a lump of su¬
gar to give it body and prevent its cracking: and then
spread over the picture or painting with a brush.
GLAMORGANSHIRE, a county of South Wales,
said to have derived its name from a contraction of
the Welsh words Gwald Morgan, or “ the county of
Morgan,” and supposed to have been thus called from
a prince of this part of the country, said to have
been killed 800 years before the birth of our Sa¬
viour : but some other writers derive the name from
the word Mor, which in the British tongue signifies
the sea ; this being a maritime county. It is bounded
on the south and part of the west, by Bristol chan¬
nel ; on the north-west, by Caermarthenshire j on the
north by Brecknockshire j and on the east, by Mon¬
mouthshire. It extends 48 miles in length from east
to west, 27 in breadth from north to south, and is
116 in circumference. It is divided into 10 hun¬
dreds, in which are one city, 7 market towns, 118 pa¬
rishes, 17,758 houses, and, in 1811,85,067 inhabitants.
It is in the diocese of Llandaff. This county, in the
time of the Romans, was part of the district inhabited
by the Silures, and had several Roman stations. Thus
Boverton, a few miles to the south of Cowbridge, is
supposed to be the Bovium of Antoninus : Neath to be
his Nidum j and Loghor, to the west of Swansey, to
be his Leucarum. The principal rivers of this county
are the Rhymny, the Taft', the Ogmore, the Avon,
the Cledaugh, and the Tave. The air, in the south
part, towards the sea, is temperate and healthful; but
the northern part, which is mountainous, is cold and
piercing, full of thick woods, extremely barren, and
thin of inhabitants. The mountains, however^ serve
to feed herds of cattle, and send forth streams which
add greatly to the fertility of the other parts of the
county :
if.
'uil’ti
laris.
C L A [
iiwr»an-county : they have likewise coal and lead ore. The
south part is so remarkably fertile, pleasant, and po¬
pulous, that it is generally styled the garden of Wales ;
, but it has no manufacture. This county was former¬
ly full of castles, most of which are now fallen to de¬
cay. It has many small harbours on the coast for
exporting coals and provisions. Of the former it
sends large quantities both to England and Ireland ;
hut of the latter, to England almost solely, especially
butter. It sends two members to parliament, one for
the shire, and one for the borough of Cardiff the capi¬
tal. See Glamorganshire, Supplement.
GLAMOUR, or Glamer, an old term of popu¬
lar superstition in Scotland, denoting a kind of ma¬
gical mist believed to be raised by sorcerers, and which
deluded their spectators with visions of things which
had no real existence, altered the appearance of those
which really did exist, &c.—The eastern nations have
a similar superstition, as we mav learn from the Ara¬
bian Nights Entertainments and other works of oriental
fiction.
GLAND, in Anatomy. See Anatomy Index.
GLANDERS. See Farriery Index.
GLANDORE, a town of Ireland, situated in the
county of Cork and province of Munster, near the har¬
bour of that name.
Glandore Harbour, situated two leagues west of the
Galley-head in the county of Cork, province of Mun¬
ster, N. Lat. 51. 23. W. Long. 8. 56. Between this
harbour and Ross the coast continues high and bold,
with only two small coves ; that to the east called
MU leave, and that to the west Cowcove. This harbour
lies three miles west of Ross j and though small, is an
exceeding good one near it is a castle of the same
name, and on the upper end is a deep and dangerous
glin, called the Leap. Glandore gives title of earl to
the family of Crosbie.
GLANDUL7E Renales. See Anatomy Index.
GLANS, in Anatomy, the tip or button of the penis,
or that part covered with the prepuce, called also bala-
nus. See Anatomy Index.
Glans is also used to denote the tip or extremity of
the clitoris, from its resemblance, both in form and use,
to that of the penis. See Anatomy Index.
GLANVIL, Joseph, a learned and ingenious, but
fanciful and credulous, writer in the 17th century, was
born at Plymouth in 1636, and bred at Oxford. He
became a great admirer of Mr Baxter, and a zealous
person for a commonwealth. After the Restoration, he
published The Vanity of Dogmatizing j was chosen a
fellow of the Royal Society j and, taking orders in
1662, was presented to the vicarage of Frome-Selwood
in Somersetshire. The same year he published his
Lux Orientalis: in 1665, his Scepsis Scientifica; and
in the year following, Some Philosophical Considerations
touching the being of Witches and Witchcraft, and other
pieces on the same subject. In 1660, he published
Plus ultra; or, The Progress and Advancement of
Knowledge since the Days of Aristotle. He likewise
published A seasonable Recommendation and Defence
of Reason ; and Philosophia Pta, or A Discourse of
the Religious Temper and Tendencies of the Experi¬
mental Philosophy. In 1678 he was made a prebendary
of Worcester, and died in 1680.
CLARIS, one of the cantons of Swisserland, i».
3
735 ] G L A
bounded on the east, partly by the Grisons, and partly Glari*,
by the territory of Sargans 5 on the north, by the baili- Glasgow.
wick of Caster, and by the lake Walilestalt 5 on the' 
east, by the canton ofSchwits; and on the south, by
part of the canton of Uri, and part of the league of the
Grisons. It is a mountainous country, and contains
about 20,000 inhabitants.
Claris, a town of Swisserland, capital of the canton
of the same name, is seated in a plain, at the foot of
high craggy mountains. The streets are large, and the
houses kept in good repair. It has some public build-
ings 5 among which are two churches, one in the mid¬
dle of the town, and the other without upon an emi¬
nence. In this eminence there is a cavern, with gro¬
tesque figures formed by the water that drops therein.
I he general assemblies of the country were formerly
held on the first Sundays in May, where all the males
above the age of sixteen were obliged to appear. Both
the Calvinists and the Roman Catholics are tolerated in
this town, and they have divine service by turns in the
same church. It is seated on the river Lint, E. Long.
9. 13. N. Lat. 47. 6. Population about 2500.
GLASGOW, a large city of Lanerkshire or Clydes¬
dale in Scotland, situated in W. Long. 4. 16. N. Lat.
J5* 52‘
Concerning the foundation of this city we have no
authentic records. The word in the Gaelic language
signifies & gray smith; from whence it has been infer¬
red, that some spot in the most ancient part of the city
was originally the residence of some blacksmith who had
become eminent in his profession, so that the place went
by his name. ,
In the year 560, a bishopric is said to have been Eishopiic of
founded here by Saint Mungo, or Kentigern, suppos-Glasg°w’
ed to be the son of Thamates, daughter of Loth king^^j ^
of the Piets; but in what state the town at that time °in<C
was, is altogether uncertain. . Must probably the priests
and disciples who attended St Kentigern would con¬
tribute considerably towards its advancement; the aged
and infirm, who were unfit for the purposes of war, or
such as were religiously inclined, would come and settle
round the habitation of the holy man, in order to have
the benefit of his prayers; and as a number of mira¬
cles were said to have been wrought at his tomb, the
same causes would still contribute to the increase of the
town.
History has not informed us of the name of the
prince who founded and endowed the bishopric of Glas¬
gow in favour of St Kentigern. But from an abstract
of the life of Kentigern (contained in Mr Innes’s Cri¬
tical Essay on the Ancient Inhabitants of Scotland),
which was written in the 12th century, we learn, that
the saint being ill,used by Marken or Marcus, one of
the kings of the Britons, retired into Wales. On the
invitation of Roderio, however, one of Marken’s succes¬
sors, he returned to Glasgow, and enjoyed the see till
601, when he died. He was buried in the church of
Glasgow, where his monument is still to be seen ; and
we find him marked among the saints in the Roman ka-
lendar, January 13. 577.
The immediate successors of Kentigern were Bal-
drede. and Comval. The first established a religious
house at Inchinnan ; the second went into Lothian to
preach to the Saxons ; and both of them are ranked as
saints in the, Roman kalendar, Baldrede on the 6th of
March , 1
GUisgflvv.
G L A [
March 608, and Conwai on the 18th of May
we have no
Barbarity
of the peo¬
ple in the
time of
David i.
Glasgow
erected
From this time, however, till the IH5»
distinct accounts concerning the city or bishopric ot
Glasgow. We find then, that David I. king of Scot¬
land made an attempt to retrieve the people from a
state of gross barbarity into which they were fallen,
and restored to the church those Isnds of which she had
been robbed. The only account we have of the trans¬
actions with regard to Glasgow, during that period, is
in the inquisition made by David concerning the
church lands of Glasgow, and is as follows.—“ Ibis
church, by the divine appointment, admitted St Ken-
tigern into the bishopric, who furnished large draughts
of” knowledge to those thirsting after heavenly things,
Sec. But a fraudulent destroyer, employing his common
wiles, brought in, after a long series ol time, unac¬
countable scandals into the Cumbrian church. 1 01 al¬
ter St Kentigern and many of his successors were re¬
moved to heaven, various disturbances every where aris¬
ing, not only destroyed the church and her possessions,
but, wasting the whole country, drove the inhabitants
into exile. These good men being destroyed, various
tribes of difi’erent nations flocking in from several
quarters, possessed the foresaid deserted country ; but
being of diflerent origins, and varying from each
other in their language and customs, and not easily
agreeing among themselves, they followed the manners
of the Gentiles, rather than those of the true faith.
The inhabitants of which unhappy and abandoned
country, though living like brutes, the Lord, who
chooses that none should perish, vouchsafed to visit in
mercy,” &c.
From the vear 1116 to the Reformation, the records
of the bishopric are tolerably complete. The most re¬
markable particulars furnished by them are the follow¬
ing.
In 1136, John Achaius, chosen bishop of Glasgow
by David I. built and adorned a part of the cathedral,
which he solemnly consecrated on the pth of July. The
king was present at the ceremony 5 and bestowed on the
church the lands of Perdeyk, now Patrick. This pre¬
late also divided the diocese into the two archdeanries
of Glasgow and Teviotdale j and established the offices
of dean, subdean, chancellor, treasurer, sacrist, chan-
tor, and successor 5 and settled a prebendary upon
each of them, out of the donatives he received from the
king.
In 1174, Joceline, abbot of Melrose, wras elected
bishop, and consecrated by Eskilus, bishop of Lunden
in Denmark, the pope’s legate for that kingdom, on
the 1st ot June U75- He rebuilt the cathedral, or
rather made an addition to the church already built by
John Achaius. He also procured a charter from Wil¬
liam king of Scotland, erecting Glasgow7 into a royal
borough, and likewise a charter for a fair to be held
borou'd.0'a there annually for eight days.
In 1335, John Lindsay, bishop of Glasgow, was
killed in an engagement at sea with the English, as he
was returning home from Flanders. His successor,
William Ilae, built the stone bridge over the Clyde.
In the time of Matthew Glendoning, who was elected
bishop in 1387, the great spire of the church, which
had been built only of wood, was consumed by light¬
ning. The bishetp intented to have built another of
stone : but was prevented by death, in 1408, from ac-
736 ] G; L A
612. complishing his purpose. His successor, William Lau- GIa*£0J
der, laid the foundation of the vestry of the cathedral, -y-—,
and built the great tower of stone as far as the first
battlement. The great tower of the episcopal palace
was founded about the year 1437, on which Bishop
Cameron expended a great deal of money. 4
In 1447, William Turnbull, a son of the family of<^as8;o'y
Bedrule in Roxburghshire, was chosen bishop.
obtained from King James II. in 1450, a charter erect-aj^j^ 1
ing the town and the patrimony of the bishops intouniversh
a regality. He also procured a bull from Pope Ni-b|H»dci
cbolas V. for erecting an university within the city,
which he endowed, and on which he also bestowed
many privileges. He died in I454> leaving behind
him a most excellent character. The establishment
of the college contributed more than any thing that
had been formerly done towards the enlargement of
the town. Before this time the town seems to have
been inconsiderable. Mr Gibson* is of opinion, that* o/l
the number of its inhabitants did not exceed 1500. GiatSou,
But though the establishment of the university greatly 74’
increased the number of inhabitants, it in fact destroyed .
the freedom of the town. Bishop Turnbull seems to Winch de-
have made a point of it with King James II. that thestroys the
city of Glasgow, with the bishop’s forest, should be^eedoDi0i
erected into a regality in liis favour j which was accord-
ingly done at the time above mentioned ; and this at
once took away all power from the citizens, and trans¬
ferred it to the bishop. As the powers of the bishop,
however, were reckoned by Turnbull insufficient to con¬
vey to the members of the university all that freedom
which he wished to bestow upon them, he therefore ob¬
tained from the king a great many privileges for them ;
and afterwards he himself, with the consent of his
chapter, granted them many more. ,
The good effects of the establishment of the collegep0pU]aljon
were very soon obvious in Glasgow. The number ofofGlasgov
inhabitants increased exceedingly; the high street,*nCTeased.
from the convent of the Black Fiiars, to where the1)yt^enDI
cross is now placed, was very soon filled up ; the ancient
road which led to the common being too far distant
for the conveniency of the new inhabitants, the Gal¬
lows-gate began to be. built. Soon after, the collegiate
church of the blessed Mary (now the Tron church) be¬
ing founded by the citizens, occasioned the Trongate
street to be carried to the westward as far as the church.
The rest of the city increased gradually towards the
bridge, by the building of the Saltmarket street. The
borough roads, and the cattle that grazed on the com¬
mons, were now7 found insufficient to maintain the in¬
creased number of inhabitants; for which reason a
greater degree of attention than formerly was paid to
the fishing in the river. Many poor people subsisted
themselves by this occupation ; they were incorporated
into a society ; and in order that they might be at hand
to prosecute their business, they built a considerable
part of the street now called the Bridge-gate, but at
that time Fishers-gate.
Notwithstanding all this, however, the city of Glas¬
gow did not for a long time attain the rank among the
other towns of Scotland which it holds at present. In
1556, it held only the 11th place among them, as ap¬
pears by Queen Mary’s taxation. The introduction
of the reformed religion proved for some time preju¬
dicial to the opulence of the city. The money which
had
rcriity.
fire.
G L A [737
HaJgow- formerly been expended among the citizens by the
—y ' bishop and bis clergy, was now diverted into other
channels: the advantages resulting from the university
were also lor a time lost j for as the reformers generally
despised human learning, the college was in a manner
deserted.
eat part In t*16 l;'1116 °f ^ civil wars, Glasgow suffered se-
thetown verely. To the mischief attending intestine discord,
stroyed were added a pestilence and famine j and to complete
their misfortunes, a violent fire broke out in June 1652,
which destroyed the greatest part of the Saltmarket,
Trongate, and High street. The fronts of the houses
at that time were mostly of wood, so that they became
an easy prey to the flames. The fire continued with
great violence for the space of 18 hours j by which a
great many of the inhabitants were ruined, the habita¬
tions of almost 1000 families being totally destroyed.
On this account collections were made through differ¬
ent parts of the country $ and to prevent such accidents
for the future, the fronts were built with freestone,
which abounds in the neighbourhood.
By the charter given to Bishop Turnbull in 1450,
the citizens had been deprived of the power of electing
their own magistrates, which was thenceforth exercised
by the bishop ; which, however, was not done with¬
out some resistance on the part of the inhabitants. Af¬
ter the Ileformation was introduced into Scotland, we
find this power exercised by the citizens, the bishop,
the earl of Lennox, and others. The idea that the town
was a bishop’s borough, and not a royal free borough,
gave occasion to this unsettled manner of appointing
the magistracy j and though, in 1633, they were de¬
clared to be a royal frfie borough by the parliament, yet
their freedom of election wTas afterwards disturbed by
the privy council, by Cromwell, and the duke of York.
But on the 4th of June 1690, the town was declared
free by a charter of William and Mary ; and in confir¬
mation of this charter it was inserted in the act of par¬
liament, dated June 14th the same year, that they
should have power to elect their own magistrates a#
fully and freely, in all respects, as the city of Edin¬
burgh or any other royal borough within the kingdom j
which freedom of election still continues.
By the assessment of the boroughs in 1695, we find
the city of Glasgow reckoned the second in Scotland
in point of wealth, which place it still continues to hold.
To account for this great increase of wealth, we must
observe, that for a long time, even beforethere-stora-
i wealth. ^;on 0f Charles II. the inhabitants of Glasgow had
been in possession of the sale of both raw and refined
sugars for the greatest part of Scotland ; they had a
privilege of distilling spirits from their molasses, free of
all duty and excise ; the herring fishery was also carried
on to what was at that time thought a very considerable
extent; they were the only people in Scotland who made
soapj and they sent annually some hides, linen, &c. to
Bristol, from whence they brought back in exchange,
a little tobacco, sugar, and goods, of the manufacture
of England, with which they supplied a considerable
part of the kingdom. From the year 1707, however,
in which the union betwixt Scotland and England
took place, we may date the prosperity of Glasgow.
By the union, the American trade was laid open to the
inhabitants : and so sensible were they of their advan¬
tageous situation, that they began almost instantly to
Vol. IX. Part II. t
]
G L A
8
ts»ow.
Jared
' by
lliam
it' Mary,
9 .
Gat in-
f ise of
prosecute that commerce } an assiduous application to Glasgow,
which, ever since, hath greatly contributed to raise the * ■ — v~ 1
city to the pitch of affluence and splendour which it at
present enjoys. The city was now greatly enlarged }
and as the community were sensible of the inconvenience
that attended the want of a sufficient quantity of water
in the river for carrying on their commerce, they re¬
solved to have a port of their own nigher the. mouth of
the river. At first, they thought of making their har¬
bour at Dumbarton : but as this is a royal borough, the
magistrates opposed it} because they thought that the
influx of sailors and others, occasioned by the harbour,
would be so great, that a scarcity of provisions would be
occasioned. Jhe magistrates and town council of Glas-^‘)fect'0li
gow, therefore, purchased some lands on the south side ^01t’
of the river Clyde for this purpose} and so expeditious^
were they in making their harbour, and rearing their
town, that in 1710 a bailie was appointed for the go¬
vernment of Port-Glasgow. It is now a very consider¬
able parish, and lies 21 miles nigher the mouth of Clyde
than Glasgow.
T725> Campbell, the member of parliament
for Glasgow, having given his vote for having the malt
tax extended over Scotland, a riot ensued among the
lower class of people. In this disturbance, Mr Camp¬
bell’s furniture was destroyed, and some excisemen were
maltreated for attempting to take an account of the n
malt. General Wade, who commanded the forces in DUtnrb-
Scotland, had sent two companies of soldiers, undera,1cc aV°at
the command of Captain Bushel, to prevent any dis-^ exsu®
turbance of this kind. Captain Bushel drew up his
men in the street, where the multitude pelted them
with stones. He first endeavoured to disperse the dob
by firing with powder only: but this expedient failing,
he ordered his men to load their pieces with ball } and,
without the sanction of the civil authority, command¬
ed them to fire four different ways at once. By this
discharge about 20 persons were killed and wounded ;
which enraged the multitude to such a degree, that ha¬
ving procured some arms, they pursued Bushel and
his men to the castle of Dumbarton, about 14 miles di¬
stant. General Wade being informed of this transac¬
tion, assembled a body of forces, and being accompa¬
nied by Duncan Forbes, lord advocate, took possession
of the town : the magistrates were apprehended and
carried prisoners to Edinburgh } but on an examination
before the lords, their innocence clearly appeared, up¬
on which they were immediately dismissed. Bushel
was tried for murder, convicted, and condemned } but,
instead of suffering the penalties of law, he was indul¬
ged with a pardon, and promoted in the service. Mr
Campbell petitioned the house of commons for an in¬
demnification of his losses : a bill was passed in his fa¬
vour } and this, together with some other expences
incurred in the affair, cost the town 9000!. sterling.
D uring the time of the rebellion 1745, the citi¬
zens of Glasgow gave proof of their attachment to re¬
volution principles, by raising two battalions of 600
men each, for the service of government. This piece
of loyalty, however, had like to have cost them dear.
The rebels, in their journey south, took a resolution to
plunder and burn the city : which would probably have
been done, had not Mr Cameron of Lochiel threaten¬
ed, in that case, to withdraw his clan. A heavy con¬
tribution, however, was laid on. The city was com-
5 A polled
G L A [ 738 ] G L A
Glasgow, pelled to pay 5000I. in money, and 500]. in goods ;
1 < aflcJ on the return of the rebels from England, they
were obliged to furnish them with I 2,000 linen shirts,
6000 cloth coats, 6000 pairs of shoes, 6000 pairs of
hose, and 6000 bonnets. These goods, with the mo¬
ney formerly paid them, the expence of raising and
subsisting the two city battalions, and the charge of
maintaining the rebel army in free quarters for ten days,
cost the community about 14,000!. sterling ; 10,oool.
of which they recovered in 1749, by an application to
Ia- parliament.
Change of About the year 1750, a very considerable change
manners p|ace jn the manner of living among the inhabi-
and method tants 0f Glasgow. Till this time, an attentive in-
° lVinfcr‘ dustry, and a frugality bordering upon parsimony, had
been their general characteristic ; the severity of the
ancient manners prevailed in its full vigour : But now,
when an extensive commerce and increased manufac¬
tures had produced wealth, the ideas of the people were
enlarged, and bolder schemes of trade and improve¬
ment were adopted } a new style was introduced in
living, dress, building, and furniture; wheel carriages
were set up, public places of entertainment were fre¬
quented, and an assembly-room, ball-room, and play¬
house, were built by subscription ; and from this time
we may date all the improvements that have taken
place, not only in Glasgow, but all over the west of
Aot/of Scotland. In 1753, an act passed for repairing several
parliament roads leading into the city of Glasgow. In I75^» atl
in favour act for erecting and supporting a light-house in the
ol the city. jg|an(j 0f Jdttle Cumrny, at the mouth of the Clyde,
and for rendering the navigation of the frith and river
more safe and commodious.—In 1759, an act for im¬
proving the navigation of the river Clyde to the city
of Glasgow, and for building a new bridge across the
rJver.—In 1767,1110 people of Glasgow having proposed
to make a small cut or canal from the frith of Forth to
that of Clyde, for the conveniency of their trade to the
eastern side of the island, several gentlemen at Edin¬
burgh, and throughout different parts of the king¬
dom, proposed that this canal should be executed upon
a much larger scale than what had been originally
projected. An act was accordingly obtained, and the
canal executed in the manner described under the
article Canal.—In 1770, another act was obtained
for improving the navigation of the river, building the
bridge, &c. being an amendment of the former act for
these purposes. In 1771, an act for making and
widening a passage from the Saltmarket to St Andrew’s
church ; for enlarging and completing the churchyard
of that church, and likewise for building a convenient
exchange or square in the city; also for amending and
explaining the former act relative to the navigation of
the Clyde. In 1783, the society known by the name
of the chamber of commerce and manufactures was es¬
tablished. The object was to unite the influence of
the merchants and manufacturers, and to establish a
public fund to give greater efficacy to plans in which
these classes might be interested. A royal charter was
obtained constituting them a body politic, under the
management of 30 directors. This chamber has since
been of essential service, in promoting objects and un¬
dertakings connected with the advancement of trade.
But the introduction of the cotton manufacture on a
considerable scale, about 1.786, made a greater change
in the state of the trade of Glasgow than any event G’as^o,
which had previously occurred, and formed indeed a -y—
new era in its history. From that time the progress of
the town in commerce, population, and wealth, has been
surprising. ^ !
The most ancient part of the city stands on a rising Desaipti.
ground. The foundation of the cathedral is 104 feet of tht cii!
higher than the bed of the river; and the descent from
the high ground reaches to about 100 yards below the
college. The rest of the city is built chiefly upon a
plain, bounded southward by the Clyde, and north¬
ward by a gentle ridge of hills lying in a parallel di¬
rection with that river. These grounds, till lately,
consisted of gardens and fields ; but are now covered
with buildings, in consequence of the increasing wealth
and population of the city. The streets are all clean
and well paved ; and several of them intersecting one
another at right angles, produce a very agreeable ef¬
fect. The four principal streets, crossing one another
in that manner, divide the city nearly into four equal
parts ; and the different views of them from the croSs,
or centre of intersection, have an air of great magnifi¬
cence. The houses, consisting of four or five floors im
height, are built of hewn stone, generally in very good
taste, and many of them elegant. The most remark¬
able public buildings are,
I. The Cathedral, ax High Church, is a magnificent Of the ca.
building, and its situation greatly to its advantage, astbedral.
it stands higher than any part of the city. It has been
intended to form a cross, though the transverse part has
never been finished. The great tower is founded upon
four large massy pillars, each of them about 30 feet in
circumference. The tower itself is 25^ feet square
within ; and is surrounded by a balustrade, within
which rises an octangular spire terminated by a vane.
The tower upon the west end is upon the same level,
but appears not to have been finished, though it is co¬
vered over with lead. In this tower is a very large bell
II feet four inches in diameter. The principal entry
was from the west; the gate 11 feet broad at the base,
and 17 feet in height. The west end of the choir is
now appropriated for a place of divine worship ; and is
divided from the remaining part by a stone partition,
which is enclosed by another stone wall parting it from
the nave. It is impossible to form an adequate idea of
the awful solemnity of the place occasioned by the lof¬
tiness ol the roof and the range of pillars by which the
whole is supported.
The nave of the church rises four steps higher than
the choir; and on the west side stood the organ loft,
formerly ornamented with a variety of figures, but
now detaced. The pillars here are done in a better
taste than those in the choir, and their capitals are or¬
namented with fruits. The arched roof of the altar
is supported by five pillars, over which was a fine ter¬
race walk, and above it a large window of curious
workmanship, but now shut up. On the north side of
the altar is the vestry, being a cube of 28 feet, the
root arched and vaulted at top, and supported by one
pillar in the centre of the house. Arched pillars from
every angle terminate in the grand pillar, which is 19
feet high. The lower part of the south cross is made
use of as a burying place for the clergy of the city ;
and is by much the finest piece of workmanship in the
whole building. It is 55 feet long, 28 broad, and
15
G L A
15 high; arched and vaulted at top,
by a middle range of pillars, with their capitals^highly
ornamented ; corresponding to which are columns ad¬
joining to the walls, which, as they rise, spring into
semi-arches, and are everywhere met at acute angles
by their opposites, and are ornamented with carvings
at the closing and crossing of the lines. At the east
end of the choir you descend by flights of stops upon
each side into passages which, in former times, were the
principal entries to the burying vault, which is imme¬
diately under the nave. It is now made use of as a
parish church for the barony of Glasgow ; and is full of
pillars, some of them very massy, which support the
arched roof: but it is a very uncomfortable place for
devotion. The space under the altar and vestry,
though now made use of as a burying place by the he¬
ritors of the barony, was formerly, according to tradi¬
tion, employed for keeping of the relicks; and indeed,
from the beautiful manner in which this place is finish¬
ed, one would imagine that it had not been destined
for common use. Here is shown the monument of St
Mungo, or Kentigern, with his figure lying in a cum-
bent posture.
The whole length of the cathedral within the walls
is 284 feet, its breadth 65 ; the height of the choir,
from the floor to the canopy, 90 feet; the height
of the nave, 85 feet; the height of the middle tower,
220 feet. This fabric was begun by John Achaius in
1123, and consecrated in 1136 : and continued by suc¬
ceeding bishops till such time as it was finished in the
manner in which it stands at present. The wealth of
the see of Glasgow, however, was not sufficient for so
great an undertaking, so that they were obliged to have
recourse to all the churches of Scotland for assistance
in it.
This venerable edifice was in danger of falling a
victim to the frenzy of fanaticism in 1379 ; and owed
its preservation to the spirit and good sense of the
tradesmen, who, upon hearing the beat of drum for
collecting the workmen appointed to demolish it, flew
to arms, and declared that the first man who pulled
down a single stone should that moment be buried un-
*der it.
Near the cathedral are the ruins of the bishop’s pa¬
lace or castle, enclosed with a wall of hewn stone by
Archbishop James Beaton ; the great tower built by
Archbishop Cameron in 1426.
2. St Andrew's Church was begun by the commu¬
nity in 1739) an(^ finished in 1736. It is the finest
piece of modern architecture in the city ; and is built
after the model of St Martin’s in the Fields, London,
whose architect was the famous Gibbs. The length of
the church is 104 feet, and its breadth 66. It has a
fine arched roof, well ornamented with figures in stuc¬
co, and sustained by stone columns of the Corinthian
order. Correspondent to the model, it has a place for
the altar on the east, in which is a very ancient Vene¬
tian window ; but the altar place being seated, makes
this end appear to no great advantage. The fronts of
the galleries and the pulpit are done in mahogany in a
very elegant manner. The spire by no means corre¬
sponds with the rest of the building ; and, instead of
being an ornament, disgraces this beautiful fabric. Its
height is 170 feet.
. Besides the cathedral (which contains three congre-
Glas >
[ 739 ] G L A
and supported gallons) and St Andrew’s cliiirch, there is a number
of others, as the College church, Ram’s-horn, Tron, »
St Enoch’s and St George’s ; together with an English
chapel, Highland church, several seceding meeting¬
houses, and others for sectaries of various denominations.
3* The College,—— The front of this building extends The cu!-
along the east side of the High street, and is upwards of lege.
330 feet long. The gate at the entrance is decorated
with rustics, and over it are the king’s arms. The
building consists of two principal courts or squares.
The first is 88 feet long and 44 broad. The west side
is elevated upon stone pillars, on which are placed pila¬
sters supporting the Doric entablature, and ornamented
with arches forming a piazza. Above these is the
public hall ; the ascent to which is by a double flight of
steps enclosed by a handsome stone balustrade, upon
the right of which is placed a lion, and on the left an
unicorn, cut in freestone. The spire stands on the
east side, is 133 feet high, and has a very good clock.
Under this is the gateway into the inner and largest
court, which is 103 feet long and 79 broad. Over the
entry, in a niche, is a statue of Mr Zacharias Boyd,
who was a benefactor to the university. On the east
side of the court is a narrow passage leading into a
handsome terrace walk, gravelled, 122 feet long by
64 feet broad. This walk is enclosed to the east by an
iron palisade, in the centre of which is a gate leading
into the garden. This last consists of seven acres of
ground, laid out in walks for the recreation of the stu-
dents ; and there is also a botanic garden. On the
south side of the walk stands the library ; a very neat
edifice, well constructed for the purpose’intended, and
containing a very valuable collection of books. Under¬
neath are preserved in cases all the Roman inscriptions
found on Graham’s Dike, together with altars and
other antiquities collected from different parts of Scot¬
land.—Adjoining there is an observatory, well furnish¬
ed with astronomical instruments. The college also pos¬
sesses, by bequest, the late Dr Hunter’s famous anato¬
mical preparations, library, and museum. A beautiful
building was erected in 1806 for its reception. lg
4. New /oz7.—-The old jail having become much too New jail,
small in consequence of the rapid growth of the town,
a new one was projected in 1808. As the Glasgow
jail receives prisoners from the neighbouring counties,
application was made first to them, and afterwards to
government for assistance in defraying the expence,
but without effect. In consequence of this the plan
was reduced, and the expence, amounting to 34,800!.
was defrayed from the funds of the burgh. The new
jail was opened in 1814, and is admitted to be one of
the most commodious and best arranged in the country.
It is situated at the west end of the Green, in a healthy
and well aired position ; and besides a court house ca¬
pable of containing 300 persons, and several other
public offices, it contains 122 apartments for priso¬
ners, sixteen large galleries for air and exercise, and
two paved court yards, 69 feet by 46. The jail is
formed into sixteen distinct allotments—eight for debt¬
ors, and eight for criminals. The building is amply
supplied with pure water, and is carefully cleaned.
There are four well aired infirmary rooms, and a chapel
which holds 200 persons. During the year ending 1st
April 1819, no less than 1809 persons had been incar¬
cerated 683 debtors and 1126 delinquents.
3 A 2 3, Bridewell,
CilacgflW.
Eiidfvvell.
so
Guild hall.
11
Town’s
hospital.
tz
Grammar
school.
Ei'iJire?.
24
Market*,
&.C.
G L A
[ 74° ] G L A
c. Bridewell.—Till the year 1/9^ there was no re¬
gular Bridewell in Glasgow. The present Bridewell
which is in Duke street, is six stories high, and con¬
tains a chapel, a work-room, and 105 cells, each eight
feet by seven, with a public kitchen, apartments for
the keeper, and several work-rooms. It has now,
however, become too small for the city ; and a scheme
is at present in contemplation for erecting another on
a more extensive scale, and a better plan. _
6. The Guild Hall or Merchants House. This
building is situated upon the south side of Bridgegate
street ; and is in length 82 feet, in breadth 31. The
great hall, which is "the whole length and breadth of
the building, is so capacious, that it is better adapted
for the reception of great and numerous assemblies
than any other in the city. Phis house is adorned with
a very elegant spire 200 feet high.
7. The Town1 s Hospital is a very neat building,
consisting of two wings and a large front ; the length
156 feet, the breadth of the centre 30 feet, and the
depth of the wings 68 feet. Behind the building is
an infirmary 127 feet long by 23 feet broad, the
ascent to which is by a flight of steps. I he lower
part of this building is appointed for the reception ol
lunatics. The area between the buildings is large,
which, with the agreeable open situation of the hospi¬
tal on the river, must conduce to the health of the in¬
habitants.
8. The Grammar School is situated in the new part
of the town, to the north-west, and was built in 1787.
It is a very handsome building, containing a large
ball, and six airy commodious teaching rooms. In
this school there are four classes, the course being
four years : each class is carried on the whole live
years by the same master ; so that, there being no
rector, each master is head of the school one year in
rotation. It is under the direction of a committee of
the town council ; who, assisted by the professors,
clergy, and other persons of learning, frequently visit
it during the session *, and at an annual examination,
prizes are distributed to the scholars according to their
respective merits. The number of scholars is about
540. It is found that there are 10,200 persons edu¬
cated in Glasgow who pay fees, besides 1100 educated
at free or charity schools.
9. Bridges.—There are at Glasgow two stone bridges
over the Clyde, and a wooden one. The Old Bridge
at the foot of Stockvvell street, was built by Bishop
Bae in 1345* Ten feet were added to its breadth in
1777, and its present dimensions are, 415 feet in
length, and 22 in breadth. The New Bridge is built
in an elegant manner. It is 32 feet wide, with a
commodious footway for passengers, five feet broad on
each side, raised above the road made for carriages,
and paved with freestone. This bridge is about 500
feet in length, and consists of seven arches, the faces
of which are wrought in rustic, with a streng block
cornice above. The arches spring but a little way
above low water mark ; which, though it renders the
bridge stronger than if they sprung from taller piers,
diminishes its beauty. This bridge was begun in 1768,
and finished in I772,
10. The Markets in King's Street are justly admired,
as being the completest of their kind in Britain. They
are placed on both sides of the street. That on the
east side, appropriated entirely for butcher meat, is 112 Glange,.
feet in length, and 67 in breadth. In the centre is a't
spacious gateway, decorated on each side with coupled
Ionic columns, set upon their pedestals, and support¬
ing an angular pediment. At the north end is a very
neat hall belonging to the incorporation of butchers, the
front ornamented with rustics and a pediment. The
markets upon the west side of the street consist of three
courts, set apart for fish, mutton, and cheese. The
whole of the front is 173 feet, the breadth 46 feet ; in
the centre of which, as on the opposite side, is a very
spacious gateway of the Doric order, supporting a pedi¬
ment. This is the entry to the mutton market. Each
of the other two has a well proportioned arch faced
with rustics for the entrance. All these markets are
well paved with freestone, have walks all round them,
and are covered over for shelter by roofs standing up¬
on stone pier?, under which the different commodities
are exposed to sale. They have likewise pump wells
within, for cleansing away all the filth ; which render
the markets always sweet and agreeable. These mar¬
kets were erected in 1754*
11. The Market for Vegetables is neat and commo¬
dious j and the principal entry is decorated with co¬
lumns. It is situated in the Candleriggs, and is laid
out in the same manner with the markets in King’s
street.
12. The Guard House is a very handsome building,
with a piazza formed by arches, and columns of theijaus*.
Ionic order set upon their pedestals. It was originally
situated on the High street, at the corner of the Candle¬
riggs street: but w'as afterwards carried near half way
lip the Candleriggs, where it occupies the ground on
which the weigh-house formerly stood, and is made
larger and more commodious than it was before. An
excellent new weigh-house has been erected at the head
of the Candleriggs: and at the foot of the Candle¬
riggs, or corner next the High street, where the guard¬
house was formerly situated, a superb new hotel has
been built, containing 75 fire rooms.
The most remarkable public charities in Glasgow
2(5
1. Muirhead's or St Nicholas's Hospital. This was puy;* tU
originally appointed to subsist 12 old men and a chap-nta>s.
lain ; but its revenues have, from some unknown causes,
been lost •, so that no more of them now remains than
the paltry sum of 139I. 2S. 3d. Scots money, 128k of
which is annually divided among four old men, at th«
rate of 2l. 13s. 4d. sterling each.
2. Hutcheson's Hospital, was founded and endowed
in 1639 by George Hutcheson of Lamb-hill, notary
public, and Mr Thomas Hutcheson his brother, who
was bred a preacher, for the maintenance of old men
and orphans. The funds of this hospital were increased
by James Blair, merchant in Glasgow in 1710, and by
subsequent donations. The income, which is now large,
is distributed in pensions to old people from 3I. to 2ck
and in educating about 70 children. The sum distri¬
buted in pensions in 1819 was 1790k 7s.
3. The Merchants HouseWkeAshe distributes in pen¬
sions and other charities about 800I. yearly.
4. The Town's Hospital, above described, was open¬
ed for the reception of the poor on the 13th of Novem¬
ber 1733. The funds whence this hospital is subsist¬
ed are, the general session, the town council, the trades
honse.
G L A [ 741 ]
G L A
.^gaw. liou^e, and merchants houge, the Interest of money be-
longing to their funds, which are sums that have been
mortified for the use of the house. These supplies,
however, are found insufficient to defray the expences
of the house $ for which reason an assessment is annual¬
ly made upon the inhabitants in the following manner.
The magistrates nominate 12, 14, or sometimes more
gentlemen of known integrity and character, who have
a list laid before them of all the inhabitants in town.
Th list they divide into 16 or 18 columns, Each of
these columns contains the names of such inhabitants as
carry on trade to a certain extent, or are supposed to
be well able to pay the sum affixed to the particular
column in which their names are inserted. If it is ne¬
cessary to raise 500I. for instance, then each name, in
every separate column, is valued at as much as the for¬
tunes of the persons in each particular column are sup¬
posed to be. If loool. or more is to be raised, it is
only continuing a proportional increase through the
whole of the columns. This assessment has been gra¬
dually increasing. In 1782 it was 1057I.; in 1800 it
was 4534I., and in 1819 it was 10,303!. The rate of
assessment has also increased during the war from I
to 3 shillings on 100I. of property.
5. Wilson's Charily for the education of boys, was
founded by George Wilson, who in 1778 left 3000I.
for that purpose. This fund is now considerably in¬
creased, and gives education and clothing to 48 boys,
who each continues four years, so that 12 are admitted
annually.
Besides these, there are many public schools for the
education of children ; as well as many institutions of
private societies for the purpose of relieving the indi¬
gent and instructing youth, such as Graham's Society,
Buchanan's Society, the Highland Society, &c. These
last put annually 20 boys apprentices to trades, and
during the first three years give them clothing and edu-
^ cation.
Gber* The university of Glasgow owres its origin, as we
c e aiii- have already observed, to Bishop Turnbull. The in-
’ b'* stitution consisted at first of a rector, a dean of faculty,
a principal who taught theology, and three professors
of philosophy ", and, soon after this, the civil and ca¬
non laws were taught by some clergymen. From the
time of its establishment in 1450 to the Reformation in
1560, the college was chiefly frequented by those who
were intended for the church 5 its members were all
ecclesiastics, and its principal support was derived from
the church. The Reformation brought the university
to the verge of destruction : masters, students, and ser¬
vants, all forsook it. The magistrates were so sensible
of the loss which the community had sustained by this
desertion, that they endeavoured to restore it in 1572,
by bestowing upon it considerable funds, and prescrib¬
ing a set of regulations for its management. These,
however, proved insufficient; for which reason King
James VI. erected it anew, by a charter called the Nova
Erectio, 1577, and bestowed upon it the teinds of the
parish of Govan. The persons who were to compose
the new university were, a principal, three professors of
philosophy, four students bursars, one oeconomus, a
principal’s servant, a janitor, and cook.
Since the year 1577, the funds of the university have
been considerably increased by the bounty of kings and
the donations of private persons. The professors have
therefore also been increased : so that at present the
university of Glasgow consists ol a chancellor, rector,
dean of faculty, principal, and 14 professors (six of
them in the gift of the crown), together with bursars,
&c. The archbishop of Glasgow was formerly chan¬
cellor of the university ex officio; at present, the chan¬
cellor is chosen by the rector, dean of faculty, princi¬
pal, and masters.
I he chancellor, as being the head of the university,
is the fountain of honour, and in his name are all aca¬
demical degrees bestowed. The office of rector is to
exercise that academical jurisdiction in disputes among
the students themselves, or between the students and
citizens, which is bestowed upon the greater part of tlie
universities in Europe. He is chosen annually in tl»e
comiha; that is, in a meeting in which all the students,
as well as the other members of the university, have a
voice. Immediately after his admission, he has been in
use to choose certain persons as his assessors 5 and coun¬
sellors in his capacity of judge; and, in former periods,
it was customary to name the ministers of Glasgow, or
any other gentlemen who had no connexion with the
university 3 but, for a great while past, the rector has
constantly named the dean of faculty, the principal,
and masters, for his assessors; and he has always been,
and still is, in the daily practice of judging in the causes
belonging to him, with the advice of his assessors. Be¬
sides these powers as judge, the rector summons and
presides in the meetings of the university for the elec¬
tion of his successor; and he is likewise in use to call
meetings of the professors for drawing up addresses to
the king, electing a member to the general assembly,
and other business of the like kind.
The dean of faculty has, for his province, the giv¬
ing direction with regard to the course of studies ; the
together with the rector, principal, and pro¬
fessors, of the qualifications of those who desire to be
created masters of arts, doctors of divinity, &c.; and
he presides ^in meetings which are called by him for
these purposes. Pie is chosen annually by the rector,
principal, and masters.
The principal and masters, independent of the rector
and dean, compose a meeting in which the principal
presides ; and as they are the persons for whose behoof
chiefly the revenue of the college was established, the
administration of that revenue is therefore committed to
them. The revenue arises from the teinds of the parish
of Govan, granted by King James VI. in 1557 ; from
the teinds of the parishes of Renfrew and Kilbride,
granted by the same monarch in 1617, and confirmed
by King Charles I. on the 28th of June 16303 from
the teinds of the parishes of Calder, Old and New
Monkland, conveyed to them by a charter from
Charles II. in 1670 ; from a tack of the archbishop¬
ric 3 and from several donations conferred by private
persons.
The college of Glasgow, for a very considerable
time after its erection, followed the mode of public
teaching which is common even to this day in Oxford
and Cambridge, and in many other universities through¬
out Europe ; that is, each professor gave a few lectures
every year, gratis, upon the particular science which
he professed : but in place of this, the professors have,
for a great while past, adopted the mode of private
teaching: that is, they lecture and examine two hours
every
Glasgow.
Glasgow.
»S
History of
Glasgow.
G L A [ 742 ] G L A
every day during the session, viz. from the 10th of Oc¬
tober to the 10th of June 5 a method which comes much
cheaper to the student, as he has it in his power, if he
is attentive, to acquire his education without being un¬
der the necessity of employing a tutor. Ihey have also
private classes, in which they teach one hour per day.
The number of students who attended this college at
the various classes in the session 1819-1820, was no
less than 1264.
The trade of Glasgow is said to have been first pro¬
moted by one Mr William Elphinstone in 1420. This
trade was most probably the curing and exporting of
salmon ; but the first authentic document concerning
Glasgow as a trading city is in 1546. Complaints hav¬
ing been made by Henry VIII. king of England, that
several English ships had been taken and robbed by
vessels belonging to Scotland, an order of council was
issued, discharging such captures for the future ; and
among other places made mention of in this order is the
city of Glasgow. The trade which at that time they
carried on could not be great. It probably consisted of
a few small vessels to France loaded with pickled sal¬
mon ; as this fishery was, even then, carried on to a
considerable extent, by Glasgow, Renfrew, and Dum¬
barton. Between the years 1630 and 1660, a very
great degree of attention seems to have been paid to in¬
land commerce by the inhabitants of Glasgow. Prin¬
cipal Baillie informs us, that the increase of Glasgow
arising from this commerce was exceedingly great.
The exportation of salmon and of herrings was also
continued and increased. In the war between Britain
and Holland during the reign of Charles II. a privateer
was fitted out in Clyde to cruise against the Dutch.
She was called the Lion of Glasgow, Robert M'Allan
commander j and carried five pieces of cannon, and 60
hands.
A spirit of commerce appears to have arisen among
the inhabitants of Glasgow between the years 1660 and
1707. The citizens who distinguished themselves most
during this period were Walter Gibson and John An¬
derson. Gibson cured and packed in one year 300
lasts of herrings, which he sent to St Martin’s in France
on board of a Dutch vessel called the St Agate of 450
tons burden ; his returns were brandy and salt. He
was the first who imported iron from Stockholm into
Clyde. Anderson is said to have been the first who
imported white wines.
Whatever their trade was at this time, it could not
be considerable : the ports to which they were obliged
to trade lay all to the eastward : the circumnavigation
of the island would therefore prove an almost unsur-
mountable bar to the commerce of Glasgow ; and of
consequence the people on the east coast would be pos¬
sessed of almost all the commerce of Scotland. The
union with England opened a field for commerce for
which the situation of Glasgow, so convenient in respect
to the Atlantic, was highly advantageous. Since that
time the commerce of the east coast was declined, and
that of the west increased to an amazing degree. No
sooner was the treaty of union signed, than the inhabi¬
tants of Glasgow began to prosecute the trade to Vir¬
ginia and Maryland j they chartered vessels from
Whitehaven, sent out cargoes of goods, and brought
back tobacco in return. The method in which they
3
at first proceeded in this trade was certainly a very pru¬
dent one. A supercargo went out with every vessel.
He bartered his goods for tobacco, until such time as
he had either sold oft’ his goods, or procured as much
tobacco as was sufficient to load his vessel. He then
immediately set out on his return j and if any of his
goods remained unsold, he brought them home with
him. While they continued to trade in this way, they
were of great advantage to the country, by the quan¬
tity of manufactures which they exported ; their own
wealth began to increase j they purchased ships of their
own j and, 1718, the first vessel of the property of
Glasgow crossed the Atlantic. Their imports of to¬
bacco were now considerable, and Glasgow began to
be looked upon as a considerable port: the tobacco
made at the ports of Bristol, Liverpool, and White¬
haven, was observed to dwindle away ; the people of
Glasgow began to send tobacco to these places, and to
undersell the English even in their own ports. Thus
the jealousy of the latter was soon excited, and they
took every method in their power to destroy the trade
of Glasgow. The people of Bristol presented remon¬
strances to the commissioners of the customs at London
against the trade of Glasgow, in 1717. To these re¬
monstrances the merchants of Glasgow sent such answers
to the commissioners, as convinced them that the com¬
plaints of the Bristol merchants were without founda¬
tion. But in 1721, a most formidable confederacy was
entered into by almost all the tobacco merchants in
South Britain against the trade of Glasgow. Those of
London, Liverpool, and Whitehaven, presented seve¬
rally to the lords of the treasury, petitions, arraigning
the Glasgow merchants of frauds in the tobacco trade.
To these petitions the Glasgow people gave in replies 5
and the lords of the treasury, after a full and impartial
hearing, were pleased to dismiss the cause with the fol¬
lowing sentence : “ That the complaints of the mer¬
chants of London, Liverpool, and Whitehaven, were
groundless $ and that they proceeded from a spirit of
envy, and not from a regard to the interest of trade, or
of the king’s revenue.”
But the efforts of these gentleman did not stop here.
They brought their complaints into the house of
commons. Commissioners were sent to Glasgow in
1722, who gave in their reports to the house in 1723.
The merchants sent up distinct and explicit answers to
these reports j but such was the interest of their adver¬
saries, that these answers were disregarded. New of¬
ficers were appointed at the ports of Greenock and
Port Glasgow, whose private instructions seem to have
been to ruin the trade if possible by putting all ima¬
ginable hardships upon it. Hence it languished till the
year 1737 J but after that time it began to revive,
though even after its revival it was carried on but slow¬
ly for a considerable space of time.
At last, however, the active and enterprising spirit
of the merchants, seconding the natural advantages of
their situation, prevailed over all opposition ; and the
American trade continued to flourish and increase until
the year 1775, insomuch that the importation of to¬
bacco into Clyde that year from the provinces of Vir¬
ginia, Maryland, and Carolina, amounted to 57,143
hogsheads. But since the breach with America, this
trade has now greatly fallen off, and very large sums
are
iiV
1?
if
29
j nfac-
, !S Of
t '-gow.
G L A
are said to remain due to the merchants
quarter of the world.
With regard to the manufactures of Glasgow, Mr
Gibson is of opinion that the commerce to America
first suggested the idea of introducing them, in any
considerable degree at least. The first attempts in this
way were about the year 1725, and their increase for
some time was very slow, nor did they begin to be
considerable till great encouragement was given by the
legislature to the linen manufacture in Scotland. The
first causes of the success of this manufacture were the
act of parliament in 1748, whereby the wearing of
French cambrics was prohibited under severe penalties j
that of 1751, allowing weavers in flax or hemp to
settle and exercise their trades anywhere in Scotland
free from all corporation dues j and the bounty of
three halfpence per yard on all linens exported at and
under l8d. per yard. Since that time a spirit of ma¬
nufacture has been excited among the inhabitants of
Glasgow •, and great variety of goods, and in very
great quantity, have been manufactured. Checks, li¬
nen, and linen and cotton, are manufactured to a great
extent. Printed linens and cottons were begun to be
manufactured in 173® 5 they only made garments
till 1754, when handkerchiefs were first printed.
Besides these, a great variety of articles are manu¬
factured at Glasgow, of which our limits will not per¬
mit us to enter into a detail, such as soap, refining of
sugar, ironmongery, brass, jewellery, glass both com¬
mon and white, pottery, &c. Types for printing are
made in this city by Dr Wilson and Sons, equal,
if not superior, in beauty to any others in Britain.
Printing of books was first begun here by George An¬
derson about the year 1638. But there was no good
printing in Glasgow til] the year 1735, when Robert
Urie printed several books in a very elegant manner,
highest perfection, however, to which printing
The
hath yet been carried in this place, or perhaps in any
other, was by the late Robert and Andrew Foul is,
(who began in the year 1740); as the many correct
and splendid editions of books printed by them in
diflerent languages sufficiently testify. Some of their
classics, it is said, are held in such high esteem abroad,
as to sell nearly at the price of ancient MSS. The
same gentlemen also established an academy of paint¬
ing ; but the wealth of Scotland being unequal to the
undertaking, it has been since given up.
The inventions and improvements introduced into
the cotton manufacture by Hargreaves, Arkwright,
and others, gave a new impulse to this species of in¬
dustry. The, people of Glasgow now found the manu¬
facture of these articles very profitable, and about 1786
had begun to abandon the manufacture of cambrics,
lawns, gauzes, and other light fabrics of linen, which
had grown up there in the course of the century; and
before 1792 the former of these manufactures had al¬
most entirely superseded the latter. About 1782, the
annual value of the whole manufactures of Glasgow
did not exceed 8qo,ooo1. and in 1818 it was estimated
that 105,000,000 yards of cotton cloth were manufactur¬
ed at Glasgow, valued at 5,200,000!. In the spinning
department there were in 1819 fifty-four mills em¬
ployed, containing nearly 600,000 spindles ; and the
capital invested in buildings and machinery for carry-
[ 743 ] G L A
from that ing on this branch is estimated 1,000,oool. For weav-
ing this jarn there are 2800 looms moved by mechani¬
cal power, producing weekly about 8400 pieces of
cloth j and there are, as nearly as can be ascertained,
32,000 band looms.
One of the late improvements most deserving of at¬
tention is the construction of steam boats. Glasgow
was the first town in Britain to adopt this improve¬
ment, and it is now the centre of a greater amount of
steam boat navigation than any other town in the
island. These vessels were introduced by Mr Henry.
Bell, an ingenious self-taught engineer in 1812 ; and in
1819 t,,ere were no less than 28 of them plying on the
Clyde, and sailing some of them as far as Liverpool.
The passage between Glasgow and Greenock, which
is 26 miles, is usually performed in three hours. So <
much has this new invention increased the intercourse
between these two places, that previous to its introduc¬
tion it is calculated that not more than fifty persons .
passed and repassed in a day, whereas now the number
is seldom less than four or five hundred.
Besides various improvements in the old streets, se¬
veral handsome new ones as well as new squares have
been added. I be site ol these new buildings is the
tract of rising ground already mentioned as the north-
boundary of the town previous to its late extension.
The western part of it, which is perfectly level, is oc¬
cupied by a spacious square, denominated George's
Square. The grass plot in the middle is enclosed with ,
a handsome iron railing. The square is deficient in .
regularity j the houses on the west side being a story
higher than those of the east ; but in other respects it
is very neat. Farther west a variety of new streets .
have been built, all of which are in a neat, and many
in a very elegant style of architecture. St George’s
church, a simple but elegant structure, with a very
handsome tower, was opened in 1807. St John’s,
church, which is considerably larger, was opened in .
1819. The Roman Catholic chape], erected a few
years ago, is admired as a good specimen of the Gothic
style. The New Theatre in Queen street, which was
opened in 1804, is a handsome edifice, and cost 1 S^ool..
Among the objects of a purely ornamental nature late¬
ly erected, may be mentioned tbe brass statue of Sir
John Moore, placed at the south side of George’s >
square, and the stone obelisk in honour ofLordNel-.
son, which stands in the Green..
On the same or south side of the town, westward,
is the Broomielaw, where the quay is situated. Till ’
within these few years, the river here, and for several
miles distance, was so shallow and so obstructed by,
shoals, as to admit only of small craft from Greenock,
Port Glasgow, and the Highlands j but of late it has .
been cleared and deepened so as to admit vessels of con¬
siderable burden ; and it is intended to make the depth,
as nearly equal as possible to that of the canal, in,
order that the vessels from Ireland and the west coast,
may come up Clyde and unload at the Broomielaw.
G'asgow.
The government of the city of Glasgow is vested in Q0VgrIJ_
a provost and three bailies, a dean of guild, deacon ment, reve-
convener, and a treasurer, with a common council ofnue, See. of
13 merchants and 12 mechanics. The provost andthe
two of the bailies must, by the set of the borough, be
elected from the. merchant rank, and the other bailie
from
G L
GWasaow.
A
from the trades rank, i. e. the mechanics.
\ost is, from courtesy and custom, styled lord provost.
lie is properly lord of the police of the city,, piesident
of the community, and is ex officio a justice of the
peace for both the borough and county.
Many of the inhabitants of Glasgow were convinced
of the necessity of a new system of police, a number of
'vears before the sanction of parliament was obtained for
that purpose, which was granted in the year .1800.
The act vested the management of the police in tlie
lord provost, bailies, dean of guild, deacon convener,
and 24 commissioners, one being chosen out of each
ward into which the city is divided. The object of
the bill was to procure an extension of the royalty, to
pave, light, and clean the streets, for regulating the
police, and nominating officers and watchmen, appoint¬
ing commissioners, raising funds, and granting certain
powers to the magistrates and council, town and dean
of guild courts, and for several other purposes.
In framing this system of police, it was wisely
provided that the commissioners shall not enjoy the of¬
fice for life j nor even for a long period, but upon the
supposition of being re-elected, and that every person
properly qualified may have a chance for the office, and
by consequence be entitled to a voice in the manage¬
ment of the funds and the establishment.
In order to raise funds for defraying the expence of
the police establishment, the lord provost, magistrates
and commissioners, on the first Monday of September,
annually assess all occupiers, renters, or possessors of
dwelling houses, cellars, shops, warehouses, and other
buildings within the royalty, in proportion to the rent.
The act expired in 1807, and was then renewed for 14
years longer. The rates of assessment fixed by the
Second, are as follows :—
[ 744 ] . G L A
The pro- to rank with any city in Scotland, or perhaps in the Glasg
3*
On the yearly rent of subjects valued
At 4I. and under 61. sterling annually, 5d. per pound.
At 61. and under 10I. 7fd. do.
At 10I. and under 15I. ii^d. do.
At 15I. and upwards, is. 3d. do.
The rates actually levied however under the police
act have generally been under this amount. In 1817-18
it was 4d. 6d. pd. and is. The disbursements for light¬
ing, watching, and cleaning, during the same year,
amounted to 11,617k The establishment consisted of
20 officers, 80 watchmen, 20 patrole, and 16 scaven¬
gers. The number of lamps was 1472. In 1819
about two-thirds of the lamps were lighted with gas.
The officers have power to bring to justice persons
guilty of street robberies, house-breakings, assaults,
thefts, shop-lifting, picking pockets, frequenters of dis¬
orderly houses 5 to suppress mobs and riots j to assist
in extinguishing fires, in guarding and watching the
streets, and in assisting the magistrates in every thing
which relates to the police, peace, and good order of
the city. These officers have hitherto given general
satisfaction in the discharge of their duty, by seeing
that the streets are kept clean, well lighted and
guarded. In a word, property and personal safety are
well secured.
Many whole and elegant streets have of late years
been added to it, so that its rapid extension, increasing
population, and flourishing commerce, justly entitle it
British empire.
The revenue of the town arises from a duty upon all
grain and meal brought into the city (which tax is de¬
nominated the ladles'); from the rents of lands and
houses the property of the community; from an impost
of two pennies Scots upon every Scots pint of ale or
beer brewed, inbrought, or sold within the city ; from
certain duties payable out of the markets ; from the
rents of the seats in churches ; from the duties of cra¬
nage at the quay, at the weigh-house, &c. As to the
tonnage on the river, the pontage of the bridge, and
statute work ; these, making no part of the city reve¬
nue, are kept separate and distinct under the manage¬
ment of commissioners appointed by act of parliament.
About the time of the Union, the number of inha- Number
bitants in Glasgow was reckoned about 14,000. In^babi-
1765, when a new division of the parishes took place,tant8,
they were estimated at 28,000. In 1785, when an
accurate survey was made, the number was 45,889,
including the inhabitants of the suburbs, the Calton,
Gorbals, and Anderston. Since that time, the new
buildings, as above noticed, have been erected, and the
city has become greatly more populous. In 1791 the
number of inhabitants was found to be 66,578. In
1811 they amounted to 110,460, and in 1820 to
147,197. Glasgow is therefore at present indisputably
the second city in Britain for population. The rental
of shops and houses in 1773 was 36,706k and in 1820
it had increased to 286,340k
The climate of Glasgow, similar to that of most other
parts of the island, is variable ; but there are some cir¬
cumstances peculiar to its local situation which tend to
affect it more than that of some other places nearer the
middle of the country. That part of the country in
which Glasgow is situated, is almost in the narrowest
part of the isthmus betwixt the Forth and Clyde, from
which position the air is frequently refreshed by tem¬
perate breezes from the sea. The wind is south-west
and west for nearly two-thirds of the year, and is satu¬
rated with vapour in its passage across the Atlantic ;
and the sky being frequently clouded with it, the heats
of summer are not so intense as in some other places.
Fogs are not so common as in the neighbourhood of
Edinburgh, and severe frosts are seldom of long con¬
tinuance, nor are snows either very deep, nor do they lie
long. Thunder and lightning are rare about Glasgow,
and seldom destructive.
The soil in the vicinity is partly a ricli clay and part¬
ly a light sand. The grain raised about the city is not
sufficient for the consumpt of the inhabitants, but vast
quantities are brought from Ireland, Ayrshire, and the
east country. While digging the foundation for the
Tontine puddings in the midst of the city, a piece of
a boat was found several feet below the surface of the
ground, imbedded in sand and gravel, from which it
would appear that the channel of the river had once
run in that direction. In August 1801, while repair¬
ing a division of the cathedral, below the pavement op¬
posite the pulpit, about two feet deep, part of a human
skeleton was found, and a gold chain about 30 inches
long lying above the bones of the leg. The date on
the stone was 1599, but the inscription in the Saxon
character was wholly eflaced.
The
5
Uatgow,
;}Iass.
I'i.ory of
§, s-ma-
iir.
G L A [
The general character of the people is that of in-
dustry and attention to business, by which many of them
have arisen to a state of independence. They were for¬
merly said to be remarkable for severity and apparent
sanctity of manners ^ but at present they are not more
distinguished in this respect than any of their neigh-
The crimes of robbery and house-breaking
hours.
have, of course, increased with the increase of popula
tion ; but many of these may be fairly charged upon
strangers, and it would be uncandid on that account to
attach blame to the inhabitants at large. See Glas¬
gow, Supplement.
GLASS, a transparent, brittle, factitious body, pro¬
duced from sand melted in a strong fire with fixed
alkaline salts, lead, slags, &c. till the whole becomes
perfectly clear and fine. The word is formed of the
Latin glastum, a plant called by the Greeks isatis, by
the Romans vitrum, by the ancient Britons g-wm/ww, and
by the English woad. We find frequent mention of
this plant in ancient writers, particularly Caesar, Vi¬
truvius, Pliny, &c. who relate that the ancient Britons
painted or dyed their bodies with glastum, guadum, vi¬
trum, &c. i. e. with the blue colour procured from this
plant. And hence the factitious matter we are speak¬
ing of came to be called glass ; as having always some¬
what of this bluishness in it.
At what time the art of glass-making was first in¬
vented, is altogether uncertain. Some imagine it to
have been invented before the flood : but of this we
have no direct proof, though there is no improbability
in the supposition ; for we know, that it is almost im¬
possible to excite a very violent fire, such as is necessary
in metallurgic operations, without vitrifying part of tire
bricks or stones wherewith the furnace is built. This
indeed might furnish the first hints of glass-making j
though it is also very probable, that such imperfect vi¬
trifications would be observed a long time before people
thought of making any use of them.
Neri traces the antiquity of glass as far back as the
time of Job. That writer, speaking of the value of wis¬
dom (chap, xxviii. verse 17.), says, that gold and crystal
cannot equal it. But this word, which Neri will have
to signify factitious glass, is capable of a great many
different interpretations, and properly signifies only
whatever is beautiful or transparent. Dr Merret will
have the art to be as ancient as that of pottery or the
making of bricks, for the reasons already given, viz.
that by all vehement heat some imperfect vitrifications
are produced. Ot this kind undoubtedly was the fossil
glass mentioned by Ferant. Imperator. to have been
found under ground where great fires had been. But
it is evident, that such imperfect vitrifications might
have passed unnoticed for ages ; and consequently we
have no reason to conclude from thence, that the art of
glass-making is of such high antiquity.
The Egyptians boast, that this art was taught them
by their great Hermes. Aristophanes, Aristotle, A-
lexander Aphrodiseus, Lucretius, and St John the
divine, put it out of all doubt that glass was used in
their days. Pliny relates, that it was first discovered
accidentally in Syria, at the mouth of the river Belus,
by certain merchants driven thither by a storm at sea;
who being obliged to continue there and dress their
victuals by making a fire on the ground, where there
Vol. IX. Part XL
745 ] G L A
was great plenty of the herb kali; that plant, burning G!as«.
to ashes, its salts mixed and incorporated with the sand, ' v 
or stones fit for vitrification, and thus produced glass ;
and that, this accident being known, the people of Sidon
in that neighbourhood essayed the work, and brought
glass into use; since which time the art has been con¬
tinually improving. Be this as it will, however, the
first glass-houses mentioned in hi-tory were erected in
the city ol Tyre, and here was the only staple of the
manufacture for many ages. The sand which lay on
the shore for about half a mile round the mouth of the
river Belus was peculiarly adapted to the making of
glass, as being neat and glittering; and the wide range
of the Tyrian commerce, gave an ample vent for the
productions of the furnace.
Mr Nixon, in his observations on a plate of glass
found at Herculaneum, which was destroyed A. D.
80, on which occasion Pliny lost his life, offers several
probable conjectures as to the uses to which such
plates might be applied. Such plates, he supposes,
might serve for specula or looking glasses; for Pliny, in
speaking of Sidon, adds, siquidem etiam specula excogita-
verat: the reflection of images from these ancient spe¬
cula being effected by besmearing them behind, or
tinging them through with some dark colour. An¬
other use in which they might be employed, was for
adorning the walls of their apartments, by way of
wainscot, to which Pliny is supposed to refer by his
vitrece camerce, lib. xxxvi. cap. 25. § 64. Mr Nixon
farther conjectures, that these glass plates might be
used for windows, as well as the lamina of lapis specu-
laris and phengites, which were improvements in luxury
mentioned by Seneca and introduced in his time,
Ep. xc. However, there is no positive authority re¬
lating to the usage of glass windows earlier than the
close of the third century: Manifestius est (says Lactan-
tius*), mentem esse, quce per oculos ea quce sunt oppo- # Deop;j-_
sita, transpiciat, quasi per fenestras lucente vitro aut Dei, cap. 5.
speculari lapide obductas.
The first time we hear of glass made among the
Romans was in the reign of Tiberius, when Pliny re¬
lates that an artist had his house demolished for mak¬
ing glass malleable, or rather flexible ; though Petroni-
us Arbiter, and some others, assure us, that the emperor
ordered the artist to be beheaded for his invention.
It appears, however, that before the conquest of
Britain by the Romans, glass-houses had been erected
in this island, as well as in Gaul, Spain, and Italy.—
Hence, in many parts of the country are to be found
amulets of glass, having a narrow perforation and thick
rim, denominated by the remaining Rvitansg/eineu naid-
reedh or glass adders, and which were probably in for¬
mer times used as amulets by the druids f. It can|gee^r
scarcely be questioned that the Britons were sufficiently gninum '
well versed in the manufacture of glass, to form out ofOtwH.
it many more useful instruments than the glass beads.
History indeed assures us, that they did manufacture
a considerable quantity of glass vessels. These, like their
amulets, were most probably green, blue, yellow, or
black, and many of them curiously streaked with other
colours. The process in the manufacture would be
nearly the same with that of the Gauls or Spaniards.
The sand of their shores being reduced to a sufficient
degree of fineness by art, was mixed with three-fourths
5 B of
f
G L A [ 746 ] G L A
of its weight of their nitre (much the same with our
kelp), and both were melted together. The metal was
then poured into other vessels, where it was left to
harden into a mass, and afterwards replaced in the fur¬
nace, where it became transparent in the boiling, and
was afterwards figured by blowing, or modelling in
the lath, into such vessels as they wanted.
It is not probable that the arrival of the Romans
would improve the glass manufacture among the Bri¬
tons. The taste of the Romans at that time was just
the reverse of that of the inhabitants of this island. The
former preferred silver and gold to glass for the com¬
position of their drinking vessels. They made indeed
great improvements in their own at Rome, during the
government of Nero. The vessels then formed of this
metal rivalled the bowls of porcelain in their dearness,
and equalled the cups of crystal in their transparency.
But these were by far too costly for common use j and
therefore, in all probability, were never attempted in
Britain. The glass commonly made use of by the Ro¬
mans was of a quality greatly inferior j and, from the
fragments which have been discovered at the stations or
towns of either, appears to have consisted of a thick,
sometimes white, but mostly blue green, metal.
According to venerable Bede, artificers skilled in
making glass for windows were brought over into Eng¬
land in the year 674, by Abbot Benedict, who were em¬
ployed in glazing the church and monastery of Were-
mouth. According to others, they were firs-t brought
over by Wilfrid, bishop of Worcester, about the same
time. Till this time the art of making such glass was
unknown in Britain j though glass windows did not
begin to be common before the year 1180J till this
period they were very scarce in private houses, and con¬
sidered as a kind of luxury, and as marks of great mag¬
nificence. Italy had them first, next France, from
whence they came into England.
Venice, for many years, excelled all Europe in the
fineness of its glasses; and in the thirteenth century, the
Venetians were the only people that had the secret of
making crystal looking glasses. The great glass works
were at Mur an, or Murano, a village near the city,
which furnished all Europe with the finest and largest
glasses.
The glass manufacture was first begun in England in
1557 : the finer Vort was made in the place called
Grutched Friars, in London ; the fine flint glass, little
inferior to that of Venice, was first made in the Savoy
house, in the Strand, London. This manufacture ap¬
pears to have been much improved in 1635, when it
was carried on with sea coal or pit coal instead of wood,
and a monopoly was granted to Sir Robert Mansell,
who was allowed to import the fine Venetian flint glasses
for drinking, the art of making which was not brought
to perfection before the reign of William III. But the
first glass plates, for looking glasses and coach windows,
were made, 1673, at Lambeth, by the encouragement
of the duke of Buckingham ; who, in 1670, introduced
the manufacture of fine glass into England, by means
of Venetian artists, with amazing success. So that with¬
in a century past, the French and English have not on¬
ly come up to, but even surpassed the Venetians, and
we are now no longer supplied from abroad.
The French made a considerable improvement in the
art of glass, by the invention of a method to cast very
large plates, till then unknown, and scarce practised yet Qias,
by any but themselves and the English. That court1 “ -i
applied itself with a laudable industry to cultivate and
improve the glass manufacture. A company of glass-
men was established by letters patent; and it was pro¬
vided by an arret, not only that the working in glass
should not derogate any thing from nobility, but even
that none but nobles should be allowed to work there¬
in.
• An extensive manufactory of this elegant and valu¬
able branch of commerce was first established in Lan¬
cashire, about the year 1773, through the spirited ex¬
ertions of a very respectable body of proprietors, who
were incorporated by an act of parliament. From
those various difficulties constantly attendant upon new
undertakings, when they have to contend with power¬
ful foreign establishments, it was for some time con¬
siderably embarrassed; but government, of late, having
taken oft' some restrictions that bore hard upon it, and
made some judicious regulations relative to the mode
of levying the excise duty, it now bids fair to rival, if
not surpass, the most celebrated continental manufac¬
tures, both with respect to the quality, brilliancy, and
size of its productions. j
With regard to the theory of vitrification, we are Theory of '
almost totally in the dark. In general, it seems to be vitiificetioa
that state in which solid bodies are, by the vehementuacerlain’
action of fire, fitted for being dissipated or carried off
in vapour. In all vitrifications there is a plentiful eva¬
poration : and if any solid substance is carried off in
vapour by the intense heat of a burning speculum, a
vitrification is always observed previously to take place.
The difference, then, between the state of fusion and
vitrification of a solid body we may conceive to be,
that in the former the element of fire acts upon the
parts of the solid in such a manner as only to disjoin
them, and render the substance fluid ; but in vitrifica¬
tion the fire not only disjoins the particles, but com¬
bines with them in a latent state into a third substance;
which, having now as much fire as it can contain, can
receive no further change from that element except
being carried off in vapour.
But though we are unable to effect this change up¬
on solid bodies without a very violent heat, it is otheiv
wise in the natural processes. By what we call crystal¬
lization, nature produces more perfect glasses than we
can make with our furnaces. These are called precious
stones ; but in all trials they discover the essential pro¬
perties of glass, and not of stones. The most distin¬
guishing property of glass is its resisting the force of
fire, so that this element cannot calcine or change it
as it does other bodies, but can only melt it, and
then carry it off in vapours. To this last all the
precious stones are subject. The diamond (the hard¬
est of them all) may be dissipated in a less degree of
heat than what would dissipate common glass. Nor
can it be any objection to this idea, that some kinds
of glass are capable of being converted into a kind
of porcelain by a long-continued cementation with cerf
tain materials. This change happens only to those
kinds of glass which are made of alkaline salt and
sand ; and Lr Lewis hath shown that this change is
produced by the dissipation of the saline principle,
which is the least fixed of the two. Glass, therefore,
we may still consider as a substance upon which the fire
Crlas?.
::mark-
ile pro-
:rties of
ass.
G L A [ >74^7 ] G
has no other effect than either to melt or dissipate it in his principles of percussion,
vapour,
4
uprising
igility of
annealed
I 5
| empts
iccount
lit.
The other properties of glass are very remarkable,
some of which follow :
1. It is one of the most elastic bodies in nature. If
the force with which glass balls strike each other be
reckoned 16, that wherewith they recede by virtue of
their elasticity will be nearly i j.
2. When glass is suddenly cooled, it becomes ex¬
ceedingly brittle j and this brittleness is sometimes at¬
tended with very surprising phenomena. Hollow balls
made of unannealed glass, with a small hole in them,
will fly to pieces by the heat of the hand only, if the
hole by which the internal and external air communi¬
cate be stopped with a finger. Some vessels, however,
made of such unannealed glass have been discover¬
ed, which have the remarkable property of resisting
very hard strokes given from without, though they
shiver to pieces by the shocks received from the fall of
very light and minute bodies dropped into their cavi¬
ties. These glasses may be made of any shape : all
that needs be observed in making them is, that their
bottom be thicker than their sides. The thicker the
bottom is, the easier do the glasses break. One whose
bottom is three fingers breadth in thickness flies with
as much ease at least as the thinnest glass. Some of
these vessels have been tried with strokes of a mallet
sufficient to drive a nail into wood tolerably hard, and
have held good without breaking. They have also
resisted the shock of several heavy bodies, let fall into
their cavities, from the height of two or three feet j
as musket balls, pieces of iron or other metal, pyrites,
jasper, wood, bone, &c. But this is not surprising,
as other glasses of the same shape and size will do the
same : but the wonder is, that taking a shiver of flint
of the size of a small pea, and letting it fall into the
glass only from the height of three inches, in about
two seconds, the glass flies, and sometimes at the very
moment of the shock; nay, a bit of flint no larger
than a grain, dropped into several glasses successively,
though it did not immediately break them, yet when
set by, they all flew in less than three quarters of an
hour. Some other bodies produce the same effect with
flint ; as sapphire, diamond, porcelain, hard tempered
steel ; also marbles such as boys play with, and like¬
wise pearls.
These experiments were made before the Royal So¬
ciety ; and succeeded equally when the glasses were
held in the hand, when they were rested on a pillow,
put in water, or filled with water. It is also remark¬
able, that the glasses broke upon having their bottoms
slightly rubbed with the finger, though some of them
did not fly till half an hour after the rubbing. If the
glasses are everywhere extremely thin, they do not
break in these circumstances.
Some have pretended to account for these pheno¬
mena, hy saying, that the bodies dropped into the
vessels cause a concussion which is stronger than the
cohesive force of the glass, and consequently that a
rupture must ensue. But why does not a ball of iron,
gold, silver, or copper, which are perhaps a thousand
times heavier than the flint, produce the same effect ?
It is because they are not elastic. But surely iron is
more elastic than the end of one’s finger. Mr Euler
has endeavoured to account for these appearances from
L A
_ t _ He thinks that this ex- Glais.
periment entirely overthrows the opinion of those who v—
measure the force of percussion by the vis viva, or ab¬
solute apparent strength of the stroke. According
to his principles, the great hardness and angular fi¬
gure of the flint, which makes the space of contact
with the glass extremely small, ought to cause an im¬
pression on the glass vastly greater than lead, or any
other metal j and this may account for the flint’s
breaking the vessel, though the bullet, even falling
from a considerable height, does no damage. Hollow
cups made of green bottle glass, some of them three
inches thick at the bottom, were instantly broken by a
shiver of flint weighing about two grains, though they
had resisted the shock of a musket ball from the height
of three feet.
That Mr Euler’s theory cannot be conclusive more
than the other, must appear evident from a very slight
consideration. It is not by angular bodies alone that
the glasses are broken. The marbles with which chil¬
dren play are round, and yet they have the same effect
with the angular flint. Besides, if it was the mere
force of percussion which broke the glasses, undoubt¬
edly the fracture would always take place at the very
instant of the stroke; but we have seen that this did
not happen sometimes till a very considerable space of
time had elapsed. It is evident, therefore, that this
effect is occasioned by the putting in motion some
subtle fluid with which the substance of the glass is
filled ; and that the motions of this fluid, when once
excited in a particular part of the glass, soon propagate
themselves through the whole or greatest part of it, by
which means the cohesive power becomes at last too
weak to resist them. There can be little doubt that
the fluid just now mentioned is that of electricity. It
is known to exist in glass in very great quantity ; and
it also is known to be capable of breaking glasses even
when annealed with the greatest care, if put into too
violent a motion. Probably the cooling of glass hastily
may make it more electric than is consistent with its
cohesive power, so that it is broken by the least in¬
crease of motion in the electric fluid by friction or
otherwise. This is evidently the case when it is bro¬
ken by rubbing with the finger ; but why it should
also break by the mere contact of flint and the other
bodies above mentioned, has not yet been satisfactorily
accounted for. g
A most remarkable phenomenon also is produced in Rotation of
glass tubes placed in certain circumstances. When these glass tubes
are laid before a fire in a horizontal position, havingj^fore a
their extremities properly supported, they acquire a“re‘
rotatory motion round their axis, and also a progressive
motion towards the fire, even when their supports are
declining from the fire, so that the tubes will move a
little way up hill towards the fire. When the progres¬
sive motion of the tubes towards the fire is stopped by
any obstacle, their rotation still continues. When the
tubes are placed in a nearly upright posture, leaning to
the right hand, the motion will be from east to west;
but if they lean to the left hand, their motion will be
from west to east; and the nearer they are placed to
the perfectly upright posture, the less will the motion
be either way.
If the tube is placed horizontally on a glass pane,
the fragment, for instance, of coach window-glass, in-
5 B 2 stead
G L A
[ 148 ]
G L A
Class.
* No. 476
Attempts
to account
for it.
Phi!.
Trans, vol.
Ixvii. p.
663.
ibid.
toL Ixviii.
P 474-
Materials
for glass.
f See Sal-
sola, Bo¬
tany In-
'iex..
stead of moving towards the fire, it will move from it,
and about its axis in a contrary direction to wbat it
bad done before j nay, it will recede from the fire, and
move a little up bill when the plane inclines towards
the fire. These experiments are recorded in the Phi¬
losophical Transactions*. They succeeded best with
tubes about 20 or 22 inches long, which had in each
end a pretty strong pin fixed in cork lor an axis.
The reason given for these phenomena, is the swell¬
ing of the tubes towards the fire by the heat, which
is known to expand all bodies. For, say the adopters
of this hypothesis, granting the existence of such a
swelling, gravity must pull the tube down when sup¬
ported near its extremities 5 and a fresh part being ex¬
posed to the fire, it must also swell out and fall down,
and so on.-»—But without going farther in the expla¬
nation of this hypothesis, it may be here remarked,
that the fundamental principle on which it proceeds is
false } for though fire indeed make bodies expand,
it does not increase them in weight j and therefore the
sides of the tube, though one of them is expanded by
the fire, must still remain in equilibria ; and hence we
must conclude, that the causes of these phenomena re¬
main yet to be discovered.
4. Glass is less dilatable by heat than metalline
substances, and solid glass sticks are less dilatable than
tubes. This was first discovered by Col. Roy, in ma¬
king experiments in order to reduce barometers to a
greater degree of exactness than hath hitherto been
found practicable \ and since his experiments were
made, one of the tubes 18 inches long, being compa¬
red with a solid glass rod of the same length, the for¬
mer was found by a pyrometer to expand four times
as much as the other, in a heat approaching to that
of boiling oil.—On account of the general quality
which glass has of expanding less than metal, M. de
Luc recommends it to be used in pendulums : and he
says it has also this good quality, that its expansions
are always equable, and proportioned to the degrees
of heat; a quality which is not to be found in any other
substance yet known.
5. Gi ass appears to be more fit for the conden¬
sation of vapours than metallic substances. An open
glass filled with water, in the summer time, will ga¬
ther drops of water on the outside, just as far as the
water in the inside reaches; and a person’s breath
blown on it manifestly moistens it. Glass also be¬
comes moist with dew, when metals do not. See
Dew.
6. A drinking glass partly filled with water, and
rubbed on the brim with a wet finger, yields musical
notes, higher or lower as the glass is more or less full
and will make the liquor frisk and leap. See Har¬
monica.
7. Glass is possessed of very great electrical virtues.
See Electricity, passim.
Materials for Making of Glass. The materials
whereof glass is made, we have already mentioned to
be salt and sand or siliceous earth.
1. The salt here used is procured from a sort of ashes
brought from the Levant, called polverine, or rochetta ;
which ashes are those of a sort of water plant called
kali f, cut down in the summer, dried in the sun, and
burnt in heaps, either on the ground or on iron grates j
the ashes falling into a pit, grow into a hard mass, or
stone, fit for use. It may also be procured from com¬
mon kelp, or the ashes of the fucus vesiculosus. See
Kelp.
To extract the salt, these ashes, or polverine, are
powdered and sifted, then put into boiling water, and
there kept till one-third of the water be consumed \
the whole being stirred up from time to time, that
the ashes may incorporate with the fluid, and all its
salts be extracted : then the vessel is filled up with
new water, and boiled over again, till one half be
consumed y what remains is a sort of ley, strongly im¬
pregnated with salt. This ley, boiled over again in
fresh coppers, thickens in about 24 hours, and shoots
its salt j which is to be ladled out, as it shoots, into
earthen pans, and thence into wooden vats to drain
and dry. This done, it is grossly pounded, and thus
put in a sort of oven, called calcar, to dry. It may
be added, that there are other plants, besides kali and
fucus which yield a salt fit for glass : such are the
common way thistle, bramble, hops, wormwood, woad,
tobacco, fern, and the whole leguminous tribe, as pease,
beans, &c.
Pearl ashes form a leading flux in the manufacture
of glass, and mostly supply the place of the Levant
ashes, the barillas of Spain, and many other kinds,
which were formerly brought here for making both
glass and soap.
There are other fluxes used for different kinds of
glass, and for various purposes, as calcined lead, nitre,
sea salt, borax, arsenic, smiths clinkers, and wood-
ashes, containing the earth and lixiviate salts as pro¬
duced by incineration. With regard to these several
fluxes, we may observe, in general, that the more
calx of lead, or other metallic earth, enters into the
composition of any glass, so much the more fusible,
soft, coloured, and dense this glass is, and reciprocally.
The colours given to glass by calces of lead, are
shades of yellow : on the other hand, glasses that con¬
tain only saline fluxes partake of the properties of salts j.
they are less heavy, less dense, harder, whiter, more
brilliant, and more brittle than the former j and glas¬
ses containing both saline and metallic fluxes do also
partake of the properties of both these substances.
Glasses too saline are easily susceptible of alteration by
the action of air and water : especially those in which
alkalies prevail ; and these are also liable to be injured
by acids. Those that contain too much borax and
arsenic, though at first they appear very beautiful,
quickly tarnish and become opake when exposed to
air. By attending to these properties of different
fluxes, phlogistic or saline, the artist may know how
to adjust the proportions of these to sand, or powdered
flints, for the various kinds of glass. See the article
Vitrification.
2. The sand or stone, called by the artists tarso, is
the second ingredient in glass, and that which gives it
the body and firmness. These stones, Agricola ob¬
serves, must be such as will fuse j and of these such as
are white and transparent are best 5, so that crystal,
challenges the precedency of all others.
At Venice they chiefly use a sort of pebble, found
in the river Tesino, resembling white marble, and cal¬
led cuogolo. Indeed Ant. Neri assures us, that all stones
which will strike fire with steel, are fit to vitrify ; but
Dr Morret shows, that there are some exceptions from.
this
. G L A L 749 ] G L A
Flints are admirable j and when calcined, though the second kind of window glass, and the best
kind of phial, will not be so clear as they ought, if
either too brown sand or impure salts be suffered’
this rule.
powdered, and searced, make a pure white crystalline
metal ; but the expence of preparing them makes the
masters of our glass-houses sparing of their use. Where
proper stones cannot be so conveniently had, sand is
used. The best for this purpose is that which is white,
small, and shining j examined by the microscope, it
appears to be small fragments of rock crystal. For
green glass, that which is of a soft texture, and more
gritty j it is to be well washed, which is all the prepa¬
ration it needs. Our glass-houses are furnished with
white sand for their crystal glasses from Lynn in Nor¬
folk, and Maidstone in Kent, and with the coarser for
green glass from Woolwich.
Some mention a third ingredient in glass, viz. man¬
ganese, a kind of pseudo loadstone, dug up in Ger¬
many, Italy, and even in Mendip hills in Somersetshire.
But the proportion hereof to the rest is very-inconsi¬
derable ; beside, that it is not used in all glass. Its
office is to purge off the natural greenish- colour, and
give it some other tincture required.
lor this purpose it should be chosen of a deep co¬
lour, and free from specks of metalline appearance,
or a lighter cast j manganese requires to be well calcined
in a hot furnace, and then to undergo a thorough levi-
gation. The effect of manganese in destroying the co¬
lours of glass, and hence called the soap of glass, is ac¬
counted for by M. Montamy, in his Trnite des Coulettrs
pour la Peinture en Email, in the following manner:
the manganese destroys the green, olive, and bluecolours
of glass,'by adding to them a purple tinge, and by the
mixture producing a blackish brown colour1, and as
blackness is caused merely by an absorption of the rays
of light, the blackish tinge given to the glass by the
mixture of colours, prevents the reflection of so many
rays, and thus renders the glass less coloured than be¬
fore. But the black produced by this substance sug¬
gests an obvious reason for using it very sparingly in
those compositions of glass which are required to be
very transparent. Nitre or saltpetre is also used with
the same intention ; for by destroying, in a certain de¬
gree, the inflammable or carbonaceous matter, which
gives a strong tinge of yellow to glass prepared with
lead as a flux, it serves to free it from this colour; and
in saline glasses, nitre is requisite in a smaller propor¬
tion to render them sufficiently transparent, as in the
case of looking glass and other kinds of plates.
Kinds of Glass. The manufactured glass now in
use may be divided into three general kinds; white
transparest glass, coloured glass, and common green or
bottle glass. Of the first kind there is a great variety ;
as the flint glass, as it is called with us, and the Ger¬
man crystal glass, which are applied to the same uses ;
the glass for plates, for mirrors, or looking glasses ; the
glass for windows and other lights j and the glass for
phials and small vessels. And these again differ in the
substances employed as fluxes in forming them, as well
as in the coarseness or fineness of such as are used for
their body. The flint and crystal, mirror and best
window glass, not only require such purity in the
fluxes, as may render k practicable to free the glass
perfectly from all colour j but for the same reason
likewise, either the white Lynn sand, calcined flints,
®r white pebbles, should be used. The others do not
demand the same nicety in the choice of the materials $
Glass.
.   to
enter into their composition.
Of coloured glass there is a great variety of sorts,
differing in their colour or other properties according
to the occasions for which they are wanted. The
difluences in the latter kind depend on the accidental
preparation and management of the artists by whom
they are manufactured, as will be afterwards ex¬
plained.
Furnaces for the Making of Glass. In this manufac¬
ture there are three sorts of furnaces j one called cal-
car is for the fritj the second is for working the
glass'5 the third serves to anneal the glass, and is called
the her. See Plate CCXLVII.
The calcar resembles an oven ten feet, long, seven
feet broad, and two deep j the fuel, which in Britain
is sea coal, is put into a trench on one side of the fur¬
nace, and the flame reverberating from the roof upon
the frit calcines it. The glass furnace, or working
furnace, is round, of three yards diameter, and two
high: or thus proportioned. It is divided into three
parts, each of which is vaulted. The lower part is
properly called the crown, and is made in that form.
Its use is to keep a brisk fire, which is never put out.
The mouth is called the bocca. There are several holes
in the arch of this crown, through which the flame
passes into the second vault or partition, and reverbe¬
rates into the pots filled with the ingredients above
mentioned. Round the insides are eight or more pots
placed, and piling pots on them. The number of pots
is always double that of the boccas or mouths, or of
the number of workmen, that each may have one pot
refined to work out of, and another for metal to refine
in while he works out of the other. Through the
working holes the metal is taken out of the pots, and
the pots are put into the furnace j and these holes are
stopped with moveable covers made of lute and brick,
to screen the workmen’s eyes from the scorching flames.
On each side of the bocca or mouth is a bocarella or
little hole, out of which coloured glass or finer metal
is taken from the piling pot. Above this oven there
is the third oven or leer, above five or six yards long,
where the vessels or glass are annealed or cooled :
this part consists of a tower, besides the leer, into
which the flame ascends from the furnace- The tower
has two mouths, through which the glasses are put ill
with a fork, and set on the floor or bottom : but they
are drawn out on iron pans C'dWeA fraches, through the
leer, to cool by degrees 5 so that they are quite cold
by the time they reach the mouth of the leer, which
enters the sarosel or room where the glasses are to be
stowed.
But the green-glass furnace is square; and at each
angle it has an arch for annealing or cooling glasses.
The metal is wrought on two opposite sides, and on
the other two they have their colours, into which are
made linnet holes for the fire to come from the fur¬
nace to bake the frit, and to discharge the smoke.
Fires are made in the arches to anneal the work, so
that the whole process is done in one furnace.
These furnaces must not be of brick, but of hard
sandy stones. In France, they build the outside of
brick ; and the inner part, to bear the fire, is made of a
sort.
G L A [ 750 ] G L A
Glass, salt fallers eartl,» or tobacco-pipe clay, of which
—v—^ earth they also make their melting pots. In Britain
the pots are made of Stourbridge clay.
Mr Blancourt observes that the worst and roughest
work in this art is the changing the pots when they
are worn out or cracked. In this case the great
working hole must be uncovered \ the faulty pot must
he taken out with iron hooks and forks, and a new
one must be speedily put in its place, through the flames,
by the hands only. For this work, the man guards
himself with a garment made of skins, in the shape of
a pantaloon, that covers him all but his eyes, and is
made as wet as possible; the eyes are defended with a
proper sort of glass.
Instruments for M.aking of Glass. The instruments
made use of in this work may be reduced to these
that follow. A blowing pipe, made of iron, about
two feet and a half long, with a wooden handle. An
iron rod to take up the glass after it is blown, and to
cut off the former. Scissars to cnt the glass when it
comes off from the first hollow iron. Shears to cut and
shape great glasses, &c. An iron ladle with the end
of the handle cased with wood, to take the metal out
of the refining pot, to put it into the workman’s
pots. A small iron ladle cased in the same manner,
to skim the alkalic salt that swims at top. Shovels,
one like a peel, to take up the great glasses j another
like a fire-shovel, to feed the furnace with coals. A
hooked iron fork, to stir the matter in the pots. An
iron rake for the same purpose, and to stir the frit. An
iron fork, to change or pull the pots out of the furnace,
&c.
Compositions for White and Crystal Glass. 1. To
make crystal glass, take of the whitest tarso, pounded
small, and searced as fine as flour, 200 pounds j of the
salt of polverine 130 pounds j mix them together and
put them into the furnace called the calcar, first heat¬
ing it. For an hour keep a moderate fire, and keep
stirring the materials with a proper rake, that they may
incorporate and calcine together $ then increase the fire
for five hours •, after which take out the matter; which
being now sufficiently calcined, is called frit. From
the calcar put the frit in a dry place, and cover it up
from the dust for three or four months. Now to make
the glass or crystal: take of this crystal frit, called also
bollito; set it in pots in the furnace, adding to it a due
quantity of magnesia or manganese : when the two are
fused, cast the floor into fair water, to clear it of the
salt called sandiver; which would otherwise make the
crystal obscure and cloudy. This lotion must be re¬
peated again and again, as often as needful, till the
crystal be fully purged ; or this scum may be taken off
by means of proper ladles. Then set it to boil four,
five, or six days; which done, see whether it have man¬
ganese enough ; and if it be yet greenish, add more
manganese, at discretion, by little and little at a time,
taking care not to overdose it, because the manganese
inclines it to a blackish hue. Then let the metal cla¬
rify, till it becomes of a clear and shining colour ;
which done, it is fit to be blown or formed into vessels
at pleasure.
2. Flint glass, as it is called by us, is of the same
general kind with that which in other places is called
crystal glass. It has this name from being originally
made with calcined flints, before the use of the white
2
sand was understood ; and retains the name, though no Q]aJ!
flints are now used in the composition of it. This flipt 1- J
glass difl’ers from the other, in having lead for its flux,
and white sand for its body; whereas the fluxes
used for the crystal glass are salts or arsenic, and the
body consists of calcined flints or white river pebbles,
tarso, or such stones; To the white sand and lead a
proper proportion of nitre is added, to burn away the
phlogiston of the lead, and also a small quantity of
magnesia; and in some works they use a proportional
quantity of arsenic to aid the fluxing ingredients. The
most perfect kind of glass may be made by fusing
with a very strong fire 120 pounds of the white sand,
50 pounds of red lead, 40 pounds of the best pearl
ashes, 20 pounds of nitre, and five ounces of magnesia.
Another composition of flint glass, which is said to
come nearer to the kind now made, is the following:
120 pounds of sand, 54 pounds of the best pearl ashes,
36 pounds of red lead, 12 pounds of nitre, and 6 ounces
of magnesia. To either of these a pound or two of ar¬
senic may be added, to increase the flux of the com¬
position. A cheaper composition of flint glass may be
made with 120 pounds of white sand, 35 pounds of
the best pearl ashes, 40 pounds of red lead, 13 pounds
of nitre, 6 pounds of arsenic, and four ounces of mag¬
nesia; or instead of the arsenic may be substituted 15
pounds of common salt; but this will be more brittle
than the other. The cheapest composition for the worst
kind of flint glass consists of 120 pounds of white sand,
30 pounds of red lead, 20 pounds of the best pearl ashes,
10 pounds of nitre, 15 pounds of common salt, and six
pounds of arsenic. The best German crystal glass
is made of 120 pounds of calcined flints or white sand,
70 pounds of the best pearl ashes, 10 pounds of saltpetre,
half a pound of arsenic, and five ounces of magnesia.
And a cheaper composition is formed of 120 pounds of
calcined flints or white sand, 46 pounds of pearl ashes,
7 pounds of nitre, 6 pounds of arsenic, and 5 ounces of
magnesia.
A glass much harder than any prepared in the com¬
mon way, may be made by means of borax in the fol¬
lowing method: Take four ounces of borax, and an
ounce of fine sand; reduce both to a subtile powder,
and melt them together in a large close crucible set in
a wind furnace, keeping up a strong fire for half an
hour; then take out the crucible, and when cold break
it, and there will be found at the bottom a pure hard
glass capable of cutting common glass like a diamond.
This experiment, duly varied, says Dr Shaw, may lead
to several useful improvements in the arts of glass, en¬
amels, and factitious gems, and shows an expeditious
method of making glass, without any fixed alkali, which
has been generally thought an essential ingredient in
glass, and it is not yet known whether calcined crystal
or other substances being added to this salt instead of
sand, it might not make a glass approaching to the na¬
ture of a diamond.
There are three principal kinds of glasses, distin¬
guished by the form or manner of working them ; viz.
1. Round glass, as those of our vessels, phials, drinking
glasses, &.c. II. Table or window glass, of which there
are divers kinds ; viz. crown glass, jealous glass, &c.
III. Plate glass, or mirror glass.
I. Working or Blowing Round Glass. The working
furnace, we have observed, is round, and has six boccas
or
G L A
lass. or apertures ’• at one of these, called thegmi* bocca, the
i furnace is heated, and the pots of frit are at this set in
the furnace j two other small holes, called boccivcllcts^
serve to lade or take out the melted metal, at the end
of an iron, to work the glass. At the other holes they
put in pots of fusible ingredients, to be prepared, and
at last emptied into the lading pot.
There are six pots in each furnace, all made of to¬
bacco-pipe clay, proper to sustain not only the heat of
the fire, but also the effect of the polverine, which pe¬
netrates every thing else. There are only two of these
pots that work : the rest serve to prepare the matter
for them. The fire of the furnace is made and kept up
with dry hard wood, cast in without intermission at six
apertures.
When the matter contained in the two pots is suf¬
ficiently vitrified, they proceed to blow or fashion it.
For this purpose the workman dips his blowing pipe
into the melting pot j and by turning it about, the
metal sticks to the iron more firmly than turpentine.
This he repeats four times, at each time rolling the
end of his instrument, with the hot metal thereon, on
a piece of plate iron j over which is a vessel of water
which helps to cool, and so to consolidiate and to dis¬
pose that matter to bind more firmly with what is to
be taken next out of the melting pot. But after helms
dipt a fourth time, and the workman perceives there
is metal enough on the pipe, he claps his mouth im¬
mediately to the other end of it, and blows gently
through the iron tube, till the metal lengthens like a
bladder about a foot. Then he rolls it on a marble
stone a little while to polish it; and blows a second
time, by which he brings it to the shape of a globe of
about 18 or 20 inches diameter. Every time he blows
into the pipe, he removes it quickly to his cheek ;
otherwise he would be in danger, by often blowing, of
drawing the flame into his mouth : and this globe may
be flattened by returning it to the fire j and brought
into any form by stamp irons, which are always ready.
When the glass is thus blown, it is cut off at the collet
or neck ; which is the narrow part that stuck to the
iron. The method of performing this is as follows :
the pipe is rested on an iron bar, close by the collet;
then a drop of cold water being laid on the collet, it
will crack about a quarter of an inch, which, with a
slight blow or cut of the shears will immediately sepa¬
rate the collet.
After this is done, the operator dips the iron rod
into the melting pot, by which he extracts as much
metal as serves to attract the glass he has made, to
which he now fixes this rod at the bottom of his work,
opposite to the opening made by the breaking of the
collet. In this position the glass is carried to the great
bocca or mouth of the oven,' to be heated and scald¬
ed } by which means it is again put into such a soft
state, that, by the help of an iron instrument, it can
be pierced, opened, and widened, without breaking.
But the vessel is not finished till it is returned to the
great bocca •, where being again heated thoroughly,
and turned quickly about with a circular motion, it
will open to any size, by the means of the heat and
motion.
If there remain any superfluities, they are cut off
with the shears; for till the glass is cool, it remains in a
soft flexible state. It is therefore taken from the hocca,
G L A
and carried to an earthen bench, covered with brands,
which are coals extinguished, keeping it turning; be¬
cause that motion prevents any settling, and preserves
an evenness in the face of the glass, where, as it cools
it comes to its consistency; being first cleared from
the iron rod by a slight stroke by the hand of the work¬
man.
It the vessel conceived in the workman’s mind, and
whose body is already made, requires a foot, or a han¬
dle, or any other member or decoration, he makes them
separately; and now essays to join them with the help
of hot metal, which he takes out of the pots with his
iron rod : but the glass is not brought to its true hard¬
ness till it has passed the leer or annealing oven, describ¬
ed before.
II. Working or blowing of Window or Table Glass.
The method of working round glass, or vessels of any
sort, is in every particular applicable to the working of
window or table glass, till the blowing iron has been
dipt the fourth time. But then instead of rounding it,
the workman blows, and so manages the metal upon the
iron plate, that it extends two or three feet in the form
of a cylinder. rlhis cylinder is put again to the fire,
and blown a second time, and is thus repeated till it is
extended to the dimensions required, the side to which
the pipe is fixed diminishing gradually till it ends in a
pyramidal form ; so that, to bring both ends nearly to
the same diameter, while the glass is thus flexible, he
adds a little hot metal to the end opposite the pipe, and
draws it out with a pair of iron pincers, and immediate¬
ly cuts off the same end with the help of a little cold
water as before.
The cylinder being now open at one end, is carried
back to the bocca ; and there, by the help of cold wa¬
ter, it is cut about eight or ten inches from the iron
pipe or rod ; and the whole length at another place, by
which also it is cut oft' from the iron rod. Then it is
heated gradually on an earthen table, by which it opens
in length ; while the workman, with an iron tool, al¬
ternately lowers and raises the two halves of the cylin¬
der; which at last will open like a sheet of paper, and
fall into the same form in which it serves for use ;
in which it is preserved by heating it over again, cool¬
ing it on a table of copper, and hardening it 24 hours
in the annealing furnace, to which it is carried upon
forks. In this furnace an hundred tables of glass may
lie at a time, without injury to each other, by separat¬
ing them into tents, with an iron shiver between, which
diminishes the weight by dividing it, and keeps the
tables flat and even.
Of window or table glass there are various sorts,
made in diflerent places, for the use of building. Those
most known among us are given us by the author of the
Builder’s Dictionary, as follows :
l. Crown, of which, says Neri, there are two kinds,
distinguished by the places where they are wrought; viz.
Ratclift crown glass, which is the best and clearest, and
was first made at the Bear garden, on the Bankside,
Southwark, but since at Ratcliff: of this there are 24
tables to the case, the tables being of a circular form,
about three feet six inches in diameter. The other kind,
or Lambeth crown glass, is of a darker colour than the
former, and more inclining to green.
The best window or crown glass is made of white
sand 6a pounds, of purified pearl ashes 30 pounds, of
saltpetre
[ 7Si ]
G L A [75
saltpetre 15 pounds, of borax one pound, and of arse¬
nic half a pound. If the glass should prove yellow,
magnesia must be added. A cheaper composition for
window glass consists of 60 pounds of white sand, 25
pounds of unpurified pearl ashes, 10 pounds of common
salt, 5 pounds of nitre, 2 pounds oi arsenic, and one
ounce and a half of magnesia. The common or green
window glass is composed of 60 pounds of white sand,
60 pounds of unpurified pearl ashes, 10 pounds of com¬
mon salt, 2 pounds of arsenic, and 2 ounces of magne¬
sia. But a cheaper composition for this purpose con¬
sists of 120 pounds of the cheapest white sand, 30
pounds of unpurified pearl ashes, 60 pounds of wood
ashes, well burnt and sifted, 20 pounds of common salt,
and 5 pounds of arsenic.
2. French glass, called also Normandy glass, and for¬
merly Lorraine glass, because made in those provinces.
At present it is made wholly in the nine glass works 5
five whereof are in the forest of Lyons, lour in the
county of Eu j the last at Beaumont near Rouen. It
is of a thinner kind than our crown glass j and when
laid on a piece of white paper, appears of a dirtyish
green colour. There are but 25 tables of this to the
case.
3. German glass is of two kinds, the white and the
green : the first is of a whitish colour, but is subject to
those small curved streaks observed in our Newcastle
glass, though free from the spots and blemishes thereof.
The green, besides its colour, is liable to the same
streaks as the white j but both of them are straighter
and less warped than our Newcastle glass.
4. Dutch glass is not much unlike our Newcastle
glass either in colour or price. It is frequently much
warped like that, and the tables are but small.
if. Neivcastle glass is that most used in England. It
is of an ash colour, and much subject to specks, streaks,
and other blemishes j and besides is frequently warp¬
ed. Leybourn says, there are 45 tables to the case,
each containing five superficial feet : some say there
are but 35 tables, and six feet in each table.
6. Phial glass 2i'Fin& betwixt the flint glass and
the common bottle or green glass. The best kind
may be prepared with 120 pounds of white sand, 50
pounds of unpurified pearl ashes, 10 pounds of com¬
mon salt, 5 pounds of arsenic, and $ ounces of magne¬
sia. The composition for green or common phial glass
consists of 120 pounds of the cheapest white sand, 80
pounds of wood ashes well burnt and sifted, 20 pounds
of pearl ashes, 15 pounds of common salt, and 1 pound
of arsenic.
The common bottle or green is formed of sand of
any kind fluxed by the ashes of burnt wood, or of any
parts of vegetables •, to which may be added the scorice
or clinkers of forges. When the softest sand is used,
200 pounds of wood ashes will suffice for ICO pounds
of sand, which are to be ground and mixed together.
The composition with the clinkers consists of 170
pounds of wood ashes, 100 pounds of sand, and 50
pounds of clinkers or scorice, which are to be ground
and mixed together. If the clinkers cannot be ground,
they must be broke into small pieces, and mixed with
the other matter without any grinding.
III. Working of Plate or Mirror Glass, i. The
materials of which this glass is made are much the
2 ] G L A
same as those of other works of glass, viz,, an alkali,
salt and sand.
The salt, however, should not be that extracted from
polverine or the ashes of the Syrian kali, but that from
BARILLA, growing about Alicant in Spain. It is very
rare that we can have the barilla pure j the Spaniards
in burning the herb make a practice of mixing another
herb along with it, which alters its quality 5 or of
adding sand to it to increase the weight, which is
easily discovered if the addition be only made after
the boiling of the ashes, but next to impossible if made
in the boiling. It is from this adulteration that those
threads and other defects in plate glass arise. To
prepare the salt, they clean it well of all foreign mat¬
ters j pound or grind it with a kind of mill, and finally
sift it pretty fine.
Pearl ashes, properly purified, will furnish the alkali
salt requisite for this purpose j but it will be necessary
to add borax or common salt, in order to facilitate the
fusion, and prevent the glass from stifl'ening in that
degree of heat in which it is to be wrought into plates.
For purifying the pearl ashes, dissolve them in four
times their weight of boiling water, in a pot of cast
iron, always kept clean from rust. Let the solution
be removed into a clean tub, and remain there 24 hours
or longer. Having decanted the clear part of the
fluid from the dregs or sediment, put it again in the
iron pot, and evaporate the water till the salts are left
perfectly dry. Preserve them in stone jars, well secu¬
red from air and moisture.
Pearl ashes may also be purified in the highest de¬
gree, so as to be proper for the manufacture of the
most transparent glass, by pulverizing three pounds of
the best pearl ashes with six ounces of saltpetre in a
glass or marble mortar, till they arp well mixed ; and
then putting part of the mixture into a large crucible,
and exposing it in a furnace to a strong heat. When
this is red hot, throw in the rest gradually j and when
the whole is red hot, pour it out on a moistened stone
or marble, and put it into an earthen or clean iron pot,
with ten pints of water *, heat it over the fire till
the salts be entirely melted j let it then stand to cool,
and filter it through paper in a pewter cullender. When
it is filtered, put the fluid again into the pot, and eva¬
porate the salt to dryness, which will then be as white
as snow} the nitre having burnt all the phlogistic mat¬
ter that remained in the pearl ashes after their former
calcination.
As to the sand, it is to be sifted and washed till
such time as the water come off very clear ; and when
it is well dried again, they mix it with the salt, pas¬
sing the mixture through another sieve. This done,
they lay them in the annealing furnace for about two
hours j in which time the matter becomes very light
and white : in this state they are called /77V or fritta ,*
and are to be laid up in a dry clean place, to give
them time to incorporate : they lie here for at least a
year.
When they would employ this frit, they lay it for
some hours in the furnace, adding to some the frag¬
ments or shards of old and ill made glasses; taking
care first to calcine the shards by heating them red
hot in the furnace, and thus casting them into cold
water. To the mixture must likewise be add¬
ed
G L A [ 7
Slass. manganese, to promote the fusion and purifica-
»Y——’ tion.
The best composition for looking glass plates consists
of 60 pounds of white sand cleansed, 25 pounds of
purified pearl ashes, 15 pounds of saltpetre, and ^
pounds of borax. If a yellow tinge should affect the
glass, a small proportion of magnesia, mixed with an
equal quantity of arsenic, should be added. An ounce
of the magnesia may be first tried ; and if this proves
insufficient, the quantity should be increased.
A cheaper composition for looking glass plate con¬
sists of 60 pounds of the white sand, 20 pounds of
pearl ashes, 10 pounds of common salt, 7 pounds of
nitre, 2 pounds of arsenic, and 1 pound of borax. The
matter of which the glasses are made at the famous
manufacture of St Gobin in France, is a composition
of solder and of a very white sand, which are carefully
cleaned of all heterogeneous bodies*, afterwards wash¬
ed for several times, and dried so as to be pulverized
in a mill, consisting of many pestles, which are moved
by horses. When this is done, the sand is sifted through
silk sieves and dried.
The matter thus far prepared is equally fit for plate
glass, to be formed either for blowing or by casting.
The largest glasses at St Gobin are run; the middle
sized and small ones are blown.
2. Blowing the plates. The workhouses, furnaces,
&c. used in the making of this kind of plate glass, are
the same, except that they are smaller, and that the
carquaisses are disposed in a large covered gallery, over
against the furnace, as those in the following article, to
which the reader is referred.
After the materials are vitrified by the heat of the
fire, and the glass is sufficiently refined, the workman
dips in his blowing iron, six feet long, and two inches
in diameter, sharpened at the end which is put in the
mouth, and widened at the other, that the matter may
adhere to it. By this means be takes up a small ball
of matter, which sticks to the end of the tube by con¬
stantly turning it. He then blows into the tube, that
the air may swell the annexed ball ; and carrying it
over a bucket of water, which is placed on a support
at the height of about four feet, he sprinkles the end
of the tube to which the matter adheres, with water,
still turning it, that by this cooling the matter may
coalesce with the tube, and be fit for sustaining a
greater weight. He dips the tube again into the same
pot, and proceeds as before ; and dipping it into the pot
a third time, he takes it out, loaded with matter, in
the shape of a pear, about ten inches in diameter, and
a foot long, and cools it at the bucket j at the same
time blowing into the tube, and with the assistance of
a labourer, giving it a balancing motion, he causes the
matter to lengthen ; which, by repeating this opera¬
tion several times, assumes the form of a cylinder, ter¬
minating like a ball at the bottom, and in a point at
the top. The assistant is then placed on a stool three
feet and a half high ; and on this stool there are two
upright pieces of timber, with a cross beam of the
same, for supporting the glass and tube, which are
kept in an oblique position by the assistant, that the
master workman may with a puncheon set in a wooden
handle, and with a mallet, make a hole in the mass :
this hole is drilled at the centre of the ball that termi¬
nates the cylinder, and is about an inch in diameter.
; Vol. IX. Part II. f
J ] G la A
hen the glass is pierced, the defects of it are per- Glasi
ceived j if it is tolerably perfect, the workman lays -y—
the tube horizontally on a little iron tressel, placed on
the support of the aperture of the furnace. Having
exposed it to the heat for about half a quarter of an
hour, he takes it away, and with a pair of long and
broad shears, extremely sharp at the end, widens the
glass, by insinuating the shears into the hole made
with the puncheon, whilst the assistant, mounted on the
stool, turns it round, till at last the opening is so large
as to make a perfect cylinder at bottoni. When this
is done, the workman lays his glass upon the tressels
at the mouth of the furnace to heat it : he then gives
it to his assistant on the stool, and with large shears
cuts the mass of matter up to half its height. There is
at the mouth of the. furnace an iron tool called pontil,
\vhich is now heating, that it may unite and coalesce
with the glass just cut, and perform the office which
the tube did before it was separated from the glass.
This pontil is a piece of iron six feet long, and in the
form of a cane or tube, having at the end of it a small
iron bar, a foot long, laid equally upon the long one,
and making with it a T. This little bar is full of the
matter of the glass, about four inches thick. This
red hot pontil is presented to the diameter of the
glass, which coalesces immediately with the matter
round the pontil, so as to support the glass for the
following operation. When this is done, they sepa¬
rate the tube from the glass, by striking a few blows
with a chissel upon the end of the tube which has been
cooled } so that the glass breaks directly, and makes
this separation, the tube being discharged of the glass
now adhering to the pontil. They next present to the
furnace the pontil of the glass, laying it on the tressel
to heat, and redden the end of the glass, that the
workman may open it with his shears, as he has al¬
ready opened one end of it, to complete the cylinder ;
the assistant holding it on his stool as before. For the
last time, they put the pontil on the tressel, that the
glass may become red hot, and the Workman cuts it
quite open with his shears, right over against the fore-
mentioned cut ; this he does as before, taking care that
both cuts are in the same line. In the mean time,
the man who looks after the carquaisses comes to re¬
ceive the glass upon an iron shovel two feet and a
half long without the handle, and two feet wide, with
a small border of an inch and a half to the right and
left, and towards the handle of the shovel. Upon
this the glass is laid, flattening it a little with a small
stick a foot and a half long, so that the cut of the
glass is turned upwards. They separate the glass from
the pontil, by striking a few gentle blows between the
two with a chissel. The glass is then removed to the
mouth of the hot carquaisse, where it becomes red hot
gradually ; the workman, with an iron tool six feet
long, and widened at the end in form of a club at cards
four inches long, and two inches wide on each side,
very flat, and not half an inch thick, gradually lifts
up the cut part of the glass to unfold it out of its form
of a flattened cylinder, and render it smooth, by turn¬
ing it down upon the hearth of the carquaisse. The
tool already described being insinuated within the cy¬
linder, performs this operation by being pushed bard
against all the parts of the glass. When the glass is thus
made quite smooth, it is pushed to the bottom of the
5 C carquaisse
G L A [ 754 ] G L A
Glass, carquaisse or annealing furnace witii a small iron raker,
'Y--—*' and ranged there with a little iron hook. When the
carquaisse is full, it is stopped and cemented as in the
case of run glasses, and the glass remains there lor a
fortnight to be annealed } after which time they are
taken out to be polished. A workman can make but
one glass in an hour, and he works and rests lor six
hours alternately.
Such was the method formerly made use of for blow¬
ing plate glass, looking glasses, &c. j but the work¬
men, by this method, could never exceed 50 inches in
length, and a proportional breadth, because what were
larger were always found to warp, which prevented
them from reflecting the objects regularly, and wanted
substance to bear the necessary grinding. These im¬
perfections have been remedied by the following inven¬
tion of the Sieur Abraham Thevart, in France, about
the year 1688.
3. Casting or Running of Large Mirror Glass Rkites.
The furnace is of a very large dimension, environed
Plate with several ovens, or annealing furnaces, called car-
^ iio s' ? uaisses) besides others for making of frit and calcining
0 ’ old pieces of glass. This furnace, before it is fit to run
glass, costs 3500I. It seldom lasts above three years,
and even in that time it must be refitted every six
months. It takes six months to rebuild it, and three
months to refit it. The melting pots are as big as
large hogsheads, and contain about 2000 weight of me¬
tal. If one of them bursts in the furnace, the loss of
the matter and time amounts to 250I. The materials
in these pots are the same as described before. When
the furnace is red hot, these materials are put in at
th ree different times, because that helps the fusion ; and
in 24 hours they are vitrified, refined, settled, and fit for
casting. A is the bocca, or mouth of the furnace j B
is the cistern that conveys the liquid glass it receives
out of the melting pots in the furnace to the casting
table. These cisterns are filled in the furnace, and re¬
main therein six hours after they are filled ; and then
are hooked out by the means of a large iron chain,
guided by a pulley, placed upon a carriage with four
wheels marked C, by two men. This carriage has no
middle piece •, so that when it has brought the cistern
to the casting table D, they slip off the bottom of the
cistern, and out rushes a torrent of flaming matter upon
the table: this matter is confined to certain dimensions
by the iron rulers F.E, which are moveable, retain the
fluid matter, and determine the width of the glass ;
wnile a man, with the roller F resting on the edge of
the iron rulers, reduceth it as it cools to an equal thick¬
ness, which is done in the space of a minute. This ta¬
ble is supported on a wooden frame, with trusties for the
convenience ol moving to the annealing furnace; into
which, strewed with sand, the new plate is shoved,
where it will harden in about 10 days.
What is most surprising throughout the whole of this
operation, is the quickness and address wherewith such
massy cisterns, filled with a flaming matter, are taken
out of the furnace, conveyed to the table, and poured
therein, the glass spread, &c. The whole is incon¬
ceivable to such as have not been eye witnesses of that
surprising manufacture.
As fast as the cisterns are emptied, they carry them
back to the furnace and take fresh ones, which they
empty as beforei Thus they continue to do so long as
there are any full cisterns ; laying as many plates in
each carquaisse as it will hold, and stopping them up
with doors of baked earth, and every chink with ce¬
ment, as soon as they are full, to let them anneal, and
cool again, which requires about 14 days.
The first running being dispatched, they prepare an¬
other, by filling the cisterns anew from the matter In
the pots j and after the second, a third •, and even a
fourth time, till the melting pots are quite empty.
The cisterns at each running should remain at least
six hours in the furnace to whiten ; and when the first
annealing furnace is full, the casting table is to be car¬
ried to another. It need not here be observed, that
the carquaisses, or annealing furnaces, must first have
been heated to the degree proper for them. It may
be observed, that the oven full, or the quantity of mat¬
ter, commonly prepared, supplies the running of 18
glasses, which is performed in 18 hours, being an hour
for each glass. The workmen work six hours, and are
then relieved by others.
When the pots are emptied, they take them out, as
well as the cisterns, to scrape off what glass remains,
which otherwise would grow green by continuance of
fire, and spoil the glasses. They are not filled again in-
less than 36 hours ; so that they put the matter into
the furnace, and begin to run it every 54 hours.
The manner of heating the large furnaces is very
singular 5 the two tisors, or persons employed for that
purpose, in their shirts, run swiftly round the furnace
without making the least stop: as they run along, they
take two billets, or pieces of wood, which are cut for
the purpose : these they throw into the first tissart ;
and. continuing their course, do the same for the second.
This they hold without interruption for six hours suc¬
cessively ; after which they are relieved by others, &c.
It is surprising that two such small pieces of wood,
and which are consumed in an instant, should Feep the
furnace to the proper degree of heat ; which is such
that a large bar of iron, laid at one of the mouths of
the furnace, becomes red hot in less than half a mi¬
nute.
The glass, when taken out of the melting furnace,
needs nothing farther but to be ground, polished, and
foliated.
4. Grinding and Polishing of Plate Glass. Glass
is made transparent by fire ; but it receives its lustre
by the skill and labour of the grinder and polisher ; the
former of whom takes it rough out of the hands ef the
maker.
In order to grind plate glass, they lay it horizontal¬
ly upon a flat stone table made of a very fine grained
freestone ; and for its greater security they plaster it
down with lime or stucco} for otherwise the force of
the workmen, or the motion of the wheel with which
they grind it, would move it about.
I his stone table is supported by a strong frame A.
made of wood, with a ledge quite round its edges, ri¬
sing about two inches higher than the glass. Upon this
glass to be ground is laid another rough glass not above
half so big, and so loose as to slide upon it; but ce¬
mented to a wooden plank, to guard it from the injury
it must otherwise receive from the scraping of the
wheel to which this plank is fastened, and from the
weights laid upon it to promote the grinding or triture Platy
of the glasses. The whole is covered with a wheel B, Ct XJAI-
GLAS S
PLATE CCXLVII
G L A
iGlass. nla^e °f hard light wood, about six inches in diameter,
y—< by pulling of which backwards and forwards alternate¬
ly, and sometimes turning it round, the workmen,
who always stand opposite to each other, produce a
constant attrition between the two glasses, and bring
them to what degree of smoothness they please, by first
pouring in water and coarse sand ; after that, a finer
sort ol sand, as the work advanceth, till at last they
must pour in the powder of smalt. As the upper or in¬
cumbent glass polishes and grows smoother, it must be
taken away, and another from time to time put in its
place.
This engine is called a mill by the artist, and is used
only in the largest sized glasses } for in the grinding of
the lesser glasses, they are content to work without a
wheel, and to have only four wooden handles fastened
to the four corners of the stone which loads the upper
plank, by which they work it about.
When the grinder has done his part, who finds it very
difficult to bring the glass to an exact plainness, it is
turned over to the polisher j who, with the fine powder
of tripoli stone or emery, brings it to a perfect evenness
and lustre. The instrument made use of in this branch
is a board, c c, furnished with a felt, and a small roller,
which the workman moves by means of a double handle
at both ends. The artist, in working this roller, is af-
sisted with a wooden hoop or spring, to the end of which
it is fixed: for the spring, by constantly bringing the
roller back to the same points, facilitates the action of
the workman’s arm.
Colouring of Glass. That the colours given to glass
may have their full beauty, it must be observed, that
every pot when new, and first used, leaves a foulness
in the glass from its own earthy parts; so that a co¬
loured glass made in a new pot can never be bright or
perfectly fine. For this reason, the larger of these,
when new, may be glazed with white glass; but the
second time of using the pots lose this foulness. The
glazing may be done by reducing the glass to pow’der,
and moistening the inside of the pot with water; while
it is yet moist, put in some of the pow'dered glass, and
shake it about, till the whole inner surface of the pot
be covered by as much as will adhere to it, in conse¬
quence of the moisture. Throw out the redundant part
of the powdered glass; and the pot being dry, set it
in a furnace sufficiently hot to vitrify the glass adhering
to it, and let it continue there some time; after which,
care must be taken to let it cool gradually. Those
pots which have served for one colour must not be used
for another; for the remainder of the old matter will
spoil the colour of the new. The colours must be very
carefully calcined to a proper degree ; for if they were
calcined ether too much or too little, they never do
well; the proper proportion, as to quantity, must also
carefully be regarded, and the furnaces must be fed with
dry hard wood. And all the processes succeed much
the better if the colour be used dividedly, that is, part
of it in the frit, and the rest in the melted meltal.
A hard glass, proper for receiving colours, may be
prepared by pulverizing 12 pounds of the best sand
cleansed by washing in a glass or flint mortar, and mix¬
ing seven pounds of pearl ashes or any fixed alkaline
salt purified with nitre, one pound of saltpetre, and
half a pound of borax, and pounding them together.
A glass less hard may be prepared of twelve pounds
[ 755 ]
G L A
of white sand cleansed, seven pounds of pearl ashes pu¬
rified with saltpetre, one pound of nitre, half a pound
of borax, and four ounces of arsenic prepared as be¬
fore.
Ametlnjst colour. See Purple below, and the article
Amethyst.
Balas colour.' Put into a pot crystal frit, thrice wash¬
ed in water ; tinge this with manganese, prepared into
a clear purple ; to this add alumen cativum, sifted fine,
in small quantities, and at several times : this will make
the glass grow yellowish, and a little reddish, but not
blackish, and always dissipates the manganese. The
last time you add manganese give no more of the o/w-
nien cativum, unless the colour be too full. Thus will
the glass be exactly of the colour of the balas rubv.
See Ruby Glass.
The common black colour. The glassmakers take old
broken glass of different colours, grind it to powder,
and add to it, by different parcels, a sufficient quantity
of a mixture ot two parts zaffer and one part man¬
ganese : when well purified, they work it into ves¬
sels, &c.
Glass beads are coloured with manganese only.
Black velvet colour, To give this deep and fine colour
to glass, take of crystalline and pulverine frit, of each
20 pounds; of calx of lead and tin, four pounds ; set
all together in a pot in the furnace, well heated: when
the glass is formed and pure, take steel well calcined
and powdered, scales of iron that fly off from the
smith’s anvil, of each an equal quantity ; powder and
mix them well; then put six ounces of this powder to
the above-described metal while in fusion : mix the
whole thoroughly together, and let them all boil strong¬
ly together; then let it stand in fusion 12 hours to pu¬
rify, and after this work it. It will be a most elegant
velvet black.
There is another way of doing this, which also pro¬
duces a very fair black. It is this : take a hundred
weight of rochetta frit, add to this two pounds of tar¬
tar and six pounds of manganese, both in fine powder;
mix them well; and put them to the metal while in
fusion, at different times, in several parcels; let it
stand in fusion after this for four days, and then work
it.
A glass perfectly black may also be formed by add¬
ing to ten pounds of either of the compositions for hard
glass above described, one ounce of zaffer, six drachms
of manganese, and an equal quantity of iron strongly-
calcined.
Blue colour. A full blue may be made by adding
six drachms of zaffer and two drachms of manganese to
ten pounds of either of the compositions for hard glass,
described above. For a very cool or pure blue glass,
half an ounce of calcined copper may be used instead of
the manganese, and the proportion of zaffer diminished
by one half. Glass resembling sapphire may be made
with ten pounds of either of the compositions for hard
glass, three drachms and one scruple of zaffer, and one
drachm of the calx cassii or precipitation of gold by tin ;
or, instead of this latter ingredient, two drachms and two
scruples of manganese. Or a sapphire-coloured glass
may be made by mixing with any quantity of the hard
glass one-eighth of its weight of smalt. A beautiful
blue glass is also produced from the oxide of cobalt.
Venetian brown, with gold spangles, commonly called
5 C 2 ’ the
Glass.
G L A
[ 7S6 ] G L A
the philosopher's stone, may tie prepared in the following
manner: take of the second composition for hard glass
above described, and of the composition for paste, of
each five pounds, and of highly calcined iron an ounce ;
mix them well, and fuse them till the iron be perlectly
vitrified, and has tinged the glass of a deep transparent
yellow brown colour. Powder this glass, and add. to
it two pbunds of powdered glass of antimony 5 grind
them together, and thus mix them well. Take part
of this mixture, and rub into it 80 or 100 leaves of the
counterfeit leaf gold called J^utch goldi and .when
the parts of the gold seem sufficiently divided, mix the
powder containing it with the other part of the glass.
Fuse the whole with a moderate heat till the powder
run into a vitreous mass, fit to be wrought into any ol
the figures or vessels into which it is usually formed j
but avoid a perfect liquefaction, because that in a
short time destroys the equal diflusion ot the spangles,
and vitrifies, at least in part, the matter of which they
are composed; converting the whole into a kind ot
transparent olive-coloured glass. Ibis kind ot glass
is used tor a great variety of toys and ornaments
with us, who at present procure it from the Vene-
tians.
Chalcedony. A mixture of several ingredients with
the common matter of glass, will make it represent the
serai-opake gems, the jaspers, agates, chalcedonies, &c.
The way of making these seems to be the same
with the method of making marbled paper, by several
colours dissolved in several liquors, which are such as
will not readily mix with one another when put in¬
to water, before they are cast upon the paper which
is to be coloured. There are several ways of making
these variously coloured glasses, but the best is the fol¬
lowing.
Dissolve four ounces of fine leaf silver in a glass ves¬
sel in strong aquafortis*, stop up the vessel, and set it
aside.—In another vessel, dissolve five ounces of quick¬
silver in a pound of aquafortis, and set this aside.—
In another glass vessel, dissolve in a pound of aquafortis
three ounces of fine silver, first calcined in this manner :
amalgamate the silver with mercury, mix the amal¬
gam with twice its weight of common salt well puri¬
fied ; put the mixture in an open fire in a crucible, that
the mercury may fly ofl', and the silver be left in form
of powder. Mix this powder with an equal quantity
of common salt well purified, and calcine this for six
hours in a strong fire ; when cold, wash off the salt by
repeated boilings in common water, and then put the
silver into the aquafortis. Set this solution also aside.
—In another vessel, dissolve in a pound of aquafortis
three ounces of sal ammoniac*, pour off the solution and
dissolve in it a quarter of an ounce of gold. Set this
also aside.—In another vessel, dissolve three ounces of
sal ammoniac in a pound of aquafortis $ then put into
the solution cinnabar, crocus martis, ultramarine, and
ferretto of Spain, of each half an ounce. Set this also
aside.—In another vessel, dissolve in a pound of aqua¬
fortis three ounces of sal ammoniac 5 then put into it
crocus martis made with vinegar, calcined tin, zaffer,
and cinnabar, of each half an ounce ; let each of these
be powdered very fine, and put gently into the aqua¬
fortis. Set this also aside.— In another vessel, dissolve
three ounces of sal ammoniac in a pound of aquafortis,
and add to it brass calcined with brimstone, brass thrice
calcined, manganese, and scales of iron which fall from Glass
the smith’s anvil, of each half an ounce *, let each be -v—'
well powdered, and put gently into the vessel. Then
set this also aside.—In another vessel, dissolve two oun¬
ces of sal ammoniac in a pound of aquafortis, and put
to it verdigrise an ounce, red lead, crude antimony,
and the caput mortuum of vitriol, of each half an
ounce*, put these well powdered leisurely into the ves¬
sel, and set this also aside.—In another vessel, dissolve
two ounces of sal ammoniac in a pound of aquafortis,
and add orpiment, white arsenic, painters lake, of each
half an ounce. 1
Keep the above nine vessels in a moderate heat for
15 days, shaking them well at times. After this pour
all the matters from these vessels into one large vessel,
well luted at its bottom *, let this stand six days, shaking
it at times j and then set it in a very gentle heat, and
evaporate all the liquor, and there will remain a powder
of a purplish green.
When this is to be wrought, put into a pot very
clear metal, made of broken crystalline and white glass
that has been used ; for with the virgin frit, or such
as has never been wrought, the chalcedony can never
be made, as the colours do not stick to it, but are
consumed by the frit. To every pot of 20 pounds of
this metal put two or three ounces of this powder at
three several times*, incorporate the powder well with
the glass *, and let it remain an hour between each time
of putting in the powders. After all are in, let it
stand 26 hours j then let the glass be well mixed, and
take an essay of it, which will be found of a yellowish
blue j return this many times into the furnace j when
it begins to grow cold, it will show many wave* of dif¬
ferent colours very beautifully. Then take tartar eight
ounces, soot of the chimney two ounces, crocus mar¬
tis made with brimstone, half an ounce j let these be
well powdered and mixed, and put them by degrees
into the glass at six times, waiting a little while be¬
tween each putting in. When the whole is put in, let
the glass boil and settle for 24 hours *, then make a
little glass body of it; which put in the furnace many
times, and see if the glass be enough, and whether it
have on the outside veins of blue, green, red, yellow,
and other colours, and have, beside these veins, waves
like those of the chalcedonies, jaspers, and oriental
agates, and if the body kept within looks as red as
fire.
When it is found to answer this, it is perfect, and
may be worked into toys and vessels, which will always
be beautifully variegated ; these must be well annealed,
which adds much to the beauty of their veins. Masies
of this may be polished at the lapidary’s wheel as natu¬
ral stones, and appear very beautiful. It in the work¬
ing the matter grow transparent, the work must be
stopped, and more tartar, soot, and crocus martis, must
be put to it, which will give it again the necessary body
and opacity, without which it does not show the co¬
lours well.
Chrysolite colour may be made of ten pounds of either
of the compositions for hard glass described above, and
six drachms of calcined iron.
Red cornelian colour may be formed by adding one
pound of glass of antimony, two ounces of tbe calcin¬
ed vitriol called scarlet ochre, and one drachm of manga¬
nese or magnesia, to two pounds of either of the com¬
positions
Glass.
G L A [ 757 ] G L A
positions for hard glass. The glass of antimony and
^ magnesia are first fused with the other glass, and then
powdered and ground with the scarlet ochre : the whole
mixture is afterwards fused with a gentle heat till all
the ingredients are incorporated. A glass resembling
the white cornelian may be made of two pounds of ei¬
ther of the compositions for hard glass, and two drachms
of yellow ochre well washed, and one ounce of calcined
bones: grind them together, and fuse them with a gen¬
tle heat.
Emerald colour. See Green below.
Garnet colour. To give this colour to glass, the work¬
men take the following method. They take equal
quantities of crystal and rochetta frit, and to every
hundred weight of this mixture they add a pound of
manganese and an ounce of prepared zaff’er: these are
to be powdered separately, then mixed and added by
degrees to the frit while in the furnace. Great care is
to be taken to mix the manganese and zafier very per¬
fectly j and when the matter has stood 24 hours in fusion,
it may be worked.
Glass of this kind may be made by adding one pound
of glass of antimony, one drachm of manganese, and the
same quantity of the precipitate of gold by tin, to
two pounds of either of the compositions for hard
glass ; or the precipitate of gold may be omitted, if the
quantities of the glass of antimony and manganese be
doubled.
Gold colour. This colour may be produced by ta¬
king ten pounds of either of the compositions for hard
glass, omitting the saltpetre *, and for every pound add¬
ing an ounce of calcined borax, or, if this quantity doth
not render the glass sufficiently fusible, two ounces j ten
ounces of red tartar of the deepest colour; two ounces
of magnesia ; and two dracbms of charcoal of sallow,
or any other soft kind. Precipitates of silver baked on
glass will stain it yellow, and likewise give it a yellow co¬
lour on being mixed and melted with 40 or 50 times
their weight of vitreous compositions ; the precipitate
from aquafortis by fixed alkali seems to answer best.
Yellow glasses may also be obtained with certain pre¬
parations of iron, particularly with Prussian blue. But
Dr Lewis observes, that the colour does not constantly
succeed, nor approach to the high colour of gold, with
silver or with iron. The nearest imitations of gold
which he has been able to produce have been effected
with antimony and lead. Equal parts of the glass of
antimony, of flint calcined and powdered, and of mi¬
nium, formed a glass of a high yellow ; and with two
parts of glass ot antimony, two ol minium, and three
of powdered flint, the colour approached still more to
that of gold. The last composition exhibited a multi¬
tude of small sparkles interspersed throughout its whole
substance, which gave it a beautiful appearance in the
mass, but were really imperfections, owing to air bub¬
bles.
Neri directs, for a gold yellow colour, one part of red
tartar and the same quantity of manganese, to be mixed
with a hundred parts of frit. But Kunckel observes,
that these proportions are faulty; that one part, or one
and a quarter, of manganese, is sufficient for a hundred
of frit; but that six parts of tartar are hardly enough,
unless the tartar is of a dark red colour, almost blackish;
and that he found it expedient to add to the tartar
about a fourth of its weight of powdered charcoal. He
adds, that the glass swells up very much in melting, and Glass,
that it must be left unstirred, and worked as it stands '
in fusion. Mr Samuel More, in repeating and varying
this process in order to render the colour more perfect,
found that the manganese is entirely unessential to the
gold colour; and that the tartar is no otherwise of use
than in virtue of the coaly matter to which it is in part
reduced by the fire, the phlogiston or inflammable part
of the coal appearing in several experiments to be the
direct tinging substance. Mr Pott also observes, that
common coals give a yellow colour to glass ; that dif¬
ferent coaly matters differ in their tinging power; that
caput mortuum of soot and lamp black answer better
than common charcoal : and that the sparkling coal,
which remains in the retort after the rectification of the
thick empyreumatic animal oils, is one of the most ac¬
tive of these preparations. This preparation, he says,
powdered, and then burnt again a little in a close vessel,
is excellent for tinging glass, and gives yellow, brown,
reddish, or blackish colours, according to its quantity ;
but the frit must not be very hard of fusion, for in this
case the strong fire will destroy the colouring sub¬
stance before the glass melts: and he has found the fol¬
lowing composition to be nearly the best; viz. sand
two parts, alkali three parts; or sand two, alkali
three, calcined borax one ; or sand two, alkali two,
calcined borax one: and though saltpetre is hardly used
at all, or very sparingly, for yellow glasses, as it too
much volatilizes the colouring substance; yet here for
the most part a certain proportion of it, easily deter¬
mined by trial, is very necessary ; for without it the
concentrated colouring matter is apt to make the glass
too dark, and even of an opake pitchy blackness. It
does not certainly appear that there is any material di¬
versity in the effects of different coals, the difference
being probably owing to the different quantities of the
inflammable matter which they contain; so that a little
more shall be required of one kind than of another for
producing the same degree of colour in the glass. Nor
does the softness or fusibility of the frit appear to be in
any respect necessary.
Gold-coloured spangles may be diffused through the
substance of glass, by mixing the yellow talcs with pow¬
dered glass, and bringing the mixture into fusion.
Green. This colour may be imparted to glass by add¬
ing three ounces of copper precipitated from aquafortis,
and two drachms of precipitated iron, to nine pounds of
either of the compositions for hard glass. The finest
method of giving this beautiful colour to glassjs this:
Take five pounds of crystalline metal that has been pas¬
sed several times through water, and the same quantity
of the common white metal of polverine, four pounds
of common polverine frit, and three pounds of red
lead ; mix the red lead well with the frit, and then
put all into a pot in a furnace. In a few hours the
whole mass will be well purified : then cast the whole
into water, and separate and take out the lead ; then
return the metal into the pot, and let it stand a day long¬
er in fusion; then put in the powder of the residuum
of the vitriol of copper, and a very little crocus martis,
there will be produced a most lively and elegant green,
scarce inferior to that of the oriental emerald. There
are many ways of giving a green to glass, but all are
greatly inferior to this.—To make a sea green, the finest
crystalline glass only must be used, and no manganese
must
G L A [ 753 ] G L A
must be ail (led at first to the metal. The crystal frit
must be melted thus alone •, and the salt, which swims
like oil on its top, must be taken off with an iron ladle
very carefully. Then to a pot of twenty pounds of
this" metal add six ounces of calcined brass, and a fourth
part of the quantity of powdered zafier : this powder
must be well mixed, and put into the glass at three
times } it will make the metal swell at first, and all must
he thoroughly mixed in the pot. Alter it has stood in
fusion three hours, take out a little for a prool. it it be
too pale, add more of the powder. Twenty-four hours
after the mixing the powder the whole will be ready to
work; but must be well stirred together from the bot¬
tom, lest the colour should be deepest there, and the
metal at the top less coloured, or even quite colourless.
Some use for this purpose half crystal frit and half ro-
chetta frit, but the colour is much the finest when all
crystal frit is used.
Lapis la%uli colour. See Lapis Lazuli.
Opal colour. See Opal.
Purple of a deep and bright colour may be produced
by adding to ten pounds of either of the compositions
for hard glass, above described, six drachms of zaffer and
one drachm of gold precipitated by tin $ or to the same
quantity of either composition one ounce of manganese
and half an ounce of zaffer. The colour of amethyst
may be imitated in this way.
Red. A blood-red glass may be made in the fol¬
lowing manner: Put six pounds of glass of lead, and ten
pounds of common glass, into a pot glazed with white
glass. When the whole is boiled and refined, add by
small quantities, and at small distances of time, copper
calcined to a redness as much as on repeated proofs is
found sufficient: then add tartar in powder by small
quantities at a time, till the glass is become as red as
blood 5 and continue adding one or other of the ingre¬
dients till the colour is quite perfect.
Ruby. The way to give the true fine red of the ruby,
with a fair transparence, to glass, is as follows: Calcine
in earthen vessels gold dissolved in aqua-regia j the men¬
struum being evaporated by distillation, more aqua re¬
gia added, and the abstraction repeated five or six
times, till it becomes a red powder. This operation
will require many days in a hot furnace. When the
powder is of a proper colour, take it out: and when it
is to be used, melt the finest crystal glass, and purify it
by often casting it into water j and then add, by small
quantities, enough of this red powder to give it the true
colour of a ruby, with an elegant and perfect transpa¬
rence.
The process of tinging glass and enamels by prepara¬
tions of gold was first attempted about the beginning
of the last century. Libavius, in one of his tracts en¬
titled Alckymia, printed in 1606, conjectures that the
colour of the ruby proceeds from gold, and that gold
dissolved and brought to redness might be made to
communicate a like colour to factitious gems and glass.
On this principle Neri, in his Art of Glass, dated in
1611, gives the process above recited. Glauberin 1648
published a method of producing a red colour by gold,
in a matter which is of the vitreous kind, though not
perfect glass. For this purpose he ground powdered
Hint or sand with four times its weight of fixed alkaline
salt: this mixture melts in a moderately strong fire,
and when cool looks like glass, but exposed to the air
3
runs into a liquid state. On adding this liquor to solu- GIa>s
tion of gold in aqua-regia, the gold and flint precipi- v ■■■' V
tate together in form of a yellow powder, which by
calcination becomes purple. By mixing this powder
with three or four times its weight of the alkaline so¬
lution of flint, drying the mixture, and melting it in a
strong fire for an hour, a mass is obtained of a transpa¬
rent ruby colour and of a vitreous appearance ; which
nevertheless is soluble in water, or by the moisture of
the air, on account of the redundance of the salt. The
Honourable Mr Boyle, in a work published in 1680,
mentions an experiment in which a like colour was in¬
troduced into glass without fusion j for having kept
a mixture of gold and mercury in digestion for some
months, the fire was at last immoderately increased, so
that the glass burst with a violent explosion $ and the
lower part of the glass was found tinged throughout of
a transparent red colour, hardly to he equalled by that
of rubies.
About the same time Cassius is said to have discover¬
ed the precipitation of gold by tin, and that glass
might be tinged of a ruby colour by melting it with
this precipitate j though he does not appear, says Dr^o?n»;^ce
Lewis, from his treatise De Auro, to have been the0-^?*s>P-
discoverer of either. He describes the preparation^" 1I'
of the precipitate and its use $ but gives no account
of the manner of employing it, only that he says one
drachm of gold duly prepared will tinge ten pounds of
glass.
This process was soon after brought to perfection by
Kunckel 5 who says, that one part of the precipitate is
sufficient to give a ruby colour to 1280 parts of glass,
and a sensible redness to upwards of 1900 parts j but
that the success is by no means constant. Kunckel also
mentions a purple gold powder, resembling that of Neri j
which he obtained by inspissating solution of gold to
dryness $ abstracting from it fresh aqua-regia three or
four times, till the matter appears like oil 5 then preci¬
pitating with strong alkaline ley, ahd washing the preci¬
pitate with water. By dissolving this powder in spirit
of salt and precipitating again, it becomes, be says, ex¬
tremely fair $ and in this state he directs it to be mixed
with a due proportion of \ enice glass.
Orschal, in a treatise entitled Sol sine Veste, gives the
following process for producing a very fine ruby. He
directs the purple precipitate made by tin to be ground
with six times its quantity of Venice glass into a very
fine powder, and this compound to be very carefully
mingled with the frit or vitreous composition to be
tinged. His frit consists of equal parts of borax, nitre,
and fixed alkaline salt, and four times as much calcined
flint as of each of the salts ; but he gives no directions
as to the proportion of the gold precipitate or mode of
fusion. Hellot describes a preparation, which, mixed
with Venice glass, was found to give a beautiful purple
enamel. This preparation consists of equal parts ol
solution of gold and of solution of zinc in aqua-regia
mixed together, with the addition of a volatile salt pre¬
pared from sal ammoniac by quicklime, in sufficient
quantity to precipitate the two metals. The precipi¬
tate is then gradually heated till it acquires a violet
colour. However, though a purple or red colour, ap¬
proaching to that of ruby, may, by the methods above
recited, be baked on glass or enamels, and introduced
into the mass by fusion, the way of equally diffusing
G L A
Glass,
sucn a colour through a quantity of fluid glass is still
says Dr Lewis, a secret. The following process for
making the ruby glass was communicated to Dr Lewis
by an artist, who ascribed it to Kunckel. The gold
is dheeled to be dissolved in a mixture of one part of
spirit of salt and three ot aquafortis, and the tin in a
mixture of one part of the former of these acids with
two of the latter. I he solution of gold being pro*
perly diluted with water, the solution of tin is added,
and the mixture left to stand till the purple matter
has settled to the bottom. The colourless liquor is then
poured off, and the purple sediment, while moist and
not very thick, ^ is thoroughly mixed with powdered
flint or sand. This mixture is well ground with pow-
dered nitre, taitar, borax, and arsenic, and the com¬
pound melted with a suitable fire. The proportions of
tile ingredients are 2560 parts of sand, 384 of nitre,
240 of tartar, 240 ot borax, 28 of arsenic, five of tin,
and five of gold.
J.opas Colour. Glass resembling this stone may be
made by pulverizing ten pounds of either of the com¬
positions for hard glasses with an equal quantity of the
gold-coloured glass, and fusing them together.
White opake and semitransparent glass may be made of
ten pounds of either of the compositions for hard glass,
and one pound of well calcined horn, ivory, or bone ;
or an opake whiteness may be given to glass by adding
one pound of very white arsenic to ten pounds of flint
glass. Let them be well powdered and mixed by grind¬
ing them together, and then fused with a moderate heat
till they are thoroughly incorporated. A glass of this
kind is made in large quantities at a manufactory near
London ; and used not only for different kinds of ves¬
sels, buc as a white ground for enamel in dial plates and
snuff boxes, which do not require finishing with much
fire, because it becomes very white and fusible with a
moderate heat.
Yellow. See Gold colour above.
Painting in Glass. The ancient manner of painting
in glass was very simple: it consisted in the mere ar¬
rangement of pieces of glass of different colours in some
sort of symmetry, and constituted what is now called
mosaic work. See Mosaic.
In process of time they came to attempt more regular
designs, and also to represent figures heightened with all
their shades j yet they proceeded no farther than the
contours of the figures in black with water colours, and
hatching the draperies after the same manner on glasses
of the colour of the object they designed to paint. For
the carnation, they used glass of a bright red colour;
and upon this they drew the principal lineament of the
face, &c. with black.
At length, the taste for this kind of painting improv¬
ing considerably, and the art being found applicable to
the adorning of churches, basilics, &c. they found out
means of incorporating the colours in the glass itself,
by heating them in the fire to a proper degree 5 having
first laid on the colours. A French painter at Marseilles
is said to have given the first notion of this improvement,
upon going to Rome under the pontificate of Julius II. 5
but Albert Durer and Lucas of Leyden were the first
that carried it to any height.
This art, however, has frequently met with much
interruption, and sometimes been almost totally lost j of
C 759 ]
G L A
which Mr Walpole gives us the following account, in
his Anecdotes o( Painting in England.
ihe first interruption given to it was by the refor¬
mation, which banished the art out of churches ; yet it
was in some measure kept up in the escutcheons of the
nobility and gentry in the windows of their seats. To¬
wards tiie end of Queen Elizabeth’s reign it was omit¬
ted even there \ yet the practice did not entirely cease.
The chapel of our Lady at Warwick was ornamented
anew by Robert Dudley earl of Leicester, and his coun¬
tess, and the cipher of the glass-painter’s name yet re¬
mains, with the date 1574 • and in some of the chapels
at Oxford the art again appears, dating itself in 1622,
by the hand of no contemptible master.
I could supply even this gap of 48 years by many
dates on Flemish glass $ but no body ever supposed that
the secret was lost so early as the reign of James I. and
that it has not perished since will be evident from the
following series, reaching to the present hour.
“ The portraits in the windows of the library at
All Souls, Oxford. In the chapel at Queen’s College
there are twelve windows dated 1518. P. C. a cipher
on the painted glass in the chapel at Warwick, 1574.
Ihe windows at Wadham’s College } the drawing pret-
ty good, and the colours fine, by Bernard Van Linge,
1622. In the chapel at Lincoln’s Inn, a window, with
the name Bernard, 1623, This was probably the pre¬
ceding Van Linge. In the church of St Leonard,
Shoreditch, two windows by Baptista Sutton, 1634.,
Ihe windows in the chapel at University College, Hen.
Giles pinxit, 1687. At Christ Church, Isaac Oliver,
aged 84, 1700. Window in Merton Chapel, William
Price 1700. Windows at Queen’s New College, and
Maunlin, by William Price, the son, now living, whose
colours are fine, whose drawing is good, and whose taste
in ornaments and mosaic is far superior to any of his
predecessors 5 is equal to the antique, to the good
Italian masters, and only surpassed by his own singular
modesty,
“ It may not be unwelcome to the curious reader to
see some anecdotes of the revival of taste for painted
glass in England. Price, as we have said, was the only
painter in that style for many years in England. Af¬
terwards one Rowell, a plumber at Reading, did some
things, particularly for the late Henry earl of Pem¬
broke ; but Rowell’s colours soon vanished. At last
he found out a very durable and beautiful red j but he
died in a year or two, and the secret with him. A man
at Birmingham began the same art in 1756 or
and fitted up a window for Lord Lyttleton, in the
church of Hagley j but soon broke. A little after
him, one Peckitt at York began the same business, and
has made good proficiency. A few lovers of that art
collected some dispersed panes from ancient buildings,
particularly the late Lord Cobham, who erected a Go¬
thic temple at Stowe, and filled it with arms of the
old nobility, &c. About the year 1753, one Asciotti,.
an Italian, who had married a Flemish woman, brought,
a parcel of painted glass from Flanders, and sold it for
a few guineas to the Honourable Mr Batemen, of Old-
Windsor. Upon that I sent Asciotti again to Flan¬
ders, who brought me 450 pieces, for which, including,
the expence of his journey, I paid him thirty-six gui¬
neas. His wife made more journeys for the same pur¬
pose j.
Glasj.
G L' A [ 76° ]
pose ; and sold her cargo to one Palmer a glazier in
St Martin’s lane, who immediately raised the price to
one, two, or five guineas for a single piece, and
up entire windows with them, and with mosaics of
plain glass of different colours. In Paterson,
an auctioneer at Essex hbuse in the Strand, exhibited
the two first auctions of painted glass, imported in
like manner from Flanders. All this manufacture
consisted in rounds of Scripture stories, stained in black
and yellow, or in small figures of black and white 5
birds and flowers in colours, and Flemish coats of
arms.
The colours used in painting or staining of glass are
very different from those used in painting either in wa¬
ter or oil colours.
For black, take scales of iron, one ounce; scales of
copper, one ounce; jet, half an ounce: reduce them
to powder, and mix them. For blue, take powder
of blue, one pound ; sal nitre, half a pound : mix
them and grind them well together. For carnation,
take red chalk, eight ounces ; iron scales, and litharge
of silver, of each two ounces ; gum arable, half an
ounce ; dissolve in water : grind all together for half an
hour as stiff as you can ; then put it in a glass and stir
it well, and let it stand to settle 14 days. For green,
take red lead one pound ; scales of copper, one pound ;
and flint, five pounds: divide them into three parts ;
and add to them as much sal nitre ; put them into a
crucible, and melt them with a strong fire ; and when
it is cold, powder it, and grind it on a porphyry. For
gold colour, take silver, an ounce ; antimony, half an
ounce : melt them in a crucible ; then pound the mass
to powder, and grind it on a copper plate ; add to it
yellow ochre, or brick dust calcined again, 15 ounces ;
and grind them well together with water. For purple,
take minium, one pound ; brown stone, one pound ;
white flint, five pounds : divide them into three parts,,
and add to them as much sal nitre as one of the parts ;
Calcine, melt, and grind as you did the green. For
red, take jet, four ounces ; litharge of silver, two oun¬
ces ; red chalk, one ounce : powder them fine, and
mix them. For white, take jet, two parts ; white flint,
ground on a glass very fine, one part : mix them. For
yellow’, take Spanish brown, ten parts ; leaf silver, one
part; antimony, half a part: put all into a crucible,
and calcine them well.
In the windows of ancient churches, &c. there are
to be seen the most beautiful and vivid colours imagi¬
nable, which far exceed any of those used by the mo¬
derns, not so much because the secret of making those
colours is entirely lost, as that the moderns will not go
to the charge of them, nor be at the necessary pains,
by reason that this sort of painting is not now' so much
in esteem as formerly. Those beautiful works which
were made in the glass houses wei’e of two kinds.
In some, the colour was diffused through the whole
substance of the glass. In others, which were the more
common, the colour was only on one side, scarce pene¬
trating within the substance above one-third of a line;
though this was more or less according to the nature of
the colour, the yellow being always found to enter the
deepest. These last, though not so strong and beauti¬
ful as the former, were of more advantage to the work¬
men, by reason that on the same glass, though already
coloured, they could show other kinds of colours where
there was occasion to embroider draperies, enrrch 'them Glass,
with foliages, or represent other ornaments of gold, sil- *■" y —
ver, &c.
In order to this, they made use of emery, grinding
or wearing down the surface of the glass till such time
as they were got through the colour to the clear glass,
This done, they applied the proper colours on the other
side of the glass. By these means, the new colours were
hindered from running and mixing with the former,
when they exposed the glasses to the fire, as will appear
hereafter.
When indeed the ornaments were to appear white,
the glass was only bared of its colour with emery, with¬
out tinging the place with any colour at all ; and this
was the manner by which they wrought their light and
heightenings on all kinds of colour.
The first thing to be done, in order to paint or stain
glass, in the modern way, is to design, and even colour,
the whole subject on paper. Then they choose such
pieces of glass as are clear, even, and smooth, and pro¬
per to receive the several parts ; and proceed to distri¬
bute the design itself, or papers it is drawn on, into
pieces suitable to those of the glass; always taking care
that the glasses may join in the contours of the figures
and the folds of the draperies ; that the carnations, and
other finer parts, may not be impaired by the lead with
which the pieces are to be joined together. The di¬
stribution being made, they mark all the glasses as well
as papers, that they may be known again : which done,
applying every part of the design upon the glass intend¬
ed for it, they copy or transfer the design upon this
glass with the black, colour diluted in gum water, by
tracing and following all the lines and strokes as they
appear through the glass with the point of a pencil.
When th ese strokes are well dried, which will hap¬
pen in about two days, the work being only in black
and white, they give a slight wash over with urine, gum
arabic, and a little black ; and repeat it several times,
according as the shades are desired to be heightened ;
with this precaution, never to apply a new wash till the
former is sufficiently dried.
This done, the lights and risings are given by rub¬
bing oft' the colour in their respective places with a
wooden point, or the handle of the pencil.
As to the other colours above mentioned they are
used with gum water, much as in painting in minia¬
ture ; taking care to apply them lightly, for fear of
effacing the outlines of the design ; or even, for the
greater security, to apply them on the other side;
especially yellow, which is very pernicious to the
other colours, by blending therewith. And here too,
as in pieces of black and white, particular regard
must always be had not to lay colour on colour, or
lav on a new lay, till such time as the former are well
dried.
It may be added that the yellow is the only colour
that penetrates through the glass and incorporates
therewith by the fire ; the rest, and particularly the
blue, which is very difficult to use, remaining on the
surface, or at least entering very little. When the
painting of all the pieces is finished, they are carried to
the furnace or oven to anneal or bake the colours.
The furnace here used is small, built of brick, from
18 to 30 inches square. At six inches from the bot¬
tom is an aperture to put in the fuel and maintain the
fire.
G L A [ ^
;jas,. fire. Over this aperture is a grate made of three square
v-v—' bars of iron, which traverse the furnace, and divide it
into two parts. Two inches above this partition is
another little aperture, through which they take out
pieces to examine how the coction goes forward. On
the grate is placed a square earthen pan, six or seven
inches deep, and five or six inches less every way than
the perimeter of the furnace. On the other side here¬
of is a little aperture, through which to make trials,
placed directly opposite to that of the furnaces destined
for the same end. In this pan are the pieces of glass
to be placed in the following manner: First, The bot¬
tom of the pan is covered with three strata or layers of
quicklime pulverized ; those strata being separated by
two others cf old broken glass, the design whereof is to
secure the painted glass from the too intense heat of the
fire. This done, the glasses are laid horizontally on
the last or uppermost layer of lime.
The first row of glass they cover over with a layer
of the same powder an inch deep ; and over this they
lay another range of glasses, and thus alternately till
the pan is quite full j taking care that the whole heap
always end with a layer of the lime powder.
The pan being thus prepared, they cover up the fur¬
nace with tiles, on a square table of earthen ware,
closely luted all round 5 only leaving five little aper¬
tures, one at each corner, and another in the middle,
to serve as chimneys. Things thus disposed, there re¬
mains nothing but to give the fire to the work. The
fire for the first two hours must be very moderate, and
must be increased in proportion as the coction advances,
for the space of ten or twelve hours ; in which time
it is usually completed. At last the fire, which at
first was charcoal, is to be of dry wood, so that the
flame covers the whole pan, and even issues out at the
chimneys.
During the last hours, they make essays, from time
to time, by taking out pieces laid for the purpose
through the little aperture of the furnace and pan, to
see whether the yellow be perfect, and the other colours
in good order. When the annealing is thought suffi¬
cient, they proceed with great haste to extinguish the
fire, which otherwise would soon burn the colours, and
break the glasses.
Glass Balls, which are circular, or otherwise shaped
hollow vessels of glass, may be coloured within, so as to
imitate the semipellucid gems. The method of doing
it is this: make a strong solution of ichthyocolla, or
isinglass, in common water, by boiling; pour a quan¬
tity of this while warm into the hollow of a white glass
vessel; shake it thoroughly about, that all the sides may
be wetted, and then pour off the rest of the moisture.
Immediately after this, throw in red lead, shake it
and turn it about, throw it into many places with a
tube, and the moisture will make it stick and run in
waves and pretty figures. Then throw in some of the
painters blue smalt, and make it run in waves in the
ball as the red lead ; then do the same with verdigrise,
next with orpiment, then with red lake, all well ground ;
always casting in the colours in different places, and
turning the glass, that the moisture within may run
them into the waves. Then take fine plaster of Paris,
and put a quantity of it into the ball ; shake it also
nimbly about; this will everywhere stick firmly to the
glass, and give it a strong inner coat, keeping all the
Vol. IX. Part II. t
61 ] G L A
colours on very fairly and strongly. These are set on Glass,
frames of carved wood, and much esteemed as orna---v~>
ments in many places.
Glass Drop. See Rupert's Drops.
Engraving on Glass. Professor Beckmann has pro¬
ved, that so early as the year 1670 the art of etchino-
upon glass was discovered by Henry Schwanhard, son
of George Schwanhard, who was a celebrated glass-
cutter, patronized by the emperor Ferdinand III. about
the middle of the last century. At the time of his
death, 1697, the father practised his art at Prague
and Ratisbon. Whether the son followed the same bu¬
siness at the same towns, or removed to Nuremberg, is
not very evident; but in the year above mentioned,
some aqua-regia (nitro-muriatic acid) having acciden¬
tally fallen on his spectacles, he was surprised to find
the glass corroded by it, and become quite soft. He
thus, it is said, found himself in possession of a liquid
by which he could etch writing and figures upon plates
of glass.
But it is probable, as Beckmann seems to think, that
he had discovered the fluoric acid itself; for in the year
1725 there appeared in a periodical work the following
receipt for making a powerful acid, by which figures
of every kind can be etched upon glass.
“ When the spiritus nitriper distillationem has passed
into the recipient, ply it with a strong fire, and when
well dephlegmated, pour it, as it corrodes ordinary
glass, into a Weldenberg flask. Then throw into it a
pulverized green Bohemian emerald, otherwise called
hesphorus, (which, when reduced to powder, and heat¬
ed, emits in the dark a green light), and place it in
warm sand for 24 hours. Take a piece of glass well
cleaned, and freed from all grease by means of a ley ;
put a border of wax round it, about an inch in height,
and cover it all over with the above acid. The longer
you let it stand so much the better ; and at the end of
some time the glass will be corroded, and the figures
which have been traced out with sulphur and varnish
will appear as if raised above the pane of glass.
That the Bohemian emerald or ficsphorus mentioned
in this receipt it green sparry fluor, cannot, says the
professor, be doubted ; and he seems to have as little
doubt of the receipt itself having passed from Schwan¬
hard and his scholars to the periodical work of 1725,
from which it was inserted in the Oekonomische Ency-
clopedie of Krunitz. This supposition certainly acquires
a considerable degree of probability from the similarity
of Schwanhard’s method of etching to that which is
here recommended, and which is so different from what
is now followed. At present, the glass is covered with
a varnish either o£ isinglass dissolved in water, or of
turpentine oil mixed with a little white lead, through
which the figures to be etched are traced as on copper;
but Schwanhard, when he had drawn his figures, co¬
vered them with varnish, and then by his liquid cor¬
roded the glass around them. His figures, therefore,
when the varnish was removed, remained smooth and
clear, appearing raised from a dim or dark ground ;
and M. Beckmann who persuaded some ingenious ar¬
tists to make trial of this ancient method of etching,
declares, that such figures have a much better effect
than those which are cut into the glass.
Foliating of Glass. See Foliating and Looking-
glass.
5 D G ilding
Glass.
See
G L A [
Gilding of Glass. See Gilding.
Impressions of antique Gems taken in Glass.
Gems.
Glass of Lead, a glass made with the addition ot a
large quantity of lead, oi great use in the art of making
counterfeit gems. The method of making it is this :
Put a large quantity of lead into a potter’s kiln, and
keep it in a state of fusion with a moderate fire, till it
is calcined to a gray loose powder 5 then spread it in
the kiln, and give it a greater heat, continually stirring
it to keep it from running into lumps ; continue this
several hours, till the powder become of a fair yellow ;
then take it out, and sift it fine : this is called calcined
lead. Take of this calcined lead 45 pounds, and cry¬
stalline or other frit 12 pounds j mix these as well as
possible together j put them into a pot, and set them in
the furnace for ten hours •, then cast the whole, which
will be now perfectly melted, into water ; separate the
loose lead from it, and return the metal into the pot *,
and after standing in fusion 12 hours more, it will be
fit to work. It is very tender and brittle, and must
be worked with great care, taking it sloAvly out of the
pot, and continually wetting the marble it is wrought
upon.
It is well known that ceruse or white lead, minium,
litharge, and all the other preparations and calces of
lead, are easily fused by a moderate fire, and formed
into a transparent glass of a deep yellow colour. But
this glass is so penetrating and powerful a flux, that it
is necessary to give it a greater consistence, in order to
render it fit for use. With this view, two parts of calx
of lead, e. g. minium, and one part of sand or powder¬
ed flints, may be put into a crucible of refractory clay,
and baked into a compact body. Let this crucible,
well closed with a luted lid, be placed in a melting
furnace, and gradually heated for an hour, or an hour
and a half', and afterwards let the heat be increased so
as to obtain a complete fusion, and continued in that
state for the same time : let the crucible remain to cool
in the furnace ", and when it is broken a very transpa¬
rent yellow coloured glass will be found in it. Some
add nitre and common salt to the above mixture, be¬
cause these salts promote the fusion and the more equal
distribution of the sand. This glass of lead has a con¬
siderable specific gravity, and its lowest part is always
the heaviest. It is an important flux in the assays of
ores to facilitate their scorification.
G1 ass of lead is capable of all the colours of the gems
very great perfection. The methods of giving
them are these : for green, take pulverine frit 20
pounds, lead calcined 16 pounds j sift both the pow¬
ders very fine •, then melt them into a glass, separating
the unmixed lead, by plunging the mass in water j af¬
ter this return it into the pot, and add brass thrice cal¬
cined six ounces, and one pennyweight of crocus martis
made with vinegar •, put this in at six different times,
always carefully mixing it together, and take a proof
of it •, when the colour is right, let it stand eight hours,
and then work it. If instead of the calcined brass the
same quantity of the caput mortuum of the vitrioluna
veneris be used, the green is yet much finer.
For topaz colour, take crystal frit 15 pounds, cal¬
cined lead 12 pounds 5 mix them well together, by
sifting the powders through a fine sieve j then set them
in a furnace not too hot, and separate the superfluous
Z.
762 ] G L A
unmixed lead, by casting the whole into water $ repeat
this twice : then add half gold yellow glass, and letv—
them incorporate and purify, and they will be of the
true and exact colour of the oriental topazes.
For sea green, take crystal frit 16 pounds, calcined
lead 10 pounds j mix and sift them together, and set
them in a pot in a furnace j in 12 hours the whole
will be melted j then cast it into water, and separate
it from the loose lead j put them into the furnace again
for eight hours $ then Separate the loose lead by wash¬
ing a second time, and return it to the pot for eight
hours more.
Muscovy Glass. See Mica, Mineralogy Index.
Painting on Glass by means of Prints. See Back-
painting.
Glass Porcelain, the name given by many to a mo¬
dern invention of imitating the china ware with glass*
The method given by M. Reaumur, who was the first
that carried the attempt to any degree of perfection,
is shortly this : The glass vessels to be converted into
porcelain are to be put into a large earthen vessel, such
as the common fine earthen dishes are baked in, or in¬
to sufficiently large crucibles j the vessels are to he fill¬
ed with a mixture of fine white sand, and of fine gyp¬
sum or plaster stone burnt into what is called plaster
of Paris, and all the interstices are to be filled up with
the same powder, so that the glass vessels may nowhere
touch either one another, or the sides of the vessel they
are baked in. The vessel is to be then covered down
and luted, and the fire does the rest of the work ; for
this is only to be put into a common potter’s furnace,
and when it has stood there the usual time of the bak¬
ing the other vessels, it is to be taken out, and the
whole contents will be found no longer glass, but con¬
verted into a white opaque substance, which is a very
elegant porcelain, and has almost the properties of that
of China.
The powder which has served once will do again aa
well as fresh, and that for a great many times: nay, it
seems, ever so often. The cause of this transformation,
says Macquer, is probably that the vitriolic acid of the
gypsum quits its basis of calcareous earth, and unites
with the alkaline salt and saline earth of the glass, with
which it forms a kind of salt, different from the calca¬
reous selenite, by the interposition of which matter the
glass acquires the qualities of porcelain.
Glass Pots, the vessels in the glass trade used for
melting the glass. Those for the white glass works are
made of a tobacco pipe clay, brought from the isle of
Wight, which is first well washed, then calcined, and
afterwards ground to a fine powder in a mill ; which
being mixed with water, is then trod with the bare
feet till it is of a proper consistence to mould with the
hands into the proper shape of the vessels. When these
are thus made, they are afterwards annealed over the
furnace. Those for the green glass works are made of
the nonsuch, and another sort of clay from Stafford¬
shire •, they make these so large as to hold three or four
hundred weight of metal. And besides these, they have
a small sort called piling pots, which they set upon the
larger, and which contain a finer and more nice metal
fit for the nicest works.
The clay that is used for this purpose should be of
the purest and most refractory kind, and well cleansed
from all sandy, ferruginous, and pyritous matters) and
to
Glasu,
(j- L A, ^ 7^3
lftSS. to this it will be proper to add ground crucibles, white
 J sand, calcined flints duly levigated, or a certain propor¬
tion of the same clay baked, and pounded not very
finely. The quantity of baked clay that ought to be
mixed with the crude clay, to prevent the pots from
cracking when dried, or exposed to a great heat, is not
absolutely determined, but depends on the quality of the
crude clay, which is more or less fat. M. D’Antic
in a memoir on this subject, proposes the following
method of ascertaining it: The burnt and crude clay,
being mixed in different proportions, should be formed
into cakes, one inch thick, and four inches long and
wide. Let these cakes be slowly dried, and exposed to
a violent heat, till they become as hard and as much
contracted as possible, and in this state be examined j
and the cake, he says, which has suffered a diminution
of its bulk equal only to an eighteenth part, is made of
the best proportions. He observes, in general, that
most clays require that the proportion of the burnt
should be to the fresh as four to five.
Tin Glass, the same with Bismuth. See Bismuth,
Chemistry Index.
Glasses are distinguished, with regard to their form,
use, &c. into various kinds, as drinking glasses, optical
glasses, looking glasses, burning glasses, &c.
Drinking Glasses, are simple vessels of common glass
or crystal, usually made in form of an inverted cone.
Each glass consists of three parts, viz. the bowl, the
bottom, and the foot j which are all wrought or blown
separately.
Nothing can be more dexterous and expeditious than
the manner of blowing these parts : two of them open¬
ed, and all three joined together. An idea is only to
be had thereof, by seeing it actually done. For the
method of gilding the edges of drinking glasses, see
Gilding on Enamel and Glass.
Optical Glasses. See Optics.
The improvements hitherto made in telescopes by
means of combining lenses made of different kinds of
glass, though very great, are yet by no means adequate
to the expectations that might reasonably be formed,
if opticians could fall on any method of obtaining pieces
of glass sufficiently large for pursuing the advantages
of Mr Dollond’s discovery. Unfortunately, however,
though the board of longitude have offered a consider¬
able reward for bringing this art to the requisite per¬
fection, no attempt of any consequence has hitherto
been made. Mr Keir is of opinion, that the accom¬
plishment of this is by no means an easy task $ as it re¬
quires not only a competent knowledge of the proper¬
ties of glass fitted for the purpose (the faults not being
evident to common inspection), but a considerable de¬
gree of chemical knowledge is also necessary in order
to invent a composition by which these faults may be
avoided; and lastly, a kind of dexterity in the execu¬
tion of the work, which can only be acquired by prac¬
tice. Our author, however, thinks, that if the subject
were more generally understood, and the difficulties
more fully pointed out, for which purpose he makes
the following remarks, the end may be more easily ac¬
complished.
i. The rays of light passing through a glass lens or
prism, or through any other medium of unequal thick¬
ness, are refracted ; but not in an equal manner, the
blue, violet, &c. being more refracted than the red.
] G L A
2. Hence it happens, that the rays of light, when
refracted by a common lens, do not all unite^in one fo¬
cus, but in reality form as many different foci as there
are colours ; and hence arise the prismatic colours, or
irises, which appear towards the borders of the image
formed by the common convex lenses, and which ren¬
der the vision extremely indistinct.
3. The indistinctness of vision produced by this cause,
which is sensible in telescopes of a small aperture, in¬
creases in so great a proportion, viz. as the cubes of the
diameters, that it seemed impossible to increase the
power of dioptric telescopes greatly, without extending
them to a very inconvenient length, unless this confu°
sion of colours could be corrected.
4. It was known that different transparent bodies pos¬
sessed different degrees of refractive power ; and until
Mr Dollond discovered the contrary, it was supposed,
that the refractions of the coloured rays were always in
a determined ratio to one another. On this supposition
it seemed impossible to correct the faults of refracting
telescopes : for it was supposed, that if the dispersion of
light produced by a convex lens were counteracted by
another lens or medium of a concave form, the refrac¬
tion would be totally destroyed ; and this indeed would
be the case, if the two mediums were made of the same
matter ; and from some experiments made by Sir Isaac
Newton, this was supposed to be actually the case in all
substances whatever.
5. From considering that the eyes of animals are
formed of mediums of different colours, it occurred first
to Mr David Gregory, the celebrated professor of astro¬
nomy at Oxford, and then to Mr Euler, that, by a
combination of mediums which had diflerent refractive
powers, it might be possible to remedy the imperfec¬
tions of dioptric telescopes. It does not, however, ap¬
pear, that either of these gentlemen understood the true
principle on which these phenomena depend. Mr Euler
executed his idea by forming a compound object lens
from two glass lenses with water interposed, but his at¬
tempt was not attended with success. Mr Dollond, how¬
ever, was led by some arguments adduced byMrKlin-
genstierna of Sweden, to repeat one of Sir Isaac Newton’s
experiments, and which had induced even that great phi¬
losopher himself to suppose that the improvement after¬
wards executed by Mr Dollond was impossible. This
experiment was made by Sir Isaac Newton, by placing
a glass prism within a prismatic vessel filled with water,
in such a manner that the rays of light which were re¬
fracted by the glass prism should pass through and be
refracted in a contrary direction by the water prism.
In this manner the refraction of the light was entirely
destroyed. But when Mr Dollond repeated the ex¬
periment, he found, that, contrary to his own expecta¬
tions, when the angles of the two prisms were so pro¬
portioned that they counteracted each other’s mean re¬
fraction, then colours appeared ; and on the other
hand, when they were so proportioned that the disper¬
sion of the coloured rays was counteracted, the mean re¬
fraction still subsisted ; which evidently proved, that the
mean refractive and dispersive powers of glass and wa¬
ter were not proportional to one another.
6. To apply this to the proposed improvement, Mr
Dollond examined several kinds of glass. Crown glass
was found to possess the smallest dispersive power in
proportion to its refraction ; while flint glass possessed
5 D 2 the
Glaif.
G L A t 764 ] G L A
the greatest dispersive power in proportion to its re-
' fraction, which was also very great. On comparing',
these two exactly together, he found, that a wedge ot
white flint glass whose angle was about 25 degrees, and
another of crown glass whose angle was 29 degrees,
refracted verv nearly alike. IJe found also, that, when
the wedges were ground to such angles, the refrac¬
tion produced by the flint glass was to that produced
bv the crown glass nearly as two to three 5 the refract¬
ed light was then free from colour. On measuring the
general refracting powers of these two glasses, he found,
that in flint glass, the sine of incidence of the rays was
to the sine of mean refraction as I to 1.583 ; and that
in crown glass, the sine of incidence was to the sine of
mean refraction as 1 to 1.53*
The methods of determining the different refractive
powers of glass are given under the the article Optics.
Here we shall only observe, that two kinds of glass are
necessary for the construction of achromatic telescopes $
one of which shall possess as small, and the other as
great, dispersive powers, relative to their mean refract¬
ing powers, as can be produced. The difference of
glasses in this respect depends on the quality of the in¬
gredients employed in their composition. Crown glass,
which is composed of sand melted by means ot the
ashes of sea weeds, barilla or kelp, both which fluxes
are known to consist of vegetable earth, alkali, and
neutral salt, is found to give the smallest dispersive
power. Plate glass, which consists of sand melted by
means of fixed vegetable alkali, with little or no vege¬
table earth, gives a greater dispersive power } but both
these give much less than flint glass, which consists of
sand melted by means of minium and fixed alkali. It
appears, therefore, that the dispersion of the rays is
greatest when minium, or probably other metallic cal¬
ces, are made use of; and that alkalies give a greater
power of dispersion than vegetable or other earths. Mr
Zieher of Petersburgh, however, informs us, that he
has made a kind of glass, much superior in this respect
to flint glass ; but it does not as yet appear whether
it be more fit for optical purposes than that commonly
made use of. There seems no difficulty in augmenting
the dispersive power, as that is found to depend on
the quantity of minium or other flux : but thus we un¬
fortunately increase also the capital fault to which
flint glass and all compositions of that kind are subject;
namely, the being subject to veins or small threads
running through it. By these, even when so small as
to be imperceptible to the naked eye, the rays which
fall on them are diverted from their proper direction,
and thereby render the images confused. This is ow¬
ing to the greater density of the veins, as appears by
their image being received on white paper, when the
glass is held between the paper and the sun or a candle
at a proper distance. The rays of light being then
made to converge by the superior density of the veins,
their images will appear as bright lines bordered with
obscure edges on the paper. Flint glass is so much
subject to this kind of imperfection, that it is with dif¬
ficulty the opticians can pick out pieces of the size
commonly used from a large quantity of the glass. It
is farther to be regretted, that the minium which pro¬
duces the greatest dispersive power, is likewise the
very substance which renders flint glass much more
subject to these imperfections than any other. The
reason is, that the sand and earthy matters mix uni¬
formly in fusion; and having not only a considerable,
degree of affinity towards each other, but also being
not much different from each other, they are not apt to
separate. On the other hand, when such a heavy
substance as minium is added to these earthy substances,
though it has a pretty strong tendency to unite with the
earthy substances, it has none with the fixed alkali, which
is another ingredient in this glass. Hence some parts of
the glass will contain more metallic matter than the rest;
particularly that near the bottom of the pot, which is so
full of large veins as to be applied only to the making
of wares of little value. The veins in this case are
formed by the descent of the minium at the bottom,
which in its passage forms threads or veins by drag¬
ging other parts of the glass along with them.
The correction of this fault appears therefore to be
very difficult. M. Macquer informs us, that he had
in vain tried to remove it by very long fusion and a
fierce fire ; which indeed others have found by expe¬
rience not to correct, but to augment the evil. Mr
Keir is of opinion that some new composition must be
discovered, which, along with a sufficient refractive
power should possess a greater uniformity of texture ;
but he is likewise of opinion, that scarce any alteration
in this respect could be made without injuring the colour
of the glass. For optical purposes, however, our author
does not think that an alteration in the colour of the
ingredients would be very detrimental. “ I am con¬
vinced (says he), that glasses sensibly tinged with co¬
lour, might transmit as much or more light than the
best flint glass. For the colourless appearance of flint
glass is an optical deception. The minium gives it a
considerable tinge of yellow, and the alkali inclines it to
a bluish cast, besides the colour arising from a greater
or less impurity of the materials ; so that the glass
would actually be very sensibly coloured, unless by the
addition of manganese, which is known to give a pur¬
plish red. Thus the other tinges are counteracted, but
not effaced or destroyed as has been frequently imagined.
By the mixture of the three principal colours, red,
yellow, and blue, more or less exactly counterpoised, a
certain dark shade is introduced, in which, as not any
one of the colours predominates, no coloured tinge ap¬
pears, but the effect is merely a diminution of the trans¬
parency of the glass, which, however, is too small for
ordinary observation.” Mr Keir is even of opinion,
that a certain tinge of yellow would in many cases be
of service, because it would exclude some of the blue
rays, which being most refrangible are most injurious
to the distinctness of vision.
Very considerable difficulties, however, must arise
in attempting improvements of this kind ; as the expe¬
riments must all be tried on a very large scale. This
is not only attended with a very heavy expence in itself
on account of the quantity of materials employed, but
from the heavy duty of excise, which is rigorously ex¬
acted whether the glass be manufactured into saleable
articles or not. It is observed in the manufacture of
every kind of glass, that the glass in the middle of the
area or transverse section of a pot is much purer and
freer from veins and other imperfections than the part
which is near the sides, and that the glass at the bot¬
tom is the worst of all. Consequently it is chiefly in
large pots, such as are used in manufactures, that there
is
G L A [ 7
Glass is a probability of success. Very fine andbeautiful
;iaston- glasses, called paste and artificial gems, may be made in
smaller pots or crucibles ; but ibis glass is suffered to
1 cool and subside in the vessel, by which means the con¬
tiguous parts are more uniform in their texture than
can be expected in a piece of glass taken out of the pot
while hot in the common way, by making it adhere
and twist round an iron rod or pipe. But although
the method of allowing the glass to cool in the pots is
very advantageous for the purposes of the jeweller, it is
by no means applicable to those of the optician. Glass
cooled in that gradual manner, suffers some degree of
crystallization or peculiar arrangement of its parts; the
consequence of which is, that the rays of light undergo
certain refractions independent on the form of the glass,
which greatly affect thedistinctnessof vision in telescopes.
Alusical Glasses. See Harmonica.
Looking Glasses. See Looking Glass, Mirror,
and Foliating.
Burning Glass. See Burning Glass.
Weather Glass. See Barometer.
Cupping Glass. See Surgery.
Hotir Glass. See Hour Glass.
Watch Glass. See Watch.
Glass Wort. See Salsola, Botany Index.
GLASTONBURY, a town of Somersetshire iu
England ; situated in W. Long. 2. 41. N. Lat. 51. 9.
—It is noted for a famous abbey, some magnificent
ruins of which still remain. The curious structure call¬
ed the Abbot's kitchen is still pretty entire. The monks
pretend that it was the residence of Joseph of Arima-
thea, and of St Patrick. The king of the West
Saxons erected a church here, which he and the suc¬
ceeding kings enriched to such a degree, that the abbot
lived like a prince, had the title of lord, and sat
among the barons in parliament; and no person, not
even a bishop or prince, durst set foot on the isle of
Avalon, in which the abbey stands, without his leave.
The revenue of the abbey was above 40,000!. per ann.
besides seven parks well stored with deer. The last ab¬
bot (Richard Whiting), who had 100 monks, and 300
domestics, was hanged in his pontificals, with two of
bis monks, on the Tor, a high hill in the neighbour-,
hood, for refusing to take the oath of supremacy to
Henry VIII. and surrender his abbey when required.
Edgar and many other Saxon kings were buried here ;
and^ as some will have it, Arthur the British king.
Every cottage here has part of a pillar, a door, or a
window of this fabric ; of which there still remain the
ruins of the choir, the middle tower and the chapels.
The walls that remain of the abbey are overgrown with
ivy, and the aspect of the whole is both melancholy and
venerable. Here are two parish churches. This
town, while under the protection of its abbots, was a
parliamentary borough, but it lost that and its privilege
of a corporation; the latter of which was, however, re¬
stored by Queen Anne, who granted it a new charter for
a mayor and burgesses. The only manufactory here is
stockings, At a little distance from the old church,
and facing the monks churchyard, are two remarkable
pyramids, with inscriptions, that are in characters un¬
intelligible, and an image in bishop’s vestments. Ihe
story of the Glastonbury thorn, and of its budding upon
Christmas day, is well known. I his is not correctly
true; but if the winter is mild, it always buds about
>5 j G L A
the latter end of December, but later if the weather is Glaston^
severe. Population 2337 in 1811. i,ury
GLATZ, a strong town of Silesia, capital of a ii
county of the same name, seated on the river Neisse ; Glazing,
and well fortified with a castle. The town contains
about 6700 inhabitants. The county was ceded to
the king of Prussia by the queen of Hungary in 1742 ;
and is about 45 miles in length, and 25 in breadth.
It has mines of pit coal, silver, and iron ; good quar¬
ries, plenty of cattle, and fine springs of mineral water.
The town is situated in E. Long. 16. 26. N. Lat.
50. 16.
GLAUBER, John Rhodolphus, a celebrated Ger¬
man chemist, who flourished about the year 1646. He
wrote a great number of different treatises on chemi¬
stry, some of which have been translated into Latin
and French. All his works have been collected into
one volume, entitled Glauberus concentratus, which was
translated into English, and printed at London, in folio,
in 1689.
Glauber's Salts, or Sulphate of Soda. See Chemi- -
STRY Index.
GLAUCOMA, in Medicine an& Surgery, the name
of a disease in the eye, wherein the- crystalline humour
is turned of a blueish or greenish colour, and its trans¬
parency hereby diminished.—The word comes from
•y\xvx.»5, ccesius, “ sea-gfeen, sky-coloured or grayish.”
Those in whom this disorder is forming, discover it
hence, that all objects appear to them as through a cloud
or mist; when entirely formed, the visual rays are all
intercepted, and nothing is seen at all.
It is reckoned incurable, when inveterate, and in
aged persons : and even under other circumstances, is
very difficult of cure, externals proving of little service.
Tile internals best suited to it, are those used in the
gutta serena. Jul. Caesar Claudinus, Consul. 74. gives
a remedy for the glaucoma.
The glaucoma is usually distinguished from the cata¬
ract or suffusion, in this, that in the cataract the white¬
ness appears in the pupil, very near the corner ; but it
shows deeper in the glaucoma. See Surgery Index.
GLAUCUS, a marine god, or deity of the sea.
There are a great many fabulous accounts of this di¬
vinity : but the poetical history of him is, that before
his deification, he was a fisherman of the town of An-
thedon, who having one day taken a considerable num¬
ber of fishes, which he laid upon the bank, on a sudden
perceived, that these fishes, having touched a kind of
herb that grew on the shore, received new strength, and
leaped again into the sea: upon the sight of which ex¬
traordinary accident, he was tempted to taste of the
herb himself, and presently leaped into the sea after
them, where he was metamorphorsed into a Triton, and
became one ol the sea gods.
GLAUX, a genus of plants belonging to the pent-
andria class, and in the natural method ranking under
the 17th order, Calycanthemce. See Botany Index.
GLAZIER, an artificer who works in glass.—The
principal part of a glazier’s business consists in fitting
panes of glass to the sashes and window frames of houses,
pictures, &c. and in cleaning the same.
GLAZING, the crusting over earthen ware with a
vitreous substance, the basis of which is lead. See.
Glass of Lead.
The workers of common earthen ware, however,, are»
not ,
G L A [ 766 3 G L A
not at the trouble of thus previously making a pure
glass of lead. Their usual composition for glazing their
ware is formed of white sand 40 pounds, ot red lead 20
pounds, of pearl ashes 20 pounds, and of common salt
12 pounds. Powder the sand by grinding it, and then
add it to the other ingredients and grind them to¬
gether: after which calcine them for some time with a
moderate heat, and when the mixture is cold, pound it
to powder; and when wanted for use temper it with
water. The proportion of these ingredients may be oc¬
casionally varied. The ware after being turned on the
wheel and dried in the open air, is covered over with
the above composition by means of a brush } and when
set in the furnace the violent heat soon reduces it to a
perfect glass, covering the whole internal and external
surface of the vessel.
We may observe, however, in general, that lead ought
to be excluded from the composition of glazings, and
other fluxes substituted in its stead. A transparent
glazing may be prepared without lead, by calcining 40
pounds of white sand, 25 pounds of pearl ashes, and 15
pounds of common salt; and proceeding as before: and
a more perfect transparent glazing may be made of
sand 40 pounds, of wood ashes perfectly burnt 50
pounds, of pearl ashes 10 pounds, and of common salt
12 pounds. The following receipts are taken for the
most part from Kunckel, who says, that they are the
true glazings used at Delft and other Dutch manu¬
factories.
Black is made of eight parts of red lead, iron filings
three, copper ashes three, and zaffer two measures.
This when melted will make a brown black; and if you
want it blacker, add more zaffer to it.
Blue is thus prepared : Take lead ashes or red lead
one pound, clear sand or powdered flints two pounds,
common salt two pounds, white calcined tartar one
pound, Venice or other glass half a pound, zaffer half
a pound ; mix them well together and melt them for
several times, quenching them always in cold water.
If you would have it fine, and good, it will be pro¬
per to put the mixture into a glass furnace for a day
or two.
Another blue glazing may be formed of one pound
of tartar, a quarter of a pound of red lead, half an
ounce of zaffer, and a quarter of a pound of powdered
flints, which are to be fused and managed as in the last
receipt. Or, take two pounds of calcined lead and tin,
add five pounds of common salt, five pounds of pow¬
dered flints, and of zaffer, tartar, and Venetian glass,
each one pound. Calcine and fuse the mixture as be¬
fore. Or, again, take of red lead one part, of sand
three parts, and of zaffer one part. For a violet blue
glazing, take four ounces of tartar, two ounces of red
lead, five ounces of powdered flints, and half a drachm
of manganese.
Brown is made of red lead and flints of each 14
parts, and of manganese two parts fused j or of red
lead 12 parts, and manganese one part fused. A brown
glazing, to be laid on a white ground, may be made
of manganese two parts, and of red lead and white
glass of each one part, twice fused.
Flesh coloured is made of 12 parts of lead ashes, and
one of white glass.
Gold coloured. Take of litharge three parts, of sand
or calcined flint one part j pound and mix these very
well together, then run them into a yellow glass with
a strong fire. Pound this glass, and grind it into a
subtile powder, which moisten with a well saturated
solution of silver ; make it into a paste, which put in¬
to a crucible, and cover it with a cover. Give at first
a gentle degree of fire $ then increase it, and continue
it till you have a glass, which will be green. Pound
this glass again, and grind it to a fine powder; moisten
this powder with some beer, so that by means of a
hair pencil you may apply it upon the vessels or any
piece of earthen ware. The vessels that are painted or
covered over with this glazing must be first well heated,
then put under a muffle ; and as soon as the glass runs,
you must smoke them, by holding them over burning
vegetables, and take out the vessels. Mr Heinsius of
Petersburg!!, who sent this receipt to the Royal Society,
uses the words ajjlare debes fumum, which is rendered
smoke them, in the Transactions. Phil. Trans. N° 465.
§ 6' .
Kunckel gives several preparations for a gold co¬
loured yellow glazing. This may be produced by fus¬
ing a mixture of three parts of red lead, two parts of
antimony, and one part of saffron of Mars ; by again
melting the powdered mass, and repeating the opera¬
tion four times, or by fusing four or five times a com¬
position of red lead and antimony of each an ounce,
and of scales of iron half an ounce : or by calcining
and fusing together eight parts of red lead, six parts of
flints, one part of yellow ochre, one part of antimony,
and one part of white glass. A transparent gold-
coloured glazing may be obtained by twice fusing
red lead and white flints, of each 12 parts, and of
filings of iron one part.
Green may be prepared of eight parts of litharge or
red lead, eight parts of Venice glass, four parts of
, brass dust or filings of copper j or of ten parts of li¬
tharge, twelve of flint or pebble, and one of ces ustum
or copper ashes.—A fine green glazing may be pro¬
duced by fusing one part of the Bohemian granate,
one part of filings of copper, one part of red lead, and
one part of Venetian glass $ or by fusing one part of
white glass, the same quantity of red lead, and also of
filings of copper $ powdering the mass, and adding one
part of Bohemian granate to two parts of this pow¬
der. A fine green may be obtained by mixing and
grinding together any of the yellow glazings with
equal quantities of the blue glazings ; and all the
shades and teints of green will be had by varying the
proportion of the one to the other, and by the choice of
the kind of yellow and blue.
Sea green is made of five pounds of lead ashes, one
pound of tin ashes, three pounds of flint, three quarters
of a pound of salt, half a pound of tartar, and half a
pound of copper dust.
Iron colour is prepared of 15 parts of lead ashes or
red lead, 15 of white sand or flints, and five of cal¬
cined copper. This mixture is to be calcined and
fused.
Liver colour is prepared of 12 parts of litharge,
eight of salt, six of pebble or flint, and one of manga¬
nese.
Purple brown consists of lead ashes 15 parts, clean
sand or powdered flints 18 parts, manganese one part,
and white glass 15 measures, to which some add one
measure of zaffer.
Red
G L A
Jlazmg. R£d is made of antimony three pounds, litharge or
■-'"v*" ' red lead three, and rust of iron one : grind them to a
fine powder. Or, take two pounds of antimony, three
of red lead, and one of calcined saffron of Mars, and
proceed as before.
White. The white glazing for common ware is
made of 40 pounds of clear sand, 75 pounds of litharge
or lead ashes, 2.6 of pot ashes, and ten pounds of salt:
these are three times melted into a cake, quenching
it each time in clear cold water. Or it may be made
of 50 pounds of clean sand, 70 of lead ashes, 30 of
wood ashes, and 12 of salt.
For a fine white: Take two pounds of lead and one
of tin j calcine them to ashes \ of this take two parts,
calcined flint, white sand, or broken white glass, one
part, and salt one part $ mix them well together and
melt them into a cake for use. The trouble of calcin¬
ing the tin and lead may be prevented by procuring
them in a proper state.
A very fine white glazing may be obtained by cal¬
cining two parts of lead and one part of tin $ and
taking one part of this mass, and of flints and common
salt of each one part, and fusing the mixture.
A white glazing may be also prepared by mixing
IOO pounds of masticot, 60 pounds of red lead, 20
pounds of calcined tin or putty, and 10 pounds of
common salt, and calcining and powdering the mix>-
ture several times.
Yellow is prepared of red lead three pounds ; cal¬
cined antimony and tin, of each two pounds j or, ac¬
cording to some, of equal quantities of the three in¬
gredients. These must be melted into a cake, then
ground fine j and this operation repeated several times ;
or it may be made of 15 parts of lead ore, three parts
of litharge of silver, and 15 parts of sand.—A fine
yellow glazing may be procured by mixing five parts
of red lead, two parts of powdered brick, one part of
sand, one part of the white glazings, and two parts of
antimony, calcining the mixture and then fusing it.
Or, take four parts of white glass, one part of anti¬
mony, three parts of red lead, and one part of iron
scales, and fuse the mixture 5 or fuse 16 parts of flints,
one part of iron filings, and 24 parts of litharge.. A
light yellow glazing may be produced with ten parts
of red lead, three parts of antimony, and three of
glass, and two parts of calcined tin. See Gold colour,
above.—A citron yellow is made of six parts of red
lead, seven parts of fine red brick dust, and two parts
of antimony. This mixture must be calcined day and
night for the space of four days, in the ash hole of a
glass-house furnace, and at last urged to fusion.
For the glazing of Delft ware. Porcelain, Stone¬
ware, &c. see the articles Delft Ware, PORCELAIN,
and Pottery.
The Romans had a method of glazing their earthen
vessels, which in many respects appears to have been
superior to ours. The common brown glazing easily
scales off, cracks, and in a short time becomes dis¬
agreeable to the eye. Besides, it is very easily de¬
stroyed by acids $ nor can vessels glazed in this man¬
ner be even employed to bold water, without part of
it oozing through their pores. Lead is also very de¬
structive to the human body ; and if acids are unwa¬
rily put into vessels glazed with lead, the liquors will
receive a very dangerous impregnation from the me-
1 767 ]
G L E
tal. The Roman glazing, which is yet to be seen Glazing
upon urns dug up in several places, appears to have I!
been made of some kind of varnish $ and Pliny gives G^da-
us a hint that it was made of bitumen. He tells us . lagh‘ ,
that it never lost its beauty, and that at length it be¬
came customary to glaze over statues in this manner.
As this varnish sunk deep into the substance of the
ware, it was not subject to those cracks and flaws which
disfigure our vessels ; and as it was not liable to be
corroded by acids, it could not be subject to any of
the accidents which may ensue from the use of vessels
glazed with lead.
GLEAD, or Glade, a name used in the northern
parts of the kingdom for the kite. See Falco, Orni¬
thology Index.
GLEAM is popularly used for a ray or beam of
light. Among falconers a hawk is said to gleam when
she casts or throws up filth from the gorge.
GLEANING, the act of gathering or picking up
the ears of corn left behind after the field has been
reaped and the crop carried home. By the customs
of some countries, particularly those of Melon and
Estampes, all farmers and others are forbid, either by
themselves or servants, to put any cattle into the fields,
or prevent the gleaning in any manner whatever for
the space of 24. hours after the carrying off' the corn,
under the penalty of confiscation.
GLEBE, among miners, signifies a piece of earth
in which is contained some mineral ore.
Glebe, in Law, the land belonging to a parish
church besides the tithes.
GLECHOMA, Ground Ivy, a genus of plants
belonging to the didynamia class, and in the natural
method ranking under the 42d order, Verticillatce. See
Botany Index.
GLEDITSIA, Triple Thorned Acacia, or Ho¬
ney Locust, a genus of plants belonging to the polyga-
mia class, and in the natural method ranking under the
33d order, Lomentacece. See Botany Index.
GLEE T, in Medicine, the flux of a thin limpid hu¬
mour from tire urethra. See Medicine Itidex.
GLENDALAGH, otherwise called the Seven
Churches, anciently a celebrated town of Ireland,
situated five miles north-west of Rathdrum, in the
county of Wicklow, and province of Leinster. The
name signifies “ the valley of the two lakes.” In
this valley, surrounded by high and almost inacces¬
sible mountains, St Kevin or Cavan, called also St
Coemgene, about the middle of the 6th century, found¬
ed a monastery, which in a short time from the sanc¬
tity of its founder was much resorted to, and at
length became a bishoprick and a religious city. St
Kevin died 3d June 618, aged I20J and on that
day annually numbers of persons flock to the Seven
Churches to celebrate the festival of that venerated -
saint. During the middle ages the city of Clen-
dalagh, called by Hovedon, Episcopatus Bistagniensis,
was held in great esteem, and received several valuable
donations and privileges, its episcopal jurisdiction ex¬
tending to the walls ot Dublin.-—About the middle
of the 12th century, on some account or other, it was
much neglected by the clergy} and became, instead of
a holy city, a den of thieves, wherefore Cardinal Pa-
piro, in 1214, united it to the see of Dublin, which u-
nion was confirmed by King John. The 0 Tools,,chiefs
of ,
G L I
[ 768 3
G L O
rieadalachof Firthual, however, by the assistance of the Pope,
|| continued long after this period to elect bishops and
Giisson. abbots to Glendalagh, though they had neither reve-
nues or authority, beyond the district of Tuathal,
which was the western part of the county of VVicklow ;
in consequence of which the city was suffered to decay,
and had become nearly a desert, in 1497, when Den¬
nis White, the last titular bishop, surrendered his right
in the cathedral church of St Patrick, Dublin. I1 rom
the ruins of this ancient city still remaining, it ap¬
pears to have been a place of consequence, and to have
. contained seven churches and religious houses; small
indeed, but built in a neat elegant stile, in imitation
of the Greek architecture : the cathedral, the walls ot
which are yet standing, was dedicated to St Peter and
St Paul. South of the cathedral stands a small church
roofed with stone, nearly entire j and in several parts
of the valley are a number of stone crosses, some of
which are curiously carved, but without any inscrip¬
tions. In the north-west corner of the cemetery be¬
longing to the cathedral stands a round tower, 95
feet high, and 15 in diameter j and in the cemetery of
a small church, on the south side of the rivei, near
the great lake, called the Rhefeart church, are some
tombs, with Irish inscriptions, belonging to the
O’Tools. In a perpendicular projecting rock on the
south side of the great lake, 30 yards above the sur¬
face of the water, is the celebrated bed of St Kevin,
hewn out of the rock, exceedingly difficult of access and
terrible of prospect. Amongst the ruins have been dis¬
covered a number of stones, curiously carved, and con¬
taining inscriptions in the Latin, Greek, and Irish
languages. As this city was in a valley, surrounded
on all sides, except the east, by high, barren, and in¬
accessible mountains, the artificial roads leading there¬
to are by no means the least curious part of the re¬
mains $ the principal is that leading into the county
of Kildare through Glendason. This road for near
two miles is yet perfect, composed of stones placed on
their edges, making a firm and durable pavement, a-
bout 10 feet broad. At a small distance from St Ke¬
vin’s bed, on the same side of the mountain, are to be
seen the ruins of a small stone building called Saint
Kevin's cell.
GLENOIDES, the name of two cavities, or small
depressions, in the inferior part of the first vertebra of
the neck.
GLIMMER, or Glist. See Mica, Mineralo¬
gy Index.
GLINUS, in Botany, a genus of plants belonging
to the decandria class j and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 22d order, Caryophyllce. See Botany
Index.
GLIRES, the name of Linnaeus’s fourth order of
mammalia. See Mammalia Index.
GLISSON, Francis, a learned English physician
in the 17th century, was educated at Cambridge, and
was made regius professor of that university. In 1634
lie was admitted a fellow of the College of Physicians
in London. During the civil wars, he practised physic
at. Colchester, and afterwards settled in London. He
greatly improved physic by his anatomical dissections
and observations, and made several new discoveries of
singular use towards establishing a rational practice.
He wrote, 1. De rachitide, &c. 2. De lymphceductis
3
nuper rcpcrtis: with the Anatomica prolegomena, et Gibson
Anatomia hepatis. 3. De natures substantia cnergiti- ||
ca ; sen de via vitce natures, ejusque tribus primis fa- Glocester.
cultatibus, &c. quarto. 4. Tractatus de ventriculo et '
intestinis, &c. The world is obliged to him for the
capsula communis, or vagina porter.
GLISTER, in Surgery. See Clyster.
GLOBBA, a genus of plants belonging to the mon-
andria class. See Botany Index.
GLOBE, in Geometry, a round or spherical body,
more usually called a Sphere. See Sphere.
Globe is more particularly used for an artificial
sphere of metal, plaster, paper, or other matter 5 on
whose convex surface is drawn a map, or representa¬
tion either of the earth or heavens, with the several
circles conceived thereon. See Geography.
Globes are of two kinds, terrestrial and celestial;
each of very considerable use, the one in astronomy,
and the other in geography, for performing many of
the operations thereof in an easy obvious manner, so as
to be conceived without any knowledge of the mathe¬
matical grounds of those arts.
The fundamental parts, common to both globes, are
an axis, representing that of the world j and a sphe¬
rical shell, or cover, which makes the body of the
globe, on the external surface of which the representa¬
tion is drawn. See Geography Index.
Globes, we have observed, are made of different ma¬
terials, viz. silver, brass, paper, plaster, &c. Those
commonly used are of plaster and paper. For the con¬
struction of globes, see Geography Index.
For the uses, &c. of the globes, see Geography
and Astronomy.
Globe Animal. See Animalcule.
Globe Fish. See Ostracion, Ichthyology In¬
dex.
GLOBULARIA, Globular Blue Daisy j a ge¬
nus of plants, belonging to the tetrandria class ; and
in the natural method ranking under the 48th order,
Aggregates. See Botany Index.
GLOBULE, a diminutive of globe, frequently used
by physicians in speaking of the red particles of the
blood. See Blood.
GLOCESTER, the capital of Glocestershire, in
England, 106 miles from London. It is an ancient
city 5 and by Antoninus is called Clevutn, or Glevum,
which Camden thinks was formed from the British
Caer-Glowe, signifying “ a fair city.” It was one ot
the 28 cities built by the Britons before the arrival of
the Romans, who made it one of their colonies, and
in the eighth century it was esteemed one of the
noblest cities in the kingdom. It has suffered con¬
siderably by fire at different periods. It stands upon
a hill 5 and from the middle of the city, where the four
principal streets meet, there is a descent every way,
which makes it not only clean and healthy, but adds to
the beauty of the place. Forging of iron seems to have
been its manufacture so early as the time of William
the Conqueror. King Henry VIII. made it the see of
a bishop with a dean and six prebends. Its castle,
which was erected in the time of William the Conquer¬
or, is very much decayed ; part of it is leased out by
the crown 5 and the rest serves for a prison, one of the
best in England. In its cathedral, which is an ancient
but magnificent fabric, and has a tower reckoned
one
G L O [ 769 1 G L O
Glocester. one of the most curious pieces of architecture in Eng-
—V"1 land, are the tombs of Robert duke of Normandy,
son to William the Conqueror, and of Edward II. and
there is a whispering place like to that of St Paul’s
at London. In the chapter house lies Strongbow
who conquered Ireland. There are 12 chapels in it,
with the arms and monuments of many great per¬
sons. King John made it a borough to he governed
by two bailiffs. Henry III. who was crowned here,
made it a corporation. By its present charter from
Charles I. it is governed by a steward, who is general¬
ly a nobleman; a mayor ; a recorder; 12 aldermen,
out of whom the mayor is chosen ; a town clerk ; two
sheriffs, chosen yearly out of 26 common councilmen ;
a sword-bearer; and four Serjeants at mace. Here are
12 incorporated trading companies, whose masters at¬
tend the mayor on all public occasions, &c. Besides
the cathedral, there are five parish churches in this
city ; which is likewise well provided with hospitals,
particularly an infirmary upon the plan of those at
London, Winchester, Bath, &c. Here is a good stone
bridge over the river Severn, with a quay, wharf, and
customhouse ; but most of its business is engrossed by
Bristol. King Edward I. held a parliament here in
1272, wherein some good laws were made, now called
the Statutes of Glocester ; and he erected a gate on the
south side of the abbey, still called by his name, though
almost demolished in the civil wars. King Richard II.
also held a parliament here : and King Richard III. in
consideration of his having (before his accession to the
crown) borne the title of Duke of Glocester, added the
two adjacent hundreds of Dudston and King’s Barton
to it, gave it his sword and cap of maintenance, and
made it a county of itself by the name of the county of
the city of Glocester. But after the Restoration the
hundreds were taken away by act of parliament, and
the walls pulled down ; because the city shut the gates
against Charles I. when he besieged it in 1643 ; by
which, though the siege was raised by the earl of
Essex, it had suffered 20,oool. damage, having 241
houses destroyed, which reduced it so much that it
has scarce recovered its former size and grandeur.
Before that time it had 11 parish churches, but six of
them were then demolished. Here are abundance of
crosses, and statues of the English kings, some of whom
kept their Christmas here ; several market houses sup¬
ported with pillars ; and large remains of monasteries,
which were once so numerous, that it gave occasion to
the monkish proverb, As sure as God is in Glocester.
Here is a barley market; and a hall for the assizes,
called the Booth Hall. Its chief manufacture is pins.
Under the bridge is a water engine to supply the town,
and it is served with it also from Robin Hood’s well,
to which is a fine walk from the city. Camden says,
that the famous Roman way, called Ermin Street,
which begins at St David’s in Pembrokeshire, and
reaches to Southampton, passes through this city.
Here is a charity school for above 80 children, of
whom above 70 are also clothed ; and a well endowed
blue-coat school. Population 8280 in 1811. The city
sends two members to parliament. W. Long. 2. 13.
N. Lat. 51. 48.
Glocester is also the name of two counties and
of several towns in America ; such as the county of
Glocester in New Jersey, bounded on the north by
Vol. IX. Part II. f
Burlington, on the south by Salem and Cumberland, Gloeester
on the east by the Atlantic ocean, and on the west by Glocener-
the river Delaware. It contains 13,172 inhabitants, *hire.
besides ipi slaves. Glocester in Virginia is a well cul- v_ *
tivated and fruitful county, about 55 miles long and 30
broad, with a population ot 13,49^ souls, among whom
are included 7063 slaves.
GLOCESTERSHIRE, a county of England, is
bounded on the west by Monmouthshire and Here¬
fordshire, on the north by Worcestershire, on the east
by Oxfordshire and Warwickshire, and on the south
by Wiltshire, and part of Somersetshire. It is sixty
miles in length, twenty-six in breadth, and one hun¬
dred and sixty in circumference ; containing 1,100,000
acres, 320 parishes, 1229 villages, 2 cities, and 28
market towns. In 1811 it contained 54,040 houses,
and 285,514 inhabitants. It sends only 8 members to
parliament, 6 for three towns, viz. Glocester, Tewkes¬
bury, and Cirencester ; and two for the county. Its
manufactures are woollen cloths of various kinds, men’s
hats, leather, pens, paper, bar iron, edge tools, nails,
wire, tinned plates, brass, &c.: and of the principal
articles of commerce of the county, it exports cheese
8000 tons ; bacon, grain, cyder, 5000I. worth ; perry,
fish, 4000I. worth, &c. It lies in the diocese that
takes its name from the capital, and in the Oxford
circuit. The air of the county is very wholesome, but
the face of it is very different in different parts: for
the eastern part is hilly, and is called Cotteswold; the
western woody, and called the Forest of Dean ; and the
rest is a fruitful valley, through which runs the river
Severn. This river is in some places between two and
three miles broad ; and its course through the county,
including its windings, is not less than seventy miles.
The tide of flood, called the Boar, rises very high, and
is very impetuous. It is remarkable, that the greatest
tides are one year at the full moon, and the other at
the new ; one year the night tides, and the next the
day. This river affords a noble conveyance for goods
and merchandise of all sorts to and from the county ;
but it is watered by several others, as the Wye, the
Avon, the Isis, the Leyden, the Frome, the Stroud,
and Windrush, besides lesser streams, all abounding
with fish, the Severn in particular with salmon, con¬
ger eels, and lampreys. The soil is in general very
fertile, though pretty much diversified, yielding plen¬
ty of corn, pasture, fruit, and wood. In the hilly
part of the county, or Cotteswold, the air is sharper
than in the lowlands ; and the soil, though not so fit
for grain, produces excellent pasture for sheep ; so that
of the four hundred thousand that are computed to be
kept in the county, the greater part are fed here. Of
these sheep the wool is exceeding fine ; and hence it is
that this shire is so eminent for its manufacture of
cloth, of which fifty thousand pieces are said to have
been made yearly, before the practice of clandestinely
exporting English wool became so common. In the
vale, or lower part of the county, through which the
Severn passes, the air and soil are very different from
those of the Cotteswold : for the former is much warmer,
and the latter richer, yielding the most luxuriant pas¬
tures ; in consequence of which, numerous herds of
black cattle are kept, and great quantities of that ex¬
cellent cheese, for which it is so much celebrated, made
in it. The remaining part of the county, called the
5 E Forest
G L O
Gloccstec- Forest of Dean, was formerly almost entirely overrun
•hire with wood, and extended 20 miles in length, and IO in
N breadth. It was then a nest of robbers, especially to-
. Clory- . wards the Severn j but now it contains many towns
^ and villages, consisting chiefly of miners, employed in
the coal pits, or in digging for or forging iron ore,
with both which the forest abounds. These, miners
have their particular laws, customs, courts, and judges :
and the king, as in all royal forests, has a swain-mote
for the preservation of the vert and venison. This fo¬
rest was anciently, and is still noted for its oaks, which
thrive here surprisingly ; but as there is a prodigious
consumption of wood in the forges, it is continually
dwindling away. A navigable canal is made from
Stroud to Framilode, forming a junction between the
Severn and Thames. Its chalybeate springs are, St
Anthony’s well, in Abbenhall parish 5 at Barrow and
Maredon, in Bodington parish ; at Ash-church, near
Tewkesbury j at Dumbleton, near Winchcomb j at
Easington, near Dursley •, and at Cheltenham. Its an¬
cient fortifications, attributed to the Romans, Saxons,
or Danes, are Abston and Wick, and at Dointon,
Dixton, Addlesthorp, Knole, Over Upton, and Han-
ham. See Glocestershire, Suppeement.
GLOCHIDON, a genus of plants, belonging to
the monoecia class. See Botany Index.
GLOGAW, a strong town of Germany, in Silesia,
and capital of a duchy of the same name. It is not
very large, but is well fortified on the side of Boland.
It has a handsome castle, with a tower, in which seve¬
ral counsellors were condemned by Duke John, in 1498,
to perish with hunger. Besides the Papists, there are
a great number of Protestants and Jews. It was taken
by assault, by the king of Prussia, in I74I> antl the
garrison made prisoners. After the peace in I742» the
king of Prussia settled the supreme court of justice
here, it being, next to Breslaw, the most populous place
in Silesia. It is seated on the river Oder, in E. Long..
16. 15. N. Lat. 51. 39.
Glogaw the Less, a town of Silesia, in the duchy
of Oppeln, now in the possession of the king of Prus¬
sia. It is 19 miles south of Oppeln, and 45 north¬
west of Breslaw’. E. Long. 16. 15. N. Lat. 51. 38.
GLORIA Patri, among ecclesiastical writers. See
Doxology.
GLORIOSA, Superb Lily, a genus of plants, be¬
longing to the hexandria class, and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the nth order, Sarmentosce. See
Botany Index.
GLORY, renown or celebrity. The love of re¬
nown, or desire of fame ami reputation, appears to be
one of the principal springs of action in human society.
G1 ory, therefore, is not to be contemned, as some of
the ancient philosophers affected to teach : but it im¬
ports us to regulate our pursuit after it by the dictates
of reason j and if the public approbation will not fol¬
low ns in that course, we must leave her behind.—
We ought to have our judgments well instructed as
to what actions are truly glorious; and to remember,
that in every important enterprise, as Seneca observes,
JRecte facti fecisse merces est; officiifrucius, ipsuvi 0fji-
cium est: “ The reward of a thing well done, is to have
done it; the fruit of a good office, is the office itself.”
Those who by other methods scatter their names into
G L O
many mouths, show they rather hunt after a great re- Glory,
putation than a good one, and their reward is oftener s——y—,
infamy than fame.
Men generally, and almost instinctively, affix glory
only to such actions as have been produced by an in¬
nate desire for public good ; and we, measure it by that
degree of influence which any thing done has upon the
common happiness.
If the actions of the hero conduct soonest to glory
and with the greatest splendour, and if the victorious
general is so great after a signal engagement; it is be¬
cause the service he has done is for the moment, and
for all; and because we think without reflecting, that
he has saved our habitations, our wealth, and our chil¬
dren, and every thing that attaches us to life. If the
man of science, who in his study has discovered and
calculated the motions of the heavenly bodies, who in
his alembics has unveiled some of the secrets of nature,
or who has exhibited to mankind a new art, rises to
fame with less noise ; it is because the utility which
he procures is more widely diffused, and is often of less
service to the present than to succeeding generations.
The consequences, therefore, of these two advan¬
tages are as opposite as the causes are different; and
while the benefits procured by the warrior appear to
have no more influence, and while his glory becomes
obscure, that of a celebrated writer or inventor still in¬
creases, and is more and more enlarged. His works
every day bring back his name to that age which uses
them, and thus still add to his celebrity and fame.
This posthumous fame indeed has been decried by
some writers. In particular, the author of the Religion
of Nature delineated has treated it as highly irrational
and absurd. “ In reality (says he) the man is not
known ever the more to posterity, because his name is
transmitted to them : He doth not live, because his
name does. When it is said Julius Caesar subdued
Gaul, conquered Pompey, &c. it is the same thing as
to say, the conqueror of Pompey w’as Julius Caesar ;
i. e. Caesar and the conqueror of Pompey is the same
thing ; Caesar is as much known by one designation as
by the other. The amount then is only this, that the
conqueror of Pompey conquered Pompey ; or some¬
body conquered Pompey ; or rather, since Pompey is
as little known now as Caesar, somebody conquered
somebody. Such a poor business is this boasted immor¬
tality ! and such is the thing called glory among us !
To discerning men this fame is mere air, and what they
despise if not shun.”
But surely it were to consider too curiously (as Ho¬
ratio says to Hamlet) to consider thus. For (as the
elegant author of Fitzosborne’s Letters observes) al¬
though fame with posterity should be, in the strict ana¬
lysis of it, no other than what is here described, a mere
uninteresting proposition, amounting to nothing more
than that somebody acted meritoriously ; yet it would
not necessarily follow, that true philosophy would ba¬
nish the desire of it from the human breast: for this pas¬
sion may be (as most certainly it is) wisely implanted
in our species, notwithstanding the corresponding ob¬
ject should in reality be very different from what it ap¬
pears in imagination. Do not many of our most refin¬
ed and even contemplative pleasures owe their existence
to our mistakes ? It is but extending some of our senses
to
[ 77° ]
G L O
[ 77i ]
G L 0
tra.
Glory to a higher degree of acuteness than we now possess
(| them, to make the fairest views of nature, or the noblest
Glossope- productions of art, appear horrid and deformed. To see
1 things as they truly and in themselves are, would not
always, perhaps, be of advantage to us in the intellec¬
tual world, any more than in the natural. But, after
all, who shall certainly assure us, that the pleasure of
virtuous fame dies with its possessor, and reaches not to
a farther scene of existence? There is nothing, it should
seem, either absurd or unphilosophical in supposing it
possible at least, that the praises of the good and the ju¬
dicious,the sweetest music to an honest ear in this world,
may be echoed back to the mansions of the next *, that
the poet’s description of Fame may be literally true,
and though she walks upon earth, she may yet lift her
head into heaven.
To be convinced of the great advantage of cherish¬
ing this high regard to posterity, this noble desire of
an after life in the breath of others, one need only look
back upon the history of the ancient Greeks and Ro¬
mans. For what other principle was it which produced
that exalted strain of virtue in those days, that may
well serve, in too many respects, as a model to these ?
Was it not the consentiens lavs honorum, the incorrupta
vox benejudicantium (as Tully calls it), “ the concur¬
rent approbation of the good, the uncorrupted ap¬
plause of the wise,” that animated their most generous
pursuits ?
In short, can it be reasonable to extinguish a passion
which nature has universally lighted up in the human
breast, and which we constantly find to burn with most
strength and brightness in the noblest and best formed
bosoms? Accordingly revelation is so far from endea¬
vouring to eradicate the seed which nature has thus
deeply planted, that she rather seems, on the contrary,
to cherish and forward its growth. To be exalted with
honour, and to be had in everlasting remembrance, are
in the number of those encouragements which the
Jewish dispensation ofiered to the virtuous ; and the
person from whom the sacred Author of the Christian
system received his birth, is herself represented as re¬
joicing that all generations should call her blessed.
GLOSS, a comment on the text of any author, to
explain his sense more fully and at large, whether in
the same language or any other. See the article Com¬
mentary.— The word, according to some, comes from
the Greek y-Karrot, “ tongue j” the office of a gloss be¬
ing to explain the text, as that of the tongue is to dis¬
cover the mind.
Gloss is likewise used for a literal translation, or an
interpretation of an author in another language word
for word.
Gloss is also used in matters of commerce, &c. for
the lustre of a silk, stulf, or the like.
GLOSSARY, a sort of dictionary, explaining the
obscure and antiquated terms in some old author; such
are Du Cange’s Latin and Greek Glossaries, Spelman’s
Glossary, and Kennet’s Glossary at the end ot his 1 a-
rochial Antiquities.
GLOSSOPETRA, or Glottopetra, in Natural
History, a kind of extraneous fossil, something in form
of a serpent’s tongue ; frequently found in the island
of Malta and other places.
The vulgar notion is, that they are the tongues of
serpents petrified ; and hence their name, which is a
compound of yXtnnret, “ tongue” and wirgas, “ stone.” Glossope-
Hence also their traditionary virtue in curing the bites
of serpents. The general opinion of naturalists is, that
they are the teeth of fishes, left at hand by the waters
of the deluge, and since petrified.
The several sizes of the teeth of the same species, and
those of the several different species of sharks, afford a
vast variety of these fossil substances. Their usual co¬
lours are black, bluish, whitish, yellowish, or brown £
and in shape they usually approach to a triangular fi¬
gure. Some of them are simple; others are tricuspi-
date, having a small point on each side of the large
one : many of them are quite straight; but they are
frequently found crooked, and bent in all directions \
many of them are serrated on their edges, and others
have them plain ; some are undulated on their edges,
and slightly serrated on these undulations. They differ
also in size as much as in figure; the larger being four
or five inches long, and the smaller less than a quarter
of an inch.
They are most usually found with us in the strata of
blue clay, though sometimes also in other substances,
and are frequent in the clay pits of Richmond and other
places. They are very frequent also in Germany, but
nowhere so plentiful as in the island of Malta.
The Germans attribute many virtues to these fossil
teeth ; they call them cordials, sudorifics, and alexi-
pharmics : and the people of Malta, where they are
extremely plentiful, hang them about their children’s
necks to promote dentition. They may possibly be of
as much service this way as an anodyne necklace ; and
if suspended in such a manner that the child can get
them to its mouth, may, by their hardness and smooth¬
ness, be of the same use as a piece of coral.
GLOTTIS, in Anatomy, the narrow slit at the up¬
per part of the aspera arteria, which is covered by the
epiglottis when we hold our breath and when we swal¬
low. The glottis, by its dilatation and contraction,
modulates the voice, See Anatomy, N° 183.
GLOVE, a covering for the hand and wrist.
Gloves, with respect to commerce, are distinguished
into leathern gloves, silk gloves, thread gloves, cotton
gloves, worsted gloves, &c. Leathern gloves are made
of chamois, kid, lamb, doe, elk, buff, &c. Gloves
now pay a duty to the king, which increases according
to their value.
To throw the glove, was a practice or ceremony
very usual among our forefathers; being the challenge
whereby another was defied to single combat. It is
still retained at the coronation of our kings; when the
king’s champion casts his glove in Westminster hall.
See Champion.
Favyn supposes the custom to have arisen from the
eastern nations, who in all their sales and deliveries of
lands, goods, &c. used to give the purchaser their
glove by way of livery or investiture. To this effect
he quotes Ruth iv. 7. where the Chaldee paraphrase
calls glove what the common version renders by shoe.
He adds, that the Rabbins interpret by glove that
passage in the cviiith Psalm, In Idumeam extendam cal-
ceamentum meum “Over Edom will I cast out my shoe.”
Accordingly, among us, he who took up the glove, de¬
clared thereby his acceptance of the challenge ; and
as a part of the ceremony, continues Favyn, took the
glove off his own right hand, and cast it upon the
5 E 2 ground,
G L O
Glove, ground, to be taken up by the challenger. This had
Glover, the force of a mutual engagement on each side, to meet
*»—~v ' at the time and place which should be appointed by the
king, parliament, or judges. The same author asserts,
that the custom which still obtains of blessing gloves in
the coronation of the kings of France, is a remain of
the eastern practice of giving possession with the glove,
lib. xvi. p. 1017, &c.
Anciently it was prohibited the judges to wear
gloves on the bench. And at present in the stables ot^
most princes, it is not safe going in without pulling oft
the gloves.
GLOVER, Richard, the author of Leonidas and
several other esteemed works, was the son of Richard
Glover, a Hamburgh merchant in London, and was
born in St Martin’s lane in the year 1712. He very
early showed a strong propensity to and genius for
poetry; and while at school, he wrote, amongst other
pieces, a poem to the memory of Sir Isaac Newton,
prefixed to the view of that incomparable author’s
philosophy, published in i'^iniate
friend Dr Pemberton. But though possessed of talents
which were calculated to excel in the literary world, he
was content to devote his attention to commerce, and
at a proper period commenced a Hamburgh merchant.
He still, however, cultivated literature, and associated
with those who were eminent in science. One of his
earliest friends was Matthew Green, the ingenious but
obscure author of some admirable poems, which in
1737, after his death, were collected and published by
Mr Clover. In 1737, Mr Glover married Miss Nunn,
with whom he received a handsome fortune} and in
the same month published Leonidas, a poem in 4to,
which in this and the next year passed through three
editions. This poem was inscribed to Lord Cobham ;
and on its first appearance was received by the world
with great approbation, though it has since been un¬
accountably neglected. Lord Lyttleton, in a popular
publication called Common Sense, and in a poem ad¬
dressed to the author, praised it in the warmest terms j
and Dr Pemberton published, Observations on Poetry,
especially epic, occasioned by the late poem upon Leo¬
nidas, 1738, 12mo, merely with a view to point out its
beauties. In 1739, Mr Glover published “London,
or the Progress of Commerce,4to 5 and a ballad en¬
titled, Hosier’s Ghost. Both these pieces seem to have
been written with a view to incite the public to resent
the misbehaviour of the Spaniards ; and the latter had
a very considerable effect. The political dissensions at
this period raged with great violence, and more espe¬
cially in the metropolis ; and at different meetings of
the livery on those occasions, Mr Glover was always
called to the chair, and acquitted himself in a very able
manner, his conduct being patriotic and his speeches
masterly. His talents for public speaking, his know¬
ledge of political affairs, and his information concern¬
ing trade and commerce, soon afterwards pointed him
out to the merchants of London as a proper person to
conduct their application to parliament on the subject
of the neglect of their trade. He accepted the office j
and in summing up the evidence gave very striking
proofs of his oratorical powers. This speech was pro¬
nounced Jan. 27. 1742.
In the year 1744 died the duchess of Marlborough,
and by her will left to Mr Glover and Mr Mallet
2.
G L O
500I. each, to write the History of the Duke of Marl¬
borough’s Life. This bequest, however, never took
place. It is supposed, that Mr Glover very early re¬
nounced his share of it ; and Mallet, though he con¬
tinued to talk of performing the task almost as long as
he lived, is now known never to have made the least
progress in it. About this period Mr Glover withdrew
a good deal from public notice, and lived in retire¬
ment. He had been unsuccessful in his business j and
with a very laudable delicacy had preferred an obscure
retreat to popular observation, until his affairs should
put on a more prosperous appearance. He had been
honoured with the attention of Frederick prince of
Wales, who once presented him with a complete set of
the classics, elegantly bound j and, on his absenting
himself for some time on account of the embarrassment
in his circumstances, sent him, it is said, 500I. The
prince died in March 1751 5 and in May following
Mr Glover was once more drawn from his retreat by
the importunity of his friends, and stood candidate for
the place of chamberlain of London. It unfortunately
happened that he did not declare himself until most of
the livery had engaged their votes \ by which means
he lost his election.
In 1753, Mr Glover produced at Drury Lane his
tragedy of Boadicea j which was acted nine nights, in
the month of December. It had the advantage of the
performance of Mr Garrick, Mr Mossop, Mrs Cibber,
and Mrs Pritchard. From the prologue it seems to
have been patronized by the author’s friends in the
city ; and Dr Pemberton wrote a pamphlet to recom¬
mend it.—In 1761, Mr Glover published Medea, a
tragedy written on the Greek model ; but it was not
acted until 1767, when it appeared for the first time
on the stage at Drury Lane for Mrs Yates’s benefit.
At the accession of his present majesty, he appears to
have surmounted the difficulties of his situation. In
the parliament which was then called, he was chosen
member for Weymouth, and continued to sit as such
until the dissolution of it. He, about this time, in¬
terested himself about India aflairs, at one ol Mr Sul¬
livan’s elections ; and in a speech introduced the fable
of the man, horse, and bear ; and drew this conclusion,
that, whenever merchants made use of armed forces to
maintain their trade, it would end in their destruction.
In 1770, the poem of Leonidas requiring a new
edition, it was republished in two volumes izmo, cor¬
rected throughout, and extended from nine books to
twelve. It had also several new characters added, be¬
sides placing the old ones in new situations. The im¬
provements made in it were very considerable j but we
believe the public curiosity, at this period, was not suf¬
ficiently alive to recompense the pains bestowed on this
once popular performance. The calamities arising from
the wounds given to public credit, in June 1772, by
the failure of the bank of Douglas, Heron, and Co. in
Scotland, occasioned Mr Glover’s taking a very active
part in the settling those complicated concerns, and
in stopping the distress then so universally felt. In.Fe¬
bruary 1774, he called the annuitants of that banking-
house together, at the King’s Arms tavern, and laid
proposals before them for the security of their de¬
mands, with which they were fully satisfied. He also
undertook to manage the interests of the merchants
and traders of London concerned in the trade to Ger¬
many
[ 772 ]
G L U [ 773 ] G L U
Glue.
GJover many and Holland, and of the dealers in foreign linens,
in their application to parliament in May 1774. Both
the speeches made on these occasions were published in
a pamphlet in that year. In the succeeding year
he engaged on behalf of the West India merchants
in their application to parliament, and examined the
witnesses and summoned up the evidence in the same
masterly manner he had done on former occasions. For
the assistance he afforded the merchants in this busi¬
ness, he was complimented by them with a service of
plate, of the value of 300I. The speech which he de¬
livered in the house was in the same year printed.
This, we believe, was the last opportunity he had of
displaying his oratorical talents in public. Having
now arrived at a period of life which demanded a recess
from business, Mr Glover retired to ease and indepen¬
dence, and spent the remainder of his days with dig¬
nity and with honour. It is probable that he still con¬
tinued his attention to his muse, as we are informed
that, besides an epic poem of considerable length, he
has left some tragedies and comedies behind him in
manuscript. After experiencing for some time the
infirmities of age, he departed this life 25th November
1785 ; leaving behind him a most estimable character
as a man, a citizen, and a writer.
GLOW-WORM. SeeLAMPYRISjENTOMOLOGYl/zrfor.
GLUCINA, in Chemistry, an earthy substance which
was discovered by Vauquelin in 1798, in analyzing the
emerald, of which it forms a component part. For an
account of its properties and combinations, see Che¬
mistry, N° 1165.
GLUCKSTADT, a strong and considerable town
of Germany, in the circle of Upper Saxony, and duchy
of Holstein, with a strong castle, and subject to Den¬
mark. It is seated on the river Elbe, near its mouth,
and 28 miles from Hamburgh. E. Long. 9. 20. N.
Lat. 53. 31.
GLUE, among artificers, a tenacious viscid matter,
which serves as a cement to bind or connect things to¬
gether.
Glues are of different kinds, according to the vari¬
ous uses they are designed for, as the common glue,
glove glue, and parchment glue j whereof the two last
are more properly called si%e.
Hamel du Monceau has written one of the best works
on the subject of glue. According to this author, glue
was at first principally prepared from the membranous,
tendinous, and cartilaginous parts of animals, and after
being dried, they were melted into tablets. It is cer¬
tain " however, that every animal substance containing
jelly, may be used in the manufacture of glue ; and,
according to Du Hamel himself, a strong, but black-
coloured glue may be obtained from bones and harts¬
horn, after they are dissolved in Papin’s digester. Of
the truth of this fact Papin himself likewise assures us,
for he prepared a jelly from bones, and even from ivo¬
ry, by which he glued together some pieces of broken
glass; and subsequent experiments made by other che¬
mists have confirmed his assertion.
To the information contained on this subject in the
works of Papin, Spielman has added many valuable
remarks. He not only extracted glue from bones, but
also from all the solid parts of animals, by boiling alone,
as well as from the teeth of the sea horse, the wild
boar, the wood louse, and the viper.
The glue manufactured in Europe is of different
kinds ; but that which is made in England is esteemed
the best. Its colour is of a brownish red. The Flan¬
ders glue is considered as of an inferior quality to that
made in England, while the glue manufactured in
France is not so good as either. The reason assigned
for this difference of quality is, that bones and sinews
are made use of by the Flemish and French in the ma¬
nufacture of this article, while the English employ skins,
which yield a much stronger glue. Dr Lewis informs
us that the English steep and wash the cuttings of the
hides in water, then boil them in fresh water till the
liquor becomes of a proper consistence ; after which
they strain it through baskets, allow it to settle, then
expose it to further evaporation, and pour it into flat
moulds, where it unites. When thoroughly cooled, it
is converted into solid cakes, which are cut into pieces,
and dried on a kind of net.
Grenet for many years turned his attention to the
manufacturing of glue. Having made a number of ex¬
periments on every substance formerly emploved for
this purpose, he found that bones afford the most abun¬
dant quantity of glue, and yield it with facility. Ha¬
ving deprived them of the fat they contain, he procur¬
ed a jelly by simply boiling them, which, when dried,
and thus changed into glue, he found superior to that
which was prepared in France, and nearly equal to the
best glue of commerce.
From the experiments of Parmentier, it appears that
six pounds of button-makers raspings yielded a pound of
excellent glue, not inferior to that which is manufac¬
tured in England. The glue which he obtained from
the filings of ivory was equally as good, but more
highly coloured. The filings of horn yielded none of
this substance.
To obtain glue as colourless as possible, a very small
quantity of water should be employed for extracting
the jelly, by which means it may be concentrated with¬
out long evaporation, as exposure to heat has always a
greater or less influence on the colour in proportion to
the time. The whiteness and transparency of the Flan¬
ders glue are said to originate from an adherence to this
plan.
In their consistence, colour, taste, smell, and solubi¬
lity, glues are found to differ from each other. Some
glues will dissolve by agitation in cold water, while
others are only soluble at the point of ebullition. It is
generally admitted that the best glue is transparent, of
a brownish yellow colour, and having neither taste nor
smell. It is perfectly soluble in water, forming a vis¬
cous fluid, which, when dry, preserves its tenacity and
transparency in every part, and has more solidity, co¬
lour and viscidity, in proportion to the age and
strength of the animal from which it is produced.
For the following account of the manufacture ot glue,
weareindebted to Mr John Glennel of Newcastle. “The
improvement (he observes) of any manufacture depends
upon its easy access to men of science, and a prudential
theorist can never be better employed than in attempting
to reduce to regularity orto system the manufacturesthat
may fall under his attention. In conformity to the first
principle, 1 made some notes whilst visiting a glue ma¬
nufactory a few years ago in Southwark, and those, in¬
terwoven with the remarks on that subject of some che¬
mists of the first respectability, I take the liberty of
sending
G L U [ 774 ] G L U
sending you : at the same time I must beg of you, or
your correspondents, that where it may he corrected in
any manner, it may he done, and I shall feel myselt
obliged by the attention. .
44 Glue is au inspissated jelly* made of the parings ot
hides or horns of any kind, the pelts obtained from fur¬
riers, and the hoofs and ears of horses, oxen, calves,
sheep, &c. quantities of all which are imported in ad¬
dition to the home supply, by many of the great manu¬
facturers of this article : these are first digested in lime
water, to cleanse them as far as it can from the grease
or dirt they may have contracted j they are then steep¬
ed in clean water, taking care to stir them well from
time to time ; afterwards they are laid in a heap, and
the superabundant water pressed out; then they are
boiled in a large brass caldron with clean water, skim¬
ming off the dirt as it rises, and further cleansed by put¬
ting in, after the whole is dissolved, a little melted
alum or lime finely powdered, which, by their detersive
properties, still further purge it: the skimming is con¬
tinued for some time, when the mass is strained through
baskets, and suftered to settle, that the remaining im¬
purities, if any, may subside •, it is then poured gently
into the kettle again, and further evaporated by boiling
a second time, and skimming, until it becomes of a clear
but darkish brown colour : when it is thought to be
strong enough (which is known either by the length of
time a certain quantity of water and materials have
boiled, or by its appearance during ebullition), it is
poured into frames or moulds of about six feet long,
one broad, and two deep, where it hardens gradually
as the heat decreases : out of these troughs or receivers
it is cut, when cold, by a spade, into square pieces or
cakes, and each of these placed within a sort of wood¬
en box, open in three divisions to the back j in this the
glue, as yet soft, is taken to a table by women, where
they divide it into three pieces (a) with an instrument
not unlike a bow, having a brass wire for its string ;
with this they stand behind the box and cut by its
openings, from front to back-, the pieces thus cut are
taken out into the open air, and dried on a kind of
coarse net work, fastened in moveable,sheds of about
four feet square, which are fastened in rows in theglue-
maker’s field (every one of which contains four or five
rows of net work) j when perfectly dry and hard, it is
fit for sale.
“ That is thought the best glue which swells consi¬
derably without melting, by three or four days immer¬
sion in cold water, and recovers its former dimensions
and properties by drying. Glue that has got frost, or
that looks thick and black, may be melted over again
and refined, with a sufficient quantity added of fresh to
overcome any injury it may have sustained ; but it is
generally put into the kettle after what is in it has
been purged in the second boiling. To know good
from bad glue, it is necessary for the purchaser to hold
it between his eye and the light, and if it appears of a
strong dark brown colour, and free from cloudy or
black spots, the article is good.”
A glue that is colourless and of superior quality, is
obtained from the skins of eels, and known by the name dU(.
of size. It is even procured from vellum, parchment, v—yi—
and some of the white species of leather j but for com¬
mon purposes this is by far too expensive, and is only
made use of in those cases of delicate workmanship
where glue would be too gross. The skins of the rab¬
bit, hare, and cat, are made use of in the manufac¬
turing of size, by those who are employed in gilding
gold, polishing, and painting, in various colours.
From the experiments of Mr Hatchett it appears,
that membrane yields different quantities of gelatine,
the solutions of which evaporated to dryness, afforded
him an opportunity of observing the different degrees
of viscidity and tenacity of mucilage, size, and glue.
He also found that the more viscid glues are obtained
with greater difficulty than such as are less so. When
a cake of glue has been steeped three or four days in
cold water, it is considered of the best quality, if it
swell much without being dissolved, and if, when taken
out, it recovers its original figure and hardness by
drying.
On comparing the skins of different animals, Mr
Hatchett found, that such as were most flexible more
readily yielded their gelatine, and that produced from
the skin of the rhinoceros was by far the most viscid of
any. The true skin of any animal was most affected
by long boiling j but the hide of the rhinoceros was
the most insoluble.
He found that hair was not so much affected as skin;
but the cartilages of the joints, when boiled long in
water, were as perfectly soluble as the cutis, which is
not the case with the other cartilages, as they afford
little or no gelatine. The horns of the ox, ram, and
goat, are very different from those of the stag ; and
the small quantity of gelatine they are found to contain,
is produced more gradually, and with greater diffi¬
culty.
According to Hatchett, the effects of diluted nitric
acid on the substances commonly employed in the ma¬
nufacturing of glue, were exactly analogous to those of
boiling water, and were always most powerful on those
substances which contained the greatest quantity of ge¬
latine. Almost all animal substances are convertible
either into glue or soap, with this additional advantage,
that those parts of them which would not be employed
in making the one, are the most proper in the manu¬
facture of the other.
Another fine species of glue, known by the name of
isinglass, is the produce of certain fish, very common
in the Russian seas, found on entering the rivers Wol-
ga, Lyak, Don, and Danube. In Muscovy it is pre¬
pared ol the sturgeon and the storied, which yield the
most beautiful isinglass. The fish from fresh water are
esteemed the best, as they afford an isinglass more flex¬
ible and transparent than any other.
When the bladder is extracted, it is washed in water
to free it from the blood, if any adheres to it, but, not
otherwise. It is then cut longitudinally, and the outer
membrane taken off, the colour of which is brown,
while the other membrane is so fine and white as to be
with
.. VI,e" tI,e women, by mistake, cut only two, that which is double the size is called a bishop, and thrown
into the kettle again.
G L U
Glue with difficulty separated from the fish. They are form
11 ed into rolls of the size of the finger, with the fine
Gluttony. membrane in the middle, and hung in the air to dry
' by degrees. Good isinglass is white, perfectly dry,
semitransparent, and without smell. It is soluble in
water with a gentle heat, but is easily dissolved in al¬
cohol, in which it differs essentially from common glue.
That which is made from different parts of sea wolves,
sea cows, sharks, and whales, is employed in the clari¬
fying of different wines and other liquors. Isinglass is
of all shades of colour, from pure transparency to black j
but such as are large and yellow are reckoned the
worst. They are opaque, and their smell is disagree¬
able.
From 500 grains of isinglass Mr Hatchett obtained
56 grains of coal, from which grain of earthy resi¬
duum were obtained by reducing it to ashes. Of con¬
sequence there were only 54.5 grains of pure coal, and
the remaining 1.5 he found to be phosphate of soda,
with an extremely small proportion of phosphate of
lime.
GLUME (gluma), among botanists, a species of
calyx, consisting of two or three membranous valves,
which are often pellucid at the edges. This kind of
calyx belongs to the grasses.
GLUT, among falconers, the slimy substance that
lies in a hawk’s paunch.
GLUTA, a genus of plants belonging to the gy-
nandria class. See Botany Index.
GLUTiEUS, a name common to three muscles
whose office it is to extend the thigh. See Anatomy,
Table of the Muscles.
GLUTTON. See Mustela, Mammalia Index.
GLUTTONY, a voracity of appetite, or a propen¬
sity to gormandizing.
There is a morbid sort of gluttony, c&WeA fames ca-
tiina, “ dog-like appetite,” which sometimes occurs,
and renders the person seized with it an object of pity
and of cure as in other diseases : (see Bulimy).—But
professed habitual gluttons may be reckoned amongst
the monsters of nature, and deemed in a manner punish¬
able for endeavouring to bring a dearth or famine into
the places where they live. For which reason, people
think King James I. was in the right, when a man be¬
ing presented to him who could eat a whole sheep at
one meal, he asked “ What he could do more than an¬
other man ?” and being answered “ He could not do so
much, said “ Hang him then j for it is unfit a man
should live that eats so much as 20 men, and cannot do
so much as one.”
The emperor Clodius Albinus would devour more
apples at once than a bushel would hold. He would
eat 500 figs to his breakfast, 100 peaches, 10 melons,
20 pound weight of grapes, 100 gnat-snappers, and
400 oysters. “ Fye upon him (saith Lipsius) ; God
keep such a curse from the earth.”
One of our Danish kings named Hardiknute was so
great a glutton, that a historian calls him Bacca de Por-
co, “ Swine’s mouth.” His tables were covered four
times a-day with the most costly viands that either the
air, sea, or land, could furnish j and as he lived he
died ; for, revelling and carousing at a wedding ban¬
quet at Lambeth, he fell down dead. His death was
so welcome to his subjects, that they celebrated the day
with sports and pastimes, calling it Hock tide, which
t 775 ]
G M E
Gluttony
signifies scorn and contempt. With this king ended
the reign of the Danes in England.
One Phagon, under the reign of the emperor Au- Amelin,
relianus, at one meal, ate a whole boar, 100 loaves of ' ' * '
bread, a sheep, a pig, and drank above three gallons
of wine.
We are told by Fuller*, that one Nicholas Wood,
of Harrison in Kent, ate a whole sheep of 16s. price P* 8<5*
at one meal, raw j at another time 30 dozen of pi¬
geons. At Sir William Sidley’s in the same countv,
he ate as much victuals as would have sufficed 30 men.
At Lord Wotton’s mansion house in Kent, he devour¬
ed at one dinner 84 rabbits ; which, by computation,
at half a rabbit a man, would have served 168 men,
He ate to his breakfast 18 yards of black pudding. He
devoured a whole hog at one sitting down ; and after
it, being accommodated with fruit, he ate three pecks
of damosins.
A counsellor at law, whose name was Mallet, well
known in the reign of Charles I. ate at one time an
ordinary provided in Westminster for 30 men at I2d.
a-piece. His practice not being sufficient to supply
him with better sort of meat, be fed generally on of¬
fals, ox livers, hearts, &c. He lived to almost 60
years of age, and for the seven last years of his life ate
as moderately as other men. A narrative of his life
was published. x
GLYCINE,Knobbed-EootelLiquorice-vetch;
a genus of plants belonging to the diadelphia class ;
and in the natural method ranking under the 32d or¬
der, Papilionacce. See Botany Index.
GLYCIRRHIZA, Liquorice ; a genus of plants
belonging to the diadelphia class ; and in the natural
method ranking under the 32d order, Papilionacece.
See Botany and Materia Medica Index.
pLYNN, a county in the 1 ower district of Georgia,
in America, bounded on the east by the ocean, on the
north by the river Alatamaha, by which it is separated
from Liberty county, and on the south by Camden.
The principal produce is cotton and rice. The chief
town is Brunswick.
GLYPH, in Sculpture and Architecture, denotes
any canal or cavity used as an ornament.
GMELIN, John George, M. D. public lecturer
on botany and physic at Tubingen, member of the
Royal Society of Gottingen, and of the Academy of
Sciences at Stockholm, was born on the 12th of Au¬
gust 1709, at Tubingen, where his father was an apo¬
thecary. Such was his diligence while at school, that
he was qualified to attend the academical lectures at
the age of 14, and was created doctor of medicine
when only 19. He paid a visit about this time to the
metropolis of the Russian empire, that he might have
the pleasure of seeing some of his former teachers.
There he became acquainted with Blumentrost, direc¬
tor of the academy, who introduced him to the meet¬
ings of the members, and procured for him an annual
pension. At Petersburg!! he was so much esteemed,
that when he intimated a wish in 1729 to return to
Tubingen, he was honoured with a place among the
regular members of the academy, and chosen professor
of chemistry and natural history in the year 1731. In
order to carry into execution a plan which had been
formed by Peter the Great, for exploring a passage to
China and Japan along the coast of the Russian empire,
5 Gmelin
G M E
frac'in Gmelin was selected alonej with two others, as properly
—v—' qualified for that undertaking, and likewise to ascerta.n
tl.e boundaries of Siberia. The department of natural
history was assigned to our author. He had with him
and his companions, six students, two draftsmen, two
hunters, two miners, four land-surveyors, and 12 so -
diers, with a serjeant and drummer. They began their
journey on the 19th of August 1733 > an^ ^73 >
Steller and a painter joined their society, in order to
assist Gmelin in his arduous labours.
By exploring Kamtschatka, they hoped to accom¬
plish their mission in a satisfactory manner, for which
purpose Steller proceeded to this place, and the rest of
the society continued their travels through Siberia. In
February 1743 Gmelin returned to Petersburg!! in safe¬
ty after a dangerous journey which lasted nine years
and a half, but proved of the utmost importance to va¬
rious branches of science. He resumed the offices which
he had filled before j and having paid a visit in 1747
to his native country, he was chosen professor, while
absent, in the room of Bacbmeister deceased. Pie was
seized with a violent fever in May I755> which put a
period to his valuable life, in the 45^ year aSe*
He was undoubtedly one of the most eminent botanists
of the last century, and has rendered his name immor¬
tal by his Flora Sibirica, sen histona plantarum Siberixe,
in four parts, large quarto. He determined the boun¬
daries between Europe and Asia, which every celebra¬
ted geographer has adopted since his day. Through
all his works the traces of great modesty, a sacred re¬
gard to truth, and the most extensive knowledge of na¬
ture, are remarkably conspicuous.
Gmelin, Hr Samuel, was born in 1743 Tubin¬
gen, where he also studied, and became doctor in me¬
dicine in 1763. He was afterwards admitted a mem¬
ber of the Imperial Academy of Sciences at St Peters¬
burg. He commenced his travels in June 1768 ; and
having traversed the provinces of Moscow, Voronetz,
, New Russia, Azof, Casan, and Astracan, he visited,
in 1770 and 1771, the different harbours of the Cas¬
pian, and examined with peculiar attention those parts
of the Persian provinces which border upon that sea, of
which he has given a circumstantial account in the three
volumes of his travels already published. Actuated by
a zeal for extending his observations, he attempted to
pass through the western provinces of Persia, which
are in a perpetual state of warfare, and infested by nu¬
merous banditti. Upon this expedition, he quitted, in
April 1772, Einzillee, a small trading place in Ghi-
]an, upon the southern shore of the Caspian j and, on
account of many difficulties and dangers, did not, un¬
til December 2. 1773, reach Sallian, a town situated
upon the mouth of the river Koor. Thence he pro¬
ceeded to Baku and Kuba, in the province of Shirvan,
where he met with a friendly reception from AH Feth
Kh an, the sovereign of that district. After he had
been joined by 20 Uralian Cossacks, and when he was
only four days journey from the Russian fortress Kislar,
he and his companions were, on the 5th of February
1774, arrested by order of Usmei Khan, a petty Tartar
prince, through whose territories he was obliged to pass.
Usmei urged as a pretence for this arrest, that 30 years
ago several families had escaped from his dominions,
and had found an asylum in the Russian territories $
adding, that Gmelin should not be released until these
G N O
families were restored. The professor was removed
from prison to prison ; and at length, wearied out with ^mn€^n
continued persecutions, he expired, July 27th, at Ach- Gnostics
met-Kent, a village of Mount Caucasus. His death —— y —
was occasioned partly by vexation for the loss of several
papers and collections, and partly by disorders contract¬
ed from tbe fatigues of his long journey. Some of his
papers had been sent to Kislar during his imprison¬
ment, and the others were not without great difficulty
rescued from the hands of the barbarian who had
detained him in captivity. The arrangement of these
papers, which will form a fourth volume of his travels,
was at first consigned to the care of Guildenstaedt, but
upon his death has been transferred to the learned
Pallas.
GMELIN A, a genus of plants belonging to the di-
dynamia class*, and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 40th order, Personatee. See Botany Index.
GNAPHALIUM, Cud-weed, Goldy-Locks, E-
ternal Flower, &c.; a genus of plants belonging
to the syngenesia class; and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 49th order, Compositee. See Botany
Index.
GNAT. See Culex, Entomology Index.
GNESNA, a large and strong town of Prussian
Poland, in the palatinate of Calish, with an archbi¬
shop’s see, whose prelate was primate of Poland, and
viceroy during the vacancy of the throne. It was the
first town built in the kingdom, and formerly more con¬
siderable than at present. E. Long. 17. 42. N. Lat.
52. 26.
GNETUM, a genus of plants belonging to the mo-
noecia class. See Botany Index.
GNIDIA, a genus of plants belonging to the oc-
tandria class. See Botany Index.
GNOMES, Gnomi, certain imaginary beings, who,
according to the cabbalists, inhabit the inner parts of
the earth. They are supposed small in stature, and the
guardians of quarries, mines, &c. See Fairy.
GNOMON, in Dialling, the style, pin, or cock of
a dial, which by its shadow shows the hour of the day.
The gnomon of every dial represents the axis of the
earth ; (See Dial and Dialling).—The word is
Greek, yvuptui, which literally implies something that
makes a thing known j by reason that the style or pin
indicates or makes the hour known.
Gnomon, in Astronomy, a style erected perpendicu¬
lar to the horizon, in order to find the altitude of the
sun. See ASTRONOMY.
By means of a gnomon, the sun’s meridian altitude,
and consequently the latitude of the place, may be
found more exactly than with the smaller quadrants.
See Quadrant.
By Uie same instrument the height of any object
may be found : for as the distance of the observer’s eye
from the gnomon, is to the height of the style ; so is
the distance of the observer’s eye from the object, to its
height.
For the uses and application of gnomons, see Geo¬
graphy.
Gnomon of a Globe ; the index of the hour circle.
GNOMONICS, the art of dialling. See Dial¬
ling.
GNOSTICS, ancient heretics, famous from the first
rise of Christianity, principally in the east.
It
[ 1
c, N O [ 777 ] G N O
Guostics. It appears from several passages of the sacred wrlt-
i' u—-v——J ings, particularly I John ii. 18. I Tim. vi. 20. and
Col. ii. 8. that many persons were infected with the
N Gnostic heresy in the first century; though the sect did
not render itself conspicuous, either for number or re¬
putation, before the time of Adrian, when some writers
erroneously date its rise.
The name is formed of the Latin gnosticus, and that
of the Greek ywruces, “ knowing,” of yiwrxu, “ I
know and was adopted by those of this sect, as if
they were the only persons who had the true know¬
ledge of Christianity. Accordingly, they looked on
all other Christians as simple, ignorant, and barbarous
persons, who explained and interpreted the sacred
writings, in a too low, literal, and unedifying signifi¬
cation.
At first the Gnostics were only the philosophers and
wits of those times, who formed for themselves a pecu¬
liar system of theology, agreeable to the philosophy of
Pythagoras and Plato ; to which they accommodated
all their interpretations of Scripture. But
Gnostics afterwards became a general name, com¬
prehending divers sects and parties of heretics, who
rose in the first centuries, and who, though they differed
among themselves as to circumstances, yet all agreed in
some common principles. They were such as corrupt¬
ed the doctrine of the gospel by a profane mixture of
the tenets of the oriental philosophy, concerning the
origin of evil and the creation of the world, with its
divine truths. Such were the Valentinians, Simonians,
Carpocratians, Nicolaitans, &c.
Gnostics was sometimes also more particularly at¬
tributed to the successors of the first Nicolaitans and
Carpocratians, in the second century, upon their laying
aside the names of the first authors. Such as would
be thoroughly acquainted with all their doctrines, re¬
veries, and visions, may consult St Irengeus, Tertullian,
Clemens Alexandrinus, Origen, and St Epiphanius ;
particularly the first of these writers, who relates their
sentiments at large : and confutes them at the same
time: indeed, he dwells more expressly on the Valenti¬
nians than any other sort of Gnostics; but he shows
the general principles whereon all their mistaken opi¬
nions were founded, and the method they followed in
explaining scripture. He accuses them of introducing
into religion certain vain and ridiculous genealogies,
i. e. a kind of divine processions or emanations which
had no other foundation but in their own wild imagina¬
tions.
In effect, the Gnostics confessed that these seons or
emanations were nowhere expressly delivered in the sa¬
cred writings ; but insisted at the same time, that Jesus
Christ had intimated them in parables to such as could
understand him. They built their theology not only-
on the gospels and the epistles of St Paul, but also on
the law of Moses and the prophets. These last laws
were peculiarly, serviceable to them, on account of the
allegories and allusions with which they abound, which
are capable of different interpretations : Though their
doctrine, concerning the creation of the world by one
or more inferior beings of an evil or imperfect nature,
led them to deny the divine authority of the books of
the Old Testament, which contradicted this idle fic¬
tion, and filled them with an abhorrence of Moses and
the religion he taught ; alleging, that he was actuated
Vol. IX. Part II. t
by the malignant author of this world, who consulted Gnostics.
his own glory and authority, and not the real advantage   v■■
of men. Their persuasion that evil resided in matter,
as its centre and source, made them treat the body
with contempt, discourage marriage, and reject the
doctrine of the resurrection of the body and its re-union
with the immortal spirit. Their notion, that malevo¬
lent genii presided in nature, and occasioned diseases
and calamities, wars, and desolations, induced them to
apply themselves to the study of magic, in order to
weaken the powers or suspend the influence of their
malignant agents.
The Gnostics considered Jesus Christ as the Son of
God, and consequently inferior to the Father, who
came into the world for the rescue and happiness of mi¬
serable mortals, oppressed by matter and evil beings ;
but they rejected our Lord’s humanity, on the prin¬
ciple that every thing corporeal is essentially and in¬
trinsically evil ; and therefore the greatest part of
them denied the reality of his sufferings. They set
a great value on the beginning of the gospel of St John,
where they fancied they saw a great deal of their aeons,
or emanations, under the Word, the Life, the Light,
&c. They divided all nature into three kinds of be¬
ings, viz. hylic, or material; psychic, or animal; and
pneumatic, or spiritual. On the like principle they
also distinguished three sorts of men ; material, ani¬
mal, and spiritual. The first, who were material and
incapable of knowledge, inevitably perished, both soul
and body ; the third, such as the Gnostics themselves
pretended to be, were all certainly saved; the psychic,
or animal, who were the middle between the other two
were capable either of being saved or damned, accord¬
ing to their good or evil actions.
With regard to their moral doctrines and conduct,
they were much divided. The greatest part of the sect
adopted very austere rules of life, recommended rigo¬
rous abstinence, and prescribed severe bodily mortifica¬
tions, with a view of purifying and exalting the mind.
However, some maintained, that there was no moral
difference in human actions ; and thus confounding
right and wrong, they gave a loose rein to all the pas¬
sions, and asserted the innocence of following blindly
all their motions, and of living by their tumultuous dic¬
tates. They supported their opinions and practice by
various authorities ; some referred to fictitious and apo¬
cryphal writings of Adam, Abraham, Zoroaster, Christ,
and his apostles; others boasted, that they had deduced
their sentiments from secret doctrines of Christ, con¬
cealed from the vulgar; others affirmed, that they ar¬
rived at superior degrees of wisdom by an innate vigour
of mind ; and others asserted, that they were instructed
in these mysterious parts of theological science by Theu-
das, a disciple of St Paul, and by Matthias, one of the
friends of ouf Lord. The tenets of the ancient Gnos¬
tics were revived in Spain, in the fourth century, by a
sect called the Priscillianists.
The appellation Gnostic sometimes also occurs in a
good sense, in the ancient ecclesiastical writers, and
particularly Clemens Alexandrinus, who, in the person
of his Gnostic, describes the characters and qualiries of
a perfect Christian. This point he labours in the
seventh book of his Stromata, where he shows that none
but the Gnostic or learned person, has any true reli¬
gion. He affirms, that were it possible for the know-
y F ledge
GOA [ 778 J GOD
Gnostics ledge of God to be separated from eternal salvation, the
H Gnostic would make no scruple to choose the know-
Coa’ ledge ; and that if God would promise him impunity
» in doing of any thing he has once spoken against, or
offer him heaven on those terms, he would never alter
a whit of his measures. In this sense the father uses
Gnostics, in opposition to the heretics of the same
name j affirming, that the true Gnostic is grown old in
the study of the holy scriptures j and that he preserves
the orthodox doctrine of the apostles and of the church j
whereas the false Gnostic abandons all the apostolical
traditions, as imagining himself wiser than the apostles.
At length the name Gnostic, which originally was the
most glorious, became infamous, by the idle opinions
and dissolute lives of the persons who bore it.
GNU, or Gnou. See Cafra, Mammalia Index.
GOA, a large and strong town of Asia, in the pe¬
ninsula on this side the Ganges, and on the Malabar
coast. It was taken by the Portuguese in 1508, and
is the chief town of all their settlements on this side
the Cape of Good Hope. It stands in an island of the
same name, about 1 2 miles in length, and six in breadth;
and the city isv built on the north side of it, having the
conveniency of a fine salt-water river, capable of re¬
ceiving ships of the greatest burden, where they lie
within a mile of the town. The banks of the river
are beautified with a great number of handsome struc¬
tures ; such as churches, castles, and gentlemen’s houses.
The air within the town is unwholesome, for which rea¬
son it is not so wrell inhabited now as it was formerly.
The viceroy’s palace is a handsome building; and
stands at a small distance from the river, over one of
the gates of the city, which leads to a spacious street,
terminated by a beautiful church. This city contains
a great number of handsome churches, convents, and
cloisters, with a stately large hospital ; all well endow¬
ed, and kept in good repair. The market place oc¬
cupies an acre of ground ; and in the shops about it
may be had the produce of Europe, China, Bengal,
and other countries of less note. Every church has a
set of bells, some of which are continually ringing.
There are a great many Indian converts ; but they
generally retain some of their old customs, particular¬
ly they cannot be brought to eat beef. The clergy
are very numerous and illiterate; but the churches are
finely embellished, and have great numbers of ima¬
ges. In one of these churches, dedicated to Bon
Jesus, is the chapel of St Francisco de Xaviere, whose
tomb it contains: this chapel is a most superb and
magnificent place ; the tomb of the saint is entirely
of fine black marble brought from Lisbon ; on the four
sides of it the principal actions of the life ofithe saint
are most elegantly carved in basso relievo ; these re¬
present his converting the different nations to the Ca¬
tholic faith : the figures are done to the life, and most
admirably executed : it extends to the top in a pyra-
midical form, which terminates with a coronet of mo¬
ther-of-pearl. On the sides of this chapel are excel¬
lent paintings, done by Italian masters ; the subjects
chiefly from Scripture. This tomb and the chapel ap¬
pertaining to it, must have cost an immense sum of mo¬
ney ; the Portuguese justly esteem.it the greatest rarity
in the place. The houses are large, and make a fine
show ; but within they are but poorly furnished. The
inhabitants are contented with greens, fruits, and
2
roots ; which, with a little bread, rice, and fish, is
their principal diet, though they have hogs and fowls
in plenty. The river’s mouth is defended by several
forts and batteries, well planted with large cannon on
both sides; and there are several other forts in different
places.
Goa is the residence of a captain general, who lived
formerly in great splendour. He is also commander in
chief of all the Portuguese forces in the East Indies.
They kept here formerly two regiments of European
infantry, three legions of sepoys, three troops of native
light horse, and a militia ; in all about 5000 men. But
Goa is at present on the decline, and in little or no es¬
timation with the country powers ; indeed their bigo¬
try and superstitious attachment to their faith is so ge¬
neral, that the inhabitants of the city and island are
now reduced to about 20,000 ; the chief part of whom
have been baptized ; for they will not suffer any Mus¬
sulman or Gentoo to live within the precincts of the
city : and these few are unable to carry on the hus¬
bandry or manufactures of the country. The court of
Portugal is obliged to send out annually a very large
sum of money, to defray the current expences of the
government; which money is generally swallowed up
by the convents and soldiery.
There was formerly an inquisition at this place, but
it is now abolished ; the building still remains, and by
its black outside appears a fit emblem of the cruel and
bloody transactions that passed within its walls ! Pro¬
visions are to be had at this place in great plenty and
perfection. E. Long. 72. 46. N. Lat. I C. 28.
. GOAL. See Gaol.
GOAT. See Cafra, Mammalia Index.
Goat's Beard. See Tragofogon, Botany Index.
GoAT-Sucker. See Caprimulgus, Ornithology
Index.
GOBELIN, Giles, a celebrated French dyer, in
the reign of Francis I. discovered a method of dyeing
a beautiful scarlet, and his name has been given ever
since to the finest French scarlets. His house, in the
suburb of S-t Marcel at Paris, and the river he made
use of, are still called the Gobelins. An academy for
drawing, and a manufactory of fine tapestries, were
erected in this quarter in 1I66 ; for which reason the
tapestries are called the Gobelins.
GOBIUS, a genus of fishes belonging to the order
of thoracici. See Ichthyology Index.
GOBLET, or Gobelet, a kind of drinking cup,
or bowl, ordinarily of a round figure, and without ei¬
ther foot or handle. The word is French, gobelet i
which Salmasius, and others, derive from the barba¬
rous Latin cupa. Budeus deduces it from the Greek
xvTrtXXov, a sort of cup.
GOD, one of the many names of the Supreme Being.
See Christianity, Metaphysics, Moral Philo-
phy, and Theology.
God is also used in speaking of the false deities of
the heathens, many of which were only creatures to
which divine honours and worship were superstitiously
paid.
The Greeks and Latins, it is observable, did not
mean by the name of God, an all-perfect being, where¬
of eternity, infinity, omnipresence, &c. were essential
attributes; with them, the word only implied an excel¬
lent and superior nature; and accordingly they gave
GOD
tlie appellation gods to all beings of a rank or class
higher and more perfect than that of men ; and espe¬
cially to those who were inferior agents in the divine
administration, all subject to the one Supreme. Thus
men themselves, according to their system, might be¬
come gods after death j inasmuch as their souls might
attain to a degree of excellence superior to what they
were capable of in life.
The first d ivines, Father Bossu observes, were the
poets : the two functions, though now separated, were
originally combined j or, rather, were one and the same
thing.
Now the great variety of attributes in God, that is,
the number of relations, capacities, and circumstances,
wherein they had occasion to consider him, put these
poets, &c. under a necessity of making a partition, and
of separating the divine attributes into several persons j
because the weakness of the human mind could not
conceive so much power and action in the simplicity
of one single divine nature. Thus the omnipotence of
God came to be represented under the person and
appellation of Jupiter j the wisdom of God, under
that of Minerva j the justice of God, under that of
Juno.
The first idols or false gods that are said to have been
adored, were the stars, sun, moon, &c. on account of
the light, heat, and other benefits, which we derive
from them. Afterwards the earth came to be deified,
for furnishing fruits necessary for the subsistence of men
and animals 5 then fire and water became objects of di¬
vine worship, for their usefulness to human life. In
process of time, and by degrees, gods became multi¬
plied to infinity : and there was scarce any thing but the
weakness or caprice of some devotee or othef elevated
into the rank of deity •, things useless or even destruc¬
tive not excepted. See Mythology.
GODALMING, a town of England, in the coun¬
ty of Surrey, 35 miles from London. It is situated on
the Wye, which has been rendered navigable for barges
from Guildford, whence the communication is open to
the Thames. The church is much admired for its neat
and lofty spire. Here are manufactories of mixed and
blue kerseys, of stockings, blankets, &c. Population
3543 in 1811. W. Long. o. 31. N. Lat. 51. 1.
GODDARD, Jonathan, an eminent physician and
chemist, and one of the first promoters of the Royal
Society, was born about the year 1617. He was elect¬
ed a fellow of the college of physicians in 1646, and
appointed reader of the anatomical lecture in that col¬
lege in 1647. As he took part against Charles I. ac¬
cepted the wardenshipof Merton-college, Oxford, from
Oliver Cromwell when chancellor, and sat sole repre¬
sentative of that university in Cromwell’s parliament,
he was removed from his wardenship in a manner dis¬
graceful to him by Charles II. He was however then
professor of physic at Gresham college, to which he re¬
tired, and continued to attend those meetings that gave
birth to the Royal Society \ upon the first establishment
of which he was nominated one of the council. Being
fully persuaded that the preparation of medicines was
no less the physician’s duty than the prescribing them,
he constantly prepared his own j and in 1668 published
a treatise recommending his example to general prac¬
tice. He died of an apoplectic fit in 1674; and his
memory was preserved by the drops that bore his name,
[ 779 ]
GOD
otherwise called Gutter Anglicanee, the secret of which Goddard
he sold to Charles II. for 5000I. and which Dr Lister []
assures us was only the volatile spirit of raw silk recti- ^'nan-
fied with oil of cinnamon or some other essential oil. cliester*
But he claims more particular regard, if what Bishop
Seth Ward says be true, that he was the first English¬
man who made that noble astronomical instrument, the
telescope.
GODDESS, a heathen deity of the female sex.
Jhe ancients had almost as many goddesses as gods:
such were, Juno the goddess of air, Diana the goddess
of woods, &c. and under this character were represented
the virtues, graces, and principal advantages of life j
truth, justice, piety, liberty, fortune, victory, &c.
It was the peculiar privilege of the goddesses to be
represented naked on medals 5 for it was supposed that
the imagination must be awed and restrained by the
consideration of the divine character.
GODFATHERS and Godmothers, persons who,
at the baptism of infants, answer for their future con¬
duct, and solemnly promise that they will renounce the
devil and all his works, and follow a life of piety and
virtue ; and by this means lay themselves under an in¬
dispensable obligation to instruct them, and watch over
their conduct.
This custom is of great antiquity in the Christian
church ; and was probably instituted to prevent chil¬
dren being brought up in idolatry, in case their parents
died before they arrived at years of discretion.
Tiie number of godfathers and godmothers is re¬
duced to two, in the church of Rome ; and three, in
the church of England: but formerly they had as
many as they pleased.
GODFREY of Bouillon, prince of Lorrain, a
most celebrated crusader, and victorious general. He
was chosen general of the expedition which the Chri¬
stians undertook for the recovery of the Holy Land,
and sold his dukedom to prepare for the war. He
took Jerusalem from the Turks in 1099 ; but bis pie¬
ty, as historians relate, would not permit him to wear
a diadem of gold in the city where his Saviour had
been crowned with thorns. The sultan of Egypt after¬
wards sent a terrible army against him j which he de¬
feated, with the slaughter of about 100,000 of the ene¬
my. He died in 1160.
GODMANCHESTER, a town of Huntingdon¬
shire 16 miles from Cambridge, and 57 from London.
It has a bridge on the Ouse, opposite to Huntingdon ;
was formerly a Roman city, by the name of Durosi-
ponte, where many Roman coins have been often dug
up ; and according to old writers, in the time of the
Saxons it was the see of a bishop, and had a castle built
by one Gorman a Danish king, from which the town
was called Gormanchester. It is a large village, con¬
taining 1779 inhabitants in 1811, and is seated in a
fertile soil, abounding with corn. It is said that no town
in England kept more ploughs at work than this has
done. The inhabitants boast they formerly received our
kings as they made a progress this way, with nine score
ploughs at a time, finely adorned with their trappings,
&c. James I. made it a corporation by the name of
two bailiffs, 12 assistants, and the commonalty of the
borough of Godmanchester. Here is a school, called
the Free Grammar-School of Queen Elizabeth. On
the west side of the town is a noble though ancient seat
J F 2 of
Godman-
cliesler
Gog.
GOG [ 78° 1 GOG
of the earl of Sandwich. Near this place, in the Lon¬
don road between Huntingdon and Caxton, is a tree
well known to travellers by the name ot Beggars
Bush. r C 1 *
GODSTOW, a place north-west of Oxford, in a
sort of island formed by the divided streams of the Isis
after being joined by the Evenlode. It is noted or
catching offish and dressing them ; but more so tor
the ruins of that nunnery which fair Bosamond quit¬
ted for the embraces of Henry II. The people show
a great hole in the earth here, where they say is a sub¬
terraneous passage, which goes under the river to
Woodstock, by which she used to pass and repass.
Little more remains at present than ragged walls, scat¬
tered over a considerable extent of ground. An arched
gateway, and another venerable ruin, part of the tower
of the conventual church, are still standing. Near the
altar in this church fair Rosamond was buried, but the
body was afterwards removed by order ol a bishop of
Lincoln, the visitor. The only entire part is small,
formerly a private chapel. Not many years since a stone
coffin, said to have been Rosamond’s, who, perhaps,
was removed from the church to this place, was to be
spen here. The building has been put to various uses,
and at present serves occasionally for a stable.
GODWIN, Francis, successively bishop of Llan-
daff and Hereford, was born in He ivas emi¬
nent for his learning and abilities ; being a good mathe¬
matician, an excellent philosopher, a pure Latinist, and
an accurate historian. He understood the true theory of
the moon’s motion a century before it was generally
known. He first started those hints afterwards pursued
by Bishop Wilkins, in his “ Secret and swift messen¬
ger and published “ A catalogue of the lives of En¬
glish bishops.” He has nevertheless been accused as a
great simoniac, for omitting no opportunity of disposing
of preferments in order to provide for his children. He
died in 1648.
Godwin or Goodivin Sands. See Kent.
GOD WIT. See Scolopax, Ornithology Index.
GOES, or Ter Goes, a strong and considerable
town of the United Provinces, in Zealand, and capital
of the island of South Beverland. It communicates
with the sea by a canal ; and is 10 miles east of Mid-
dleburgh, and 30 north of Ghent. Population 3700.
E. Long. 3. 50. N. Lat.51. 33.
GOG and Magog, two names generally joined to¬
gether in scripture, (Ezek. xxxviii. 2, 3, &c. xxxix.
1, 2, &c. Rev. xx. 8.). Moses speaks of Magog the
son of Japhet, but says nothing of Gog, (Gen. x. 2.
I Chr. i. 5.). Gog was prince of Magog, according
to Ezekiel. Magog signifies the country or people,
and Gog the king of that country. The generality of
the ancients made Magog the father of the Scythians
and Tartars j and several interpreters discovered many
footsteps of their name in the provinces of Great Tar¬
tary. Others have been of opinion that the Persians
were the descendants of Magog j and some have ima¬
gined that the Goths were descended from Gog and
Magog; and that the wars described by Ezekiel, and
undertaken by Gog against the saints, are no other
than those which the Goths carried on in the fifth age
against the Roman empire.
Bochart has placed Gog in the neighbourhood of
Caucasus. He derives the name of this celebrated
mountain from the Hebrew Gog chasan “ the fortress of
Gog.” He maintains that Prometheus, said to be
chained to Caucasus by Jupiter, is Gog, and no other.
There is a province in Iberia called the Gogai.ene.
Lastly, the generality believe, that Gog and Ma¬
gog, mentioned in Ezekiel and the Revelation, are to
be taken in an allegorical sense, for such princes as were
enemies to the church and saints. Thus many by Gog
in Ezekiel understand Autiochus Epiphanes, the per¬
secutor of the Jews who were firm to their religion ;
and by the person of the same name in the Revela¬
tions, they suppose Antichrist to be meant, the great
enemy of the church and faithful. Some have endea¬
voured to prove that Gog, spoken of in Ezekiel, and
Cambyses king of Persia, were one and the same person;
and that Gog and Magog in the Revelation denote all
the enemies of the church, who should be persecutors of
it to the consummation of ages.
GOGGLES, in Surgery, are instruments used for
curing squinting, or that distortion of the eyes which
occasions this disorder. They are short conical tubes,
composed of ivory stained black, with a thin plate of
the same ivory fixed in the tubes near their anterior
extremities. Through the centre of each of these
plates is a small circular hole, about the size of the pu¬
pil of the eye, for the transmission of the rays of light.
These goggles must be continually worn in the day¬
time, till the muscles of the eye are brought to act re¬
gularly and uniformly, so as to direct the pupil straight
forwards; and by these means the cure will be sooner
or later effected.
GOGMAGOG HILLS, are hills so called, three
miles from Cambridge, remarkable for the intrench-
ments and other works cast up here: whence some sup¬
pose it was a Roman camp; and others, that it was the
u,
Gokonda.
work of the Danes.
GOGUET, Antony Yves, a French writer, and
author of a celebrated work, intitled, Id Qrigine des
Loix, des Arts, des Sciences, et de leur Progres chcz
les anciens Pevples, I7J^» 3 V°L 4^°* His father
was an advocate, and he was born at Paris in 1716.
He was very unpromising as to abilities, and reckoned
even dull, in his early years; but his understanding de¬
veloping itself, he applied to letters, and at length pro¬
duced the above work. The reputation he gained by
it was great; but he enjoyed it a very short time ; dy¬
ing the same year of the smallpox, which disorder, it
seems, he always dreaded. It is remarkable, that Con¬
rad Eugere, to whom he left his library and his MSS.
was so deeply affected with the death ot his friend, as
to die himself three days after him. The above work
has been translated into English, and published in 3
vols 8vo.
GOITO, a town of Italy, in the duchy of Mantua,
taken by the Germans in 1701, and by the prince ot
Hesse in 1706. It is seated on the river Mincio, be¬
tween the lake of Mantua and that ot Garda, 10
miles north-west of Mantua. E. Long. 11. Q. N. Lat.
45. 16.
GOLCONDA, a province of Hindostan, now call¬
ed Hyderabad. It is bounded on the north by that of
Orixa, on the west by that of Balagate, on the south
by Bisnagar, and on the east by the gulf of Bengal.
It abounds in corn, rice, and cattle ; but that which
renders it most remarkable are the diamond-mines,
which
I
iJa,
'S<
G L O [ ?8i ] G L O
Gold, which were formerly the most considerable in the
—v——' world : they were usually purchased of the black mer¬
chants, who bought parcels of ground to search for
these precious stones in. They have also mines of
salt, fine iron for sword-blades, and curious callicoes
and chintzes. As this is one of the few of the old Mo¬
gul governments remaining, more of the old forms and
ceremonies of that great dynasty are retained at the
nizam’s court than at any other in Hindostan. There
is a town of the same name, seated at the foot of a
mountain. It was formerly the residence of the kings,
and is now much frequented by the European mer¬
chants. E. Long. 78. 42. N. Lat. 17. 10.
GOLD, the most valuable of all the metals, is of a
bright yellow colour when pure, but becomes more or
less white in proportion as it is alloyed with other me¬
tals. It is the heaviest of all known bodies, platina only
excepted. See CHEMISTRY and MlNERAI.OGY Index.
Method of Recovering Gold from Gilt Works. The
solubility of gold, and the indissolubility of silver, in a-
qua regia, affords a principle on which gold may be se¬
parated from the surface of silver ; and, on this foun¬
dation, different processes have been contrived, of which
the two following appear to be the best.—Some pow¬
dered sal ammoniac, moistened with aquafortis into the
consistence of a paste, is spread upon the gilt silver,
and the piece heated till the matter smokes and be¬
comes nearly dry : being then thrown into water, it is
rubbed with a scratch brush composed of fine brass wire
bound together •, by which the gold easily comes off.
The other way is, by putting the gilt silver into com¬
mon aqua regia, kept so hot as nearly to boil, and
turning the metal frequently till it becomes all over
black \ it is then to be washed with a little water, and
rubbed with the scratch brush, to get off what gold the
aqua regia may have left. This last method appears
preferable to the other ; as the same aqua regia may be
made to serve repeatedly till it becomes saturated with
the gold, after which the gold may be recovered pure
bv precipitation with sulphate of iron.
For separating gold from gilt copper, some direct a
solution of borax to be applied on the gilt parts, but
nowhere else, with a pencil^ and a little powdered sul¬
phur to be sprinkled on the places thus moistened •, the
principal use of the solution of borax seems to be to
make the sulphur adhere j the piece being then made
red hot, and quenched in water, the gold is said to be
so far loosened as to be wiped off with a brush. Others
mix the sulphur with nitre and tartar, and form the
mixture with vinegar into a paste, which is spread upon
the gilt parts.
Schlutter recommends mechanical means, as being
generally the least expensive, for separating gold from
the surface both of silver and copper. If the gilt vessel
is round, the gold is conveniently got oft by turning
it in a lathe, and applying a proper tool, a skin being
placed underneath for receiving the shavings : he says
it is easy to collect into two ounces' of shavings all the
gold of a gilt vessel weighing thrice as many pounds.
Where the figure of the piece does not admit of this
method, it is to be properly fixed, and scrapers ap¬
plied of different kinds according to its size and fi¬
gure j some large, and furnished with two handles,
one at each end $ others small and narrow, for pene¬
trating into depressed parts. If the gold cannot be Go’d.
got off by either of these ways, the file must be had v—
recourse to, which takes off more of the metal un¬
derneath than the turning tool or the scraper, parti¬
cularly than the former. The gold scrapings or filings
may be purified from the silver or copper they con¬
tain, by the methods described under the article Me¬
tallurgy.
The editors of the Encyclopedic give a method of re¬
covering the gold from wood that has been gilt on a
water size : this account is extracted from a memoir of
the same subject, presented to the Academy of Sciences
by M. de Montamy. The gilt wood is steeped for a
quarter of an hour in a quantity of water sufficient to
cover it, made very hot: the size being thus softened,
the wood is taken out, and scrubbed piece by piece,
in a little warm water, with short stiff bristle brushes of
different sizes, some small for penetrating into the car¬
vings, and others large for the greater dispatch in flat
pieces. The whole mixture of water, size, gold, &c.
is to be boiled to dryness, the dry matter made red hot
in a crucible to burn off the size, and the remainder
ground with mercury, either in a mortar, or, where
the quantity is large, in a mill.
GoLD-Coast. See Guinea.
GoLD-Wire, a cylindrical ingot of silver, superficial¬
ly gilt or covered with gold at the fire, and afterwards
drawn successively through a great number of little
round holes, of a wire-drawing iron, each less than the
other, till it be sometimes no bigger than a hair of the
head. See WiRE-Drawing.
It may be observed that, before the wire be reduced
to this excessive fineness, it is drawn through above
140 different holes j and that each time they draw it,
it is rubbed afresh over with new wax, both to facili¬
tate its passage, and to prevent the silver’s appearing
through it.
GoLD-Wire flatted, is the former wire flatted be¬
tween two rollers of polished steel, to fit it to be spun
on a stick, or to be used flat, as it is, without spin¬
ning, in certain stuffs, laces, embroideries, &c. See
Stuff, &c.
GoLD-Thread, or Spun-gold, is flatted gold, wrapped
or laid over a thread of silk, by twisting it with wheel
and iron bobbins.
To dispose the wire to be spun on silk, they pass it
between two rollers of a little mill : these rollers are of
nicely polished steel, and about three inches in diame¬
ter. They are set very close to each other, and turn¬
ed by means of a handle fastened to one of them, which
gives motion to the other. The gold wire in passing
between the two is rendered quite flat, but without lo¬
sing any thing of its gilding; and is rendered so ex¬
ceedingly thin and flexible, that it is easily spun on silk-
thread, by means of a hand-wheel, and so wound on a
spool or bobbin. See WiRE-Drawing.
GoLD-Leaf or Beaten Gold, is gold beaten with a
hammer into exceeding thin leaves, so that it is com¬
puted, that an ounce may be beaten into 1600 leaves,
each three inches square, in which state it takes up
more than 159,052 times its former surface.
The preparation of gold leaf, according to Dr Lewis,
is as follows :
“ The gold is melted in a black-lead crucible, with
some
G O L . [ 782 ] G O L
Gold, some borax, in a wind furnace, called by the workmen
v—a ivind hole: as soon as it appears in perfect fusion, it
is poured out into an iron ingot mould, six or eight
inches long, and three quarters of an inch wide, pre¬
viously greased, and heated, so as to make the tallow
run and smoke, but not to take flame. Hie bar of
gold is made red hot, to burn off the unctuous matter,
and forged on an anvil into a long plate, which is fur¬
ther extended by being passed repeatedly between
polished steel rollers, till ic becomes a ribbon as thin
as paper. Formerly the whole of this extension was
procured by means of the hammer, and some of the
French workmen are still said to follow the same
practice: but the use of the flatting mill both abridges
the operation, and renders the plate of more uniform
thickness. The ribbon is divided by compasses, and
cut with sheers into equal pieces, which consequently
are of equal weights : these are forged on an anvil till
they are an inch square ; and afterwards well nealed,
to correct the rigidity which the metal has contracted
** in the hammering and flatting. Two ounces of gold,
or 960 grains, the quantity which the workmen usual¬
ly melt at a time, make 150 of these squares, whence
each of them weighs six grains and two-fifths ; and
as 902 grains of gold make a cubic inch, the thick¬
ness of the square plates is about the 766th part of an
inch.
“ In order to the further extension of these pieces
into fine leaves, it is necessary to interpose some smooth
body between them and the hammer, for softening its
blow, and defending them from the rudeness of its
immediate action : as also to place between every two
of the pieces some proper intermedium, which, while
it prevents their uniting together, or injuring one
another, may sufl'er them freely to extend. Both these
ends are answered by certain animal membranes.
The goldbeaters use three kinds of membranes ;
for the outside cover, common parchment made of
sheep skin ; for interlaying with the gold,' first the
smoothest and closest vellum, made of calf skin ; and
afterwards the much finer skins of ox gut, stript off
from the large straight gut slipt open, curiously pre¬
pared on purpose for this use, and hence called gold¬
beater's skin. The preparation of these last is a distinct
business, practised by only two or three persons in the
kingdom,* some of the particulars of which I have not
satisfactorily learned. The general process is said to
consist, in applying one upon another, by the smooth
sides, in a moist state, in which they readily cohere
and unite inseparably ; stretching them on a frame,
and carefully scraping off the fat and rough matter, so
as to leave only the fine exterior membrane of the gut $
beating them between double leaves of paper, to force
out what unctuosity may remain in them *, moistening
them once or twice with an infusion of warm spices 5
and lastly, drying and pressing them. It is said, that
some calcined gypsum, or plaster of Paris, is rubbed
with a hare’s foot both on the vellum and the ox gut
skins, which fills up such minute holes as may happen
in them, and prevents the gold leaf from sticking, as
it would do to the simple animal membrane. It is
observable, that, notwithstanding the vast extent to
which the gold is beaten between these skins, and the
great tenuity of the skins themselves, yet they sustain
continual repetitions of the process for several months,
without extending or throwing thinner. Our work- Gold,
men find, that, after 70 or 80 repetitions, the skins, -y—
though they contract no flaw, will no longer permit
the gold to extend between them ; but that they may
be again rendered fit for use by impregnating them
with the virtue which they have lost, and that even
holes in them may be repaired by the dexterous appli¬
cation of fresh pieces of skin : a microscopical exami¬
nation of some skins that had been long used plainly
showed these repairs. The method of restoring their
virtue is said in the Encyclopedie to be, by interlaying
them with leaves of paper moistened with white wine
vinegar, beating them for a whole day, and after¬
wards rubbing them over as at first with plaster of
Paris, The gold is said to extend between them more
easily, after they have been used a little, than when
they are new.
“ The beating of the gold is performed on a smooth
block of black marble, weighing from 200 to 600
pounds, the heavier the better 5 about nine inches
square on the upper surface, and sometimes less, fitted
into the middle of a wooden frame, about two feet
square, so as that the surface of the marble and the
frame form one continuous plane. Three of the sides
are furnished with a high ledge j and the front, which
is open, has a leather flap fastened to it, which the
gold-beater takes before him as an apron, for preserv¬
ing the fragments of gold that fall oft’. Three ham¬
mers are employed, all of them with two round and
somewhat convex faces, though commonly the work¬
man uses only one of the faces : the first, called the
cutch hammer, is about four inches in diameter, and
weighs 15 or 16 pounds, and sometimes 20, though
few workmen can manage those of this last size : the
second, called the shoddering hammer, weighs about is
pounds, and is about the same diameter: the third,
called \.\\e gold hammer, or finishing hammer, weighs 10
or 11 pounds, and is nearly of the same width. The
French use four hammers, differing both in size and
shape from those of our workmen : they have only one
face, being in figure truncated cones. The first has
very little convexity, is near five inches in diameter,
and weighs 14 or 15 pounds: the second is more con¬
vex than the first, about an inch narrower, and scarce¬
ly half its weight: the third, still more convex, is only
about two inches wide, and four or five pounds in
weight: the fourth or finishing hammer is near as
heavy as the first, but narrower by an inch, and the
most convex of all. As these hammers dift’er so re¬
markably from ours, I thought proper to insert them,
leaving the workmen to judge what advantage one set
may have above the other.
“ A hundred and fifty of the pieces of gold are
interlaid with leaves of vellum, three or four inches
square, one vellum leaf tbeing placed between every
two of the pieces, and about 20 more of the vellum
leaves on the outsides j over these is drawn a parch¬
ment case, open at both ends, and over this another in
a contrary direction, so that the assemblage of gold
and vellum leaves is kept tight and close on all sides.
The whole is beaten with the heaviest hammer, and
every now and then turned upside down, till the gold
is stretched to the extent of the vellum $ the case being
from time to time opened for discovering how the ex¬
tension goes on, and the packet, at times, bent and
rolled '
G 0 L C 7^3 ] G O L
Gold, as it were between the hands, for procuring suf-
—ficient freedom to the gold, or, as the workmen say,
to make the gold work. The pieces taken out from
between the vellum leaves, are cut in four with a steel
knife; and the 600 divisions, hence resulting, are in¬
terlaid, in the same manner, with pieces of the ox-gut
skins five inches square. The beating being repeated
with a lighter hammer till the golden plates have again
acquired the extent of the skins, they are a second
time divided in four : the instrument used for this di¬
vision is a piece of cane cut to an edge, the leaves be¬
ing now so light, that the moisture of the air or breath
condensing on a metalline knife would occasion them
to stick to it. These last divisions being so numerous,
that the skins necessary for interposing between them
would make the packet too thick to be beaten at
once, they are parted into three parcels, which are
beaten separately, with the smallest hammer, till thay
are stretched for the third time to the size of the
skins: they are now found to be reduced to the great¬
est thinness they will admit of; and indeed many of
them, before this period, break or fail. The French
workmen, according to the minute detail of this pro¬
cess given in the Encyclopedic, repeat the division and
the beating once more ; but as the squares of gold,
taken for the first operation, have four times the area
of those used among us, the number of leaves from an
equal area is the same in both methods, viz. 16 from
a square inch. In the beating, however simple the
process appears to be, a good deal of address is requi¬
site, for applying the hammers so as to extend the
metal uniformly from the middle to the sides : one im¬
proper blow is apt not only to break the gold leaves,
but to cut the skins.
“ After the last beating, the leaves are taken up by
the end of a cane instrument, and, being blown flat on
a leather cushion, are cut to a size, one by one, with a
square frame of cane made of a proper sharpness, or
with a frame of wood edged with cane : they are then
fitted into books of 25 leaves each, the paper of which
is well smoothed, and rubbed with red bole to prevent
their sticking to it. The French, for sizing the leaves,
use only the cane knife ; cutting them first straight on
one side, fitting them into the book by the straight side,
and then paring off the superfluous parts of the gold
about the edges of the book. The size of the French
gold leaves is from somewhat less than three inches to
three and three quarters square ; that of ours, from
three inches to three and three-eighths.
“ The process of gold-beating is considerably in¬
fluenced by the weather. In wet weather, the skins
grow somewhat damp, and in this state make the ex¬
tension of the gold more tedious : the French are said
to dry and press them at every time of using ; with
care not to overdry them, which would render them un¬
fit for farther service. Our workmen complain more
of frost, which appears to affect the metalline leaves
themselves: in frost, a gold leaf cannot easily be blown
flat, but breaks, wrinkles, or runs together.
“ Gold leaf ought to be prepared from the finest
gold v as the admixture of other metals, though in too
small a proportion to affect sensibly tbe colour of the
leaf, would dispose it to lose of its beauty in the air.
And indeed there is little temptation to the workman
to use any other; the greater hardness of alloyed gold
occasioning as much to be lost in point of time and la- Gold.
hour, and in the greater number of leaves that break, ' 
as can be gained by any quantity of alloy that would
not be at once discoverable by the eye. All metals
render gold harder and more difficult of extension.
Even silver, which in this respect seems to alter its
quality less than any other metal, produces with gold
a mixture sensibly harder than either of them separate¬
ly, and this hardness is in no art more felt than in the
goldbeater’s. The French are said to prepare what is
called the green gold leaf, frtfm a composition of one
part of copper and two of silver with eighty of gold.
But this is probably a mistake: for such an admixture
gives no greenness to gold : and I have been informed
by our workmen, that this kind of leaf is made from
the same fine gold as the highest gold-coloux-ed sort,
the greenish hue being only a superficial teint induced
upon the gold in some part of the process : this greenish
leaf is little otherwise used than for the gilding of cer¬
tain books.
_ “ But though the goldbeater cannot advantageously
diminish the quantity of gold in the leaf by the ad¬
mixture of any other substance with the gold, yet
means have been contrived for some particular pur¬
poses, of saving the precious metal, by producing a
kind of leaf, called party-gold, whose basis is silver,
and which has only a superficial coat of gold upon one
side : a thick leaf of silver and a thinner one of gold,
laid flat on one another, heated and pressed together,
unite and cohere ; and being then beaten into fine
leaves, as in the foregoing process, the gold, though
its quantity is only about one-fourth of that of the
silver, continues everywhere to cover it, the exten¬
sion of the former keeping pace with that of the
latter.”
But it is to be observed by Mr Nicholson, that pure
gold is too ductile to be worked between the gold¬
beater’s skin. The newest skins will work the finest
gold, and make the thinnest leaf, because they are the
smoothest. Old skins, being rough or foul, require
coarser gold. The finer the gold, the more ductile ;
insomuch, that pure gold, when driven out by the ham¬
mer, is too soft to force itself over the irregularities,
but would pass round them, and by that means become
divided into narrow slips. The finest gold for this pur¬
pose, has three grains of alloy in the ounce, and the
coarsest twelve grains. In general the alloy is six
grains, or one-eightieth part. That which is called
pale gold contains three pennyweights of silver in the
ounce. The alloy of gold leaf is silver, or copper, or
both, and the colour is produced of various tints ac¬
cordingly. Two ounces and two pennyweights of gold
is delivered by the master to the workman, who, if ex¬
traordinarily skilful, returns two thousand leaves, or
eighty books of gold, together with one ounce and six
pennyweights of waste cuttings. Hence one book
weighs 4.8 grains; and as the leaves measure 3.3 inches
in the fdde, the thickness of the leaf is one two hundred
and eighty-two thousandth part of an inch.
The yellow metal called Hutch gold is fine brass.
It is said to be made from copper plates, by cementa¬
tion with calamine, without subsequent fusion. Its
thickness, compared with that of leaf gold, proved as
19 to 4, and under equal surfaces it is considerably more
than twice as heavy as the gold. Jour. vol. i.
It
G O L [ 784 ] G O L
Cold, It must be observed, however, that gold is beaten
Golden, more or less, according to the kind or quality of the
 — work it is intended forj that for the gold-vvire-drawers
to gild their ingots withal, is left much thicker than
that for gilding the frames of pictures, &c. See
Gilding.
Gold Bi'ocade. See Brocade.
Fulminating Gold. See Chemistry Index.
Mosaic Gold, is gold applied in pannels on a proper
ground, distributed into squares, lozenges, and other
compartments; part of which is shadowed to raise or
heighten the rest. See Mosaic.
Gold Plates for Enamelling are generally made of
ducat gold, whose fineness is from 23# to 23! carats ;
and the finest gold is the best for this purpose, unless
where some parts of the gold are left bare and unpolish¬
ed, as in watch-cases, snuff-boxes, &c. for which pur¬
pose a mixture of alloy is necessary, and silver is pre¬
ferred to copper, because the latter disposes the plates
to tarnish and turn green. See Enamelling.
Shell-Gold is that used by the gilders and iliuminers,
and with which gold letters are written. It is made
by grinding gold leaves, or gold-beaters fragments, with
a little honey, and afterwards separating the honey
from the powdered gold by means of water. When
the honey is washed away, the gold may be put on
paper or kept in shells ; whence its name. When it
is used, it is diluted with gum-water or soap-suds.—
The German gold-powder, prepared from the Dutch
gold leaf in the same manner, is generally used j and
when it is well scoured with varnish, answers the end
in japanners gilding as well as the genuine.
Gold Size for burnished gilding is prepared of one
pound and a half of tobacco-pipe clay, half an ounce
of red chalk, a quarter of an ounce of black lead,
forty drops of sweet oil, and three drams of pure tal¬
low j grind the clay, chalk, and black lead, separately,
very fine in water j then mix them together, add the
oil and tallow, and grind the mixture to a due consist¬
ence.
Gold size of japanners may be made by pulverizing
gum animi and asphaltum, of each one ounce $ red lead,
litharge of gold, and umber, of each one ounce and a
half, mixing them with a pound of linseed oil, and
boiling them, observing to stir them till the whole be
incorporated, and appears on growing cold of the con¬
sistence of tar: strain the mixture through a flannel,
and keep it stopped up in a bottle for use. When it
is used, it must be ground with as much vermilion as
will give it an opaque body, and diluted with oil of
turpentine, so that it may be worked freely with the
pencil. A simple preparation consists of one pound of
linseed oil and lour ounces of gum animi j powder the
gum, and mix it gradually with the boiling oil ; let
it continue to boil till it becomes of the consistence of
tar j strain it through a coarse cloth ; keep and use it
as the other.
Gold-Finch. See Fringilla, Ornithology In¬
dex.
Gold Fish. See Cyprinus, Ichthyology Index.
GOLDEN, something that has a relation to gold or
consists of gold.
Golden-Calf was a figure of a calf, which the
Israelites cast in that metal, and set up in the wilder¬
ness to worship during Moses’s absence in the mount;
3
and which that legislator at his return burnt, grinded Goldeu.
to powder, and mixed with the water the people were    1 —
to drink off j as related in Exod. xxxii. The com¬
mentators have been divided on this article ; the pul¬
verizing of gold, and rendering it potable, is a very dif¬
ficult operation in chemistry. Many, therefore, sup¬
pose it done by a miracle j and the rest, who allow of
nothing supernatural in it, advance nothing but conjec¬
tures as to the manner of the process. Moses could
not have done it by simple calcination, nor amalgama¬
tion, nor antimony, nor calcination ; nor is there one
of those operations that quadrates with the text.
M. Stahl has endeavoured to remove this difficulty.
The method Moses made use of, according to this au¬
thor, was by dissolving the metal with hepar sulphuris;
only, instead of the vegetable alkali, he made use of
the Egyptian natron, which is common enough through¬
out the east.
GoLDEN-Fleece, in the ancient mythology, was the
skin or fleece of the ram upon which Phryxus and
Hella are supposed to have swam over the sea to Col¬
chis j and which being sacrificed to Jupiter, was hung
upon a tree in the grove of Mars, guarded by two
brazen-hoofed bulls, and a monstrous dragon that never
slept j but was taken and carried off by Jason and the
Argonauts.
Many authors have endeavoured to show that this
fable is an allegorical representation of some real his¬
tory, particularly of the philosophers stone. Others
have explained it by the profit of the wool trade to
Colchis, or the gold which they commonly gathered
there with fleeces in the rivers. See Argonauts.
Order of the Golden Fleece, is a military order in¬
stituted by Philip the Good, duke of Burgundy, in
1429. It took its denomination from a representation
of the golden fleece, borne by the knights on their col¬
lars, which consisted of flints and steels. The king of
Spain is now grand-master of the order, in quality of
duke of Burgundy : the number of knights is fixed to
thirty-one.
It is usually said to have been instituted on occasion
of an immense profit which that prince made by wool 5
though others will have a chemical mystery couched
under it, as under that famous one of the ancients,
which the adepts contend to be no other than the secret
of the elixir, wrote on the fleece of a sheep.
Oliver de la Marche writes, that he had suggested
to Philip I. archduke of Austria, that the order was
instituted by his grandfather Philip the Good duke
of Burgundy, with a view to that of Jason j and that
John Germain bishop of Chalons, chancellor of the
order, upon this occasion made him change his opi¬
nion, and assured the young prince that the order had
been instituted with a view to the fleece of Gideon.
William bishop of Tournay, chancellor likewise ot the
order, pretends that the duke of Burgundy had in
view both the golden fleece of Jason and Jacob’s fleece •,
i. e. the specked sheep belonging to this patriarch, ac¬
cording to agreement made with his father-in-law La¬
ban. Which sentiment gave birth to a great work of
this prelate in two parts : in the first, under the sym¬
bol of the fleece of Jason, is represented the virtue of
magnanimity, which a knight ought to possess 5 and un¬
der the symbol of the fleece of Jacob he represents the
virtue of justice.
Paradin
Golden
R
Goldoni.
' G O L [
Paradin is of the same mind ; and tells us, that the
duke designed to insinuate that the fabulous conquest
which Jason is said to have made of the golden fleece in
Colchis, was nothing else but the conquest of virtue,
which gains a victory over those horrible monsters vice
and our evil inclinations.
Golden Number, in Chronology, a number showing
what year of the moon’s cycle any given year is. See
Chronology, N° 27—30.
Golden Rod, in Botany. See Solid ago, Botany
hidex.
Golden Rose. The pope annually consecrates a
golden rose on the fourth Sunday in Lent, which is
sent to princesses, or to some church, as a mark of his
peculiar affection.
Golden Rule, in Arithmetic, a rule or praxis, of
great use and extent in the art of numbers j where¬
by we find a fourth proportional to three quantities
given.
The golden rule is also called the Rule of Three, and
Rule of Proportion. See its nature and use under the
article Arithmetic, N° 13.
GOLDENGEN", a town of Poland in the duchy
of Courland, with a handsome castle, seated on the ri¬
ver Weia, in E. Long. 21. 44. N. Lat. 56. 48.
GOLDONI, Charles, a comic writer of consider¬
able eminence, was born at Venice in the year 1707,
in which city his father acted in the capacity of physi¬
cian. His attachment to the drama became conspi-
cuous even in childhood, which his father was fond of
countenancing, erecting a theatre in his own house,
where young Goldoni and some of his companions were
the actors. It is said that he even drew the outlines of
a comedy of his own invention when he was no more
than eight years of age—a most extraordinary indication
of his future eminence. He studied rhetoric at Perugia,
ia the college of the Jesuits, and prosecuted his philoso¬
phical studies at Rimini. The stage, however, had too
many charms to allow him to pay much attention to
Aristotle or Quintilian, and he eloped from Rimini with
a. company of comedians when they removed to Chioz-
za. In vain did his father attempt to make him fall in
love with physic, or the study of the law ; yet his ar¬
dent imagination was so forcibly struck with a particu¬
lar church-ceremony, that he formed the resolution of
commencing capuchin, but the dissipation of Venice
soon destroyed this resolution. After the demise of his
father, he was prevailed upon by his surviving parent
to take up the profession of the law for immediate sup¬
port, but some unknown reasons induced him to quit
the bar after which he went to Milan, where he was
appointed secretary to the Venetian resident.
At Milan he brought out his first performance, un¬
der the title of II Gondoliere Vene^iano. He removed
afterwards to Verona, where he joined himself to a
company of players ; and here too he entered into a
state of wedlock. He composed a number of pieces for
the players to whom he attached himself. While at
Venice, he formed the laudable resolution of reforming
the Italian stage, which at that time was disgraced by
contemptible farce and low buffoonery. He made him¬
self acquainted with the true nature of comedy, and
kept within the limits of nature and decorum. Such
was the fertility of his genius, and such his indefati¬
gable industry, that he produced no fewer than sixteen
Vol. IX. Part II. f
785 ] G O L
comedies and 42 other theatrical pieces in the course of Goldoni,
twelve months! And what is most astonishing, some ofGoldsmitli.
these hasty performances are deemed his masterpieces.' 
His works in 10 vols. 8vo. were first printed in 1753,
and in 1761 his new pieces amounted to 59. About
this time he was invited to Paris by the manager of the
Italian theatre in that city, to compose pieces for the
stage, ot which invitation be accepted. His first at¬
tempt was unsuccessful, because he had to contend with
the pantomime drollery, which was most agreeable to
the depraved taste of the times. When about to leave
Paris on the expiration of his engagement, he was in¬
troduced to the court, and appointed teacher of the
Italian languages to the princesses. He had lodgings
in Versailles, but his pension was not sufficient to keep
him from writing for the stage. When 62 years old,
he ventured to compose in a foreign language, his La
Bourru Rienfaisant, which was received in the court
theatre with extraordinary applause. He was deprived
of his pension in consequence of the revolution, and re¬
duced to indigence. It ought to be confessed, how¬
ever, that this versatile nation was just about to make
him amends when he expired in 1792, and in the 85th
year of his age. If the rapidity with which Goldoni
composed was such as to prevent him from ranking
with authors of the first class, it cannot be denied that
his talent for comedy was very great. Some have given
him the appellation of the Moliere of Italy, but this
perhaps is too flattering a title. His whole works were
printed at Leghorn about the years 1788 and 1791,
in 3 1 volumes 8vo.
GOLDSMITH, or, as some choose to express it,
silversmith, an artist who makes vessels, utensils, and
ornaments, in gold and silver.
The goldsmith’s work is either performed in the
mould, or beat out with the hammer or other engine.
All works that have raised figures are cast in a mould,
and afterwards polished and finished ; plates or dishes,
of silver or gold, are beat out from thin flat plates ;
and tankards, and other vessels of that kind, are
formed of plates soldered together, and their mould¬
ings are beat, not cast. The business of the gold¬
smiths formerly required much more labour than it
does at present; for they were obliged to hammer the
metal from the ingot to the thinness they wanted ; but
there are now invented flatting-mills, which reduce
metals to the thinness that is required, at a very small
expence. The goldsmith is to make his own moulds j
and for that reason, ought to be a good designer, .and
have a taste in sculpture : he ought also to know enough
of metallurgy to be able to assay mixed metals, and to
mix the alloy.
The goldsmiths in London employ several hands
under them for the various articles of their trade ; such
are the jeweller, the snuff-box and toy-maker, the sil¬
ver-turner, the gilder, the burnisher, the chaser, the
refiner, and the gold-beater.
Goldsmiths are superior tradesmen $ their wares
must be assayed by the wardens of the company of
this name in London, and marked 5 and gold is to be
of a certain touch. No goldsmith may take above one
shilling the ounce of gold, besides what he has for the
fashioning, more than the buyer may be allowed for
it at the king’s exchange $ and here any false metal
shall be seized and forfeited to the king. The cities
5G of
GOT, [ 7«<5 ] G O L
Goldsmith, of York, Exeter, Bristol, &c. are places appointed
for the assaying wrought plate of goldsmiths ; also a
duty is granted on silver-plate of sixpence an ounce,
&c. Plate made by goldsmiths shall be of a particular
fineness, on pain ot forfeiting xok and if any parcel
of plate sent to the assayers is discovered to be of a
coarser alloy than the respective standards, it may be
broken and defaced } and the fees for assaying are par¬
ticularly limited.
Goldsmith, Oliver, a celebrated English writer,
was born at Roscommon in Ireland in the year
His father, who possessed a small estate in the county,
bad nine sons, of whom Oliver was the third. He
was originally intended for the church j and with that
view, after being well instructed in the classics, was,
with his brother, the Rev. Henry Goldsmith, placed
in Trinity College, Dublin, about the latter end of the
year 1749. In this seminary of learning he conti¬
nued a few years, when he took a bachelor’s degree :
but his brother not being able to obtain any prefer¬
ment after he left the college, Oliver, by the advice
of Dean Goldsmith of Cork, turned his thoughts to
the study of physic j and, after attending some courses
of anatomy in Dublin, proceeded to Edinburgh in the
year 1751, where he studied the several branches of
medicine under the different professors in that univer¬
sity. His beneficent disposition soon involved him in
unexpected difficulties ; and he was obliged precipi¬
tately to leave Scotland, in consequence of engaging
himself to pay a considerable sum of money for a fel¬
low-student.
A few days after, about the beginning of the year
1754, he arrived at Sunderland, near Newcastle,
where he was arrested at the suit of a taylor in Edin¬
burgh, to whom he had given security for his friend.
By the good offices of Laughlan Maclane, Esq. and
Dr Sleigh, who were then in the college, he was soon
delivered out of the hands of the bailiff; and took his
passage on board a Dutch ship to Rotterdam, where,
after a short stay, he proceeded to Brussels j he then
visited great part of Flanders ; and after passing some
time at Strasburg and Louvain, where he obtained a
degree of bachelor of physic, he accompanied an English
gentleman to Berne and Geneva.
It is undoubtedly fact, that this ingenious unfortu¬
nate man travelled on foot most part of his tour. He
bad left England with very little money ; and being
of a philosophical turn, and at that time possessing a
body capable of sustaining every fatigue, and a heart
not easily terrified at danger, he became an enthusiast
to the design he had formed of seeing the manners of
different countries. He had some knowledge of the
French language and of music, and he played tolerably
well on the German flute; which, from an amuse¬
ment, became at some times the means of subsistence.
H is learning produced him a hospitable reception at
most of the religious houses ; and his music made him
welcome to the peasants of Flanders and other parts of
Germany. “ Whenever I approached,” he used to
say, “ a peasant’s house towards night-fall, I played
one of my most merry tunes ; and that procured me
not only a lodging, but subsistence for the next day:
but in truth (his constant expression), I must own,
whenever I attempted to entertain persons of a higher
rank, they always thought my performance odious,
and never made me any return for my endeavours to Gold.milk
please them.”
On Mr Goldsmith’s arrival at Geneva, he was re¬
commended as a proper person for a travelling tutor
to a young man, who had been unexpectedly left a
considerable sum of money by his uncle Mr S ,
formerly an eminent pawnbroker near Holborn. This
youth, who had been articled to an attorney, on re¬
ceipt of his fortune determined to see the world ;
and, on his engaging with his preceptor, made a
proviso that he should be permitted to govern him¬
self; and Goldsmith soon found his pupil understood
the art of directing in money-concerns extremely well,
as avarice was his prevailing passion. His questions
were usually how money might be saved, and which
was the least expensive course of travelling; whether
any thing could be bought that would turn to account
when disposed of again in London ? Such curiosities
on the way as could be seen for nothing he was ready
enough to look at ; but if the sight of them was to
be paid for, be usually asserted that he had been told
they were not worth seeing. He never paid a bill
that he would not observe how amazingly expensive
travelling was ; and all this, though he was not vet
twenty-one. During Goldsmith’s continuance in Swit¬
zerland, he assiduou-dy cultivated his poetical talent,
of which he had given some striking proofs while at
the college of Edinburgh. It was here he sent the
first sketch of his delightful poem called the Traveller,
to his brother the clergyman in Ireland, who, giving
up fame and fortune, had retired with an amiable wife,
to happiness and obscurity, on an income of only 40k
a-year.
From Geneva Mr Goldsmith and his pupil visited
the south of France ; where the young man, upon
some disagreement with his preceptor, paid him the
small part of his salary which was due, and embarked
at Marseilles for England. Our wanderer was left once
more upon tbe world at large, and passed through a
variety of difficulties in traversing the greatest part of
France. At length his curiosity being satiated, he
bent bis course towards England, and arrived at Dover
the beginning of the winter 1758. When he came to
London, his stock of cash did not amount totwolivres.
An entire stranger in this metropolis, his mind was
filled with the most gloomy reflections on his embar¬
rassed situation. W ith some difficulty he discovered
that part of the town in which his old acquaintance
Dr Sleigh resided. This gentleman received him with
the warmest aflection, and liberally invited him to
share his purse till some establishment could be procu¬
red for him. Goldsmith, unwilling to be a burden to
his friend, a short time after eagerly embraced an of¬
fer which was made him to assist the late Rev. Dr
Milner in instructing the young gentlemen at the aca¬
demy at Peckham ; and acquitted himself greatly to
the Doctor’s satisfaction for a short time : but having
obtained some reputation by tbe criticisms be had
written in the Monthly Review, Mr Griffith, the pro¬
prietor, engaged him in the compilation of it; and,
resolving to pursue the profession of writing, he return¬
ed to London, as the mart where abilities of every kind
W'ere sure of meeting distinction and reward. As his
finances were by no means in a good state, he deter¬
mined to adopt a plan of the strictest economy : and
G O L [ 787 ] G O L
Guklauitb. took lodgings in an obscure court in the Old Bailey,
where he wrote several ingenious little pieces. The
late Mr Newberry, who at that time gave great en¬
couragement to men of literary abilities, became a
kind of patron to our young author; and introduced
him as one of the writers in the Public Ledger, in
which his Citizen of the World originally appeared,
under the title of Chinese Letters.
Fortune now seemed to take some notice of a man
she had long neglected. The simplicity of his charac¬
ter, the integrity of his heart, and the merit of his pro¬
ductions, made his company very acceptable to a num¬
ber of respectable families ; and he emerged from his
shabby apartments in the Old Bailey to the politer air
of the Temple, where he took handsome chambers, and
lived in a genteel style. The publication of his Tra¬
veller, and his Vicar of Wakefield, was followed by the
performance of his comedy ef the Good-natured Man
at Covent Garden theatre, and placed him in the first
rank of the poets of the age.
Among many other persons of distinction who were
desirous to know him was the duke of Northumber¬
land; and the circumstance that attended his introduc¬
tion to that nobleman is worthy of being related, in
order to show a striking trait of his character. “ I was
invited,” said the Doctor, (as he was then universally
called), “ by my friend Mr Percy, to wait upon the
duke, in consequence of the satisfaction he had received
from the perusal of one of my productions. I dressed
myself in the best manner I could ; and, after studying
some compliments I thought necessary on such an occa¬
sion, proceeded to Northumberland house, and acquaint¬
ed the servants that I had particular business with his
Grace. They showed me into an antichamber; where,
after waiting some time, a gentleman very genteelly
dressed made his appearance. Taking him for the
duke, I delivered all the fine things I had composed in
order to compliment him on the honour he had done
me; when, to my great astonishment, he told me I had
mistaken him for his master, who would see me imme¬
diately. At that instant the duke came into the apart¬
ment ; and I was so confused on the occasion, that I
wanted words barely sufficient to express the sense I en¬
tertained of the duke’s politeness, and went away ex¬
tremely chagrined at the blunder 1 had committed.”
Another feature of his character W’e cannot help lay¬
ing before the reader. Previous to the publication of
his Deserted Village, the bookseller had given him a
note for one hundred guineas for the copy, which the
Doctor mentioned a few hours after to one of his
friends : who observed, it was a very great sum for so
short a performance. “ In truth,” replied Goldsmith,
“ I think so too ; I have not been easy since I received
it; therefore I will go back and return him his note ;”
which he absolutely did; and left it entirely to the
bookseller to pay him according to the profits produced
by the sale of the piece, which turned out very consi¬
derable.
During the last rehearsal of his comedy intitled She
stoops to Conquer, which Mr Coleman had no opinion
would succeed, on the Doctor’s objecting to the repe¬
tition of one of Tony Lumkin’s speeches, being appre¬
hensive it might injure the play, the manager with
great keenness replied, “ Psha, my dear Doctor, do not
be fearful of squibs, when we have been sitting almost Goldsmith,
these two hours upon a barrel of gunpowder.” The v—■■■«
piece, however, contrary to Mr Coleman’s expectation,
was received with uncommon applause by the audience ;
and Goldsmith’s pride was so hurt by the severity of
the above observation, that it entirely put an end to his
friendship for the gentleman that made it.
Notwithstanding the great success of his pieces, by
some of which it is asserted, upon good authority, he
cleared 1800I. in one year, his circumstances were by
no means in a prosperous situation ; which was partly
owing to the liberality of his disposition, and partly to
an unfortunate habit he had contracted of gaming ; the
arts of which he knew very little of, and consequently
became the prey of those who were unprincipled enough
to take advantage of his simplicity.
Just before his death he bad formed a design for exe¬
cuting an Universal Dictionary of Arts and Sciences,
the prospectus of which he actually published. In this
work several of his literary friends, (particularly Sir
Joshua Reynolds, Dr Johnson, Mr Beauclerc, and Mr
Gar rick), had undertaken to furnish him with articles
upon different subjects. He had entertained the most
sanguine expectations from the success of it. The un¬
dertaking, however, did not meet with that encourage¬
ment from the booksellers, which he had imagined it
rvould undoubtedly receive; and he used to lament this
circumstance almost to the last hour of his existence.
He had been for some years afflicted, at different
times, with a violent strangury, which contributed not
a little to embitter the latter part of bis life ; and which,
united with the vexations which he suffered upon other
occasions, brought on a kind of habitual despondency.
In this unhappy condition he was attacked by a ner-
vour fever, which, being improperly treated, terminated
in his dissolution on the 4th of April 1774.
As to his character, it is strongly illustrated by Mr
Pope’s line,
In wit a man, simplicity' a child.
The learned leisure he loved to enjoy was too often
interrupted by distresses which arose from the liberality
of his temper, and which sometimes threw him into
loud fits of passion : but this impetuosity was correct¬
ed upon a moment’s reflection ; and his servants have
been known, upon these occasions, purposely to throw
themselves in his way, that they might profit by it im¬
mediately after ; for he w ho had the good fortune to
be reproved, was certain of being rewarded for it.
The universal esteem in which his poems were held,
and the repeated pleasure they give in the perusal, is
a striking test of their merit. He was a studious and
correct observer of nature ; happy in the selection of
his images, in the choice of his subjects, and in the
harmony of his versification ; and, though his embar¬
rassed situation prevented him from putting the last
hand to many of his productions, his Hermit, his Tra¬
veller, and his Deserted Village, bid fair to claim a
place among the most finished pieces in the English
language.
Besides the works already mentioned, he wrote, 1.
History of the earth and animated nature, 6 vols 8vo.
2. History of England, 4 vols 8vo. 3. History of
Rome, 2 vols. 4. Abridgements of the two last, for
5 G 2 the
G O L
[ 788 ]
G O L
Goldsmith the use of schools. 5. A view of experimental phtloso-
1! phy, 3 vols 8vo j a posthumous work, not esteemed.
Golius. Miscellanies, &c.
'   ' GOLF, the name of a certain game among the
Scots, and said to he peculiar to theii country.
Among them it has been very ancient; lor there are
statutes prohibiting it as early as the year 1457? ^
should interfere with the sport of archery. It is com¬
monly played on rugged broken ground, covered with
short ijrass, in the neighbourhood of the sea shore. A
field of this sort is in Scotland called links. The game
is generally played in parties of one or tAVO on each
side. Each party has an exceeding hard ball, some¬
what larger than a hen’s egg. This they strike with a
slender and elastic club, of about four feet long, crook¬
ed in the head, and having lead run into it, to make it
heavy. The ball being struck with this club, will fly
to the distance of 200 yards, and the game is gained
by the party who puts "his ball into the hole with the
fewest strokes. But the game does not depend solely
upon the striking of the longest ball, but also upon mea¬
suring the strength ol the stroke, and applying it in
such direction as to lay the ball in smooth ground,
whence it may be easily moved at the next stroke, lo
encourage this amusement, the city of Edinburgh,
A. D. 1744, gave to the company of golfers a silver
club, to be played for annually by the company, the
victor to append a gold or silver piece to the prize.
It has been played for every year since, except the
years 1746 and 1747. For their better accommoda¬
tion, 22 members of the company subscribed 30I. each
in the year 1768, for building a house, where their
meetings might be held. The spot chosen for this pur¬
pose was the south-west corner of Leith Links, where
an area was taken in feu from the magistrates of
Edinburgh, and a commodious house and tavern built
upon it.
GOLIUS, James, a celebrated professor of Arabic
and the mathematics at Leyden, was descended from a
very honourable family, and born at the Hague in the
vear 1356. He was put to the university of Leyden,
where he studied under Erpinius j and having made
himself master of all the learned languages, applied
himself to the mathematics, physic, and divinity. He
afterwards travelled into Africa and Asia 5 and became
greatly esteemed by the king of Morocco, and the sul¬
tan of the Turks. He at length returned to Leyden,
loaded with manuscripts j and in 1624, succeeded Er¬
pinius in the Arabic chair. As he had been an eye¬
witness of the wretched state of Christianity in the Ma¬
hometan countries, he was filled with the compassion
of a fellow-Christian y and none ever solicited for a
place of honour and profit with greater eagerness, than
he for procuring a new edition of the New Testament,
in the original language, with a translation into the
vulgar Greek, by an Archimandrite; and as there are
some of these Christians who use the Arabic tongue in
divine service, he also took care to have dispersed
among them an Arabic translation of the confession of
the Protestants, together with the Catechism and Li¬
turgy. In 1626, he was also chosen professor of ma¬
thematics ; and discharged the functions of both pro¬
fessorships with the greatest applause during 40 years.
He was likewise appointed interpreter in ordinary to the
states for the Arabic, Turkish, Persian, and other east-
2
ern languages, for which he had an annual pension, Golins
and a present of a gold chain, with a very beautiful Goltzius,
medal, which he wore as a badge of his office. He ^
published, The life of Tamerlane, written in Ara¬
bic. 2. The history of the Saracens, written by El-
marin. 3. Alierganus’s Elements of Astronomy, with
a new version, and learned commentaries. 4. An ex¬
cellent Arabic lexicon. 5. A Persian Dictionary. He
died in 1667.
GOLTZ1US, Henry, a famous engraver and paint¬
er, born in 1558, at Mulbreck in the duchy of Juliers.
He was taught the art of engraving by Theodore Cue-
renhert; and succeeded very wonderfully in it, not¬
withstanding the disadvantage of a lame hand, which
was occasioned by his falling into the fire whilst young.
He was first employed by his master, and afterwards
he worked for Philip Galle. Domestic troubles and
ill health occasioned him to travel. He went through
Germany into Italy; and passed under a feigned name,
that his studies might not be interrupted. He visited
Bologna, Florence, Naples, and Venice, constantly
applying himself to drawing from the antique statues;
and the works of the great masters. At Rome he re¬
sided the longest; and there he produced several excel¬
lent engravings from Polidoro Raphael, and other emi¬
nent painters. On his return to his native country he
established himself at Haerlem, where he engraved many
of the drawings which he had made during his abode
in Italy. He died at Haerlem in 161aged 59. He
is said to have been 40 years old before he began to
paint: yet his pictures are spoken of with great com¬
mendation ; hut as he did not produce any great num¬
ber of them, they are rarely to be met with. As an
engraver, he deserves the highest commendation. No
man ever surpassed, and few have equalled, him in the
command of the graver and freedom of execution. He
copied the style of Albert Durer, Lucas of Leyden,
and other old masters, with astonishing exactness. Some¬
times his engravings are neat in the extreme ; at other
times they are performed in a hold open manner, with¬
out the least restraint. He also engraved several of his
own designs on wood, in that manner which is distin¬
guished by the appellation of cAiaro-scuro. Of his
prints, which are very numerous, it may here suffice to
specify two or three of the most celebrated: 1. Six
large upright plates, known by the name of his master¬
pieces. These, it is said, he engraved to convince the
public that he was perfectly capable ol imitating the
styles of Albert Durer, Lucan Van Leyden, and other
masters, whose works were then held in higher estima¬
tion than his own : for he had adopted a new manner,
which he pursued because he thought it superior, and
not because he was incapable of following the others.
It is reported that with one of them, the Circumcision,
which he smoked to give it the more plausible air of
antiquity, he actually deceived some ol the most capi¬
tal connoisseurs of the day ; by one of whom it was
bought for an original engraving of Albert Durer.
The subjects of these plates are, The Annunciation of
the Virgin ; the Meeting of the Virgin with Elizabeth,
called the Visitation ; the Nativity ol Christ; the Cir¬
cumcision of Christ; the Adoration of the Wise Men ;
the Holy Family. 2. The Judgment of Midas, a large
plate lengthwise. 3. The Venetian Ball, a large plate
lengthwise, from Theodore Bernard. 4. The Boy and
Dog,
G G M
Goltzius Dog, a middling-sized upright plate, from a design of
li his own ; an admirable print. 5. The Necromancer,
Gombroon. a middling-sized upright oval print, in chiaro-scuro.
v"" 6. Night in her Chariot, the same.
GOMBAULD, John Ogier de, one of the best
French poets in the 17th century, and one of the first
members of the French academy, was born at St Just
de Lussac. He acquired the esteem of Mary de Medi-
cis, and of the wits of his time. He was a Protestant,
and died in a very advanced age. He wrote many
works in verse and prose. His epigrams, and some of
his sonnets, are particularly esteemed.
GOMBROON, by the natives called Bander Abassi,
a city of Persia, situated in N. Lat. 27. 20. E. Long.
55. 40. The name of Gombroon, or Comcrong, Cap¬
tain Hamilton tells us, it had from the Portuguese j
because it was remarkable for the number of prawns
and shrimps caught on its coasts, by them called come-
rong. This city owes its wealth and grandeur to the
demolition of Ormus, and the downfal of the Portu¬
guese empire in the East Indies. It is now justly ac¬
counted one of the greatest marts in the East, rvas
built by the great Shah Abas, and from him, as some
think, obtained the name at Bander Abassi, which sig¬
nifies the court of Abas. It stands on a bay about
nine leagues to the northward of the east end of the
island of Kishmish, and three leagues from the famous
Ormus. The English began to settle liere about the
year 1631, when, in consideration of their services
against the Portuguese, Shah Abas granted them half
the customs of that port. This was confirmed by a
phirmaund, and duly regarded, till the English began
to neglect the services they had stipulated. Whether
the company has any emolument from the customs at
present, is what we cannot pretend to ascertain. The
town is large, but its situation had 5 wanting almost
every thing that contributes to the happiness and even
support of life. Towards the land it is encompassed
by a sort of wall; and towards the sea are several small
forts with a platform, and a castle or citadel, mounted
with cannon to secure it and the road from the at¬
tempts of an enemy by sea. The houses in most of
the stx-eets are so out of repair, some half down, others
in a heap of rubbish, that a stranger would imagine
the town had been sacked and ravaged by a barbarous
people ; not a vestige qf the wealth really contained
in the place appearing in view. The bazars and shops
round them are kept, for the most part, by Banians,
whose houses are generally in good order. Most of
the houses are built with earth and lime, hut some of
the best with stone. Many of them have a sort of
ventilators at top, which contributes greatly to the
health of the inhabitants in the hot seasons of the
year. The most sickly months here are April, May,
September, and October. With fish and mutton the
inhabitants are well suppliejd. Rice is imported from
India ; and wheat is so plenty, that the poor subsist
chiefly on bread and dates. The country hereabouts
abounds in the most delicious fruits, as apricots, peach¬
es, pomegranates, pears, mangoes, grapes, quavas,
plums, sweet quinces, and water melons. The apricots,
however, are small, and extremely dangerous if eaten
to excess.
Those conveniences are more than overbalanced by
the scarcity of fresh water,, with which the inhabitants
G O M
are supplied from Asseen, a place seven miles distant, Gombroon:
there not being a spring or'well in the town. Persons Gomera.
of condition keep a camel constantly employed in
bringing fresh and wholesome water. Captain Hamil¬
ton gives it as his opinion, that one cause of the un-
whoiesomeness of this city is the reflection of the ravs
of light from a high mountain to the north of it.
He says, that when the beams are reflected from this
mountain, they almost fire the air, and, for two or
three months in the year, render the situation intole¬
rable. For this reason the people of condition retire
into the country, to pass the heats of June, July, and
August. The very sea, during this season, is affected,
insomuch that the stench is no less disagreeable than
that of putrid carcases j and this is increased by the
quantities of shell-fish left on the shore, from which an
exhalation arises that tarnishes gold and silver, and is
less tolerable than the bilge-water of a tight ship. At
Asseen the English 1’actorv have a country house and
gardens, to which they retire occasionally. Here they
have whole groves of Seville orange trees, which,
though not natural to the country, thrive very well,
and are always verdant, bearing ripe and green fruit,
with blossoms, all at the same time. They have like¬
wise tanks and ponds of fine fresh water, with every
thing else that can moderate the heat of the climate,
and render life agreeable and elegant. About 10 miles
from Asseen is a place called Minoa, where are cold
and hot natural baths, reckoned infallible in the cure
of sll scrophulous disorders, rheumatisms, and other dis¬
eases, by bathing..
Gombroon is extremely populous, on account of the
commerce carried on by the Dutch and English facto¬
ries, as well as the natives. The English factory is close
by the sea, at some distance from the Dutch, which is
a commodious and fine new building. A great part of
the company’s profits arises from freights. As the na¬
tives have not one good ship of their own, and are ex¬
tremely ignorant of navigation, they freight their goods
for Surat, and other Indian marts, in English and
Dutch bottom?, at an exorbitant rate. The commodi¬
ties of the Gombroon market are, fine wines of differ?
ent kinds, raisins, almonds, kish-mishes, prunellas, dates,
pistachio-nuts, ginger, silks, carpets, leather, tutty,
galbanum, ammoniac, assafoetida, tragacanth, with
other gums, and a variety of shop medicines. These
are in a great measure the produce of Carmania, which
they bring to Gombroon in caravans. The English
company had once a small factory in the province of
Carmania, chiefly for the sake of a fine wool produced
there, and used by the hatters. The said company had
once a project of carrying a breed of the Persian goats
to St Helena j but whether it was executed, or what'
success it met with, we cannot say. Although the
company pay no customs, yet they usually make a pre¬
sent to the shabander, to avoid the trouble he has it in
his power to give them. All private traders with the
company’s passes, enjoy the same privileges, on pa?ying
two per cent, to the company, one to the agent, and
one to the broker. All private trade, either by Euro¬
pean or country ships, has long been engrossed by the
company’s servants.
GOMERA, one of the Canary islands, lying be¬
tween Ferro and Teneriffe. It has one good town of
the same name, with an excellent harbour, where the
[ 789 ]
G O N [ 79° 1 G O N
Cotnera Spanish fleet often taken in refreshments. It Is about
!! 20 miles long and 10 broad, and is extremely fertile,
_ though little cultivated. It is subject to the Spaniards,
who conquered it in 1445. W. Long. 17* 10* N. Lat.
28. o.
GOMORRAH, in Ancient Geography, one of the
cities of the plain or of the vale ot Siddim in Judea,
destroyed together with Sodom by fire from heaven, on
account of the wickedness of the people. To deter-
inine its particular situation at present is impossible.
GOMOZIA, a genus of plants belonging to the te-
trandria class. See Botany Index.
GOMPHOSIS, in Anatomy, that kind of articula¬
tion by which the teeth are fixed in the jaw-bone. See
Anatomy, N° 2.
GOMPHRiENA, Globe Amaranth ; a genus of
plants belonging to the pentandria class ; and in the
natural method ranking under the 54th order, Miscel¬
lanea. See Botany Index.
G ON AQUA, the name of a nation inhabiting
about the Cape, and supposed by Dr Sparrman to be
a mixture of Hottentots and Caffres. See Hotten¬
tots.
■GONDAR, the capital of Abyssinia; situated, ac¬
cording to Mr Bruce’s observations, in latitude 12. 30.
north, and longitude 57. 40. east from Greenwich.
It lies upon the top of a hill of considerable height,
and consists of about 10,000 families in times of peace.
The houses are chiefly of clay, with roofs thatched in
the form of cones. At the west end of the town is the
king’s palace •, formerly, as Mr Bruce informs us, a
structure of considerable consequence, being a large
square building four stories high, flanked with square
towers, and affording from the top of it a magnificent
view of all the country southward to the lake Tzana.
It was built in the time of Facilidas, by masons from
India, and by such Abyssinians as had been instructed
in architecture by the Jesuits before their expulsion.
Great part of it is now in ruins, having been burnt
at different times ; but there is still ample lodging in
the two lowest floors, the audience chamber being above
120 feet long. By the side of this structure there have
been built by different kings apartments of clay only,
in the fashion of their own country. The palace, with
all its contiguous buildings, is surrounded by a double
stone wall thirty feet high and a mile and a half in
circumference, with battlements upon the outer wall,
and a parapet roof between the outer and inner, by
which you can go along the whole and look into the
street. The hill on which the town is built rises
in the middle of a deep valley, through which run two
rivers : one of which, the Kakha, coming from the
Mountain of the Sun, flanks all the south of the
town; while the other, called iheAngrab, falling from
the mountain Woggora, encompasses it on the north
and north-east; and both rivers unite at the bottom of
the hill about a quarter of a mile south of the town.
Upon the bank opposite to Gondar, on the other side
of the river, is a large town of Mahometans ; a great
part of whom are employed in taking care of the
king’s and nobility’s equipage, both when they take
the field and when they return from it. They are
formed into a body under proper officers ; but never
fight on either side, being entirely confined to the
occupation just mentioned, in which by their care and
J
dexterity in pitching and striking the tents, and in
leading and conducting the baggage-waggons, they
are of great service.-—The valley of Gondar is de¬
scribed as having three outlets ; one south, to Dem-
bea, Maitsha, and the Agows ; another on the north¬
west, towards Sennaar, from which it is distant 180
miles, over the Mountain of the Sun ; and the third
north, leading to Woggora, over the high moun¬
tain Lamalmon, and so on through Tigre to the Red
Gonddr
Gomorae-
try.
sea.
GONDI, John Francis Paul, Cardinal de Retz,
was the son of Philip Emanuel de Gondi, Count de
Joigny, lieutenant-general, &c. and was born in 1613.
From a doctor of the Sorbonne, he first became co¬
adjutor to his uncle John Francis de Gondi, whom he
succeeded in 1654 as archbishop of Paris; and was
finally made a cardinal. This extraordinary person
has drawn his own character in his memoirs with im¬
partiality. He was a man who, from the greatest
degree of debauchery, and still languishing under its
consequences, made himself adored by the people as a
preacher. At the age of 23, he was at the head of
a conspiracy against the life of Cardinal Richelieu ; he
precipitated the parliament into cabals, and the people
into sedition : he was (says M. Voltaire) the first bi¬
shop who carried bn a civil war without the mask of
religion. However, his intrigues and schemes turned
out so ill, that he was obliged to quit France ; and he
lived the life of a vagrant exile for five or six years,
till the death of his great enemy Cardinal Mazarin,
when he returned on certain stipulated conditions.
After assisting in the conclave at Rome, which chose
Clement IX. he retired from the world, and ended
his life like a philosopher in 1679 ; which made Vol¬
taire sav, that in his youth he lived like Catiline, and
like Atticus in his old age. Fie wrote his Memoirs
in his retirement; the best edition of which is that of
Amsterdam, 4 vols 1 2mo, 1719.
GONDOLA, a flat boat, very long and narrow,
chiefly used at Venice to row on the canals. The
word is Italian, gondola. Du Cange derives it from
the vulgar Greek xovfltXxz, “ a bark,” or “ little ship;”
Lancelot deduces it from yoviv, a term in Athenaeus for
a sort of vase.
The middle-sized gondolas are upwards of thirty
feet long and four broad : they always terminate at
each end in a very sharp point, which is raised per¬
pendicularly to the full height of a man.
The address of the Venetian gondoliers, in passing
along their narrow canals, is very remarkable : there
are usually two to each gondola, and they row by push¬
ing before them. The fore-man rests his oar on the
left side of the gondola: the hind man is placed on the
stern, that he may see the head over the tilt or co¬
vering of the gondola, and rests his oar, which is very
long, on the right side of the gondola.
Gondola is also the name of a passage-boat of six
or eight oars, used in other parts of the coast of Italy.
GONIOMETRY, a method of measuring angles,
so called by M. de Lagny, who gave several papers, oa
this method, in the Memoirs of the Royal Academy an.
1724, 1725, 1729. M. de Lagny’s method of gonio-
metry consists in measuring the angles with a pair of
compasses, and that without any scale whatever, except
an undivided semicircle. Thus, having any angle
drawn
GOO [79
. drawn upon paper, to be measured ; produce one of the
sides of the angle backwards behind the angular point j
then with a pair of fine compasses describe a pretty
large semicircle from the angular point as a centre, cut¬
ting the sides of the proposed angle, which will inter¬
cept a part of the semicircle. Take then this intercepted
part very exactly between the points of the compasses,
and turn them successively over upon the arc of the se¬
micircle, to find how often it is contained in it, after
which there is commonly some remainder : then take
this remainder in the compasses, and in like manner
find how often it is contained in the last of the integral
parts of the first arc, with again some remainder : find
in like manner how often this last remainder is contained
in the former; and so on continually, till the remainder
become too small to be taken and applied as a measure.
By this means he obtains a series of quotients, or frac¬
tional parts, one of another, which being properly redu¬
ced into one fraction, give the ratio of the first arc to
the semicircle, or of the proposed angle to two right
angles, or 180 degrees, and consequently that angle it¬
self in degrees and minutes. Hutton's Math. Diet.
GONORRHOEA, an efflux of white, greenish, or
differently-coloured matter, from the urethra ; most
commonly owing to venereal infection. See Medicine
and Surgery Index.
GONZAGA, Lucretia, was one of the most il¬
lustrious ladies of the 16th century; and much cele¬
brated for her wit, her learning, and her delicate style.
Hortensio Lando wrote a beautiful panegyric upon
her, and dedicated to her his dialogue of moderating
the passions. Her beautiful letters have been collected
with the greatest care. We learn from these, that her
marriage with John Paul Manfrone was unhappy.—
She was married when she was not 14 years of age,
and his conduct afterwards gave her infinite uneasi¬
ness. He engaged in a conspiracy against the duke
of Ferrara ; was detected and imprisoned by him ;
but, though condemned by the judges, not put to
death. She did all in her power to obtain his en¬
largement, but in vain ; for he died in prison, having
shown such impatience under his misfortunes, as made
it imagined he had lost his senses. She never would
listen afterwards to any proposals of marriage, though
several were made to her. All that came from her
pen was so much esteemed, that a collection was made
even of the notes she writ to her servants; several
of which are to be met with in the edition of her
letters.
GOOD, in general, whatever is apt to increase
pleasure, to diminish pain in us; or, which amounts to
the same, whatever is able to procure or preserve to us
the possession of agreeable sensations, and remove those
of an opposite nature.
Moral Good, denotes the right conduct of the se¬
veral senses and passions, or their just proportion and
accommodation to their respective objects and relations.
See Morals.
Good Abearing {bonus gestus), signifies an exact
carriage or behaviour of a subject towards the king and
the people, whereunto some persons upon their misbe¬
haviour are bound : and he that is bound to this, is
said to be more strictly bound than to the peace: be¬
cause where the peace is not broken, the surety tie lono
1 ] GOO
gestu may be forfeited by the number of a man’s com- Good,
pany, or by their weapons. Good Hope
Good Behaviour, in Law, an exact carriage and v_r"1
behaviour to the king and his people.
A justice of the peace may, at the request of an¬
other, or where he himself sees cause, demand surety
lor the good behaviour ; and to that end the justice
may issue out his warrant against any persons whatso¬
ever, under the degree of nobility ; but when it is a
nobleman, complaint is to be made in the court of
chancery, or king’s bench, where such nobleman may
be bound to keep the peace. Infants and feme-coverts,
who ought to find surety by their friends, may be bound
over to their good behaviour; as also lunatics, that
have sometimes lucid intervals, and all others who break
the peace, or being suspected to do it by affrays, as¬
saults, battery, wounding, fighting, quarrelling, threat¬
ening, &c. A person may be likewise bound to his
good behaviour for a scandalous way of living, keeping
bawdy-houses, gaming-houses, &c. and so may com¬
mon drunkards, whoremongers, common whores, cheats,
libellers, &c. Pie who demands surety for the peace,
on any violence offered, must take an oath before the
justice, that he goes in fear of his life, or some bodily
harm, &c. and that it is not out of malice, but from a
regard to his own safety.
Good Breeding. See Good Manners.
Good Fridai/, a fast of the Christian church, in me¬
mory of the sufferings and death of Jesus Christ. It is
observed on the Friday in holi/ or passion rveek ; and it
is called, by wav of eminence, good, because of the
blessed effects of our Saviour’s suflerings, which were
a propitiatory or expiating sacrifice for the sins of the
world. The commemoration of our Saviour’s suflerings
has been kept from the very first ages of Christianity,
and was always observed as a day of the strictest fasting
and humiliation. Among the Saxons it was called
Long-Friday ; but for what reason, except on account
of the long fastings and offices then used, is uncertain.
On Good Friday the pope sits on a plain form : and,
after service is ended, when the cardinals wait on him
back to his chamber, they are obliged to keep a deep
silence, as a testimony of their sorrow. In the night
of Good-I'riday, the Greeks perform the obsequies of
our Saviour round a great crucifix laid on a bed of state,
adorned with flowers ; these the bishops distribute a-
mong the assistants when the office is ended. The
Armenians, on this day, set open a holy sepulchre, in
imitation of that of Mount Calvary.
Good Hope, or Cape of Good Hope, a promontory of
Africa, with a town and a considerable territory, now
subject to Britain. It is situated in the country of the
Hottentots : for an account of whom, see the article
Hottentots.
The Cape of Good Plope has been generally esteem¬
ed the most southerly point of Africa, though it is not
trulv so. In Phillips''s Voyage to Botany Bay *, we are * p. 3s.
told, that the land which projects farthest to the south
is a point to the east of it, called by the English Cape
Lagullus ; a name corrupted from the original Portu¬
guese das Agulhas which, as well as the French ap¬
pellation des Aiguilles, is descriptive of its form, and
would rightly be translated Needle cape.
On approaching the cape, a very remarkable emi¬
nence
GOO [79
Good Hop«. nence may in clear weather be discovered at aconsider-
-v,-—able distance 5 and is called the Table-mountain from its
appearance, as it terminates in a fiat horizontal surface,
from which the face of the rock descends almost per¬
pendicularly. In the mild or summer season, which
commences in September, and continues tsil March,
the Table Land or Mountain, is sometimes suddenly
capped with a white cloud, by some called the spreading
of the Table-cloth. When this cloud seems to roll
clown the steep face of the mountain, it is a sure indi¬
cation of an approaching gale of wind from the south¬
east 5 which generally blows with great violence, and
sometimes continues a day or more, but in common is
of short duration. On the first appearance of this
cloud, the ships in Table Bay begin to prepare for it,
by striking yards and top-masts, and making every
thing as snug as possible.—A little to the westward of
the Table Land, divided by a small valley, stands on
the right-hand side of Table Bay a round hill, call¬
ed the Sugar Loaf; and by many the TJon's Head, as
there is a continuance from it contiguous to the sea,
called the Lion's Rump ; and when you take a general
view of the whole, it very much resembles that animal
with his head erect. The Sugar Loaf or Lion’s Head,
and the Lion’s Bump, have each a flag staff on them,
by which the approach of ships is made known to the
governor, particularizing their number, nation, and the
quarter from which they come. To the eastwards, se¬
parated by a small chasm from the Table Land, stands
Charles’s Mount, well known by the appellation of the
Devil's Tower, or Devil's Head; and so called from
the violent gusts of wind supposed to issue from it
when it partakes of the cap that covers the Table
Land, though these gusts are nothing more than a de¬
gree of force the wind acquires in coming through the
chasm. When this phenomenon appears in the morn¬
ing, which is by no means so frequent as in the even¬
ing, the sailors have a saying, as the Devils Tower is
almost contiguous to the Table Land, that the old
gentleman is going to breakfast j if in the middle of
the dav, that he is going to dinner ; and if in the even¬
ing, that the cloth is spread for supper. Table-moun¬
tain rises about 3567 feet above the level of the sea j
the Devil’s Tower, about 3368} and the Lion’s Head,
2764. In the neighbourhood of the latter lies Con¬
stantin, a district consisting of two farms, wherein the
famous wines of that name are produced.
The above-described high lands form a kind of am¬
phitheatre about the Table-valley, where the Cape¬
town stands. This is situated at the bottom of the
middle height, or Table-mountain ; and almost in the
centre of the Table Bay, so called from that moun¬
tain.—This bay, it is observed in Phillips’s Voyage,
“ cannot properly be called a port, being by no means
a station of security 5 it is exposed to all the vio¬
lence of the winds which set into it from the sea j
and is far from sufficiently secured from those which
blow' from the land. The gusts which descend from
the summit of Table-mountain are sufficient to force
ships from their anchors, and even violently to annoy
persons on the shore, by destroying any tents or other
temporary edifices, which may be erected, and raising
clouds of fine dust, which produce very troublesome
effects. A gale of this kind, from the south-east, blew
for three days successively when Captain Cook lay here
2 ] GOO
in his first voyage •, at which time, he informs us, the g00^
Besolution was the only ship in the harbour that had —y——<
not dragged her anchor. The storms from the sea
are still more formidable •, so much so, that ships have
frequently been driven by them from their anchorage,
and wrecked at the head of the bay. But these acci¬
dents happen chiefly in the quaade mousson, or winter
months, from May 14th to the same day of August j
during which time few ships venture to anchor here.
Our fleet arriving later, lay perfectly unmolested as
lontr as it was necessary for it to remain in this station.
-—False Bay, on the south-east side of the Cape, is more
secure than Table Bay during the prevalence of the
north-west winds, but still less so in strong gales from
the south-east. It is, however, less frequented, being
24 miles of very heavy road distant from Cape Town,
whence almost all necessaries must be procured. The
most sheltered part of False Bay is a recess on the west
side, called Simon's Ray."
Mr White, in his Journal of a Voyage to New South
Wales, thus describes Cape Town. From the ship¬
ping, he observes *, the town appears pleasantly situated, * Page Sj,
but at the same time small; a deception that arises from
its being built in a valley with such stupendous moun¬
tains directly behind it. On landing, however, you
are surprised, and agreeably disappointed, to find it not
only extensive, but well built, and in a good style ;
the streets spacious, and intersecting each other at right
angles with great precision. This exactness in the for¬
mation of the streets, when viewed from the Table
Land, is observed to be very great. The houses in ge¬
neral are built of stone, cemented together with a glu¬
tinous kind of earth which serves as mortar, and after-
wards neatly plastered and whitewashed with lime. As
to their height they do not in common exceed two sto¬
ries, on account of the violence of the wind, which at
some seasons of the year blows with great strength and
furv. For the same reason thatch has been usually
preferred to tiles or shingles j but the bad effects that
have proceeded from this mode when fires happen, has
induced the inhabitants in all their new buildings to
give the preference to slates and tiles. The lower
parts of the houses, according to the custom of the
Dutch nation, are not only uncommonly neat and clean
in appearance, but they are really so } and the furniture
is rather rich than elegant. But this is by no means
the case with the bed-rooms or upper apartments 5 which
ai’e very barely and ill furnished. The streets are
rough, uneven, and unpaved. But many of the houses
have a space flagged before the door; and others have
trees planted before them, which form a pleasant shade,
and give an agreeable air to the streets.
The only landing-place is at the east end of the
town, where there is a wooden quay running some
paces into the sea, with several cranes on it for the con¬
venience of loading and unloading the scoots that come
alongside. To this place excellent water is conveyed
by pipes, which makes the watering of ships both easy
and expeditious. Close to the quay, on the left hand,
stands the castle and principal fortress ; a strong exten¬
sive work, having excellent accommodations for the
troops, and for many of the civil officers belonging to
the company. Within the gates, are the principal
stores ; which are spacious as well as convenient. This
fort covers and defends the east part of the town and har¬
bour
GOO [ 793
-Good Hope, tour, as Amsterdam fort does the west part. The lat-
'—V——' ter, which has been built since Commodore Johnston’s
expedition, and whereon both French and Dutch
judgment have been united to render it effectual and
strong, is admirably planned and calculated to annoy
and harass ships coming into the bay. Some smaller
detached fortifications extend along the coast, both to
the east and west, and make landing, which was not
the case before -the late war, hazardous and difficult.
In a word, Cape Town is at this time fortified with
strength, regularity, and judgment. It consists of
1145 houses, inhabited by about 5500 whites and people
of colour, and 10,000 blacks.
There are two churches in the town j one large,
plain, and unadorned, for the Calvinists, the prevail¬
ing sect j and a smaller one for the Lutherans. The
hospital, which is large and extensive, is situated at the
upper end of the town, close to the company’s garden j
where the convalescents reap the benefit of a wholesome
pure air, perfumed with the exhalations of a great va¬
riety of rich fruit trees, aromatic shrubs, and odorous
plants and flowers j and likewise have the use of every
production of it.
The territory round the Cape is distinguished by
three chains of mountains, running parallel to one an¬
other and to the coast. The first chain, called Lange
Kloof, or Long Pass, runs parallel to the southern
coast, at the distance of from 20 to 60 miles, widen¬
ing towards the west. The second chain, called Zwarte
Berg, or Black Mountain, is considerably higher and
more rugged than the first, and consists often of double
or triple ranges. The belt interposed between the
Zwarte Berg and the Lange Kloof is nearly of the, same
breadth as that between the Lange Kloof and the sea,
and is considerably more elevated. Beyond the Zvvarte
Berg, at an interval of 80 or 100 miles, rises the
Nieuweldts Gebirg, the highest chain in southern
Africa, and the summits of which are generally cover¬
ed with snow. Its elevation is supposed to be 10,000
feet. The belt or plain interposed between the two
last ridges is more elevated than any of the former, so
that southern Africa forms as it were a succession of
terraces rising above one another. The plain next the
sea is covered with a deep and fertile soil, watered by
numerous rivulets, well clothed with grass and with a
beautiful variety of trees and shrubs. Rains are fre¬
quent, and from its proximity to the sea, it enjoys a
more mild and equable temperature than the interior
and remoter parts of the colony. The second terrace
contains a considerable proportion of well watered and
fertile lands, but these are mixed with large tracts of
the arid desert called Karroo. The third terrace, call¬
ed the Great Karroo, is composed of a vast plain 300
miles in length, and nearly 100 in breadth, the soil of
which is of a hard and impenetrable texture, and des¬
titute almost of any trace of vegetation.
It is obvious, from this outline, that a large portion
of the settlement must be devoted to complete and hope¬
less sterility. The Karroo, of which the greatest part
of the second, and the whole of the third and largest
belt is composed, is quite unoccupied by man or ani¬
mal. Only a few shrivelled and parched plants occa¬
sionally meet the eye, faintly extending their half
withered fibres along the ground. The surface con-
Vol. IX. Part II. f
] GOO
sists of clay, thinly sprinkled over with sand, and is Good Hope,
scarcely ever moistened with a shower of rain. The -v——'
hills, which sometimes break the surface of these plains,
are equally destitute of plants as the plain beneath.
The upper regions of all the chains of mouutains con¬
sist of masses of naked sandstone. Mr Barrow, in
short, concludes, that seven-tenths of the settlement
for a great part of the year, and a large proportion of
it at all times, is destitute of the least appearance of
verdure. The climate of the Cape is besides subject
to various disadvantages. It is deluged with rain du¬
ring the cold season ; while, in the hot months, scarcely
a shower falls to refresh the earth. During this season
also a dry wind blows, having the pernicious effects of
the African sirocco, blasting vegetation, and relaxing
the human frame. Tempestuous winds are besides ex¬
tremely common, and often uproot trees and destroy the
the crops. There are, however, many spots about the
Cape of extreme fertility. But the want of roads, or
other means of transporting commodities, renders the
good soil often of no value. The Cape town is sup¬
plied with grain from places generally at more than one
and less than three days’ journey distant. Beyond
that, ground can only be applied to the purpose of graz¬
ing with advantage.
w ine and brandy are the staple produce of the Cape.
The Constantia wine, raised only on two farms, is
pretty much esteemed \ but the mode of management
is far too rude and slovenly to produce good wine
generally j and notwithstanding the encouragement
given to the Cape wines, by diminishing the duties,
they are not relished in Britain. Some attempts, it is
understood, are now making to improve the processs of
manufacture. Tobacco, aloes, with almonds, and fruits
of almost all kinds, succeed extremely well, but are
not much cultivated. Attempts are now making to
colonize the country round the Cape with British
settlers 5 time can only shew whether it will suc¬
ceed.
The inhabitants of the Cape, though in their per¬
sons large, stout, and athletic, have not all that phlegm
about them which is the characteristic of Dutchmen in.
general. The physical influence of climate may in some
degree account for this ; for it is well known that in all
southern latitudes the. temper and disposition of the peo¬
ple are more gay, and that they are more inclined to
luxury and amusements of every kind, than the inhabi¬
tants of the northern hemisphere. The ladies are lively,
good natured, and familiar j and from a peculiar gay
turn, they admit of liberties that would be thought re¬
prehensible in England, shough perhaps they as seldom
overleap the bounds of virtue as the women of other
countries.
The heavy draft work about the Cape is mostly per¬
formed by oxen ; which are here brought to an un¬
common degree of usefulness and docility. It is not
uncommon to see 14, 16, and sometimes 18, in one of
their teams; when the roads are heavy, they some¬
times, though rarely, yoke 205 all which the Hotten¬
tots, Malays, and Cape slaves, have in the most perfect
subjection and obedience. One of these fellows places
himself on the fore part of the waggon, or, when loaded,
on the top of the load, and with a tremendous long
whin, which from its size he is obliged to hold in both
r 5 H his
GOO [ 794 ] G O R
Good Hope, his hands, manages these creatures with inexpressible ad-
» dress. When he finds expedition needful, he can make
them keep whatever pace he chooses, either trot or gal-
jop, (a gait performed or kept up with difficulty by
European oxen), and that with as much ease as if he was
driving horses. They likewise manage horses with the
same dexterity ; and to see one of them driving three,
four, five, and sometimes six pair, in hand, with one of
these long whips, would make the most complete ma¬
ster of the whip in England cut a despicable figure.
Carriages are not very numerous at the Cape, as the in¬
habitants in general travel in covered waggons, which
better suit the roughness of the country. 1 he governor
and some few of the principal people keep coaches,
which are a good deal in the English style, and always
drawn by six horses.
Its geographical position on the globe is so comman¬
ding a feature, that the mere looking at a map, inde¬
pendent of any other information, must shew its value
and importance in various respects. Its distance from
the coast of Brazil is a month’s voyage; from the Dutch
colonies of Surinam, Berbice, and Essequibo, it is a
voyage of six weeks ; it is about equally distant from
the Red sea, and two months from Coromandel and
Malabar. It is half way between Britain and India,
in a temperate climate, and productive of every species
of refreshment in great abundance.
Considered in the light of a naval station, the im¬
portance of the Cape is equally conspicuous. It may
serve as a port for refreshing and refitting the ships ol
the East India Company; a station for ships of war
keeping the entrance into the Indian seas, and afford-
ing, by its geographical position, a ready communica¬
tion with every part of the globe. There is no place,
in the homeward bound voyage from India, so proper
or convenient for East India ships to assemble at for
convoy, as the Cape of Good Hope. Their crews
might be refreshed with fruits, vegetables, and fresh
provisions, at a very reasonable rate. Salt beef for the
remainder of the voyage might there be laid in. An
establishment for curing salt provisions, would be an
incalculable saving, as well as a singular convenience.
The moderate expence at which a fleet could here be
maintained, is a circumstance that deserves attention.
At the Cape a sailor may be furnished his ration of
fresh beef or mutton, biscuit and wine, for one-fourth of
what the same ration of salt beef costs the government
when sent out from Britain.
If a naval establishment was formed at Saldanha
bay, many coasting vessels and fishing ships would be
constructed in it, as it abounds with every convenience
that could be required for building ships, which would
be the means of very much increasing the coasting
trade. /
It is thought also, that were a depot for the southern
whale fishery established at the Cape, it might be at¬
tended with beneficial consequences. By promoting
navigation, the strength and security of the British
empire are also promoted, and its very existence as an
independent nation is owing to the superiority of its
navy. A nation of fishermen implies a nation of sea¬
men, a race of bold and hardy warriors. The cultiva¬
tion of the fisheries would afford a never-failing supply
of men so instructed, increase our conveniency, and
promote our commerce.,
The colony of the Cape comprehends at least 120,000 Good Hope
square miles; yet the whole population of whites, blacks, D
and Hottentots, does not exceed 60,000 souls, or a Gordianui.
single individual for every two square miles. The ' ^
rural occupants may be divided into the wine-growers,
the corn-farmers, and the graziers. The first, who re¬
side in the immediate vicinity of the Cape, are the
most civilized and comfortably situated of the peasan¬
try. Their property is usually about 120 acres in ex¬
tent, and held in freehold. The corn-boors or farmers,
reside generally at the distance of two or three days
journey from the Cape. The agriculture is extremely
rude. Their plough, an unwieldy machine, drawn by
14 or 16 oxen, does little more than skim the surface.
They use almost no manure, and tread out the corn by
the feet of horses. The grazier is the least cultivated,
and indeed is half a savage. All these classes employ
Hottentots, who are not slaves, strictly speaking, but
in a condition nearly as bad.
Good Manners. See Manners.
GOOINGS, in sea-language, are clamps of iron
bolted on the stern-post of a ship, whereon to hang
the rudder and keep it steady; for which purpose there
is a hole in each of them, to receive a correspondent
spindle bolted on the back of the rudder, which turns
thereby as upon hinges.
GOOSE. See Anas, Ornithology Index. The
goose was held in great esteem amongst the Romans for
having saved the Capitol from the invasion of the Gauls
by cackling and clapping its wings. Geese were kept
in the temple of 3uno ; and the censors, when they en¬
tered upon their office, provided meat for them. There
was also an annual feast at Rome, at which they car¬
ried a silver image of a goose in state ; and hanged a
dog, to punish that animal because he did not bark at
the arrival of the Gauls.
GoosE-Ander. See Mergus, Ornithology In¬
dex.
Gooss-Berry. See Ribes, Botany Index.
GoosE-Neck, in a ship, a piece of iron fixed on the
one end of the tiller, to which the laniard of the
whip-staff or the wheel-rope comes, for steering the
ship.
Gooss-Wing, in the sea language. When a ship
sails before, or with a quarter-wind on a fresh gale,
to make the more haste, they launch out a boom and
sail on the lee-side ; and a sail so fitted is called a
goose-wing.
GORCUM, a town in South Holland, which car¬
ries on a considerable trade in cheese and butter. It is
situated on the rivers Ligne and Maese, in E. Long.
4. 55. N. Lat. 51. 49.
GORDIANUS I. a Roman general, was for his
valour and virtues chosen emperor by the army in the
reign of Maximinus, A. D. 237 ; but his son, whom
he had associated with himself in the throne, being
slain by Capellian, the governor of Mauritania for
Maximinus, Gordianus killed himself the same year.
See Rome.
Gordianus III. grandson of the former, a re¬
nowned warrior, and styled The guardian of the Homan
commonwealth. He was treacherously assassinated by
Ehilippus, an Arabian, one of his generals ; who, to
the eternal disgrace of the Romans of that era, suc¬
ceeded him in the empire,..A. D. 244. See Rome.
GORDIAN-knot,
G O R l 795 1 G O R
Gordian. GORDIAN-knot, in antiquity, a knot made in
knot the leathers or harness of the chariot of Gordius king
Ijj of Phrygia, so very intricate, that there was no find-
01 on* , ing where it began or ended. The inhabitants had a
tradition, that the oracle had declared, that he who
untied this knot should be master of Asia. Alexander
having undertaken it, was unable to accomplish it j
when fearing lest his not untying it should be deemed
an ill augury, and prove a check in the way of his
conquests, he cut it asunder with his sword, and thus
either accomplished or eluded the oracle.
GORDIUS, the Hair-worm, a genus of insects
belonging to the class of vermes intestina. See Hel¬
minthology Index.
Gordius, king of Phrygia, and father of Midas,
was a poor husbandman, with two yokes of oxen,
wherewith he ploughed his land and drew his wain.
An eagle sitting a long while upon one of his oxen, he
consulted the soothsayers j a virgin bid him sacrifice
to Jupiter in the capacity of king. He married the
virgin, who brought forth Midas. The Persians, in¬
structed by the oracle to set the first person they met
in a wain upon the throne, met Gordius, and made him
king. Midas for this good fortune dedicated to Jupi¬
ter his father’s cart, The knot of the yoke, they say,
was so well twisted, that he who could unloose it was
promised the empire of Asia j hence the proverb of the
Gordian knot had its original. See Gordian Knot.
GORDON, Alexander, an excellent draughtsman,
and a good Greek scholar, who resided many years in
Italy, visited most parts of that country, and had
also travelled into France, Germany, &c. was secre¬
tary to the Society for Encouragement of Learning ;
and afterwards to the Egyptian Club, composed of
gentlemen who had visited Egypt, viz. Lord Sandwich,
Dr Shaw, Dr Pococke, &c. He succeeded Dr
Stukeley as secretary to the Antiquarian Society, which
office he resigned in 1741 to Mr Joseph Ames. He
went to Carolina with Governor Glen, where, besides
a grant of land, he had several offices, such as register of
the province, &c.$ and died a justice of the peace, leav¬
ing a handsome estate to his family. He published,
l.ItinerariumSeptentrionale, or a Journey through most
parts of the Counties of Scotland, in two parts, with 66
copperplates, 1726, folio. 2. Supplement to the Itine-
rai'ium, 1732, folio. 3. The Lives of Pope Alexander
VI. and his son Caesar Borgia. 4. A complete History
of the Ancient Amphitheatres, 1730, 8vo. afterwards
enlarged in a second edition. 5. An Essay towards ex¬
plaining the hieroglvphical figures on the Coffin of the
ancient Mummy belonging to Captain William Lethieul-
ler, 1737, folio» with cuts. 6. Twenty-five Plates of
all the Egyptian Mummies and other Egyptian Anti¬
quities in England, I739> f0!'0*
Gordon, Thomas, noted for his translations and
political writings, was born at Kirkcudbright in North
Britain. He came young to London $ where he sup¬
ported himself by teaching languages, until he procu¬
red employment under the earl of Oxford in Queen
Anne’s time, but in what capacity is not now known.
He first distinguished himself in the defence ol Dr
Hoadlev in the Bangorian controversy $ which recom¬
mended him to Mr Trenchard, in conjunction with
whom he wrote the well-known Cato’s Letters, upon
a variety of important public subjects. These were Gordon
followed by another periodical paper, under the title l)
of the Independent Whig $ which was continued some i tjorgcd.
years after Mr Trenchard’s death, by Gordon alone, " ^
against the hierarchy of the church j but with more
acrimony than was shown in Cato’s Letters. At length
Sir Robert Walpole retained him to defend his admini¬
stration, to which end he wrote several pamphlets. At
the time of his death, July 28th 1750, he was first
commissioner of the wine licenses, an office which he
had enjoyed many years. He was twice married. His
second wife was the widow of his great friend Tren¬
chard, by whom he had children.—He published En¬
glish translations of Sallust and Tacitus, with additional
discourses to each author, which contain much good
matter. Also, two collections of his tracts have been
preserved : the first entitled, A Cordial for Low-
spirits, in three volumes : and the second, The Pil¬
lars of Priestcraft and Orthodoxy shaken, in two vo¬
lumes. But these, like many other posthumous things,
had better have been suppressed. In his translations as
well as his other works he places his verbs at the ends
of sentences, according to the Latin idiom, in a very
stiff and affected manner.
GORDONIA, a genus of plants, belonging to the
monadelphia blass. See Botany Index.
GORE, in Heraldry, one of the abatements, which,
according to Guillim, denotes a coward. It is a figure
consisting of two arch lines drawn one from the sinister
chief, and the other from the sinister base, both meet¬
ing in an acute angle in the middle of the less point.
See Heraldry.
GOREE, a small island of Africa, near Cape de
Verd, subject to the French. It is a small spot not
exceeding two miles in circumference, but its impor¬
tance arises from its situation for trade so near Cape
Verd, and it has been therefore a bone of contention
between European nations. It was first possessed by
the Dutch, from whom, in 1663, it was taken by the
English; but in 1665 it was retaken by the Dutch,
and in 1677 subdued by the French, in whose posses¬
sion it remained till the year 1759, when the British
arms were everywhere triumphant; and it was reduced
by Commodore Keppel, but restored to the French
at the treaty of peace in 1763. It was retaken by
the English in the American war, but again restored
at the peace of 1783. E. Long. 17* 20. N. Lat. 14.
43.
Goree, the capital town of an island of the same
name in Holland, eight miles south of Briel. E.
Long. 3. 50. N. Lat. 51. 55.
GOREY, a borough, fair, and post-town in the
county of Wexford, province of Leinster, otherwise
called Newhorough. It stands about 18 miles north of
WTexford town, and 45 from Dublin. N. Lat. 52. 40.
W. Long. 6. 30. It sent formerly two members to the
Irish parliament.
GORGE, in Architecture, the narrowest part of the
Tuscan and Doric capitals, lying between the astra¬
gal, above the shaft of the pillar, and the annulets.
Gorge, in Fortification, the entrance of the plat¬
form of any work. See Fortification.
GORGED, in Heraldry, the bearing of a crown,
coronet, or the like, about the neck of a lion, a swan,
5 H 2 &c.
G O R [ 796 ] G O R
Gorged &c- ani^ 'n ^,at case *t 's sau^ ^ie ^0tl °r cygnet 13
fl gorged with a ducal coronet, &c.
Gorgons. Gorged is also used when the goi’ge or neck of
v a peacock, swan, or the like bird, is ot a different co¬
lour or metal from the rest.
GORGET, a kind of breast-plate, like a half-moon,
with the arms ol the prince thereon 5 worn by the olE-
cers of foot. They are to be either gilt or silver, ac¬
cording to the colour of the buttons on the uni¬
forms.
Gorget, or Gogeret, in Surgery, is the name
which the French give to the concave or cannulated
conductor, used in lithotomy. See Sugery Index.
• GORGONA, a small island of Italy, in the sea of
Tuscany, and near that of Corsica, about eight miles
in circumference •, remarkable for the large quantity
of anchovies taken near it. E. Long. 10. o. N. Lat.
43* 22*
GoRGONA, a small island of the South sea, 12 miles
west of the coast of Peru, in America. It is indiffer¬
ent high land, very woody, and some of the trees are
very tall and large, and proper for masts. It is about
10 "miles in circumference, and has several springs and
rivulets of excellent water, but is subject to constant
rains. W. Long. 73. 3. S. Lat. 30.
CORGONIA, in Natural History, a genus of zoo¬
phytes, which formerly were called ceratophytons, and
are known in English by the names of sea-fans, sea-fea¬
thers, and sea-whips. Linnaeus and Dr Pallas consider
them as of a mixed nature in their growth, between
animals and vegetables ; but Mr Ellis shows them to
be true animals of the polype kind, growing up in a
branched form resembling a shrub, and in no part vege¬
table. They differ from the fresh water polype in
many of their qualities, and particularly in producing
from their own substance a hard and solid support, serv¬
ing many of the purposes of the bone in other animals.
'This is formed from a concreting juice thrown out from
a peculiar set of longitudinal parallel tubes, running a-
long the internal surface of the fleshy part: in the coats
of these tubes are a number of small orifices, through
which the osseous liquor exudes, and concreting, forms
the layers of that hard part of the annular circles,
which some, judging from the consistence rather than
the texture, have erroneously denominated tvoocl. The
surface of the gorgonia is composed of a kind of scales,
so well adapted to each other as to serve for defence
from external injuries : and the flesh, or, as some have
called it, the bark or cortex, consists of proper mus¬
cles and tendons for extending the openings of their
cells j for sending forth from thence their polype suc¬
kers in search of food ; and for drawing them in sud¬
denly, and contracting the sphincter muscles of these
starry cells, in order to secure these tender parts from
danger; and also ot proper secretory ducts, to furnish
and deposit the osseous matter that forms the stem
and branches as well as the base of the bone. Mr El¬
lis affirms, that there are ovaries in these animals, and
thinks it very probable that many of them are vivipa¬
rous. See Zoophytes.
GORGONS, in Antiquity and Mythology. Au¬
thors are not agreed in the account they give of the
Gorgons. The poets represent them as three sisters,
whose names were Stheno, Euryale, and Medusa; the
latter of whom was mortal, and, having been ddlower-
5
ed by Neptune, was killed by Perseus ; the two for- Gorgons
mer were subject neither to age nor death. They are 1)
described with wings on their shoulders, with serpents Goshawh.
round their heads, their hands were of brass, and their J
teeth of a prodigious size, so that they were objects of
terror to mankind. After the death of Medusa, her
sisters, according to Virgil, were appointed to keep
the gate of the palace of Pluto.
Multaque prceterea variorum monstra ferarum—
Gone ones, Harpyiceque——
Diodorus Siculus will have the Gorgons and Amazons
to have been two warlike nations of women, who in¬
habited that part of Libya which lay on the lake Tri-
tonidis. The extermination of these female nations
was not effected till Plercules undertook and performed
it.
Pausanias says, the Gorgons were the daughters of
Phorbus ; after whose death, Medusa, his daughter,
reigned over the people dwelling near the lake Tri-
tonidis. The queen was passionately fond of hunting
and war, so that she laid the neighbouring countries
quite waste. At last, Perseus having made war on
them, and killed the queen herself, when he came to
take a view of the field of battle, he found the queen’s
corpse so extremely beautiful, that he ordered her
head to be cut off, which he carried with him to show
his countrymen the Greeks, who could not behold it
withoutjjeing struck with astonishment.
Others represent them as a kind of monstrous wo¬
men, covered with hair, who lived in woods and forests.
Others, again, make them animals, resembling wild
sheep, whose eyes had a poisonous and fatal influence.
GORITIA, or Goritz, a strong town of Germa¬
ny, in the circle of Austria, and duchy of Carniola,
with a castle ; seated on the river Lizonzo, 20 miles
north-east of Aquileia, and 70 north-east of Venice.
E. Long. 13. 43. N. Lat. 46. 12.
GORLiEUS, Abraham, an eminent antiquary,
was born at Antwerp, and gained a reputation by col¬
lecting medals and other antiques. He was chiefly
fond of the rings and seals of the ancients, of which
he published a prodigious number in 160J, under this
title, JAaclyliotheca; sive Annular um Sigiliarium,quorum
apud priscos lam Grcccos quam llomanos usus ex ferro,
cere, argento, el auro, Promptuarium. This was the
first part of the work : the second was entitled, Vario¬
rum Gemmarum,quibus antiquitas in signando uti solita
sculpturce. This work has undergone several editions,
the best of which is that of Leyden, 1695 : for it not
only contains a vast number of cuts, but also a short
explication of them by Gronovius. In 1680, he pub¬
lished a collection of medals : which, however, if we
may believe the Scaligerana, it is not safe always to trust.
Gorlteus pitched upon Delft for the place of his resi¬
dence, and died there in 1609. His collections of anr
tiques were sold by his heirs to the prince ot Wales.
GORLITZ, a town of Germany, in Upper Lusatia,
now subject to Prussia. It is a handsome strong place,
and seated on the river Neisse, in E. Long. 15. 15.
N. Lat. 51. 10.
GORTERIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
syngenesia class, and in the natural method ranking
under the 49th order, Composite. See Botany Index.
GOSHAWK. See Falco, Ornithology Index.
GOSHEN,
G O S
C 797 ]
GOT
Co ii'.z GOSHEN, in Ancient Geography, a canton of
II Egypt, which Joseph procured for his father and his
Gossamer, brethren when they came to dwell in Egypt. It was
the most fruitful part of the country : and its name
seems to he derived from the Hebrew, Geshem, which
signifies “ rain*,” because this province lying very near
the Mediterranean, was exposed to rains, which were
very rare in other cantons, and more especially in Up¬
per Egypt. Calmet does not question hut that Goshen,
which Joshua (x. 41. xi. 16. xv. 51.) makes part of
the tribe of Judah, is the same as the land of Goshen,
which was given to Jacob and bis sons by Pharaoh
king of Egypt; (Gen. xlvi. 28.). It is certain that
this country lay between Palestine and the city of Ta-
nais, and that the allotment of the Hebrews reached
southward as far as the Nile, (Josh. xiii. 3.).
GOSLAR, a large and ancient town of Lower
Saxony, and in the territory of Hildesheim. It was
here that gunpowder was first invented, by a monk as
is generally supposed. It is a large place, but the
buildings are in the ancient taste. It was formerly a
free city, but was given to Prussia in 1802, and ceded
by that power to Hanover in 1814. It is seated on a
mountain, near the river Gose, and near it are rich
mines of iron. The inhabitants are famous for. brewing
excellent beer. E. Long. 10. 26. N. Lat. 51. 55.
GOSPEL, the history of the life, actions, death,
resurrection, ascension, and doctrine of Jesus Christ.—
The word is Saxon, and of the same import with the
Latin term evangelium, which signifies “ glad tidings,”
or “ good news.”
This history is contained in the writings of St Mat¬
thew, St Mark, St Luke, and St John ; who from
thence are called evangelists. The Christian church
never acknowledged any more than these four gospels
as canonical; notwithstanding which, several apocryphal
gospels are handed down to us, and others are entirely
lost.
GOSPORT, a town of Hampshire, 79 miles from
London, in the parish of Alverstock. It has a ferry
over the mouth of the harbour to Portsmouth, and is
a large town and of great trade, especially in time of
war. Travellers choose to lodge here, where every
thing is cheaper and more commodious for them than
at Portsmouth. The mouth of the harbour, which is
not so broad here as the Thames at Westminster, is
secured on this side by four forts, and a platform of
above 20 cannon level with the water. Here is a
noble hospital built for the cure of the sick and wound¬
ed sailors in the service of the navy ; besides a free
school.
GOSSAMER is the name of a fine filmy substance,
like cobwebs, which is seen to float in the air, in clear
days in autumn, and is more observable in stubble-
fields, and upon furze and other low bushes. This is
probably formed by the flying spider, which, in tra¬
versing the air for food, shoots out these threads from
its anus, which are borne down by the dew, &c.
GOSSYPIUM, or Cotton, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the monadelphia class, and in the natural
method ranking under the 37th order, Columniferce.
See Botany Index.
The American islands produce cotton shrubs of va¬
rious sizes, which rise and grow up without any cul¬
ture ; especially in low and marshy grounds. Their
produce is of a pale red ; some paler than others ; but G0$gypiura
so short that it cannot be spun. None of this is brought Gotha,
to Europe, though it might be usefully employed in 1v—'
making of hats. The little that is picked up, serves
to make mattresses and pillows.
The cotton-shrub that supplies our manufactures, re¬
quires a dry and stony soil, and thrives best in grounds
that have already been tilled. Not but that the plant
appears more flourishing in fresh lands than in those
which are exhausted; but while it produces more
wood, it bears less fruit.
A western exposure is fittest for it. The culture of
it begins in March and April, and continues during the
first spring-rains. LIol es are made at seven or eight
feet distance from each other, and a few seeds thrown
in. Wh en they are grown to the height of five or six
inches, all the stems are pulled up, except two or three
of the strongest. These are cropped twice before the
end of August. This precaution is the more necessary,
as the wood bears no fruit till after the second pru¬
ning; and, if the shrub was suffered to grow more than
four feet high, the crop would not be the greater, nor
the fruit so easily gathered. The same method is pur¬
sued for three years ; for so long the shrub may conti¬
nue, if it cannot conveniently be renewed ofteuer with
the prospect of an advantage that will compensate the
trouble.
This useful plant will not thrive if great attention is
not paid to pluck up the weeds that grow about it. Fre¬
quent rains will promote its growth ; but they must
not be incessant. Dry weather is particularly necessary
in the months of March and April, which is the time
of gathering the cotton, to prevent it from being disco¬
loured and spotted.
When it is all gathered in, the seeds must be picked
out from the wool with which they are naturally mix¬
ed. This is done by means of a cotton-mill ; which is
an engine composed of two rods of hard wood, about
18 feet long, 18 lines in circumference, and fluted
two lines deep. They are confined at both ends, so as
to leave no more distance between them than is neces¬
sary for the seed to slip through. At one end is a
kind of little millstone, which, being put in motion
with the foot, turns the rods in contrary directions.
They separate the cotton, and throw out the seed conn
tained in it.
GOTHA, a town of Germany, in the circle of Up¬
per Saxony, and capital of the duchy of Saxe-Gotho,
in E. Long. 10. 40. N. Lat. 50. 57. Some fancy this
town had its name from the Goths, and that they forti¬
fied it in their march to Italy ; but it was only a village
till surrounded with walls by the bishop of Mentz in
964. It is situated in a fine plain on the river Leina,
well built and strongly fortified. Here are two hand¬
some churches and a very good hospital. Its chief
trade is in dyers weed, of which they' have three crops,
but the third grows wild. The neighbouring country
produces a vast deal of corn. The castle or ducal palace
of Gotha was rebuilt in the 16th century by duke
Ernest, surnamed the Pious, who caused both that and
the town to be encompassed with ditches and ramparts;
and gave it the name of Friedenstein, or the Castle of
Peace, in opposition to its ancient name of Grimmer-
stein, or the Castle of the Furies. It is situated on a
neighbouring eminence, from whence there is a vast
prospect
GOT [ 798 ] GOT
prospect of a fruitful plain. In one of the apartments
there is a collection of valuable rarities, and a noble
library. The town has 11,600 inhabitants.
The dukedom of Saxe Gotha is about 30 miles
long, and 20 broad. It contains an area of about 500
square miles, and its population is estimated at 82,000.
The duke is the head of the Ernestine line of Saxony,
descended from the elector John Frederick the Magna¬
nimous, who was deprived of the electorate by the em¬
peror Charles V. in 1574 J since which the youngest
branch, called the Albertine, has enjoyed it. He has
several other principalities besides that of Saxe Gotha j
and his revenues are computed at 150,000!. a-year,
with which he maintains about two thousand regular
troops. As he is the most powerful of all the Saxon
princes of the Ernestine branch j so of all the courts
of Saxony, next to that of Dresden, he has the most
numerous and the most magnificent. His guards
are well clothed, his liveries rich, and his tables
served with more elegance than profusion. And yet
by the prudent management of his public finan¬
ces, his subjects are the least burdened with taxes
of any state in Germany. The religion is Luthe¬
ran.
GOTHARD, one of the highest mountains of
Switzerland; and from the top, where there is an hos¬
pital for monks, is one of the finest prospects in the
world. It is eight miles from Aldorf.
GOTHEBORG, Gothenburg, or Gottenburg.
See Gottenburg.
GOTHIC, in general, whatever has any relation to
the Goths : thus we say, Gothic customs, Gothic ar¬
chitecture, &c. See Architecture.
GOTHLAND, the most southern province of
Sweden, being a peninsula, encompassed on three sides
by the Baltic sea, or the channel at the entrance of it.
It is divided into several parts, which are, East Goth¬
land, West Gothland, Smaland, Halland, Bleaking,
and Schonen. It was a long time in the possession of
the kings of Denmark, but was ceded to Sweden in
1654. The principal towns of Gothland are Calmar,
Landscroon, Christianople, Daleburg, Gothenburgh,
Helmstat, Lunden, Malmone, and Vexio.
GOTHS, a warlike nation, and above all others
famous in the Roman history, came originally out of
Scandinavia (the name by which the ancients distin¬
guished the present countries of Sweden, Norway, Lap-
land, and Finmark). According to the most probable
accounts they were the first inhabitants of those coun¬
tries ; and from thence sent colonies into the islands of
the Baltic, the Cimbrian Chersonesus, and the adja¬
cent places yet destitute of inhabitants. The time of
their first settling in Scandinavia, and the time when
they first peopled with their colonies the above-men¬
tioned islands and Chersonesus, are equally uncertain }
though the Gothic annals suppose the latter to have hap¬
pened in the time of Serug the great grandfather of
Abraham. This first migration of the Goths is said to
have been conducted by their king Eric j in which all
the ancient Gothic chronicles, as well as the Danish and
Swedish ones, agree. Their second migration is sup¬
posed to have happened many ages after j when, the
above-mentioned countries being overstocked with
people, Berig, at that time king of the Goths, went
3
out with a fleet in quest of new settlements. He landed Goths,
in the country of the Ulmerugians, now Pomerania,
drove out the ancient inhabitants, and divided their
lands among his followers. He fell next upon the Van¬
dals, whose country bordered on that of the Ulmeru¬
gians, and overcame them ; but instead of forcing them
to abandon their country, he only made them share
their possessions with the Goths.
The Goths who had settled in Pomerania and the
adjacent parts of Germany being greatly increased, in¬
somuch that the country could no longer contain them,
they undertook a third migration in gre^t numbers,
under Filimer surnamed the Great, the fifth prince
after leaving Scandinavia j and taking their route east¬
ward, entered Scythia, advanced to the Cimmerian
Bosphorus, and driving out the Cimmerians, settled
in the neighbourhood of the Palus Maeotis. Thence,
in process of time, being greatly increased in Scy¬
thia, they resolved to seek new settlements ; and ac¬
cordingly taking their route eastward, they traversed
several countries, and at length returned into Ger¬
many.
Their leader in this expedition was the celebrated
Woden, called also Vodcn, Othen, Oden, Godan, and
Guadan. Of this Woden many wonderful things are
related in the Sueo-gothic chronicles. He was king of
the Asgardians, whom the northern writers will have
to be the same with a people called Aspurgians men¬
tioned by Strabo and Ptolemy. By Strabo they are
placed near the Cimmerian Bosphorus. Aspurgia %vas
the metropolis of a province which Strabo calls Asia;
and Woden and his followers are styled by the ancient
Gothic writers Asce, Asiance, and Asiotce. The kings
of Aspurgia were masters of all that part of Scythia
which lay to the westward of Imaus, and was by the
Latins called Scythia intra Imaum, or “ Scythia within
Imaus.”
At what time Woden reigned in this country, is
quite uncertain j but all historians agree, that he went
out in quest of new settlements with incredible num¬
bers of people following him. He first entered Roxo-
lania, comprehending the countries of Prussia, Livo¬
nia, and great part of Muscovy. From thence he went
by sea into the north parts of Germany ; and having
reduced Saxony and Jutland, he at last settled in Swe¬
den, where he reigned till his death, and became so fa¬
mous that his name reached all countries, and he was
by the northern nations worshipped as a god. He is
supposed to have brought with him the Runic charac¬
ters out of Asia, and to have taught the northern nations
the art of poetry j whence he is styled the father of
the Scaldi or Scaldri, their poets, who described in
verse the exploits of the great men of their nation, as
the bards did among the Gauls and Britons.
The Romans distinguished the Goths into two clas¬
ses j the Ostrogoths and Visigoths. These names they
received before they left Scandinavia, the Visigoths be¬
ing softened by the Latins from Westerogolhs, or those
who inhabited the western part of Scandinavia, as the
Ostrogoths were those who inhabited the eastern part
of that country. Their history aft’ords nothing of mo¬
ment till the time of their quarrelling with the Ro¬
mans ; which happened under the reign of the emperor
Caracalla, son to Severus. After that time their his¬
tory
GOT [ 799 ] . GOT
tory becomes so closely interwoven with that of the Ro¬
mans, that for the most remarkable particulars of it
we must refer to the article Rome. After the destruc¬
tion of the Roman empire by the Heruli, the Ostro¬
goths, under their king Theodoric, became masters of
the greatest part of Italy, having overcome and put to
death Odoacer king of the Heruli in 494. They re-,
tained their dominion in this country till the year 553 ;
when they were finally conquered by Narses, the em¬
peror Justinian’s general. See (History of) Italy.
The Visigoths settled in Spain in the time of the em¬
peror Honorius, where they founded a kingdom which
continued till the country was subdued by the Sara¬
cens. See Spain.
The Goths were famous for their hospitality and
kindness to strangers, even before they embraced the
Christian religion. Nay, it is said, that from their
being eminently good, they were called Goths, by the
neighbouring nations ; that name, according to Gro-
tius and most others writers, being derived from the
German word goten, which signifies “ good.” They
encouraged, says Dio, the study of philosophy above
all other barbarous or foreign nations, and often chose
kings from among their philosophers. Polygamy was
not only allowed but countenanced among them} every
one being valued or respected according to the number
of his wives. By so many wives they had an incre- CotLi.
dible number of children, of whom they kept but one ' '
at home, sending out the rest in quest of new settle¬
ments j and hence those swarms of people which over¬
ran so many countries. With them adultery was a ca¬
pital crime, and irremissibly punished with death. This
severity, and likewise polygamy, prevailed among them
when they were known to the Romans only by the
name of Getce (their most ancient name) j as appears
from the poet Menander, who was himself one of that
nation j and from Horace, who greatly commends the
chastity of their women. Their laws fell little short of
those of the ancient Romans. Their government wast
monarchical j their religion was much the same with
that of the ancient Germans or Celtes; and their dress
is described by Apollinaris Sidonius in the following
words : “ They are shod (says he) with high shoes
made of hair, and reaching up to their ankles j their
knees, thighs, and legs, are without any covering ?
their garments of various colours scarce reaching to the
knee $ their sleeves only cover the top of their arms •,
they wear green cassocks with a red border; their belts
hang on their shoulders j their ears are covered with 1
twisted locks ; they use hooked lances and missile wea-..
pons.”
END OF THE NINTH VOLUME.
DIRECTIONS for placing the PLATES of Vol. IX.
Part I.
Plate CCXXL—CCXXIII. to face
CCXXIV.
CCXXV.—CCXXVII.
CCXXVIII.
CCXXIX.
Page 32
208
3°4
320
368
Part II.
CCXXX.—CCXXXVII.
CCXXXVIIL CCXXXIX.
CCXL.—CCXLY.
CCXLVJ.
CCXL VII.
544
626
666
692
754
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